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 Four
"Huh… I didn't do it!" Ron snorted, bolting awake from a dream. A moment before, he had been sound asleep and dreaming that Mr. Barkin was chewing him out about something of which he had no knowledge. "Fer cryin' out loud… even in my sleep, I can't get away from that guy!" he thought.
It was then that the sound which had awoken him entered his ears once again. It was a distinct ringing noise, and in his sleep-induced stupor, Ron began to reach for the telephone. He quickly froze when he realized that the source of all that obnoxious ringing was not the phone, but rather the doorbell.
Cautiously, he got out of bed and stepped into his slippers. His parents were away in Denver for the week making him the only resident of the house right now. (Well, except for Rufus, of course.) An unknown visitor at this time of the night was highly unusual, and it put him in a rather uncomfortable position.
Slowly, he descended the stairs, taking great care to avoid the squeaky spots, which would give his presence away. Upon finally reaching the front door, he gingerly peered through the peephole, and was taken aback by the sight which greeted him.
Working quickly, he undid the latch and opened the door to reveal his pajama-clad friend, standing there in the dim light of the porch lamp, her hands behind her back and a distressed look upon her face.
"Uhhhh… Hey there, KP." Ron stammered, not certain as to what was going on just then. "What's… the… sitch?"
With that, Kim lunged forward through the open door and threw her arms around his neck, embracing him with all her strength. She sobbed lightly into his shoulder, moistening his pajamas, and softly kept repeating the only thing that she could think to say:
"I'm sorry..."
"Uhhhhh… Confused." Ron stuttered, once he finally regained his voice. Kim's emotional display was highly out of character for her. Something serious must have happened to throw the strong, cool and confident Kim Possible into such a state. For the life of him, however, he couldn't think of what that something might be.
"Is everything all right, KP?" Ron finally continued. "What's happened?"
Kim finally looked up, locking her gaze with his. His brown eyes were always so soft and warm, so filled with love and devotion. They were like the eyes of a puppy, conveying a playful, gentle spirit, which Kim desperately hoped he would never loose.
But those same eyes also masked a personal pain and a sorrow which until this day, Kim would never had dreamt existed; certainly not when it came to Ron, in any case. His ability to mask that pain was truly astounding, and yet she still needed to let him know that he was not alone in carrying this burden any longer.
"I… I was working on my project," Kim started to say. "And Wade found some information about your family during the war, and it was… it was…" Her voice trailed off, unable to complete her sentence.
Ron blinked a couple of times in confusion at this, but his eyes quickly settled into a knowing expression as he deduced what Kim was getting at. Slowly, gently, he led her to the sofa in the living room. Once she was seated, he quickly ducked into the kitchen, returning momentarily with two mugs of hot, herbal tea. They sat there for several minutes, each sipping in silence, before Ron finally spoke.
"Been reading about the camps, huh?" Ron inquired, although he already knew the answer.
Kim simply nodded in agreement.
"Heh..." Ron chuckled to himself. "Yeah, and I thought spending a summer at Wannaweep was bad."
Kim was aghast at this. "Ron, how can you joke about something like this?" she asked incredulously. "Two-thirds of your family was wiped out, just because of who they were, and you crack wise about it?"
"So what am I supposed to do?" Ron asked with shrugged shoulders and a slightly incredulous tone of his own. "Spend my whole life moping around, wallowing in my own grief?"
He heaved an exasperated sigh before continuing, this time in a much more calm and thoughtful tone.
"When you're Jewish, Kimbo, the Holocaust is a part of you. It's something that you always carry with you, stashed away somewhere in the far recesses of your mind. It can be a burden at times, mind you, but for most part it's something that you make your peace with and keep moving forward. Eventually it becomes comfortable; like an old leather jacket."
"So, you're like, okay with all this, then?" Kim asked. She was astounded at how well Ron had adapted to this bit of his personal history. She had to admit that, when it came to dealing with all the crap life could throw at a person, she didn't give her friend nearly enough credit.
"Yeah, I guess you could say I'm okay with it." Ron replied. "I mean, it's something that will always be with me, but I can't let it control who I am. If I allow myself to be dominated by this, then I let them win."
At this statement, Kim simply blinked repeatedly, not certain as to what Ron was getting at.
"The best revenge is to live well, KP." Ron explained, sensing Kim's confusion. "The Nazis wanted to erase us from history. What better way to shove it back in their goose-stepping faces than to live well and prosper?" His face stretched into a smug grin as he said this.
Kim's quickly found that she was grinning as well. It really was that simple, after all. For Ron and his family to live well and enjoy life was, in a sense, the ultimate end zone dance; a taunting finger from across the decades and a triumphant shout of "nice try, losers!"
Once again, she found herself astounded. Many people would buckle under the weight of such a dark personal history, allowing the darkness to overtake them in the process. Ron, on the other hand, had consciously chosen to embrace the light in life, rather than the darkness which surrounded him. In his zest for life, his easy-going attitude and his sense of child-like wonder, he carried the light aloft; a sign of outright defiance against that terrible darkness.
As she reached over to embrace him, and in turn felt the warmth of his return embrace, she couldn't help but notice a lone thought flutter through her mind:
"I REALLY don't give this boy enough credit."
The next few days went normally enough for the two teens. There was school, homework, cheer practice, and of course their usual dates. Kim, however, now found herself looking at her boyfriend in a very different way than what she was used to. Where previously there had just been Ron, now there was something more. She now saw a bastion of courage and inner-strength. For years, he had hidden it well, but every breath he took was part of his own private battle against personal demons, which few people could ever comprehend.
True to form, Ron was oblivious to the subtle change in the way his girlfriend looked at him. He simply plodded along in his daily routines, convinced that nothing was amiss. After all, he was a guy, and guys don't do subtly.
To spite the recent excitement, he had been able to dig-up some more encouraging dirt on Bonnie. It turned out that her great aunt had been living outside of London, working as a secretary for RAF Fighter Command during the war. In 1942, she had been caught passing classified information to a German agent. "Apparently 'snitchery' runs in the Rockwaller family." Kim had observed mockingly.
And so it came to pass that that afternoon during lunch break, the familiar four-tone chirp of the Kimunicator rang from Kim's pants pocket. It took her only a moment to extract the device and press the "accept" key, revealing the image of Wade.
"Sitch it, Wade." Kim said snappily, not waiting for any salutation from her computer-friend.
"Well, the good news is that I've finally figured out how Dementor plans on using the PPM." Wade replied.
"I'm guessing that means there's also bad news, too." Ron quipped in return.
"'Fraid so." came Wade's response.
"Good news first, please and thank-you." Kim broke in.
"Okay, the short version is that by tracking the on-line purchase records of certain electronic components, I've figured out what Dementor plans on using the PPM for. He's going to broadcast a signal directly into the global telecommunication satellite network." Wade explained. "Then, he'll be able to hold virtually all the world's communications hostage!"
"Ahhhh… So that's why Dementor needed that do-hickey thing!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "It takes a strong signal to jam all the satellites, and he doesn't want it getting mixed up."
"Sort of like Drakken in Florida last summer." Kim added. "He went after MP3 players with his mind-control thing, but scrambled the signal and wound-up getting hearing aids instead."
"Exact-a-mundo!" Wade exclaimed.
"Beg pardon?" Kim questioned with a quizzical look.
"Sorry… 'Happy Days' marathon on TV last night. Anyway, the bad news is that from what I can tell, Dementor already has all the equipment he needs to make a go of this."
"Then we don't have much time!" Kim growled, a look of stern determination quickly spreading across her face. "Do you have a trace on Dementor's current location?"
"Set and locked!" Wade replied with a sly grin. His new lair is on the North Sea coast of Germany.
"And the ride sitch?
"They'll be there by the time you're ready."
"Spankin'! As always, you continue to rock, Wade!"
Wade simply shrugged, and his image winked out of the Kimunicator's screen.
"C'mon Ron!" Kim commanded. "Time to saddle up, lock 'n load!"
"Right behind ya' KP!" Ron shouted as he tore off down the hall, hot on his girlfriend's heels. "Time to kick some bratwurst!"
The ramp in the back of the C-130 cargo plane opened slowly, and two figures stepped up to the edge. The sun had set a short while ago, and for the moment the last few rays of dusk were still visible on the horizon. There was a noticeable chill in the air; a fact made worse by the altitude and the slipstream of the plane.
"I know I've said this before," Ron yelled over the roar of the engines, "but for just once, couldn't we land and taxi to a gate or something?"
"Don't be such a baby, Ron!" Kim yelled back, rolling her eyes. "We've done this dozens of times before!"
"I am not being a baby! It's just that, oh, never mind! We go on your mark, okay?"
Kim glanced over at Ron, who had dropped into a "ready" crouch. He was attempting to put on a brave face, but Kim could tell he was frightened.
This was one of the major differences between the two of them. She loved the danger presented by these situations; even thrived on it. She found the adrenalin rush exhilarating. Some people might have even called her a "thrill seeker" because of it.
Ron, on the other hand, was beyond terrified of such things, and no amount of chest-pounding or false bravado could mask that from Kim. She simply knew him too well to be fooled in that way. She knew that every instinct he had was telling him to turn and run, yet he refused to acknowledge that message. There were larger issues at stake for him, here.
Furthermore, Kim fully understood just what those issues were, and it made her heart flutter whenever she thought about them. The only reason Ron ever found the courage to go through with these things was his absolute and total devotion to her. In his view, he was her sidekick and best friend, and that meant standing firmly by her side, no matter what the circumstance. He would walk straight through the fires of Hell for her if he had to. This was a sacred responsibility, which he would not allow himself to fail at.
At that moment, a red light within the cargo bay suddenly flashed to green.
"Go time!" Kim yelled, and with that, the two teens stepped off the ramp and into the approaching darkness.
All light of day had disappeared from the sky by the time they touched down: Kim with the grace and poise of an Olympic gymnast, and Ron with an inglorious thud. It was a good thing they weren't being graded on style for this mission.
After stowing their parachutes, they took stock of their surroundings. They had landed on a ledge overlooking the ocean, just outside of Dementor's lair. The lair towered above them, looking like some modernistic version of a medieval castle, built of reinforced concrete rather than stone and mortar. Observation towers sprang from the walls like turrets. All in all, it was an impressive, if ominous sight.
"Hmmmmm…" Ron said, regarding the structure before him. "Personally, if it were me, I would have fired the architect."
"It's a lair, Ron." Kim countered. "It's supposed to be dark and foreboding."
"Yeah, but the whole Goth motif has just been done to death by now." Ron replied. "Why doesn't somebody do a post-modern lair? You know, maybe with a Tudor-style roof and some art-deco…"
"Head in the game, Ron!" Kim chided. "We can discuss your views on architectural design later."
Ron simply grunted his acquiescence, and shouldered his backpack as the two of them started making their way toward a large, steel door set into the cliff at the back of the ledge.
"Hey, KP…" Ron suddenly whispered. "I just had a thought."
"Good for you." Kim gently ribbed.
"No seriously." he insisted. "You saw all of those surveillance towers along the wall, right?"
"Uh huh… So what of them?"
"Well, isn't it ferociously strange that with all that capability, nobody's spotted us yet?"
"Who said zat you haven't been spotted yet, hero thieves?" an all-too-familiar voice boomed from above.
Two sets of eyes, one green and one brown, suddenly shot upward to see the familiar face of the helmet-clad villain accompanied by over a dozen synthodrones, arrayed along a smaller ledge about ten feet above them. Instinctively, both teens dropped into fighting crouches.
"Nice timing. Shall we skip the witty banter and cut right to the action, then?" Kim asked dryly.
Dementor simply shrugged. "Vell, I do enjoy good banter, but I also have a lot of evil on my plate today, und then there's dat meeting vith my stock broker this evening…"
"Ooooh, ooh… That reminds me, what's he think about the future of mutual funds?" Ron suddenly broke in, eliciting a sideways glance from Kim.
"Whaaaaat…," Ron whined. "Just because I'm only seventeen I'm not allowed to start planning for retirement?"
"It iz gute to start early." Dementor interjected. "One does not plan to fail; zey simply fail to plan."
"Heyyyyy… that's catchy, dude! Good one!"
"Danke!" the yellow-skinned villain said with a smile. "You know, I really should write some of zees things down..."
"Uhhhh, weren't we supposed to be skipping the banter?" Kim broke in.
"Vhat… Oh, yah, right." Dementor said, breaking out of a thoughtful repose. "Synthodrones ATTACK!"
In unison, the drones leapt down from their elevated perch and attacked. Kim grabbed one drone as it lunged for her and threw it head-over heels off the cliff. Another drone attacked with a roundhouse punch, which she deftly ducked under before countering with a leg whip which sent the drone flying backwards, taking down two of it comrades as it went. A third attack was quickly defeated with a spin-kick to the temple, sending the drone sprawling into a heap on the ground. As usual, she was on fire, and nothing it seemed could touch her.
Ron, on the other hand, was having a slightly more difficult time of it.
His fighting skills could never compare to Kim's, and he knew this. He always relied more upon skillfully dodging an opponents attacks, and allowing his intrinsic dumb luck to carry the day. Although highly unconventional as fighting styles went, it had always served him well, although at times it could certainly prove nerve-wracking.
This was quickly proving to be one of those times.
Two drones charged him head on, their fists raised and ready to strike. Thinking quickly, Ron charged straight into them, then dove into a summersault, passing right between them before they were able to adjust. He quickly regained his feet, displaying a self-satisfied smile.
The smile didn't last long, however, as he suddenly realized that he was now nose-to-nose with a third drone. Making things worse, the sound of hurried footsteps behind him told Ron that the first two drones had now reversed course and were bearing down on him from the rear.
Panic began to set in, and he instinctively did the first thing that popped into his mind: He ducked.
Ron felt the force of the drone's punch as it sailed over the top of his head, coming so close to connecting that it actually tussled his cowlick. The sensation was quickly followed by the breeze of the first two drones, also sailing over his head, then colliding with the third drone as they went. All three of the attackers quickly collapsed into a heap several feet away.
The self-satisfied smile returned to Ron's face. "Well, that worked out better than I'd planned." he said with a self-congratulatory tone.
"Hurk, yay!" Rufus squeaked, emerging from his owner's hip pocket.
He turned back toward where Dementor had been standing, just in time to see the boot of another drone coming down on top of him.
A thousand flashbulbs suddenly exploded inside his head, and he had the strange, distant sensation of flight. Time seemed to stand still for the longest of moments, as if reality itself had ceased to exist. Then, he felt a sudden tug at his collar, and he groggily looked up to see the figure of Kim silhouetted against the night sky. Her left hand had a hold of him by the back of his shirt, while in her right hand she held her grapple gun. Apparently the drone's kick had sent him flying into Kim, and the momentum had carried them both over the cliff. It was only because of Kim's sharp instincts and lightning-quick reflexes that they were still alive.
Slowly regaining his senses as they both swung aimlessly in the night air, he became aware of Kim calling out to him.
"Ron… Ron! Are you okay? Say something!" she commanded, her voice fraught with concern.
"Unnngh!" he grunted as he pulled himself up to wrap his arms around her narrow waist. "I think I'll be feeling that one in the morning, but I'm okay."
"All right, then!" Kim replied, now feeling much better that Ron seemed to be back in the game. "Let's get back topside and finish this thing!"
She pushed the button to retract the cable. The grapple clicked twice, shuddered, and made an unnerving grinding sound.
"Uh-oh!"
"Kim! We're dangling from the cliff! This is no time for 'uh-oh!'" Ron franticly insisted.
"Sorry, but there's something wrong with the grapple. It feels like a gear is slipping." Kim informed him. "You got any ideas?"
"Hmmmm… We could climb up the cable. You always rock at that in gym class." Ron suggested.
No good." Kim replied. "That's with a stout rope that I can get a good grip on. With a cable, there's nothing to hold onto."
"Okay then, uhhhh, give me a second here…"
"Could you hurry, please and thank you?" Kim called down, a sudden tone of desperation evident in her voice.
Somewhat perplexed by this change in her demeanor, Ron looked up at Kim. A full moon had by now begun to rise in the eastern sky, providing just enough light to see the contorted expression on her face. She wasn't used to supporting both their weights, and her hands and arms were starting to cramp up. She wouldn't be able to hold on much longer, and although she tried desperately not to show it, Ron could tell that panic was starting to set in.
Ron began to search desperately for a way out of their current sitch. The cliff was too far away, and even if it wasn't, it was a sheer face with nowhere to grab hold. It was still too dark to see the ocean below them, but the muffled sound of the surf told him that they were too far up to risk a jump. He silently cursed himself for not bringing his own grapple, but one could never tell for certain just what gear one would need on a mission, and there was only so much cargo one could fit into a pair of cargo pants.
"Uhhh, I've got nothing down here!" he called up to Kim.
"Anything at all would be good right now!" she called back, the anguish in her voice now much more pronounced.
This was quickly becoming one of the tightest spots that they had ever been in. Ron franticly wracked his brain, searching for anything, anything, that could get them out of this, but as hard as he tried, he drew a blank.
Well, that wasn't entirely true…
After several agonizing moments, he reluctantly came to the conclusion that they only had one option left on the table. The very thought of it made him sick to his stomach, but it was all he had, and he was willing to do anything to save the life of his only true friend in the world.
He gently reached into his hip pocket and withdrew Rufus, transferring the tiny creature to the pocket of Kim's olive-green cargos. Kim glanced down, wondering what her best friend was up to.
"Kim," Ron called up again, his words suddenly hesitant and sullen. "I'm… I'm going to let go."
"WHAT?" Kim shrieked, her expression suddenly turning to something one would normally expect from a San Francisco detective who was just informed that he's Dirty Harry's new partner. "Would you mind repeating that? I think I had something crazy in my ear!"
"KP," Ron explained. "I know the grapple won't pull both our weights, and you're a lot lighter than I am. I'm willing to bet it's still got enough power to pull you up solo."
"Think about this for a sec, Ron!" Kim screamed. "It's like four hundred feet down from here or something. If you let go, you'll be killed!"
Ron locked his gaze with Kim's, his brown eyes boring straight into her soul, conveying a love and a devotion which defied comprehension. Her heart felt like it was caught in a vice, and her breathing became shallow and difficult.
"I'm sorry, KP," he finally said. "But the options box is empty." He sighed deeply, before continuing.
"When we first started this whole 'save-the-world-thing,' we both knew this moment might someday come. That someday we'd find ourselves in a no-win scenario, and that only one of us would wind-up going home." He sighed again, glancing down toward the water.
"You're the one who needs to go on… not me. You're Kim Possible: The girl who can do anything. Me… I'm just the goofy sidekick. In the grand scheme of things, my death really doesn't matter that much."
"Ron!" Kim cried out, tears now streaming down her cheeks. She had long since forgotten the pain in her hands. "You're not just my sidekick, you're my partner, and my best friend! Don't you see, I can't save the world without you! I need you, Ron! I… I love you!" The last sentence she was barely able to choke out between sobs, which now flowed uncontrollably from within her.
"I… I love you to, Kimberly Anne Possible." Ron said through tears of his own. "That's why I have to do this."
Kim looked down at the love of her life, the person who had been her constant companion and closest confidant throughout nearly her entire existence. His devotion to her was so great that he was ready and willing to give up his own life to save her. One of her tears fell from her cheek and dropped onto his.
"Have a good life." he said, taking one last, loving look into the emerald green eyes which had captivated him ever since childhood.
And with that, he simply slipped away, quickly being swallowed by the inky-black shadows below.
"ROOOOOOONNNN!" Kim wailed at the top of her lungs.
There was no answer.
"ROOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNN!" she screamed out again, but the only response was the sound of the surf far below.
Kim was beside herself with grief. She spent several minutes hanging there in the emptiness, repeatedly calling out his name. Her mind tumbled like a raging torrent, thinking of all the wonderful things which were now lost to her forever. She would never again gaze into those big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. Eyes filled with love and tenderness, which could captivate her very soul. She would never again feel his gentle touch upon her cheek, nor taste the warmth of his kiss. She would never become his wife… they would never make love… she would never bear his children. Everything that he was, everything that he had meant to her, all of it was simply… gone.
Sobbing uncontrollably, and with tears now virtually pouring from her eyes, Kim said a silent and final goodbye to her life-long friend. Then, without so much as a word, she pushed the retract button on the grapple once again, rising up toward the cliff top, racing desperately away from the place where they had parted.
Author's Notes:
Okay… okay… Before everybody opens up with the flame-throwers because I just killed-off their favorite character, let me say one thing:
Don't count your sidekicks before they splat!
What in the flippin' heck do I mean by this? You'll just have to wait for chapter five to find out. (Insert creepy, evil laugh here)
"Danke," simply means "thanks" in German. I can't be clever all the time, dammit!
Also, here's a hint for anyone still trying to solve the trivia question from chapter one: The person in question was a famous professional golfer, who was known for his machine-like consistency and his fanatical devotion to practice. Luck wound up playing a big part in his life, especially in the one incident where he unexpectedly wound up "catching a bus." The winner receives a hearty hand clasp and a copy of last year's calendar!