Chapter 6: The Contest Begins
"I would like to thank all of you lovely and talented young women for taking the time to come to my humble island," Senior Senior Senior greeted the small group of young women seated in his living lair. Off to the side, Kim and Ron stood with the rest of the entourages, observing the contestants.
Kim was more than a little confused. First, she had no idea why the Seniors had suddenly decided to find a wife for Junior. Secondly, she really didn't think much of the current crop of candidates. There were four girls, in addition to Bonnie. Kim recognized Camille Leon and Adrena Lynn, she did not know the other two girls but one claimed to be Professor Dementor's daughter. The last girl was named Elly but Kim didn't know anything more about her.
"KP," Ron whispered to her. "How did…"
"While all of you know why you are here," Senior continued, prompting the blonde boy to become silent. "It would be most inconsiderate of me if I were to fail to explain both the rules of this competition and the reason I am hosting it. Ladies, it grieves me to announce to you all that I will not remain in this world much longer."
Senior's announcement prompted the five contestants to affect exaggerated gasps of dismay, with each girl trying to outdo the others in a very vocal outpouring of grief. Kim and Ron, while shocked at the news, were disgusted by the blatantly shallow emotions.
"Ladies, please allow me to continue," Senior interrupted. The wailing and crying stopped surprisingly quickly. "I do not wish to leave my son and heir to face this world alone, so that is why I am holding this competition. The girl who remains on this island long enough to win his heart will marry him, earning my eternal gratitude and, of course, access to my great wealth."
"Not just any young woman is capable of being my daughter-in-law," Senior continued. "I can only entrust my only son to a young woman who is beautiful, determined, and more than a little devious. For that reason, I have organized this competition."
"Perhaps this will be a good time for me to explain the rules," Senior told his prospective daughters-in-law. "The rules are very simple. The five of you will attempt to win Junior's heart with your poise, grace and beauty, while attempting to force each other to leave my island. You can intimidate each other, frighten each other, or humiliate each other. My son and myself shall be here at all times. If one of you becomes rattled, humiliated, or leaves the island, we will declare you unfit to become Junior's bride."
"HOWEVER!" The old man's voice was suddenly strong and stern. "I will not allow overt violence to my guests. Should you or a member of your entourage attempt to permanently injure or disfigure either a rival, or a member of her entourage, you will be eliminated from the competition. Please make note of the fact that I consider death to be a permanent injury. Do any of you have any questions?"
"Yes," Bonnie said raising her hand.
"Miss Rockwaller," the elderly man acknowledged her. "What question may I answer?"
"What do you mean by leaving the island? I mean, if we jump into the air, have we left the island?"
"A very interesting question," Senior answered, as the other girls tittered. "One of scale, in fact. No, Miss Rockwaller, I am not so petty as to declare that you must remain in contact with the soil of my island at all times. Instead, should you leave these shores during the contest, and get caught by either myself or my son, you will be eliminated from the competition."
"Are we going to have freaky challenges or immunities?" Andrena Lynn asked.
"There will be no immunities and no votes, Miss Lynn," Senior told her. "Your immunities will be your own wits. However, we will have challenges of sorts. Each day, we will have a contest, which will test your mastery of a different aspect of villainy. It may have to do with wealth management, ruthlessness, designing horrifying traps (here, he gave Kim and Ron a broad smile), or other aspects of the villainous art. Whoever places the last in each of these contests will be eliminated from the competition. Junior will choose between the last two contestants. Are there any other questions?"
"Very well," Senior informed them, after waiting for more questions. "There will be no competition tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a day of relaxation and lounging about the pool, even though the contest will be active. My servants will now show you and your entourages to your various rooms. The dining lair will serve three meals a day, and I will be in this room every morning and evening if you wish to speak to me. I wish you all luck."
The elderly man rose as his servants filed into the room and directed the various contestants and entourage members to follow them.
"A moment, Miss Possible," the host interrupted Kim, as she and Ron were about to follow one of the servants. "Your companion will be able to show you your quarters later. I would like to have a word with you, in private, if you do not mind. I assure you that you are my guest at this time and not my teenaged adversary."
"Ah, sure," Kim agreed, with a nod to Ron. Ron followed the servant out of the room while Senior led Kim to his den.
"Please be seated, Miss Possible," Senior requested, as he stepped behind his desk. Once the young woman was seated, Senior lowered himself into his own chair.
"I am not going to ask you why you decided to not compete in this contest," the elderly gentleman informed her. "But I must inform you that if you wish to compete, I will immediately include you among the contestants."
"So not going to happen," Kim informed him, keeping her temper in check.
"I did not think you would," Senior nodded. "But I wished you to know that the offer was still open. I understand from the celebrity press that you have…how do you Americans say…hooked up with Mr. Stoppable. Before I say anything else, let me offer my congratulations to both of you."
"Thank you, Senior," Kim said, with a sincere smile. "He may be a villain, but you can never fault his manners."
"Very well, Miss Possible, let me broach a rather sensitive subject, so that we understand each other. As you have undoubtedly noted, at least two of the contestants have outstanding arrest warrants, in various nations, against them."
"Lynn and Leon," Kim confirmed.
"The other two are suspects for some other incidents," Senior informed her. "I am not ignorant of your association with Global Justice and other law enforcement agencies, Miss Possible. I wish you to know, right now, that I will not tolerate you attempting to apprehend any of my guests while they remain upon my island."
"We have no intention of apprehending any of them," Kim assured him. "Although I wouldn't mind putting a smack down on Lynn. She brought a nasty drug into my school. A lot of people were hurt and I don't like smacking down my classmates."
"Such personal and legal actions have no place during this contest," Senior insisted. "You may inform any law enforcement officials you wish that these four young women are currently upon the island. You may inform such officials when they leave but please keep in mind that they are all under my protection for as long as they remain upon my island, or my aircraft." He pause a moment, "as are you, Miss Rockwaller and Mr. Stoppable."
"We won't smack anybody down," Kim agreed. "But we'll smack back if anybody makes a move on us or Bonnie."
"Which is your duty as her entourage," Senior agreed. "I must say that she has obtained formidable protection."
"Thank you, Senior. Did you arrange for Lynn and Leon to escape from prison?"
"Indeed I did, Miss Possible. My goal is to find my son a wife who is ruthless, intelligent and conniving. Miss Rockwaller certainly fits that description."
"That's true enough," Kim nodded, while wondering if it was the case. Bonnie had been acting differently lately. For one thing, Monique told her that the former cheerleader had been helpful and friendly during the fashion contest. For another, Bonnie had been very polite with her and Ron during the flight to the island. Upon leaving the plane, she had become haughty but she had already warned Team Possible that she would do so, in keeping with her image.
"Very well, Miss Possible," Senior's voice brought Kim out of her reverie. "I will have one of my servants show you to your quarters. You and Mr. Stoppable will be sharing a suite near Miss Rockwaller's accommodations."
"It is a two bedroom suite," Senior assured her, upon seeing her odd look. "I will not ask you and Mr. Stoppable to share a bed, even though you have admitted to a romantic attachment to each other. I am perfectly aware of your father's occupation. I do not wish him to arrange an accident, involving a satellite falling out of orbit and crashing onto my island."
"I don't think he would do that, Senior. He's much more fond of threatening Ron with various, super-orbital rockets."
"Your father is protective of you, Miss Possible, as I am with my son. However, I sense that you are weary and would rather not listen to an old man compare how a villain and a rocket scientist protect their offspring. I would suggest that you rest while you can. The next few days promise to be most interesting."
Kim had to admit that she was feeling tired. The long trip combined with jetlag made the idea of a very early night sound wonderful. One of the biggest problems with traveling so far east was that your body wanted to go to bed later and wake up later. For once, she and Ron had had time to prepare for the long trip. They had spent the last day practicing self-inflicted sleep depravation. As a result, she would be ready to sleep at the local, normal time and, in theory, be ready to wake up in the morning.
Arriving at her accommodations, which were across a hall from Bonnie's, she realized that while the suite that she and Ron would call home for the next few days wouldn't be as lavish as Bonnie's quarters, they were still Senior's guest quarters. As such, they were more comfortable than what she and Ron were used to at home. There were four rooms in total; two bedrooms, each with an attached bathroom, a living room/den and a combination kitchen dining room. All were furnished much like an upscale hotel.
Ron gave her the choice of rooms and she gave him a very odd look. She fully intended on sharing a room, they were on a mission after all and she felt more secure when she was with him. After a few moments, she realized that they would be better off in separate rooms. Their sleeping arrangements would be just a little too public and if word filtered back that she and Ron had shared a room, her father would probably go on a rampage.
Ron played the part of the gentleman, carrying her bags into her room for her. Kim changed into her sleepwear, sweat pants and an old crop top, before returning to the main room for a few minutes. She was shocked to find Bonnie, talking with Ron.
"Hey K," Bonnie greeted the redhead. The contestant was back to being friendly, now that the other contestants weren't observing the three. "I just came by to talk a little strategy."
"What do we have to do with you wining this disgusting contest?" Kim demanded.
"Aren't you here supporting Global Justice?" Bonnie asked. "Aren't you here to help me win this contest? I know that you'd never stoop to something as low as what I'm doing, but aren't you here to help me win it?"
"We're here to keep you safe," Kim snarled back but after a moment's thought, agreed. "We might as well help you win."
"Okay, I think we start at breakfast time," Bonnie told them.
"Uh, Bon-Bon," Ron interrupted. "The guys who showed me the room explained things to me. Senior's kitchen will serve three feasts a day for the contestants. The entourages aren't welcome to dine there. We have to make do with our kitchen. Granted, it's a very well stocked kitchen, but we can't help you at the breakfast feast."
"You don't need to," Bonnie grinned back. "Here's what I was thinking…"
As Bonnie Rockwaller sat in the Mediterranean and plotted tactics with Team Possible, a small group of guests was assembling for a wedding halfway around the world. The church was small and most of the guests were not the law-abiding type. In a small room at the back of the church, the bride waited out her last moments of being single.
"Quit fidgeting so much," Julia told Shego. "You look fine, but you won't for very much longer if you don't relax."
"I never thought I'd be a nervous bride," Shego grumbled. She looked at Maria and felt a momentary pang of sadness that she didn't have a truly close friend to be with her this day. Julia worked for the same smuggling band that employed Shego and Fiske and was more of a respected colleague than a real friend. Still, at least she was on friendly terms, so she had accepted the mercenary's request to keep her company before the ceremony.
One of the few regrets that Shego had was that she wasn't very good at making friends. Most of the time, this shortcoming wasn't much of a hindrance but today was one of the few exceptions. Monty had the same shortcoming and because of this, neither would have anyone standing with them at the front of the sanctuary today. The elderly man who owned the smuggling ring; a curious mixture of ruthless thug and kindly father figure, would give the bride away.
Shego considered her reflection in the small room's mirror. Necessity had dictated that the couple keep their wedding low key, but that hadn't prevented them from splurging on the dress. Shego had elected to wear a pale green wedding dress that was conservative in its coverage but flattered her figure. Monty's eyes were sure to bug out when he saw her step into the sanctuary.
"It won't be long now," Julia told her, opening the door a crack and peeking out. "Your future husband just stepped in and the priest is in place. The music will start at any ti…"
The girl stammered into silence when the door flew open, revealing a rather large man's outline.
"You didn't think I'd just let you go through with this, did you Shego?" A familiar voice asked.
Lord Montgomery Fiske stood at the front of the sanctuary, trying to look composed as he awaited Shego's entrance. He had heard a slight disturbance from where his soon-to-be bride would make her entrance but he wasn't overly concerned. After all, there had been no blasts of plasma or language that would make an angry sailor blush. While he knew that both he and Shego had enemies that would relish destroying this day for them, he believed that they had kept quiet enough that nobody would come looking for him. He cursed himself again for not wearing a watch, wishing that the ceremony would just start. He glanced towards the priest, who was observing him with poorly concealed humor. Clearly, Fiske wasn't acting much different than any other nervous groom.
Finally, at the appointed time, the piano broke into the bridal march and the sanctuary's rear doors flew open. A heartbeat later, Fiske's eyes flew open almost as wide.
Shego was stunning of course, she always was. Although Fiske was used to seeing her in her green and black harlequin jumpsuit, the few times she had chosen a more feminine wardrobe had made a strong impression upon him. However, it wasn't her attire, or the way it complimented her, that left the disgraced nobleman speechless.
It was the fact that Drew Lipsky was escorting her down the aisle.
Fiske now noticed his elderly employer, who had agreed to escort Shego, smiling at him from the rear pew. Clearly, the old man realized that it was much more appropriate for the former Dr. Drakken to escort the green-hued mercenary on this day. In a strange way, it took forever for Drew to escort his former employee to her soon-to-be husband and it took only a moment.
"Take care of her, Monty," Drew begged of his former colleague. "Like we discussed in Casablanca."
"For the rest of my life," Fiske vowed, with none of his usual mocking tone. The blue-skinned man placed Shego's hand firmly on Fiske's arm and took his seat on one of the front pews.
Fiske remembered very little of the ceremony, which seemed to be a tradition among grooms. Almost before he realized it, the two had exchanged vows and rings, leaving him to face the uncomfortable prospect of kissing her in front of an audience. It wasn't that he minded kissing Shego but that he really didn't know how much enthusiasm to put into it. If he were to make the display quick and professional, everyone present would think that he was intimidated by the public setting. On the other hand, if he were to fully demonstrate his affection he would probably trigger a round of catcalls and bawdy applause.
Montgomery Fiske didn't have a great deal of dignity, so he defended what little he had, tenaciously.
Fortunately for him, Shego took command of the situation. His new bride pulled his face down to hers and latched her mouth onto his, reveling in the round of enthusiastic applause that echoed throughout the sanctuary. She released him after almost a minute, then snickered evilly as she led her now dazed husband out of the sanctuary and to their reception.
The wedding ceremony itself had been fairly short and solemn. The reception was the polar opposite. Fiske had long been of the opinion that his new associates, who were strangely devout despite living outside the law, were perfectly capable of partying their rivals to death. A lively band set up and played from one corner of the large room while several tables groaned under the weight of good food and drink. Drew Lipsky led Shego out onto the floor for the first dance. As tradition dictated, Fiske stepped out onto the floor partway through the dance and Lipsky bowed out with an affectionate pat on the younger man's shoulder. Shortly after the first dance, Drew informed the newlyweds that he had to leave. Shego and Fiske followed him to the entryway, where they could speak with some privacy.
"I truly appreciate you attending this event," Fiske told the older man. "How did you know that it was taking place?"
"Dr. Director clued me in," Drew informed him. "To be more exact, she ordered me down here an told me what was going on while I was still in flight. I didn't have time to get a present for the two of you."
"You being here is good enough," Shego told him. "Since it let's me do this." The woman stepped up to her former employer and reached her arms up as if to embrace him…
Then slapped him, hard across the face, forcing him to stagger back against the wall behind him.
"THAT'S for not telling my how to get by my infertility," she snapped. Then she hauled him to his feet, pulled his head down to her level and gently kissed the cheek she had just slapped.
"And that's for telling Monty," she told him, using a much kinder tone of voice.
"That reminds me," Drew told them, fumbling in his tuxedo pocket. "Well, actually that reminded me that I need to see a dentist but it also reminded me that I have a present for you, of sorts." Drew produced a piece of paper with a name, telephone number and email address neatly written upon it.
"This is contact information for the doctor who told me the…potential…method of sidestepping your infertility," Drew told the couple. "He has helped infertile couples before. Since he works on our side of the law, I'm sure he'll work with you."
"A simple piece of paper, but a priceless gift," Fiske commented. "Thank you, Dr. Drakken."
"I go by Mr. Lipsky now," Drew corrected the man he considered a sort of son-in-law. "I could either give you this information or a songbird and trust me, you don't want one of those."
"Why not?" Shego asked. "I mean, I've never exactly liked the little, feathered pests but I don't exactly…Drew, are you doing something with songbirds?"
"It's a long story," Drew smirked back, then his voice became very somber. "I don't know when I'll be able to see you again and I don't think Dr. Director will let me keep in touch. I hope you're successful and I hope I can come see if you are. Now, I really have to be going. Please, have a long and happy life together."
Without another word, the former Dr. Drakken left the building and returned to his aircraft to face a long, lonely flight back to his office.
"I don't think this is a good idea, Little Jack," Robbie told him. Robbie, Little Jack and Smoke were sitting in their boardroom, waiting for Bigfoot's latest delivery.
"What choice do we have?" Little Jack demanded. "Do you think that Bigfoot's gonna just let us walk away, ever? Not a chance! Either we do something about it or we're his slaves until he decides to off us!"
"Why now?" Smoke asked. "Why not wait a bit and find out what's goin' on? I don't want to mess with Bigfoot and the money's been coming in really well."
"Hey, I'm not doing anything that he'll figure out," Little Jack told his friends. "All I want to do is put this bug on the van so we can figure out where Bigfoot has the smack."
"Why?" Smoke demanded.
"Cause he might store the medicine there!" Little Jack snapped back. "Remember what happened when we tried to go without the stuff?"
The other two men flinched. They didn't really understand what Bigfoot had done to them, but they had learned the hard way that if they didn't inject themselves with the medicine that the giant provided, they would experience crippling agony.
"Okay, I'm not agreeing with you, but what good do you think this will do?" Robbie asked.
"Okay, Bigfoot has us cold because he only gives us enough medicine for a single day, each day," Little Jack explained. "We don't dare do anything, since all Bigfoot has to do is not give us our medicine and we're goners!"
"I'm no idiot!" Smoke snapped. "I know all this. What good will it do if you track down where the smack and the medicine comes from?"
"What if Bigfoot has a couple of days worth of medicine stored there?" Little Jack snarled right back. "Maybe we could take it to a hospital and they could help us. We might be able to figure out who's selling the stuff to Bigfoot."
"What good will that do?" Smoke asked, now a great deal more respectfully.
"We might be able to cut a deal," Little Jack told him. Maybe get a lot of the medicine, maybe even get a cure."
"What if Bigfoot finds out what you're doing?" Robbie demanded. "All he'll have to do is give us water instead of the medicine tomorrow! We'll all be dead before anyone will be able to help us!"
"Hey, I'm not gonna actually do anything!" Little Jack insisted. "All I'm gonna do is figure out where he's working from."
"But what if you get caught?" Smoke snapped at him. "What happens to all of us?"
"What happens if he decides to find new distribution?" Little Jack snapped back. "He doesn't have to do anything to take us out, all he has to do is quit giving us that acid stuff. If we know where he's working from, at least we'll be able to do something! If nothing else, we can arrange for the rest of the Boyz to roll him if we come up dead!"
Seeing that his friends were not quite convinced, Little Jack played is final card. "What will you do if that van doesn't show up in the next hour?" He demanded. "The only thing we'll be able to do is just lie down and die. What will you do, Robbie, if Bigfoot decides that your little brother will be the next head of distribution and he needs the same guarantee on him that he has on us?"
Smoke and Robbie looked at each other for several minutes before Robbie broke the silence.
"Okay," he said. "Plant that bug on the van, I'll distract the driver. You're right, he's got us cold. We've got to do something or else we're just a bunch of sheep waiting to be slaughtered."
"BUT!" Smoke interjected. "We all agree before we do anything more than find out where he's working from."
"Deal!" Little Jack agreed.
A/N: Yet another chapter in the books. Thanks again to everyone who is reading this tale. Big thanks to those of you who have reviewed or sent suggestions and/or comments via PM.
As always, fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services.
Unitl my next update, best wishes;
daccu65