Chapter 9: Contest Interlude.
Montgomery Fiske (he deliberately dropped his former title, even in his own mind) shivered into wakefulness, despite the room's warm temperature and the very warm wife in bed with him. The former nobleman cracked his eyes open and immediately regretted doing so. The dim morning light stabbed his overly sensitive eyes with a thousand blades. Fiske rolled over, another move he immediately regretted. Every muscle in his body howled in agonized protest. Forcing himself to lie motionless, and thus minimize the amount of complaining from his own body, he prodded his sluggish mind, trying to recall what put him in this condition.
The last clear memory he had was saying farewell to Drak…no, to Drew Lipsky, during the wedding reception. After that, his acquaintances had demonstrated their partying abilities, drawing Fiske into their celebration. The party, which Fiske now realized had lasted more than a day, was only blurred bits and fragmented memories. Fiske remembered singing at several points. While he didn't enjoy the pastime a great deal, it had seemed most enjoyable at the time. What was truly shocking was the fact that, despite the fact that he spoke neither Spanish nor Portuguese, he could recall singing drinking songs in both languages.
Setting this equally disturbing and intriguing thought to the side for the moment, he contemplated his companions during the extended celebration. Fiske preferred to handle his professional relations in a European manner; by remaining helpful but aloof. However, after the first few bouts of drinking he had enthusiastically embraced his fellowship with the smugglers, drivers and others that had attended his wedding. For the first time in his life, Montgomery Fiske had felt a sense of friendship with a large number of men.
Apparently, and judging from the amount of alcohol everyone had consumed, repeated vomiting was a vital part of these men's male bonding routine. It was this male bonding that had him lying in bed with his new bride, shivering despite the fact he was quite warm.
"Well, well, well," the familiar voice quipped into his ear. "Look who's finally awake!"
"Shego, must you," he paused while trying to collect his thoughts, and then continued with a whimper, "must you shout so loud?"
"I'm whispering…honey!"
"Oh … but do you have to whisper so loud?"
"I probably should have warned you," her voice was all false sympathy. "When this bunch decides to party, they go into it with a whole lot of enthusiasm."
"I take it you've dealt… dealt with them before."
"Doi! How do you think I wound up with a safe house here? Look at it this way, they've accepted you."
"And their acceptance will take me a week to recover from," Fiske added. After a moment, he managed to express some curiosity. "Why…why do you seem unaffected."
"It's my power," Shego explained. "I can get a little buzzed, but I can't really get drunk."
"So what, ow… what have you been doing for the past two days?"
"I said I can't get drunk," Shego informed her new husband. "I didn't say that I don't enjoy drinking. I've spent the last two days drinking, gossiping with the girls and consummating my marriage with my husband."
"You're really enjoying my misery, aren't you?"
"Almost as much as consummating my marriage," she smiled. "But c'mon! Get up, take a shower and get some food in you."
"Ugh, must you use the blasphemy?"
"What's that?"
"Food," Monty shuddered. "The very thought of dining makes me ill."
"You'll feel better after you shower," Shego whispered in his ear gently. "We'll talk some more once you're cleaned up." She sniffed, rather theatrically, "you need it."
"Thanks," he grumbled back, then stumbled off in their bathroom's general direction.
A little less than an hour later, Montgomery Fiske was feeling much better. The shower had taken the rank scent, that even he had been able to smell, from his body. Several glasses full of water had attested to just how dehydrated he had become. He was even looking forward to a little, light food when he wandered into the kitchen. Shego was waiting for him.
"You aren't usually the type to prepare breakfast in the morning," he commented, helping himself to a cup of coffee. Although Fiske was rather biased towards European culture, he had to admit that the Central and South Americans did coffee better than anyone he had ever met.
"Hey, I'm just trying to get your sorry butt moving," she told him, although her smirk took most of the sting away from her statement.
"Why does that particular part of my anatomy need to move?" Fiske asked. "I thought that we had another day free of our duties…Or have I spent one day longer in an alcohol daze than I think?"
"No, we have another day off," Shego confirmed. "But you forgot Drew's wedding present."
"The fertility doctor?"
"None other."
"What does he have to do with you deciding to cure my incapacitation?"
"He'll be in Guatemala City later today," Shego told him. "He'll see us early this afternoon."
"You certainly don't waste time, do you?"
"You don't get anything by just sitting around," Shego frowned. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"No," Fiske assured her. "It's just that I'm amazed that you were able to make these arrangements during the festivities."
"Like I said, I don't really get drunk," she shrugged. "I had time to do these things while everybody else was passed out. Don't worry, I didn't use our phone to call, I ducked into town and made calls from the phone center."
"I wasn't doubting your intelligence when it comes to making covert communications," Fiske protested. "Indeed, you have a great deal more experience than I do. I'm just amazed at your efficiency."
"Hey, when I want something, I go after it," she insisted. "So get moving, mister. I still want that baby and even with the doctor, I'm gonna need your help."
Kim extended her arms over her head, arched her back and stretched one last time. Seeing that it was only 9:30 in the evening, she left her room, planning to meet up with Ron in their suite's Living Room for a little talk. Hopefully, they could fit a little 'couple time' in after the talk but right now, she needed Ron the best friend more than she wanted Ron the boyfriend. She found him seated cross-legged on the floor, with his eyes closed and a serene expression on his face. He was meditating.
His daily meditation was something that she had had to get used to. According to him, daily meditation helped him to achieve an emotional balance, which assisted him in dealing with the stress that went along with their intense life. In addition, it refreshed him and attuned him with the Mystical Monkey Power. She remembered the day after graduation, when she went over to his house in the morning, to find him in this pose. When she called his name he had opened his eyes, pleasantly surprised to discover that he had spent the entire night in deep meditation. He had felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment…
Until the Charley Horses, caused by spending the night cross-legged, had kicked in. Kim and Ron had spent the first day of their summer vacation with Ron goose-stepping, unable to flex his knees.
Not wanting to disturb him, at least not yet, she eased her door closed and padded over to the couch. She couldn't help but smile looking at him; his boyish face locked in deep, serene concentration was an odd sight. Kim had never put much weight in the mystical aspects of martial arts, but her experiences at Yamanouchi had forced her to reconsider her previous beliefs. Even so, she had no intention of delving deeply into them. Ron was doing so and proving to be a wonderful counterpart to her emphasis on the combat aspect. Like almost every aspect of their lives, they complimented each other, like Yin and Yang.
Still, she found it humorous to watch him meditate. Whenever she pictured a mystic meditating, a few select images came to her mind. One of the images was of a very distinguished, elderly man, like Sensei, wearing ceremonial robes. Another image was of Yori, a very serious person in martial arts garb. Whenever she found herself confronted with Ron, wearing a pair of sweat pants and an old, Mad Dogs football jersey, deep in inner contemplation, she had to stifle a giggle. As quietly as she could, she took a seat on the couch.
"What's troubling you, KP?" Ron's matter-of-fact question, delivered without even opening his eyes, nearly made Kim jump in shock.
"How can you tell that something's bothering me?" She asked, in order to cover her surprise.
"A couple of things," Ron answered, still not moving. "First, when we escorted Bonnie back from the evening feast, you were acting a little…off. Secondly, I can pick up on the fact that you're upset."
"You can read my mind?" Kim demanded, with a blush starting to show on her face.
"Not the drama, KP," Ron replied, his eyes still closed. "I can't read your mind, I can only get a vague sense of your emotions, and I can only do that when I'm in my meditative state and you're close by." Now, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Feel better now?"
"Very, and thank you," Kim told him. "And yes, you're right, something's bothering me."
"One lifelong best friend, at your immediate disposal," Ron quipped, rising gracefully to his feet and taking a seat next to her. "What's on your mind."
"It's this whole contest," Kim admitted. "You know what I thought of it when Dr. Director told us about it."
Ron nodded.
"Well, I'm getting into it. I'm really pulling for Bonnie, hoping that she'll win it. I'm helping her to win and what's worse, I'm not doing anything to stop this disgusting pageant. What does that say about me? What does that mean when my competitiveness to win overrides my…morality…about taking part in this contest?"
After a few moments of thought Ron answered, "I'd say that it means you're learning to not force your standards on everyone around you."
"Huh?"
"KP, let me give you some examples," Ron suggested. "Remember how your Cousin Larry's obsessions with role-playing games and sci-fi used to irritate you to no end?"
Kim nodded.
"Why did you quit letting them bother you?"
"Well, for starters, they saved your life," Kim answered. "Then I realized that it was just him. Sci-fi and role playing made him happy and it didn't harm anyone else."
"And that's a good start," Ron nodded. "How about me and Felix and our Zombie mayhem fixation?"
"That irritated me to no end," Kim agreed. "Until I realized that I wasn't going to be the sum and total of your life. What really bothered me was that I had gotten to the point where I expected us to go out every Friday night, even though we weren't dating."
"But about my Zombie Mayhem addiction?"
"I learned to accept it," she confessed. "Realizing that you enjoyed it, plus enjoyed playing Zombie Mayhem with Felix, and that you even offered to let me join in. I didn't much care for it, but I didn't see the harm in it."
"Exactly, now we get into an area where you might get a little upset," Ron explained. "Back when I dated Zita, the whole two dates," this last remark gained a small chuckle from Kim. "She asked me why you enjoyed cheerleading. I told her that, as best I knew, that you enjoyed the competition, driving your team to be the best, and you liked the recognition."
"That's pretty close to the truth," Kim agreed. "So what does this have to do with this contest."
"I'm getting there, KP," Ron assured her. "Zita told me that she couldn't understand why you would enjoy working out with the squad, just to do some routines on the sidelines."
"Hey, calm down," Ron put is arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "I told her that you really enjoyed it and you really took it seriously. That's when she told me that if it was what you enjoyed, you should do it, just like she enjoyed on-line gaming."
"I take it that you're about to get to the point?" Kim prompted him.
"Yeah, the point is that you can't expect everyone to have the same morals, standards and priorities that you have. Sensei told me this when I was freaking out, wanting to know if he was going to take Hannah away from my 'rents. I guess the skinny of it comes down to this; for whatever reasons, Bonnie, Trudy and Camille have decided to compete for Junior's affection and Senior's approval. While you would never do something like this, you've grasped the fact that someone else might not find it disgusting or demeaning. Since Bon-Bon isn't hurting anyone by competing, you've decided to help her. So, in conclusion, you haven't compromised your morals as much as you've accepted that Bonnie's standards aren't the same as yours."
First Kim's eyes blinked as if she couldn't believe all this came from her PF. "Since when did you get so insightful?" She demanded.
"You caught me right after meditating," Ron explained. "If you ask me tomorrow morning, I'll say something like 'I dunno, maybe it's the water'."
"You are a goof! You know that?"
"I am what I is," Ron reminded her, pulling her in for a kiss. "Feel better now?" He asked, after they broke the lip contact.
"Oh and how," she whispered, before latching her mouth onto his again.
"That's what I'm here for," he murmured, then started to nibble at her neck. Kim simply giggled and lifted her chin, giving him full access to her throat.
With Ron's tendency to become clumsy at the wrong moment, Kim shouldn't have been surprised by what happened next. The two were in a rather awkward posture, sitting side by side and trying to make out. Kim shifted, turning to face her PF when physics took over. Ron was leaning into her, she didn't have any support opposite him and the couch didn't have very much friction with the crop top she wore as a pajama top. As a result, she fell over onto her back and dragged Ron on top of her. Neither teen was particularly upset with that development.
"Oh my…how…terribly…clumsy…of…me…" Ron murmured, never taking his lips off of her throat.
"Oh…you're…gonna…have…to…make…that…up…to…me," she responded, enjoying the playful banter. One of Ron's hands caressed her bare midriff's smooth skin, then slid around to her back, sliding under her top to knead her back. The full body contact, accentuated by the thin clothing they wore, was having a strong effect on both of the teens.
Not really thinking, Kim reached down and caught the hem of Ron's jersey. She pulled up his shirt and Ron, not really thinking either, lifted his arms over his head. Soon, she had pulled off his shirt. For a few moments, the two simply lay there, looking at each other with questioning eyes before both nodded, answering each other's unvoiced question before coming together again, clinging and caressing with increasing passion.
Ron suddenly realized what was happening, had no doubt where their activities were heading and was looking forward to it. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to get from here to where they both wanted to wind up, at least with any semblance of grace. While he knew that he would be clumsy and awkward at the moment, he still desired to limit the amount of awkwardness and clumsiness he displayed in getting to that point. Past experience taught him that too much awkwardness and clumsiness could really crimp a fun situation.
Working his one and one-half brain cells that were still functioning, he tried to think of their situation in a somewhat rational manner. First, they were making out on a comfortable, but narrow, couch out in the middle of a well-lit living room. Okay, problems number one and two were defined: While he had no experience doing what they were about to do, it was a pretty good guess they would want some more maneuvering room to do it. The second problem was that although he and Kim were very comfortable with each other, a well-lit room didn't seem appropriate for the first time. A third thing cropped up in his mind; his wallet was in his bedroom and that's where he kept…
Kim seized his head in an iron grip at that point, raising his chin so that she could trace kisses along his neck and down onto his chest, freezing up his thought processes. After a short time, he managed to compensate for the hormone overload and re-address the problems facing him. The single solution seemed to be to move them to his bedroom. He was rather pleased with himself for finding an elegant solution until he realized that he now had to implement the plan.
While he could simply ask her if she would like to go there, it sounded just a little…indecisive. He could simply get up, take her hand, and lead her there but that didn't seem exactly the right way to do it, either. He came to the conclusion that the best way to accomplish the relocation was to get up, pick her up, and carry her to his room. While he wasn't exactly experienced in romantic situations, that seemed a very romantic thing to do. He realized that if he had come to this conclusion, Kim, who was much smarter than he was, had probably reached it, as well. She was perfectly capable, and likely, to pick him up and carry him into one of the rooms. While Ron didn't consider himself a macho man, that sort of thing could drain his masculinity away for good. Realizing that there was no time like the present, he disengaged his legs from Kim's, stood up and swept her into his arms.
Kim was dismayed when Ron suddenly stood up, breaking away from the intimate embrace they were sharing. For a moment she felt panic, wondering if she had pushed things farther than he was comfortable going. Then she felt his arm sliding under her knees and he effortlessly hoisted her slight body into a bridal carry. Her panic subsided, replaced by renewed passion and an overwhelming sense of things being…right.
Kim Possible was no fainting heroine and she hated the stereotype. It wasn't unusual for a friend; usually Monique or Ron, to have to physically restrain her from snapping at movies, whenever a female character went all to pieces when confronted by a male villain. She was capable, decisive, and had a great deal of contempt for anybody who assumed otherwise because of her gender. Yet, right now, Ron was taking the lead and she didn't mind one bit. She had, at least for a short time, discarded Kim Possible the world saving heroine and become Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable's girlfriend.
She knew exactly what was about to happen; Ron was going to carry her into one of the bedrooms (she didn't care which one) where they would make love. It was right, it was perfect, and it was what both of them wanted. Their gazes met again, drinking in each other's longing and approval. She was scarcely aware that they were moving, Ron carrying her towards their goal.
Thus, the loud knock on the door, followed by the door opening, caught her completely by surprise.
Ron was impressed. He had always known that KP was athletic and quick-witted, but this was amazing! While he could only stand there dumbfounded, Kim flexed her torso, springing herself over his head. He swore that she did two flips before landing, catlike, on the floor. Finally, his hormone-addled brain functioned enough to put him into a combat stance, facing the opening door to see…
Bonnie Rockwaller!
"Hey K, Ron," the contestant greeted them, walking into the room. "I don't think that plotting strategy for tomorrow will do very much good, since we don't know what we'll be doing, but I was hoping that we could catch a movie. I broug…whoa! Were the two of you working out again?"
"Um…er…uh…" Ron replied, still trying to get his sluggish brain focused on the situation at hand.
"What gives you that idea," Kim snarled at their visitor.
"Well, you're both in your sweats and you look flushed…nice abs, by the way," she complimented Ron. This prompted Ron to find his jersey and pull it back on.
"Look, I didn't mean to interrupt anything,"Bonnie continued, winking at Kim while Ron's head was still in his jersey. "I just thought we could watch a movie or something. I know that I've never been all that nice to you guys in the past, but I thought we could try to be friends. I brought the popcorn," she held up a freshly popped bag.
"Why not?" Kim grumbled, realizing that the perfect moment had been ruined. She grabbed Ron's hand and towed him to the couch, seating her confused boyfriend before grabbing the TV's remote. "What sounds good to you?" She asked Bonnie, since Ron's mind was clearly not up to making decisions.
Kim and Bonnie paged through the selections available on Senior's lair-wide entertainment system, agreeing on a romantic comedy. A few minutes later, Kim cuddled up to Ron while Bonnie took the chair. While the movie was both entertaining and funny, Kim couldn't help but be disappointed with how the evening had turned out.
"So what happened to Creeper?" Robbie demanded of Bigfoot's delivery boy.
"Who?" The man asked.
"The kid who watched our cars!" Smoke roared at the man. "The kid who you guys grabbed and stuffed into your van yesterday!"
"Let me get this straight," the delivery boy countered, his voice dripping with contempt. "One of your 'Boyz' vanishes, and I'm the one who did it? What makes you think that he didn't just run off?"
"Don't play us for idiots!" Little Jack snarled, stalking up to tower over the man. "Our cameras caught it and we recorded it! Yesterday, after you dropped off the smack and we were all busy divvying it up, you and another guy grabbed him and took him away. He's one of us and we want to know where he is!"
"Back off, stretch," the diminutive man snarled back, refusing to be intimidated. "You may be interested to know that your buddy, Creeper, was running his mouth off. Another of our…associates…was hanging out, shooting some hoops, when he overheard the kid telling everyone around about big, bad Bigfoot and how he dropped the smack off at a certain warehouse. How long do you think it would have been before the cops would have raided this place?"
"That's our business," Smoke growled. "Creeper's one of us! We deal with our own and we take care of our own! When one of the Boyz acts up, you let us know and we deal with it! Trust me, Creeper would have learned real quick to keep his mouth shut."
"That isn't a worry any more," the man smirked. "We'll never have to worry about…Creeper…running his mouth off again."
"Nobody takes out one of the Boyz!" Robbie roared, seizing the man by the jacket and hoisting him off of the ground. The gangster pulled back one fist, prepared to cave in that smug face.
"You'd better think about it," the man growled back. Little Jack grabbed his friend and pulled him back.
"I'll let this go…once," the man snarled, straightening out his collar. "Before you get all high and mighty again, you might want to think things through. I don't have to do anything to take any and all of you out. All I have to do is show up tomorrow, with water in the syringe instead of your medicine. You'll be dead before the next day and it won't hurt me one bit. Now, here's what you're going to do. You're going to move your operation to this address." The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and jammed it into Robbie's hand.
"What if we don't?" The still angry Robbie demanded.
"Then you don't get any medicine, idiot!" The delivery boy snarled right back. "I don't think you Boyz understand the situation here. Bigfoot doesn't just run you, he owns you. If you don't jump when he says to, you die, it's as simple as that. Now, your little pet…Creeper…ran his mouth off and word might get back to the cops that you're running smack out of this warehouse. That means that you need to move. Notice that I didn't ask you to move, I told you to move. This means that you're going to move. Can you understand this, or do I have to find smaller words, or smarter Boyz?"
"We hear you," Smoke grumbled, while the other two Boyz quivered in rage. "But what about all the improvements we put into this place? We've invested an awful lot of money."
"That is a Boyz matter," the delivery boy informed him. "You can either take it with you or leave it here. However, I'm warning you that we better not catch you running trucks directly between here and the new joint. That would mean that you can be traced to the new locale and you'll have to move all over again."
"Okay, when do we move?" Smoke asked.
"It's up to you but your smack, and your medicine, show up at your new address tomorrow. Now, if you're done wasting my time by making me point out things that you should already know, I need to get back to work."
The three Boyz grudgingly stepped out of his way, so that he could get back into his van. Once seated, he gave them some last words of wisdom.
"I'd really think about all this, if I were you," he told the three gangsters. "You're making more money than you did before we showed up. We've cut down the turf wars, so your friends and families aren't getting shot up. All we're asking is that you do what you were doing anyway; selling smack and keeping your mouths shut. Play ball and we all wind up rich and happy. Mess with us and you go down, and we find someone else to play."
The Boyz could only quiver in impotent rage as he drove off.
"You were right," Smoke's voice was only a whisper as he addressed Little Jack. "It's only a matter of time before Bigfoot takes us all out."
"So what do we do about it?" Little Jack asked his friend. Smoke had a well-deserved reputation for keeping his temper. That's why the Boyz looked to him to make the decisions.
"I say we take Bigfoot out," Smoke told the other two.
"But even if we take him down, we're all dead," Robbie protested. "Without that acid stuff he gives us…"
"We're dead already," Smoke informed him, in a dead calm voice. "He's going to take us all out at one point or another. Think about it, what if one of us gets busted? Do you think Bigfoot will make deliveries to the prison? What will we tell the cops, 'a nine foot tall man in a blanket gave me a shot and I need special medicine each day or I'll die'? What happens if we catch a blizzard this winter, and the streets all get closed? What happens if that delivery boy has car trouble?"
"So what do we do?" Little Jack repeated.
"We take Bigfoot out," Smoke insisted. "We have to be careful about this. If he gets wind of it, he'll be ready for us. You were right, Little Jack, our only chance is to crash his joint and hope he has our medicine stored there."
"So what's the plan?" Robbie asked.
"I'm working on it," Smoke admitted. "I think we can use the move as cover."
"How's that?" Little Jack had missed whatever details Smoke had caught.
"Bigfoot's probably watching us," Smoke explained. "Making sure we're not doing anything sneaky. Well, if we're gonna be moving our operation, he's gonna have to expect a whole lot of activity. We can get ready for a hit without him knowing we're up to something."
"I'm still not catching where you're coming from," Robbie admitted.
"Okay, here's what I'm thinking," Smoke told the other two. "First of all, we just trash all of our cameras and other security stuff and buy new stuff for the new place. If anyone asks, we say that we don't want anyone catching us moving all of the old stuff to the new place. That will give us a good reason for pulling our cash out of storage."
"Why do we need the cash?" Little Jack asked.
"We divvy it up between our families," Smoke told him. "And tell them to get the hell out of town, just before we make the hit! If it all goes south, at least they'll be safe. Next, Bigfoot won't get suspicious when we call in some muscle to help us move the furniture and other heavy stuff. That will give us the chance to get about a half dozen guys, the ones we can trust the most, to go in with us." He paused a moment, "Little Jack, you did find his joint, didn't you?"
"Yeah, it's an abandoned factory, down by the docks," Little Jack told his friends. "It looks like you have a plan coming together. What do you need me to do?"
"I want you to handle the move. You're the best of us when it comes to putting a hit together, so you can pick the guys to go with us, out of the muscle you bring in to move our stuff."
"How about me?" Robbie asked.
"I want you to buy some cameras for the new place, just like Bigfoot would expect us to. While you're doing that, I want you to get all of our cash that you can get your hands on and divvy it up. We'll give it to our families before we hit Bigfoot's place. We don't dare give it out before then. I love my mother, but I can't trust her to keep a secret."
"When do we make the hit?" Little Jack asked.
"I haven't figured that out yet," Smoke admitted. "But within the next week."
"How about you," Robbie asked. "What will you be doing while me and Little Jack are doing our thing?"
"I'll be meeting with our lawyer."
"What?"
"If we pull this off, we'll need some help from the cops, really fast," Smoke explained. "I'll get our lawyer up to speed. If we roll the joint and get a couple of days worth of medicine, maybe the police or the FBI will be able to figure out how to make more of it. If our lawyer is ready to move, maybe he'll be able to cut the deal fast enough."
The gangster looked at his two friends and favored them with a sad smile. "I know we don't have much of a chance, but it's the best I can come up with. Who knows? Maybe we'll wind up heroes."
A/N:
So another chapter down: I'd really like to thank everyone who's stuck with me through this tale. The reviews and PM's have been most encouraging. As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services.
Unitl my next update, best wishes;
daccu65