~ Chapter Two ~

The beams of their flashlights were barely enough to cut the darkness as Team Possible pushed ahead into the unknown. To call the corridor they were now exploring "claustrophobic" would be putting it mildly, as the concrete walls were barely wide enough for a person of slight build to squeeze through with shoulders across. For the likes of Drakken or Shego it would be little trouble, but Kim silently wondered how some of the huskier henchmen could ever manage such a feat.

It wasn't long before the accommodations became much more spacious however, as the narrow passage soon rejoined the bore of the original tunnel on the far side of the blocked section. A ramshackle assemblage of wires and lights hung haphazardly from the ceiling, providing enough light to navigate by, but little else.

Shining her light across the walls and ceiling, Kim noted that the concrete ramparts they had seen previously had now given way to walls of brick and mortar. Meanwhile, the muddy dirt floor below was littered with dozens of such bricks, which over time had lost their tenuous grip and given up their ghosts to gravity's relentless pull.

"Well this is just unsettling." Ron remarked, jerking his light around as the tell tale crackle of shifting masonry reverberated through a distant corner of the bore.

"Wade? Are you sure that this place is safe?" Kim whispered into her wrist. "'Cause I'm not really feeling the confidence right now."

"It's as safe as it can be." Wade replied in a less than reassuring fashion. "But you've gotta remember that the geology of the Pacific Coast is notoriously unstable. Plus, you have to factor in the seismic activity."

"Great." Kim moaned. "And just to make sure we're all sufficiently freaked out, exactly how 'active' are we talking here?"

"Let me put it this way." Wade explained, somewhat nervously. "You've heard of the San Andreas Fault, haven't you?"

Kim abruptly halted her advance, causing a nervous Ron to nearly plow into the back of her.

"Yeeeeeah." She cautiously admitted.

"Well… If my GPS readings are correct… It's exactly four feet in front of you."

"Well this was a fun trip!" Ron sang, turning and marching back the way they had come, his eyes as wide as the dinner plates at an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Be sure to let me know how it turns out!"

He abruptly found himself on his backside in the mud however, thanks to Kim's firm grip on the collar of his shirt.

"Oh no." she scolded. "We're so not backing out now."

"Oh really? How about in another five seconds when I start screaming hysterically?"

"Look! Would you just calm down and get a hold of yourself?"

"The only thing I want to be holding right now is solid ground with no heavy objects above me!"

"Look," Kim sighed, "this tunnel has been here for… for… uh.. Hey Wade… When was this thing built?"

"Eighteen-eighty."

"…For well over a century." She continued. "It hasn't collapsed in all of that time, so I think it's safe to say that it's… well… um… safe." She winced slightly at the highly awkward turn of phrase.

Reluctantly, Ron took the hand that Kim offered and struggled to his feet, slipping and nearly falling again in the damp earth. Soon they were on the move again, with Ron doing an awkward little hop across the spot that Wade had identified as essentially being a very large defect in the surface of the earth.

"Worried about your mom's back, are we?" Kim knowingly smirked.

"Hey, have you seen what her chiropractor charges?" Ron responded defensively. "And let's face it: That's one really big crack back there. I ain't takin' any chances!"

"You do realize that's just an old superstition, right?"

"Oh, and I suppose next you're going to try telling me that four-leaf clovers aren't really lucky?"

"Actually, they're not."

"Awwwww, so I've been putting up with grass stains all these years for nothing?"

"And you wonder why your mom taught you to do your own laundry at the age of eight."

"Hey now! Don't be knockin' the Ron-man's mad washday skills. There's a reason I'm always stylin' wrinkle-free and springtime fresh."

"And color-coordinated Diablo Sauce stains." Kim murmured under her breath, resuming her advance into the shadows. There were several more seconds of silence before Ron spoke again.

"You know," he giggled, "I just thought of something."

"And what's that?"

"That this is the first time I can remember being on a mission and honestly being able to say this."

"Say what?"

"That it's not my fault."

All of Kim's efforts to remain stealthy were for naught as she burst out in a belly laugh. Like so many of Ron's observations, the remark was corny, ridiculous, out of left field, and exactly what was needed to break the tension of the moment. It was the perfect reminder of why she had first started taking him with her on missions so many years ago.

"How much… (cough)… how much farther, Wade?" Kim managed to ask as her giggles finally subsided.

"Well the entire tunnel is listed as being over sixty-two hundred feet, but I'm picking up a magnetic anomaly about fifty yards ahead of you. It looks like there's a large, tubular steel structure built directly into the mountain."

"Probably reinforcement to prevent cave-ins." Kim theorized. "Okay, if we're that close, then we're going to 'silent running' mode. Stay off the com link for now, but leave an open channel in case there's an emergency."

"Gotcha." Wade agreed. "I'll monitor your progress from here and if any thing serious pops up, I'll text."

"Understood. We'll be in touch."

"Good luck, guys."

"Thanks. You too."

Exactly 150 feet later, the duo was standing before a heavy door, set into a wall of shimmering stainless steel.

"Clinical, yet foreboding." Kim dryly observed. "I see Drakken hasn't lost his sense of style."

"Yeah, but the welcome mat and the 'no soliciting' sign sure take something away." Ron added. "Which brings up the question of which one we follow."

"Well we're not selling anything," Kim observed, "so I'd say the welcome sign is the applicable one."

"And if the good doc is nice enough to invite us in, then it would seem rude not to accept." Ron concurred.

"The 'rents always did teach me to be neighborly." Kim grinned, reaching up and trying the doorknob. There was an audible click, followed by a faint hiss of air as pressure equalized and the door swung open.

"Darn! And I forgot to bring a housewarming gift." Ron lamented as he followed stealthily behind.

Once inside the hatch, the surroundings became much more familiar. As with nearly all lairs, the lighting was ample but ominous, casting dramatic shadows into just the right places, creating a sense of impending doom without interfering with ones ability to see what they were doing. The working spaces of the lair seemed to be further along the corridor's length while stacks of unopened packing crates sat closer to the entrance: Evidence that the mountain's newest resident had yet to finish the process of settling in.

Using the crates as cover, the intrepid members of Team Possible advanced stealthily through the shadows. Darting here and there, hugging the outer walls and carefully peeking around each corner before advancing again, they made their way toward the activity that seemed to be centered in an area just ahead of them. It wasn't long before familiar voices became distinct and they paused to listen in.

"Johnson! Andrews! Put the electro-magnetic repulsor ray over there against the far wall! Smithers! The neural incompacitor goes over there by the particle accelerator!"

"Hey Boss! Where do you want the espresso machine?"

"Over there in the corner by the short-wave communications jammer and the pool table."

"Blue boy's got pool table?" Ron remarked. "Sweet!"

"Shhhhh!" Kim quietly scolded.

A resounding crash suddenly came from an unknown portion of the lair, drawing the attention of everyone present.

"Would you nincompoops be more careful?" Drakken shouted. "And I might also add that that's coming out of your check!"

"Moving day blues, huh Doc?" Shego asked, emerging from the shadows to stand beside her employer slash significant other.

"I realize that good help is hard to find Shego, but I didn't think it was impossible." the mad scientist growled in frustration. "For Pete's sake, I used to find all the men and materials I needed just by opening the phone book."

"No you didn't."

"Well I always meant to."

"Uh-huhhhhh..." the green villianess drolled with a hooded glance, looking about as she made a cursory inspection of the room.

"So this time around you decided to go with an 'underground railroad' theme, huh?" she finally spoke, passing her own judgment upon Drakken's latest taste in lairs. "Any particular reason for this departure from your normal M.O.?"

"Well since you asked," Drakken proudly stated, counting items off on his outstretched fingers, "in no particular order, the costs were minimal, there's no drawn-out period of construction, permitting is easy-peazy in this county… there are no pesky neighbors to be snooping around in our business..."

"Called it!"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

"...and most importantly, its in close proximity to the primary component of my latest fool-proof plan."

"Yeah, unless the fool happens to be you." Shego snarked under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing Doctor D... Nothing at all. You were saying something about the plan?"

"Ah! Right! My plan!" Drakken enthused, turning almost giddy with excitement. "You see, my good Shego, no power on earth will be able to stop my latest plan. And do you know why?"

"Ugh. I just know I'm gonna regret this, but I'll bite anyway." the villainous vixen groaned. "Why is that, Doc?"

"Because the power behind my latest plan is the earth!"

"Yeah, you just lost me."

"Nnnnngh! Okay, it's like this." Drakken began to explain. "Do you know what the most destructive force in California is?"

"Wildfires?" One of the henchmen spoke up.

"No." Drakken moaned.

"Mudslides?" another offered.

"No!"

"Thunderstorms?"

"Nope!"

"Lakers fans?"

"Not even close!"

"Charlie Sheen behind the wheel?"

"Earthquakes! It's earthquakes, alright! Sheesh!" Drakken fumed. "Long story short, this lair is sitting just a few yards from the largest fault line in the state and with my new Tectonic Harmonic Equalizer I can control its movements."

"Well that just rolls right off the tongue." Shego observed, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Tectonic Harmonic Equalizer?" Kim whispered to her partner slash fiancé. "The T.H.E.?"

"Sounds like someone stuttering." Ron observed dryly.

"Maybe he's just nervous."

"Or he's developed a verbal tick."

"It's the perfect plan!" Drakken continued to rave. "Simple and direct! I'll destroy the entire state, little by little, until they agree to put me in charge of everything!"

"Wait! You want to be governor?" Shego suddenly broke in. "Are you freakin' kidding me?"

"Seriously Shego. It's not like I could do any worse than that mush-mouthed musclehead that's running things now."

Shego started to make a smart remark when she pulled up short, realizing with no small amount of surprise that the self-proclaimed genius actually had a point.

"Okay, point made... but what happens if they don't meet your demands?"

"Then Los Angeles and San Francisco wind up as suburbs." Drakken grinned malevolently.

"Hollywood and the tree-huggers living side-by-side, huh?" Shego pondered. "You know, this could actually turn out to be entertaining."

"Not to mention that the Dodgers and Giants will be cross-town rivals again!" Drakken giggled, prancing about giddily. "Heck! It might just be enough to get me watching Sport Center again! You know, things there just haven't been the same since that Olbermann fellow left."

'Okay, okay… So it sounds solid on the surface." Shego finally admitted. "But aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh jeez! Is my fly open again?"

"No, and thanks for the visual on that count." Shego groaned. "I'm talking about our last foray into the world ground-shifting events."

"Beg pardon?"

"Don't you even remember? The whole 'back to school' debacle with that stupid fake university of yours?"

"First of all, my idea for starting a university was not stupid!"

"Debatable."

"Nnnnngh! And second, yes I do remember the experience, thank you very much, and I've now taken the necessary precautions. This high-strength steel cylinder we're standing in is more than sturdy enough to survive even the strongest quake. As long as we stay inside, we're as snug as a bug in a rug."

"You willing to put a guarantee on that?"

"If I wasn't then I wouldn't have passed on the manufacturer's extended warranty when I bought this place."

"Okay, fine. Whatever then." Shego finally relented. "So are we gonna do this thing or not?"

"Patience, my dear Shego." Drakken sagely instructed, raising a hand in a gesture of placation. "Once my men have all of the machines connected we'll be able to commence 'Operation Shake-Up.'" He grinned malevolently as he spoke. "In just a few short moments, the golden state will be shaken and stirred."

"Which is our cue to get him 'all shook up.'" Kim remarked, withdrawing a few feet further back into the shadows. "We're gonna need a…"

"Distraction? I'm on it." Ron spoke, completing his fiancé's thought. Pulling back behind another stack of crates, he chanced a quick glance about before striding confidently across the room and right up to a red-clad henchman who appeared to be in the final stages of installing an electrical junction box.

"Excuse me buddy," he said, tapping the burly man on the shoulder, "but could you point a guy to the men's room?"

"Down that-a-way, third door on the right." The man grunted and nodded, barely looking up from his task.

"Ah! Thanks dude." Ron jovially said before turning and walking away, leaving the hired henchman to continue his work.

…Work that continued for all of five seconds.

"Huh? Heeeeeeeeey… Wait a sec!" he exclaimed, his face shooting up from the box as realization struck him like a dropped anvil. "Hey you! Hold it right there!"

And with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, Ron was off like a shot. Zipping past a stunned Drakken and Shego and disappearing into the shadows beyond, he left a cloud of dust and stunned silence in his wake.

"Uh, wasn't that…" Drakken stammered.

"Pumpkin's dopey sidekick." Shego correctly observed. "Looks like we've got company, Doctor D. After him fellas!"

A dozen henchmen and one blue megalomaniac simply stood and stared at her.

"Oh, do you mean us?" one of the henchmen finally asked after several seconds of silence.

"No, I mean the freakin' Bobsey Twins, you moron!" Shego growled impatiently. "Yes, you!"

Virtually every henchman in sight dropped whatever was in his hands and sprinted away into the depths of the lair, hotly pursuing their blond-haired quarry and leaving the villainous duo alone with their machines.

"Well that was unexpected." Drakken observed, staring off into the darkness. "How the heck do you suppose the buffoon got in here anyway?"

"Don't know and don't care right now." Shego shot back, suspiciously scanning the room. "My main concern is the other half of the team. 'Cause wherever Tweedle Dumber back there goes, Princess is sure to follow."

"Ho-ho, you know me all too well, Shego."

In a flash, the mint-skinned villainess had ignited her hands and turned to face her teen-aged nemesis.

"So Kimmie. Still dragging around that big-eared boy toy of yours, I see." She taunted.

"He's been good enough to kick your sorry butts on multiple occasions." A non-repulsed Kim shot back. "And for the record, he's not just my boy toy."

"What? Did you finally wise up and demote him to 'doorstop' duty?"

"Not exactly." Kim smirked, ripping at the Velcro strap on her left wrist and removing her glove. Even in the relatively dim light of the lair, the glint of the tiny princess-cut diamond was unmistakable.

"Oh puh-leez. You're kidding me, right?" Shego stammered, recoiling back in shock. "The idiot actually popped the question?"

"Well I didn't find this in a box of cereal, if that's what you mean." The red headed heroine grinned as she replaced her glove. "But to answer you directly, he proposed right after our last mission, and… well let's just say I found it a real no-brainer."

"Really?" Shego asked, seeming genuinely surprised by Kim's account. "So the sidekick finally managed to grow a pair and take the direct approach, huh? Unlike some people I know." She cast a sideways scowl at her employer, who suddenly seemed fascinated with a particular line of rivets in the ceiling.

Kim only coughed nervously and tried to think of something… anything… other than what Shego was implying.

"Maybe he's not eating the right brand of cereal." Kim quipped, nodding subtly in the mad scientist's direction. "And not that your own personal issues aren't fascinating, or anything even close to that actually, but can we get on with business? I had to bump back a 3:30 appointment with the perfect tan for this and I just hate to keep my friends waiting."

"Oh, why Kimmie." Shego predatorily grinned, increasing the strength of her plasma, "Looking for a good bake, are we? Please, allow me to lend an assist!"

And with that the green villainess charged, launching a volley of plasma and following it up with a vicious swipe that Kim expertly sidestepped. Shego was quick to redirect her attack however, following up with a backhand judo chop that Kim ducked beneath before retaliating with a right jab that she just missed landing.

Backing away from each other following the brief but frantic exchange, the pair began to circle each other like a pair of amped-up alley cats, each one poised and ready to strike at the slightest hint of an opening.

"I gotta tell you, Pumpkin. I'm really going to miss these little dust-ups of ours." Shego taunted as the pair orbited.

"Why? You finally get tired of having your head handed to you?" Kim shot right back, picking up on the ebb and flow of banter as if it were second nature.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, Kimmie." Shego smirked. "I'm just figuring that once you set up housekeeping with nacho-boy, you probably won't have much time for practice. Too bad. It's always sad to see when such a wild and ferocious beast gets domesticated."

"Oh don't you worry yourself, Shego." Kim responded in kind. "Rest assured that Ron and I will both be kicking your biscuit well into our late thirties!"

"I wouldn't bet on that, Princess!"

"Really? And here I thought easy money was your thing."

Again the combatants clashed, rapidly closing the distance between them to trade a vicious series of rapid-fire punches and jabs. Shego had just missed with a haymaker and Kim was preparing to reply with a roundhouse kick when an effeminate scream echoed throughout the lair.

Emerging from the shadows, Ron came tearing through central portion of the lair once more, closely pursued by a gaggle of henchmen that seemed substantially fewer in number than the group that had initiated the pursuit. Drakken, Shego and Kim all jumped aside as the disorganized mob zipped past before quickly disappearing into the shadows once more. In their wake, a handful of wheezing stragglers stumbled into view and collapsed, their exhausted forms unmoving upon the cold, tile floor.

"That does it!" Drakken shouted, angrily slamming his fist down on a nearby table. "Starting next week, everyone is going on a strict cardio regimen! No exceptions!"

"Mad running away skills." Kim inwardly grinned as she shook her head. Sometimes Ron could find the most innovative uses for his talents.

Shego could only groan dejectedly as she massaged the bridge of her nose. Somehow, when she started her career in villainy, working with associates of such lackluster quality was not something she had envisioned.

"Imagining a more competent set of co-workers?" Kim asked tauntingly.

"No, I'm imagining you in a full body cast!" Shego angrily snapped, lowering her head and charging like an enraged bull.

Kim held her ground against the assault, waiting until just the right moment to side step and grab her opponent's shoulder. From there it was a simple matter of redirecting her attacker's momentum, and with a casual flip the villainous vixen was sent sprawling across the floor.

Flip-kicking back to her feet, she charged again, this time coming at Kim with a straight overhand chop. Kim took a step back and braced for impact, bringing both arms up across herself in an expert block. But the force of the blow was stronger than she anticipated, and she quickly found herself driven back against a nearby crate. Shego pressed the attack, bringing her plasma-engulfed hand within mere inches of Kim's face.

"Word of advice for working underground, Princess." Shego growled, leaning in to stare Kim directly in the eyes. "When you're in a hole, stop digging!"

"Dig this!" Kim snapped back, bringing one foot up to the center of Shego's chest and shoving hard. The green-themed villainess stumbled backward and slid to a stop, shoulders heaving and teeth clenched in barely controlled rage. Kim's face set as she took up a defensive stance. Clearly, Shego was not going to let this one go easily.

She was about to launch yet another assault when the sound of hurried footsteps and heavy breathing filled the air once more. Her shoulders slumped as everyone's attention was drawn toward the shadows. "This is just getting to be tedious." The mint-skinned ne'er-do-well silently thought.

Materializing from the shadows yet again, Ron approached the group at a steady trot rather than the frenzied sprint he had shown previously. Jogging into the center of the group, he casually turned around and watched in amusement as one lone henchman, haggard and gasping for breath, stumbled forth from the darkness, gripping his side and barely aware of his surroundings. With raspy, heaving breaths he staggered forward to stand in front of the tow-headed blonde, his wrap-around sunglasses doing little to disguise the utter exhaustion that was now afflicting him. He lifted his gaze to stare into the smiling brown eyes of his fleet-footed quarry, prompting Ron's grin to only increase in magnitude.

Then, with a gleam in his eye, Ron placed a single index finger in the center of the man's forehead and gave a gentle shove. The exhausted man teetered unstably for the briefest of moments, and then like a giant tree falling to the woodsman's axe, toppled to the floor in an unresponsive heap.

"Game, set and match." Ron grinned, exchanging a high-five with Rufus who had just emerged from his owner's pocket. "The Ron-dog is a-feelin' the need for the mad speed!"

"LOOK OUT, RON-DOG!" Kim suddenly shouted, giving him just enough warning to duck as Drakken took a swing from behind him with a hastily acquired length of steel pipe. He stumbled and retreated as he dodged two more blows, looking for some sort of advantage. He looked to Kim for help, but found none as Shego had renewed her own attack. He would have to deal with the blue megalomaniac on his own.

Using "duck-and-dodge" techniques honed over many months on the gridiron, he continued to retreat, keeping himself just out of the mad scientist's reach. He backed up steadily, shifting left and right to avoid each blow, slowly working his way in amongst several large pieces of advanced-looking machinery. The close confines soon restricted Drakken's swing, providing some measure of breathing room, and he seized upon the opportunity to even the odds.

Looking to his left, he noticed a section of steel pipe similar to the one Drakken now wielded. Although stout and solid, it appeared flimsily installed, with one end being loosely attached to an older and well-corroded copper pipe that protruded directly from the wall.

Reaching up with both hands he took a solid grip and pulled down with all of his weight. The steel creaked and groaned, shuddered momentarily, then finally gave way, falling cleanly into his large hands.

"So you wanna play things that way, do ya blue-boy?" he heckled as he twirled the pipe back and forth in front of him like a martial arts weapon. "Well then prepare for all your pipe dreams to come true!" His gleaming grin suddenly faded however, and he cast a sullen expression at the mole rat on his shoulder.

"That sounded a lot better when it was still in my head, didn't it?"

"Hurk… Ho yeah."

"EGAD, YOU FOOL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Drakken suddenly shrieked, causing everyone in the room, including several of the henchmen who were only now getting the starch backing their knees, to stop and take notice.

"Uh, you mean besides an admittedly poor attempt at witty banter?" Ron asked perplexedly. "Nothing. Why? Did I miss something?"

"SHEGO! PUT OUT THAT LIGHT!" Drakken screamed again.

"Huh? What on earth are you talking about?" His erstwhile sidekick stammered in confusion.

"YOUR HANDS! PUT THEM OUT!"

Stunned by the sudden rebuke, Shego quickly complied and the green fire that engulfed her hands sputtered out.

"THE POWER! SHUT OFF THE MAIN POWER!" Drakken continued in near hysterics, leaping across the room to a nearby electrical panel and pulling violently downward on a large, red breaker. Instantly, the entire lair was plunged into darkness, only to be quickly re-illuminated in a far dimmer fashion by banks of battery-powered emergency lights that clicked on automatically as the loss of primary power was registered.

As nearly a dozen people blinked blindly amidst the inky blackness waiting impatiently for their eyes to adjust, an anonymous voice called out from the dark giving form to the question that all were thinking at that moment.

"Uh, boss?" one of the henchmen warily inquired. "What's going on?"

"That pipe that the buffoon just wrecked is the feeder line to the primary fuel cells!" Drakken hissed in a tone that was half anger and half sheer panic. "I tapped a natural gas deposit to power this facility and without that pipe the gas floods directly into the room! It doesn't take but a few moments to reach explosive levels! Right now, any spark would be enough to set this whole place off!"

"Sniff-sniff… Phee-eewww!" Rufus noted, fanning a paw in front of his nose.

"Oh, that's what that smell is!" Ron observed, staring at Drakken and wrinkling his own nose in disgust. "Man, I thought you just cut one loose."

"So this whole room is now a bomb waiting to go off?" Shego clarified in a way that was perhaps more statement than question. "Can't you just shut off the main valve and ventilate the place or something?"

"It's a naturally-occurring deposit! There is no valve!" Drakken bellowed.

"Well that was just a stroke of genius, now wasn't it?"

"Hey! Don't blame me! When Mother Nature creates these things she doesn't exactly supply pre-installed plumbing!"

"Fine! Whatever! So now what do we do, oh fearless leader?" Shego asked mockingly.

"You mean before or after I change my shorts?" Ron timidly whimpered from the shadows.

"Eeeewww." Kim winced.

"First of all," Drakken whispered, as if he feared that loud noises could set the impending conflagration off, "we scour the room and eliminate all potential sources of ignition. That means all electrical equipment: Generators, lighting, kitchen appliances…"

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

"Telephones…" he whimpered dejectedly.

"Telemarketers: They always call at the worst time." Ron dryly observed.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

"I don't know about you guys," Shego said, abandoning her fighting stance and slowly backing away from the group, "but I ain't waiting around to see what they're selling! GAIN WAY!"

She quickly turned and bolted for the door, the remainder of the lair's occupants following closely on her heels.

Spilling out through the steel door of the lair's inner sanctum, a dozen frantic individuals scrambled for cover. Tripping over one another like actors reprising a scene from a "Keystone Cops" short, they pressed themselves up against the crumbling brick walls, the last one out having the presence of mind to slam the door closed behind him.

Seconds later, the entire mountain shook with a resounding "boom" as the heavy armored door was torn from its hinges and pitched out of sight into the darkness beyond. Several bricks fell to join their brethren on the muddy floor amidst a shower of dust that cascaded down from above, and the entire tunnel seemed to groan like a great wounded animal beneath the stress, unsure as to it's ability to withstand this latest assault.

No one dared breathe as they awaited the tunnel's verdict. Would the century-old structure hold? Or would this dank and moldy chamber now become their collective tomb? For several seconds they listened as the surrounding earth emitted a series of unsettling sounds, but when the dust finally settled and the sounds subsided, they were all still there, safe and relatively unharmed.

"Well… (cough)… that was a… (cough)… a blast." Ron choked through the remaining dust. "Let's agree to… (cough)… never do that again, shall we?"

"Yeah. (cough) Agreed." Kim hacked in return.

"My… my lair." Drakken whined from the dark corner where he had taken refuge. "My machines… My plans… My troll doll collection…"

"Uh, maybe this would be a good time to go?" Ron offered, leaning over to whisper quietly in his fiancé's ear.

"Good call. Let's split." She quickly agreed.

"Oh cruel hand of fate! Why have you cursed me so?" Drakken continued to bawl. "What further misfortune could you possibly choose to inflict upon me?"

"Hey boss. Check this out." One of the henchmen said, handing Drakken what appeared to be a battered and partially melted telephone answering machine. "It must've been thrown out by the explosion. I think it still works."

Taking the offered device, Drakken eyed it suspiciously for several seconds before summoning his courage and pressing the "play" button.

"BEEEEEEEP! Hi Drewbie. It's mommy." The machine squawked. "I just wanted to let you know that this week's canasta tournament was canceled, so I got to thinking how absolutely wonderful it would be to come and visit my little boy for the week. I'll be there on Tuesday. Then we can start on fixing up that social life of yours. Lovey-lou! BEEEEEEEP!"

"!"


The mad scientist's agonized wail was still ringing in their ears when Team Possible finally made their way back to the Sloth. Tossing their gear unceremoniously into the trunk, they both climbed into the front seats and buckled up for the drive back to the beach.

"Well that was certainly an eventful afternoon." Ron offered as Kim guided the Sloth back onto the road and began the arduous ascent out of the canyon. "Fighting, explosions, cave-ins… I'd say we hit the complete trifecta with this one."

"A lot more exciting than laying on a beach." Kim agreed. "Which brings up another issue."

"Really? What's that?"

"That we still have two days of vacation to burn." She pointed out. "So what should we do? Pick up where we left off?"

"Meh, I don't think sun-worshiping is really in the cards for today." Ron observed, noting the angle of the sun in the western sky. "Maybe we could try that little seafood place we found yesterday out on the pier?"

"Always thinking about food, huh?"

"Hey, I can't help it! Whenever I let my mind wander it just naturally goes in that direction." Ron said defensively. "It's like the swallows returning to Capistrano or something."

"Well your sense of direction is something that we can work on later," Kim warmly smiled from across the car, "but for right now, an early dinner sounds nice."

"Yeah, I thought so too." Ron agreed. "And then afterward, maybe a sunset walk on the beach?"

"Sounds even better." Kim purred as she smoothly guided the pink coupe around one of the many hairpin turns along the road, allowing her mind to drift a bit, smiling as she anticipated the sensation of warm sand between her toes and Ron's hand in hers.

"So it's a date, then." Ron agreed, stretching himself out in the passenger seat and clasping his hands behind his head. "Now let's see how quick we can get back. 'Cause you know how seafood tastes best when it's fresh."

And with that the brightly colored vehicle accelerated through the redwoods, perhaps a little faster than it should.


Author's Notes:

And thus we conclude out latest experiment in literary settings. Hope I didn't blow up the lab, professor. (No pun intended.)

As was previously stated, this story represents an attempt on my part to push the boundaries of setting fictional tales in real-world settings… To effectively see how "real" fiction can be. Did it succeed? Or did it fall flat on its face? I'll let you, the reader, be the judge of that.

Oh, and for those of you who were wondering about a time line, this story takes place directly following the events of "Rise of Rhodighan." Those of you who were wondering how to keep all of this organized... Now you know.

Passing Gas: The gas pocket beneath the summit ridge near Wright's Station is very real. Discovered during excavation of the summit tunnel in the late 1870s, construction foremen would routinely enter the tunnel and perform a process known as "flashing," lighting an oil-soaked rag at the end of a long pole to burn off excess gas before explosive levels of saturation could be reached. This approach left something to be desired however, as Foreman M. C. Hyland and a crew of 31 Chinese laborers tragically discovered on the evening of February 12th, 1878.

Walking into the tunnel at the start of the night shift, Hyland reached into his coat and pulled out a match to light the flashing rag as his crew lingered a few yards behind. The instant that the match was struck however, the very air around them ignited and a great column of flame roared down the tunnel bore, bursting through the portal with a mighty report that was heard for miles in all directions. Fifty feet from the tunnel's mouth a ten-ton air compressor was flipped onto its side like a child's toy, and at a range of 200 feet, the Wright's blacksmith shop was leveled by the shockwave. Further away, railroad flatcars were tossed into Los Gatos Creek like a giant game of pick-up sticks. Amidst the smoldering, stinking aftermath, a few survivors including Hyland himself staggered forward, each of them burned almost beyond recognition. Although some would linger for a few days, all would ultimately succumb to their wounds.

Work would progress and the tunnel would ultimately be completed in 1880, but operating trains through the mountain was acknowledged as risky until 1893 when installation of a brick lining walled off the source.

And even then, the legacy of the blast would still be felt. In order to dissipate the reduced flow of gas that even still continued to seep into the tunnel, a copper pipe was driven into the brick wall near the tunnel's peak, tapping the deposit beyond. An open flame was then applied to the end of the pipe, burning off the seeping gas as it emerged from the mountain and bathing the darkened interior with a ghostly glow. It would become known within local legend as the "Eternal Flame of the South Pacific Coast," both memorializing the lives that were lost on that tragic winter's evening, and marking for train crews the point at which the throttle would be cut and the brakes applied for the long, downhill glide to daylight.

Questions regarding interior conditions have lingered ever since the tunnel was sealed in 1941, leading to much speculation over potential hazards concealed within the mountain. In the late 1990s, a team of geologists and biochemists from nearby Stanford University drilled a small pilot hole through the earthen plug at Wright's and inserted a sampling probe, marking the first human inspection of the tunnel's interior in over half-a-century. Sure enough, large quantities of petroleum-based natural gas were present. However, the team concluded that there was no threat posed, as the anaerobic environment within the bore did not contain sufficient oxygen to allow for combustion. Still, for the few residents who continue to call these mountains home, the knowledge that they're living directly above what essentially amounts to the world's largest Molotov Cocktail is an unsettling proposition.

South Pacific Coast Railroad: The story of the South Pacific Coast begins in the early 1870s, when the nation was still flush from the completion of the first Transcontinental Railroad, and the titans of Victorian-era business were still finding new and innovative ways to make untold fortunes from the entire affair. To the robber barons of the era it was a bonanza, but to the small-town farmers and businessmen of the San Francisco Bay Area, it was a period of economic enslavement. Caught within the vice-like grip of corporate monopoly, farmers and merchants were presented with a simple choice by the now mighty Central Pacific Railroad: Either pay the prices demanded, or be run out of business entirely.

Price gouging… Double billing… Land fraud… Strong-arm tactics… All were tools used by the C.P. to get their way, and with many company officers also holding elected positions within state government, the avenues of recourse available to a downtrodden citizenry were limited to non-existent. It was an economic stranglehold that author Frank Norris would later describe in detail with his best-selling docu-novel "The Octopus."

It was enough to inspire some area residents to action, and in 1874 a group of strawberry farmers from the community of San Jose took matters into their own hands. Banding together to form a company they called the Santa Clara Valley Railroad, they proposed to build their own track through the salt marshes of the south bay, connecting their fields to ferry landings along the tidal mud flats that dominated the shoreline there, effectively bypassing the C.P. and its oppressive practices.

It was an idea long on ambition, but sadly lacking in both technical knowledge and execution. Without the benefit of skilled civil engineers or professional contractors, construction of the S.C.V.R.R. was both haphazard and flawed. Large portions of rail bed were graded across the marshes without the benefit of adequate ditching or culverts. When the winter rains came, the glaring lack of drainage proved a fatal flaw, and much of the work wound up being washed into the bay. Bridge pilings failed to find adequate footing in the muddy sloughs that they crossed, and embankments sagged without proper tamping of the base layers beneath. All in all, it was an engineering flop so total in scope that from a distance it seemed almost comical.

And so, with a survey in tatters, one locomotive and exactly no track yet laid, the S.C.V.R.R. defaulted on its construction bonds and dissolved into a chaotic sea of lawsuits, disgruntled investors and disappointed residents who silently wondered if the chokehold of the Octopus could ever be broken.

And into this economic maelstrom stepped a Nevada silver baron by the name of James Graham Fair: An eccentric multi-millionaire with an out-sized ego… wealthy enough to pose a legitimate challenge to the mighty C.P… and crazy enough to actually try.

Starting with the purchase of what few assets the S.C.V.R.R. had left when the financial dust settled, Fair began the task of rebuilding the proto-road and extending it southward into the timber-rich mountains that separated the brackish backwaters of San Francisco Bay from the wind-swept coastal communities along Monterey Bay. From a new ferry terminal on Alameda Point the tracks ran south through the towns of Santa Clara, San Jose, Campbell and Los Gatos before entering the canyon of Los Gatos Creek. From this point, the rails rose on a one-and-a-half percent grade through the towns of Lexington and Alma, hop-scotching the creek six times to maintain a steady climb. At milepost 17, the tracks crossed the creek one final time on a sweeping right-hand curve and passed through Wright's before plunging into the darkened bowels of the Summit Tunnel.

Sixty-two hundred and eight feet later, the tracks emerged into daylight again, crossing Burns Creek and entering the town of Laurel where the massive saws of the Fred A. Hihn Lumber Company ran non-stop, day and night. The glimpse of daylight was fleeting, however: A scant quarter-mile after exiting the Summit Tunnel, passengers were once again plunged into darkness, traveling 5, 793 feet through the mountain to the resort community of Glenwood, where a series of so-called "magnetic springs" stood at the center of the era's latest hair-brained health craze.

Three miles down Bean Creek from Glenwood, the tracks reached the town of Clems and entered the Mount Charlie Tunnel. Nine hundred and seven feet later they emerged into Zayante Creek Canyon and turned left, following the creek to the lumber town of Felton before shadowing the San Lorenzo River all the way out of the mountains and onto the sunny beaches of Santa Cruz.

When the line finally opened in 1880 it caused a sensation, and the arrival of the first through train from Alameda was greeted with all the pomp and circumstance of a returning hometown hero. Soon, up to twenty trains a day were rolling through the rugged folds of the Coast Range, bringing prosperity and change to every community along the line. Commerce rolled and profits flowed all along the South Pacific Coast, making millionaires of its owners and believers of its customers.

However such success was not to go unnoticed, and safe within its Sacramento lair, the mighty Octopus stewed. The board of the Central Pacific had at first been reluctant to move against the South Pacific Coast, believing it to be an impossible dream and an engineering boondoggle destined for failure. But time had proven them wrong in this assumption, and by the time they realized the error of their thinking, it was too late. The S.P.C. was by then an established enterprise with influence and political connections of its own: The devil had been let in through the front door.

But that didn't mean there weren't other ways of dealing with the problem…

For as the old adage goes; "if you can't beat them, then join them…" Or in the case of a company as big as the C.P., "buy" them. Much like Marlon Brando would later do in "The Godfather," the transportation tycoons of Sacramento made Jim Fair an offer that he simply could not refuse.

In 1887, at a time when the sky seemed the limit for the South Pacific Coast, the unthinkable came to pass. James Fair… the man who had billed himself as a commercial messiah who would deliver economic salvation from the demons of the Central Pacific, sold his soul to those very same demons. The South Pacific Coast Railway was acquired by the Central Pacific through a lucrative lease agreement… The Octopus had won.

But rather than simply eradicate the railroad that had for so long been a thorn in its side, the C.P. took a much more pragmatic look at their newly acquired subsidiary. The revenues produced by the S.P.C. were substantial in their own way, and no businessperson worth his salt would ever turn his back on such easy profits. The S.P.C. had suddenly become a lot friendlier to the C.P. and the mountains soon resounded with the striking of hammers as a massive capital improvement project got underway.

Over a period of several years, the improvements came: Increased capacity, a widened gauge, reinforced bridges and stronger track. For nearly a decade the work continued. And when all was nearing completion, a special train was planned: First class accommodations were arranged… a guest list of dignitaries, business leaders and political movers-and-shakers was assembled… posh parlor and lounge cars were provisioned and staged at the Alameda Ferry Terminal. It was a coronation fit for a king, and it was all scheduled for what promised to be a picture-perfect spring day: 10:00 AM, April 18th, 1906.

Needless to say, that train never left the station…

When the Great Quake struck in the pre-dawn chill of that April morning, the damage it caused stretched across the entire length of the South Pacific Coast. Landslides and bridge collapses occurred in multiple locations. Several tunnels experienced cave-ins, and the 1.2-mile Summit Tunnel experienced five feet of offset where it actually transected the San Andreas Fault near Wright's. It was a calamity the likes of which few had ever seen, and it would be three full years before trains would once again run through these hills.

Then, when the Great Depression struck home in the fall of 1929, the blow was nothing short of devastating. Amidst all of the economic wreckage, quarries closed, mills fell silent, and personal travel constricted to a mere trickle of its former level. Long-time residents of the mountains left in droves, abandoning their homes in desperate flight from the economic calamity that was overtaking them. Overnight, once thriving communities became virtual ghost towns with business shuttered and houses left to rot into the ground from which they had sprung.

The final blow came late on the afternoon of February 20th, 1940. Battered by days of relentless storms, the mountains along Zayante Creek gave up their ghosts, plunging an angry wall of earth into the creek and effectively burying several hundred yards of railroad. Faced with a $50,000 repair bill, railroad executives looked to the north, only to find the bulldozers and scrapers of government construction crews as they put the finishing touches on a newly built State Route 17. For a struggling enterprise already long on hardship and high on debt, it was the last straw.

On March 25th of that year, the Southern Pacific Railroad filed Docket # 12815, Section 1 with the Interstate Commerce Commission, requesting permission to abandon what by then was known as the Los Altos-Santa Cruz Branch on the San Francisco Sub Division, Coast Division, Southern Pacific Transportation Company. On June fourth, permission was granted, and by the end of that summer the rails were gone, leaving only the empty tunnels and a series of struggling communities now deprived of their only real connection to the outside world.

Although proposals to re-open the line for regional transit purposes have been floated from time to time in the years since, no serious effort has yet been made to once again place an active rail line within the folds of these mountains. Ideas for light rail and limited freight service to relieve congestion on an overburdened Route 17 have largely fallen on unresponsive and apathetic ears, but some within the local community still hold out hope of one day resurrecting the South Pacific Coast. By in large, it has the outward appearance of a losing battle.

Today, the story of the South Pacific Coast Railway is but a forgotten footnote in the annals of California history. It's been seventy years now since the last train rolled through Los Gatos Creek Canyon and beneath the summit ridge at Wright's. The giant redwoods that once paid witness to the railroad's triumphal construction now stand guard over its decaying remains, silently mingling with the ghosts of a bygone era. But if one looks closely enough and opens his imagination, he can see them still: Echoes of a time when all seemed possible, and ordinary people dared to dream.

Remember the past… Embrace the future!

Peace out!

Nutzkie…