Nightmares. Ghosts of a fantasy gone wrong. The past reliving itself in the dead of night, where no man can defend against it. As was usual, blood was in his dreams. He cut his arm in a nice diamond pattern, admiring his work, admiring the amount of blood, and admiring the pain. In his dream, however, someone opened the door. His training took over and he stabbed without looking.

He'd stabbed his pregnant wife, right in the stomach.

He woke up, in a cold sweat. He stormed off to the bathroom but couldn't make it. He vomited right in the hallway. He wasn't married yet, but he was a killer. These nightmares were virtually inescapable, especially on nights like this when his future was called into question. He couldn't tell Jax about his dreams, or his habits. He was too ashamed. He was hooked on death, on danger, but he couldn't stand the thought of putting his family in it.

He followed standard procedure. He wiped himself off with a towel, scooped up the vomit and scrubbed the carpet, and disposed of the vomit by putting it in the bottom of the trash bag. Then he got a Snickers bar and then waited for his fiancée to get up.

As he sat, he thought. He hadn't always been like this. He was the second child of Kim and Ron's, right after Melody. He had originally been a mixture of Ron and Kim- he had his father's easygoing personality and slacking, and compassion, but he had his mother's passion for thrills. So he'd go rock climbing- his pants would fall off and he'd spend a week in the hospital. He was the one who convinced his father to try ghost riding.

2019, Middleton, Colorado

"Son, are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, dad, done it a thousand times with my older friends."

"Okay, if you say so."

They revved the cars up to 35 miles an hour. Ron Sr. flipped onto the hood with all his ninja skills and training. Ron Jr. pulled himself up like the clumsy youngster he was.

They both started to bust some badass dance moves when a car came barreling through the intersection, skidding and hitting both cars. Ron Jr. was knocked off, but Ron Sr. glowed blue, somersaulted into the air, caught Ron Jr. and landed perfectly, without harm to either of them. They both stood up.

Then both their pants fell down.

Then, simultaneously:

"Aw, man!"

Ron Jr. still smiled at the memory. He remembered how big, warm, soft, and safe his father's arms felt that day.

But then his father had been killed. Put down like a dog. And so, Ron Jr. turned to the other side of his father's personality, one he had never even known of: Vasilli Boiarskii lived on in him. He focused on sniping. He gained the passion studying the different weapons. There was something to killing an enemy as he was at leisure, when he never even knew you even existed.
2026, Middle East

He joined the Marine Corps Detachment One, the newly formed Marine Corps Special Forces, which command had raised to a nice round 100 men. He was stuck in the Middle East with the whole of the rest of the Detatchment, defending a pass over the Euphrates with one day's worth of supplies against an army of ten thousand pissed off Persians.

They stayed out there for a full month, drinking purified river water, and eating nearly raw camel meat. The only reason it wasn't longer was because the Persians gave up, and withdrew. The Detachment took out a full thousand men. Ron had 30 of his 50 "confirmed" kills come from there. Unofficially, his body count there was well over sixty. It was a part of the final US withdrawal from Iraq.

The rest of the time he was out there, he covered US retreats from the region, as the Islamic Nation started to cement itself, and he covered US defenses of Israel. Operation: Defend the Star was the source of ten of his other confirmed kills, and twenty of his personal ones. It lasted for two years- he was mostly on patrol, but he couldn't resist taking a potshot every now and again. When the I.N. finally gave up and realized that the US would defend Israel to any cost, the Detachment was moved to eastern Europe, to seek and destroy the Russians who were violating the laws against bestiality.

Not really their mission, but that's what it seemed like at the time. That was roughly three years of his service, and he had six years of service in all, fifty confirmed kills, one hundred personally logged.

Then he became more active in the CVB, and his body count rose considerably. His rebellious youth, and passion for hacking, motorcycles, music, and women came in handy during his stealth missions.

Women, until one mission went awry, and led him down the course toward bondage for life.

2036, New Delhi, India

It was several months before the Beijing attack. Their man had done exceedingly well- too well. He was officially a bodyguard. He had been transferred to the Chinese embassy in India, too far away for the attack. He was there for the celebratory party.

Fulfilling an ancient Buddhist prophecy, the Chairman of the Communist Party of China had sent an elephant to circulate throughout the new "second world" of Chinese influence- all of southeast Asia, save for Japan.

The challenge was this: The elephant had a casket on its back, made of pure gold, and filled with pure gold. Whoever could recite just one stanza of Buddha's teachings would win the elephant, casket, and gold. None of the four or five billion in that sphere could do it. The Chinese celebrated the "destruction of ignorance" within their domain.

He had to fail, but not obviously, and not looking complicit. Just enough failure to get him transferred back to Beijing in disgrace. Hence his charge had to be killed before the banquet. Hence Ron Jr.'s entrance into the situation. He got himself hired for a gig in a club near the embassy. Right after Ron finished playing, the embassy would start receiving guests for the big bash. At that point, where it would be some news, but not too highly publicized, and would be the perfect point to assassinate Sheng's charge, some bigwig from the Indian State department.

Ron finished rocking out the show and headed out of the town, used his nightvision to doublecheck that he wasn't being followed, and headed to a hill outside of town. The western fifth floor windows were perfectly visible from this particular vantage point. Plenty of brush, so his gillie suit could hide him. He waited there for about two hours until a disaster almost happened.

Inside the embassy, Jax began HER role. As an attractive, unscarred, untattooed young female, she was the best at infiltration of any nation's companies, except the still-feminist United States. She had put on her makeup, her black dress, v-cut neck, made of satin, the color and luster of black diamonds. The bottom hem had a suggestive cut just so. Just long enough to be formal, while still short enough to be sexy.

Her stiletto heels sounded down the hall. That poor sap would never know what hit him.

She entered the elevator, rode the plain- if clean- metal device to the fifth floor, and went down the center hall, where the offices were.

She entered the office of Sheng's charge. The first hint they had she was there was the click of the door closing shut, and her leaning against it. She said, "I'm here to see an ambassador. I had a question about his role at the party tonight. But I don't see an ambassador here- I see two athletes in suits."

The ambassador chuckled. He was forty, so he wasn't too old for such flattery, but he was on the edge. He responded.

"I assume you are the… charming young woman I had requested the presence of at the party?"

He'd called an escort service. She had intercepted and knocked out the woman that was being sent. She felt a twinge of guilt at hiding her unconscious body. The thrill of the hunt combined with guilt at hurting other people. She found it growing each day, each time she hurt other people.

"Yes."

She wandered around the room, nonchalantly making her way to the window. In under thirty seconds, she'd spotted the CVB sniper in the brush. She called over to her "date"

"My, my, look at this view!"

Meanwhile Ron was starstruck. He couldn't believe it- no, it was impossible. No one could be that gorgeous. Even though the sniper scope's crosshair obscured part of his view, he could see what he needed to see. He had passed her in the halls occasionally, who hadn't? But he had never taken the time to talk to her. Only now did he realize his mistake.

And he saw that he'd waited too long. He saw the man through the scope- and the man looked right back at him. The man reeled in shock and horror, dipping down behind the desk. Jax dropped all fakery and Jujitsu locked the guy on the office floor. She knocked him out with her flames- she couldn't afford to leave bruises. Ron Jr took out his rappelling equipment. He'd hoped not to have to use it. But Melody had planned for just such a contingency.

"What if he shines a flashlight out the window and the gleam hits the barrel of your gun?"

"That's crazy, sis, he'll never know I'm there."

"You're taking the rappelling gear, and that's final."

In retrospect, sometimes his sister's paranoia came in handy.

He made his way up, and his training took over.

"What's the sitch?"

"We have a moron here who couldn't take the shot when he needed to, for whatever reason, and we have a living emissary here who needs to be killed by a 30.06."

"Got it. Stand back."

She quickly moved to behind him.

"When I leave, move the body so it looks like he fell back from the window."

She nodded as a wave of nausea rolled over her at the thought of having to touch a dead body. But she did put on gloves, as not to leave fingerprints.

Ron took the shot, and made sure to break the window as he rappelled to the side of the building. It was dark enough so that he wouldn't be noticed- as long as his arms didn't get tired.

It was five hours later when he could finally get down- he couldn't move his arms, he had to jump with his legs and rappel down slowly, bit by bit.

The original plan was for 2 different extractions, but the delay caused by the gunshot investigation forced them to take the same helicopter extraction on the head of town out.

They were initially so tired, all they could do was sleep. They got into the helicopter, and their heads rested on each other's shoulders.

When they woke up, they blushed, and yammered off justifications. After the required half-hour of awkward avoiding each other's gazes, they began to talk.

"So, not to pry, but what made you miss the shot?"

"You."

"WHAT?"

"Sorry, I guess I need to explain. I saw you. At that point, my brain stopped. My mind refused to accept that you were possible."

"In a positive or a negative fashion?"

"Entirely positive."

"I'm flattered."

"I am a musician, you know. Want to come to one of my concerts? I can get you in backstage, get you all the perks, and, after the concert, we can get some supper, see a movie, or just hang out."

"That depends. What kind of music do you play?"

"We alternate between classic rock, post-grunge, and heavy metal. It really depends on where we're booked and what we feel like that night."

"In that case, sure. I'd love to."

"So, tell me more about yourself. Let's start with your name, if you don't mind."

She laughed.

"I'm Jenine Standard, but, if you ever actually say Jenine, I will kill you. Call me Jax."

"I'm Ronald Dean Stoppable Junior. But all the women I know call me Ronnie. After looking at me, the men I meet usually just call me Sir."

"Really? What's your rank in the CVB?"

"Colonel. But I never use it, except to get one of the guys to get me a beer."

"You drink?"

"Only when hanging out with the guys, or after a particularly tough mission. Most of the time, I stick to water."

Just then Jax noticed a dripping on the floor.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Not much, just cut my arm on a nail sticking out the side of the window."

Bullshit. That building was brick, smooth brick, with no balconies. She didn't need to know that he enjoyed cutting. Since, his greatest nightmare was the pure shame of her finding out. Would she dump him? Would she institutionalize him?

There were only two people in existence who knew about his habit: Ron and Jesus. And Jesus didn't want to tell anyone on Earth about it.

They continued chatting, and discovered they were both from apostate Catholic families. They had great fun debating whether or not God actually existed, and what His nature was. They agreed on some key emergency things. Over the next year or so, they had a positive influence on each other. Ron had started to tone down on his wildness, started to plan at least what he was going to have for lunch, and she had become a little more dangerous, a little more spontaneous. But they both still resisted hurting people and stopping a bad habit, respectively.

Neither of which they told the other.

But over the next few months, they'd continued to get to know each other. He learned about her power to affect the outcome of dice rolls, with minor telekinesis, and her gambling habit. She didn't call it a problem, because, "It's not a problem 'till I start losing."

They fell in love, primarily because she had always been looking for someone who was mentally strong enough to protect her, like her father growing up, and he was looking for someone who cared about him, like his mother did until his dad died.

Her bigger brother, Jaques, Jak his nickname, didn't approve. He was the tech-man for the CVB. Whenever the hardware broke, he was the only one who could fix it. He often teamed up with Ron for the software part, meaning they knew each other. But he still didn't take too kindly to Ron and Jax- his little sister- getting into a relationship without his approval.

After the combined threat of a sniper's slug and plasma ray, he finally shut up, after finishing with, in his carefully cultivated faux-French accent, "Stupid American."

Liberty Island, 2036

Then one evening, Ron couldn't stand it any longer. He was about to ship out for the Paris operation. He had to do it now. He went to the CVB lawyer-on-hand, Professor Icke. Most people just called him Prick. The professor was fine with that; his fellows in his profession had spawned a lot of bad karma, which he was doing his best to repay. He worked for the CVB at-cost, meaning all he asked was room, board, and enough to cover his legal expenses. He hadn't a penny to his name, and he was fine with that.

"So, Prick, there's something I need to do, right now."
"What is it?"

"I want to write a will."

"Okay, I'll need to call my assistant in. We need two witnesses. You need to be the one to write the first few sentences, and make the decisions, but I can help you avoid the pitfalls that most people fall into. You'll need to start with-"

"I, Ronald Dean Stoppable Jr., being of sound mind and body, declare that my last will and testament are as follows:"

"That's right."

He left with the will in his hand, and, before leaving, he'd sealed another thing in the envelope.

He knocked on the door, and gave the package to Jax.

"I'll be in my room for the next four hours, if you can respond by then, I'd greatly appreciate it. I just can't do this to your face."

She opened the letter. She read it, and was shocked and honored at the same time that he would leave everything to her. Then she saw one sentence at the end of the will

…This will is made in consideration of a possible pending marriage.

That's when she felt the other part. A diamond ring. She sat there, understanding but unable to believe it.

She started debating it in her head.

Ron knew after the first half hour what her response would be. He sighed and decided to board early.
After a half an hour, Jax came to a sudden realization. She loved him, and he loved her. What else mattered?

She rushed to his room, but he was nowhere to be found. She rang the CVB Directory.

"Hello, where is Ron Jr?"

"He is in the boarding room, waiting to board his flight."

She dropped the phone, halfway down the dormitory hall before the receptionist finished the word "room."

She didn't know if Olympian speed would be enough to catch him.

For the first time in a long time, prayer came off her lips.

Something made Ron Jr. stop and turn around. He'd miss her. He wished she would've said yes. He- what was that green thunderbolt?

He hit the dirt. Ron and Jax were both on the ground, their chests were heaving, their faces touching.

"Yes" was all she said.

They didn't even wait until they were off the ramp.