Wading In

XX

The loading dock door would be closed, were it not for the gaping hole in its center. The door's edges were blackened and curled inwards from the force of the explosion that had blasted it open. Drakken stood out on the loading dock and stared at the door. Through the ragged edges of the hole, he could see the inside of the warehouse. He felt his anger rising as he stepped closer, but as he looked at the damage, something about its appearance reminded him of flower petals.

That image, in turn, reminded him of the unfortunate botanical condition he had been forced to bear after spraying himself with that Super High Pollinator a couple of years ago. Drakken shuddered at the memory. Sprouting vines and petals had proved to have some uses, to be sure, but they had also been hard to control sometimes, which had caused him no end of embarrassment. One incident in particular came to mind when Drakken thought of embarrassment, but he was not inclined to add to his bad mood by thinking about that.

The whole fiasco – along with the Mega Skin Toughener debacle of last year – was a good lesson in the importance of creating antidotes for his dangerous formulas before he started using the formulas themselves. If only he could remember that lesson once in a while.

"Nice to you see you, sir!"

Drakken's ill humor found a target in the man who stepped gingerly out onto the loading dock through the jagged hole in the door. He looked down at his operations manager, Assad Sacke, with a vague air of distaste. Drakken was not pleased at having to visit the Middleton warehouse to deal with issues yet again, but something about Assad himself bothered him as well. Although he wore the same uniform that Drakken demanded the rest of his subordinates wear, Assad's uniform always seemed a little more rumpled than the rest. And on this particular morning, Assad's usual unkempt and slightly forlorn appearance was accentuated by a black eye.

"I'd like to apologize for letting this happen again, sir – I don't know how they managed to pull off a heist twice in a row. I think some of the guards must have been shirking their duties."

"Tell me, Assad - who happens to be in charge of those guards, hmm?"

Assad gulped. He had no idea if he was, in fact, in charge of the guards, but Drakken did not strike him as the kind of employer who would brook any argument. Assad had been excited to get a new position so quickly after being fired from his old job, especially with the state of the economy in the tri-city area. But with the way Drakken spoke to him sometimes, Assad wondered if getting fired from this new job would involve some sort of actual fire. Perhaps a flamethrower.

"I'm in charge of the guards, sir," said Assad. "And I promise, this won't happen again!"

"I believe you said that the first time we were attacked," said Drakken. He felt the scar under his eye itch with a pulsing heat, which it sometimes did when he got into one of his moods. "Last time they hijacked one of our shipments en route to the new facility in Go City," he mused aloud. "Why would they attack the warehouse itself this time? Tell me again what happened, Assad."

"I was overseeing the packing of the Triple C's here in the warehouse when the blast occurred," said Assad. "Several of the intruders came flooding in from the loading dock after they blew it open. We tried to fight them – I personally fought tooth and nail until I was subdued by several of them – but they overpowered us and took the chambers. Fortunately we had only just starting packing them, so they didn't really make off with much."

Drakken nodded as the two of them stood on the loading dock. It was a bit of good news, but not nearly enough to make up for the hassle of coming out to the warehouse personally.

"Show me what we have on security camera," he said.

Assad led his blue-skinned boss into the warehouse, stepping over some debris which Drakken was displeased to notice had not been cleaned up yet. Drakken looked around; a number of his henchmen were standing idly around and watching him enter, while a few more were seated at the break table off to the side, laughing amongst themselves and eating snacks from the vending machines. Drakken felt dual flashes of hunger and annoyance irritate his scar even more.

"What am I paying all of you for?" yelled Drakken. "Nnnngh - no wonder the operation has been stalling! Everyone must get to work immediately!"

Assad led Drakken up a set of stairs and into his small manager's office, which overlooked the warehouse floor. A set of computer monitors inside the room provided feeds of the security cameras set up around the loading dock and the warehouse's other doors, as well as a couple of cameras set up inside the building itself. Drakken was displeased to look at one indoor feed and see that the workers at the break table had returned to their snacks and conversation as soon as Drakken had left their sight.

"Unfortunately," said Assad as he punched a command into a keyboard, "we have pretty much nothing on the cameras. Whoever these people are, they're pros!"

Drakken watched as a taped feed from earlier that day played on one of the monitors. The footage came from the security camera set outside the loading dock door. Drakken immediately saw that none of his guards had been standing outside on the loading dock, even though they were supposed to watch the warehouse entrances. He would have to give his employees a little pep talk in a few moments.

As the monitor played its footage, Drakken caught a glimpse of a bulky, masked figure approaching the camera seconds before the camera feed cut off abruptly.

"That's it?"

"Yes sir."

"Zoom in on the figure and slow the feed down."

Assad typed in a couple more commands. The figure had something in its hand, probably to disrupt the security camera system. Judging by his physique, the figure was male and well-built, but he was covered in a black face mask and body suit.

Drakken furrowed his brow. So he was dealing with an unknown group of intruders who seemed intent on disrupting his plans. Assad had called them pros, but Drakken wasn't sure about that. Attacking the warehouse when it hadn't even been dark outside was a strike against them. Not to mention blasting through a loading dock door was a little ridiculous when they could have just gone through the air vents. His old teen nemesis, Kim Possible, had proven time and time again what an Achilles Heel air vents could be.

Drakken's brow furrowed even more deeply. Maybe that was why Kim Possible had always beaten him: Air vents! After all, how could you really block them without disrupting air flow? Leaving them open gave your enemies access to defeat you, but closing them led to long term defeat through poor air quality – which, in its own way, was far worse for a supervillain's health than an attack by teen defenders of justice. It was a lose-lose scenario. As Drakken considered the implications of this problem, he found his anger changing into a more profound philosophical crisis. He would have to make a note of the air vent quandary. Just as soon as -

"Sir?"

"Yes, Assad, what is it," snapped Drakken impatiently.

"What should we do?"

"Never mind about that. I'll take care of it."

Drakken tapped a finger on his chin as he stared at the security feed. Assad had turned the cameras back on before he arrived, but seeing as they had been turned off during the heist itself, there was next to nothing that could point him in the right direction. Assad's information had been useless. Although Drakken placed most of the blame on Assad, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed that he was dealing with these unknown attackers for the second time. Perhaps Drakken's normal scheming instincts were a little rusty as a result of that long period of inactivity after he and Shego had saved the world.

Still, Drakken told himself as he left the manager's office and returned to the warehouse floor, this was just a temporary setback. A childish attempt by unknown and probably totally jealous enemies to slow down his progress on this new enterprise. Drakken's mind raced on all pistons as it went over the details of his plan, all thoughts of air vents disappearing into the ether. There was no stopping him. Of that, he was sure. He would deal with this minor setback, and when his operation got rolling, the world wouldn't know what hit it.

Just as soon as he repaired that loading dock door, anyway.

XX

It was already getting dark by the time Kim pulled the Sloth into the small parking lot behind her apartment complex. Its hood crackled as it cooled down, and Kim got out as she looked up at the glowing yellow window, behind which she knew Monique was waiting for her. Her arm snaked instinctively over her waist – Kim was wearing one of her midriff-baring shirts, and while she could probably count on a little more warm fall weather to come, tonight was chillier than usual. She hurried across the sidewalk and went up the covered stairway nestled between two apartment buildings. Up one floor, she opened the door to room 203, eager to warm up in her apartment.

Kim corrected herself: their apartment.

She and Monique had lived there for over a year now, ever since they became sophomores. They used to have a third roommate, but once she moved out, Kim and Monique had decided to keep the apartment to themselves instead of finding a new one. It was more expensive, but it was also more convenient. Not to mention a little more private.

No sooner had Kim opened the door than she was hit by a whiff of something delicious. Whatever it was, it smelled almost as good as that cupcake the boy in the study hall had been eating earlier. Kim's economics class with Mr. Barkin always ran a little late, and Kim knew that - as she so often did - Monique had made something good for dinner in preparation of her arrival.

"Hey honey!" shouted a voice from the kitchen.

Kim set her backpack down beside the couch in the living room. She was about to make her way into the kitchen when Monique came out with a plate balanced in each hand, managing to nod her head in the direction of the couch. Apparently they weren't eating in the kitchen tonight. Kim sat down on the couch and accepted the meal Monique had made for her. Monique set her own meal down on the coffee table in front of them, gave Kim a quick kiss on the cheek, and grabbed the television remote.

"Not eating in the kitchen tonight?" asked Kim.

Monique shook her head as she turned on the television. "I think the season premiere of Evil Eye for the Bad Guy is on in a few minutes. Can't miss that!"
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were studying up on how to betray me and join the dark side."

"Pfft. They have some great fashions on that show. It's a good way to get tips and ideas! And besides," added Monique in a suggestive voice, "I thought you liked a little dark side."

"Laaame!" Kim said with a grin.

As the show began, Kim dug into her food: a plate of spaghetti and meatballs with a little garlic bread on the side. Nothing fancy, but there was no denying Monique's culinary talent. Kim had gotten better at cooking over time as well – she had improved quickly when she and Ron had been going out, in particular – but she still preferred to let others cook if she could get away with it.

Kim found herself reminded of Ron for the third time that day. She remembered the meals he made when they were together. Baking was his specialty, but he could make anything taste good. Monique's cooking, while good, was not as good as Ron's. But then Kim hadn't enjoyed one of Ron's meals in a long time. And she would never make the comparison to Monique. There was no reason to bring it up – and that would be an awkweird comment if there ever was one.

"Just look at that stone wall!" shouted a fey voice from the television. An interior designer was flicking his hands at the wall in question, almost as if he was trying to exorcise them of a fashion demon, while a sheepish supervillain stood nearby and watched as the show's hosts verbally laid waste to his lair.

"Rock is a perfectly acceptable choice of lair material," said the supervillain, whom Kim did not recognize.

"Oh, rock can be nice, don't get me wrong, but you've got leaky walls!" The designer pointed to one of the leaks in question. "With all this electrical equipment lined up against it, I'm surprised we haven't been fried by a power surge yet! And look at that choice of paint styles on your doomsday weapon – honey, that clashes worse than the titans!"

Kim yawned as the show went on. It wasn't long before she finished her meal, setting the plate on the coffee table and shifting onto her side as she nestled into the couch, her head resting on Monique's lap. Monique flicked idly at Kim's flowing red hair a few times, although her attention was still absorbed in the show.

"How were classes and work?" Kim asked as she looked up at her girlfriend.

"Not bad. Classes were a little boring, work was fun. I finished designing those masks for Steve and Paul. I think we'll test them out later this week."

"Nice. I'll have to come check that out when you guys are playing with them."

"Be sure that you do."

"I'll lend you my expertise on whether they're a fashion pass or fail."

Monique stuck her tongue out, spying an impish grin beneath the halo of red hair below her. "We'll be meeting at the Arena on Friday," she said.

Kim thought about doing some of her homework before the rest of the night slipped out from between her fingers, but she could already feel herself giving in. The work would have to wait until later that week. It was a lost cause, and Monique's lap was entirely too soft to encourage any getting up. As a matter of fact, Kim felt her eyelids begin to droop as sleep crept closer. Her thoughts grew hazy and started to flit about – images of Monique, images of Ron, images of Mr. Barkin ranting about the genius of Hayek – until she was jerked back from slumber by the sound of a phone ringing.

"I think that's yours," said Monique.

Kim reached over the side of the couch and fished the cell phone from her backpack. She flipped it open and said 'hello?' before realizing that it was not her phone that was ringing. Kim frowned and looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the ring, before realizing that it was not in fact a ring, but a series of beeps.

A beep beep bee-beep, in fact.

Kim fished the Kimmunicator from her backpack and felt herself flushing with embarrassment. She was surprised that she hadn't recognized the signal, but then, she was tired, and she had not used the Kimmunicator in a while. Her fancy watch Kimmunicator was lying on top of a dresser in their bedroom, since Kim had been wearing a normal watch for a long time now. Still, she was caught off guard by her forgetfulness. Had it really been that long?

"Hey Wade," she said as the familiar boy popped into the screen. Kim had seen him in real life a few times during college, even though he hadn't beeped her in a while. He looked a little more grown up than he had in Kim's high school days, but Wade still had his chubby physique and boyish features about him.

"Hey Kim!"

"What's the sitch? You haven't called me on this thing in a long time."

"That sort of is the sitch, actually," said Wade. "I know you haven't gone on any missions in a while now, and I thought you might want to get back in the game. I have one that might be interesting."

"Oh yeah?" said Kim. Something about Wade's delivery made her a little suspicious, but she decided she'd bite. "What is it?"

"Well, there's a catch."

"A catch?"

"Yeah."

Wade hesitated a moment before continuing, and then gave Kim a cautious smile.

"You'd need to go with Ron."

XX

Middleton was fast asleep, wrapped in a blanket of night and serenaded by the chirping of crickets. Its slumber would have been peaceful if it wasn't for the backfiring of a scooter's engine. Ron Stoppable drove the scooter in question down his neighborhood street on the way back home from his shift at Smarty Mart.

It was the same street where he had grown up. The street where he still lived with his mother and father. Ron was older, but things did not look that much different than they did in his memories. His scooter was getting a little older too, however, and Ron got the feeling that it was on its last legs. It had been on its last legs in high school, actually. Maybe now it was wobbling on one last crushed foot or something.

He was almost home, but Ron unconsciously slowed the scooter down to a near standstill as he passed by a familiar house close to his own. He knew that Kim was not at home – she was in Upperton, with Monique – but judging by the light coming from the living room window, Kim's parents were home, and probably her younger brothers as well. Ron had not talked to them in a while. He hadn't really seen them since Kim broke up with him, now that he thought about it. He felt an urge to go in and visit them, but as he had done before when he passed by the house, he found himself resisting.

Why did he resist? It was a question that Ron had asked himself before, but whenever he groped for a clear answer, none appeared. Of course there hadn't been as many opportunities to hang out at Kim's house quite as often as he used to, once Kim went to college and he became busier at Smarty Mart, but he had still maintained a good relationship with Kim's family after the two of them began their life past high school. But that had abruptly stopped when his relationship with Kim ended.

Maybe he felt like he didn't belong there anymore. Maybe he felt like they would blame him for the breakup – he had always gotten the feeling that Anne was a big supporter of his relationship with Kim, and while James occasionally threw teasing comments about space probes his way, it seemed like Kim's father had supported the two of them as well. Ron knew that, even now after what had happened, he was safe from being shot into deep space. And yet something about facing Kim's parents set off a knot in his stomach.

He revved up the scooter again and pushed it along the last stretch to his own house. The windows were dark, but even if his parents were asleep, the last burst of backfires sputtering out of the scooter's exhaust pipe were more than enough to wake up anyone in the block. Ron parked the scooter and grabbed the Bueno Nacho dinner he had grabbed on his way home from its basket. He barely creaked open the door when Rufus leaped at him from inside the house. Either the mole rat had been waiting for him to come home, or – just as likely – he had smelled Nacos long before Ron even reached the driveway.

"Hey buddy!"

Rufus squeaked and rubbed his stomach in anticipation, staring at the bag in Ron's hand.

"Hold your horses, I got enough for both of us." He went into the living room with Rufus perched on his shoulder and dropped onto the couch like dead weight. Rufus looked up at him beseechingly, asking if he could begin to eat now that Ron was more comfortable.

"Okay, okay. Let's dig in!"

XX

Faint, jagged bursts of conversation started and stopped at intervals as the television channels changed. There was nothing left to eat, and Ron sat on the couch with the remote in his hand. An assortment of trash and wrapping paper lay strewn across the coffee table in front of him. In the middle of the mess sat an empty Bueno Nacho take-out bag, which looked like it had exploded and scattered its contents over the table. A sleeping naked mole rat could also be found partially hidden in the wreckage.

Ron had only gotten home about fifteen minutes ago, but he and Rufus had already made short work of their dinner. It was long past dinner time – it would only be another hour or so before morning, as a matter of fact – but Ron was liberal in his interpretation of dinner time. His philosophy was that there was no bad time for Bueno Nacho. If he felt a little crummy in the tummy later that night, it was still preferable to skipping dinner entirely.

He grumbled as he flipped the channels. He had missed the season premiere of Evil Eye For the Bad Guy, and his parents hadn't taped it even though Ron had asked them to. There was nothing else on television, either. Ron had another shift at work tomorrow, and he began to think about taking Mr. Barkin's suggestion and getting a good night's sleep. He was about to turn off the television and clean up his mess when his father appeared at the foot of the stairway leading upstairs.

"Hello, son."

"Hey pop. How's it going?"

"I've been working a little late, but I heard you coming home a few minutes ago."

"Cool – how's my baby sister?"

"Hana is asleep upstairs. By the way, you got a call today from that Wade boy."

Ron glanced up at his father as he gathered the trash from the coffee table. Wade? Ron was happy to hear that the teen genius had tried to get in touch with him, but he wondered why. Wade hadn't called him for a while now. Ever since missions with Kim had stopped, really. Ron wasn't even sure if he remembered Wade's number anymore, although it was written in an address book inside a kitchen drawer beneath the phone.

"Thanks dad, I'll call him."

"You don't want to wake up him up," Dean cautioned his son. "Maybe you should wait until tomorrow. It's a little late to be calling him now, don't you think?"

"Naw, don't worry," laughed Ron. "Wade will be wide awake."

His father said goodnight and went back up the stairs to go to sleep as Ron went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. It took a minute of searching, but he dialed Wade's number after finding it in the address book. Sure enough, it took only one ring before Wade picked up. He was probably typing away at his bank of computers, planning some mission with Kim. Or, Ron reminded himself, with Global Justice, assuming Kim wasn't doing the missions anymore. Or maybe Wade was just playing a game.

"Hey Wade. Dad said you called me?"

"Sure did. It's nice to talk to you again, by the way. What have you been up to?"

"Ah, same old same old. Working a lot of shifts at the Smarty Mart."

Ron felt a little sheepish that he couldn't tell Wade of any other interesting goings-on in his life, but then, Ron wasn't Kim. Not everyone was headed for the stars. He idly wondered if Kim and Wade were still as close as they had been. Maybe they still worked on their missions together. The way Barkin had talked about Kim earlier made it sound like maybe she wasn't as active in freak fighting as she used to be, but it was hard for Ron to believe.

"I heard you got promoted to management," said Wade.

"That's right. The Ron Man's a big dog now!"

Ron tried to sound enthusiastic, but came off a little half-hearted instead. "Oh, and Barkin is one of my employees now."

Wade sniggered. Although he did not have the first-hand experience with Steve Barkin that Kim and Ron had had the dubious pleasure of experiencing while they were in high school, he knew enough about the teacher to be amused at the thought of Ron Stoppable ordering him around. "That's awesome!" he told Ron.

"Yeah. So what's up with you, Wade?"

"Actually, I was calling to make you a proposition."

"And what's that?"

"A proposition? It's like an offer or proposal for you to consider."

"No, I mean, what proposition are you making?"

"Oh, right. Um, okay – hear me out on this, Ron – do you want to go on a mission?"

Ron had not been expecting that proposition. As he thought about it, however, he supposed it wasn't surprising. He did have mystical monkey powers, after all, and even if his control over them was tenuous at best, he figured it must make him a valuable asset if Wade was in need of some help. Ron wondered why Wade hadn't called Kim instead – perhaps she really had been sucked into the collegiate life.

"Well, I guess I haven't gone on a mission in a while," said Ron after he considered the proposal. "It could be fun, and you know I'm always cool with helping you out, Wade. Are you sure it's something I could handle solo?"

A nervous cough came from the other end of the line.

"It wouldn't be solo."

"Oh?"

"No. You'd be going with Kim."

XX

Wade's bedroom was dark, save for the light of his computer monitors and a Sheela of the Leopard People night-light beside his bed. The darkness was a good fit for his mood at that moment. Both Kim and Ron had rejected his mission. They hadn't even given him time to explain what it was, although Wade was reluctant to explain anything until he got them both to agree to meet with him first. Ron might be more pliable, but it was not exactly the kind of mission that Kim would be enthusiastic about. She might need a little convincing.

Despite their rejection, Wade had told them that they would need to accept the mission by Friday if they wanted to go, and that he could really use their help. Neither one of them sounded like they had any interest in going, but Wade had managed to get them to promise him that they would at least think about it. Perhaps, if they were not open to the idea tonight, Wade had at least thrown the option out there.

"Honey, isn't it time for sleep? You've got school tomorrow!"

Wade furrowed his brow at the sound of his mother's voice. Didn't she understand there were far more important things for Wade to attend to than sleep? He let out a sigh of exasperation, which into a yawn halfway before it ended.

"Yes mom, I know!"

She had a point, but it wasn't like Wade payed any attention in his classes anyway. Heck, he designed half the lesson plans, which gave him enough currency with his teachers that he could essentially skip classes when he wanted to. Bureaucratic red tape was the only reason they hadn't skipped him all the way into college yet.

Then again, he was getting tired, and it looked like he had done everything he could do with his two old friends for tonight. Maybe it was time for bed.

Wade yawned again as he shut down a few programs. Kim and Ron were being stubborn as usual, but Wade had years of experience dealing with the two of them. He knew a little about what had happened in their relationship, and he knew that things had been cold between them for a while now. But enough was enough. He wanted to see them back together on missions, for a variety of reasons. He thought it would be good for the two of them - but perhaps even more than that, Wade was beginning to miss fighting supervillains and saving the world with his friends.

He was about to leave his control station when he caught a whiff of something delicious. The scent had filled his room all night, but he had been distracted in his attempts to get Kim and Ron to go on this mission together. Now, however, his attention returned to the cupcake sitting on his desk. Wade couldn't resist; it was late, but he lunged at the cupcake, almost as a reflexive reaction, and stuffed it into his mouth.

For a moment, Wade was bothered by the idea that he had forgotten to do something with the cupcake, but he was tired, and the taste was amazing to the point of distraction. Heavenly, even. Chewing through the wave of pleasure that crashed over his tongue and down his throat, Wade wondered if he had even tasted a better cupcake.

He finished the cupcake and brushed a few crumbs from his hands before putting on his pajamas and climbing into bed. Wade pulled back his covers as his thought about his mission. He had planted the thought in Kim and Ron's minds. They were stubborn, but they would not let their old friend down. All they needed was a little time to think about it.

Meanwhile, Wade thought as he stared at the bulge under the covers that was his stomach, maybe he would walk to school tomorrow to burn off a little bit of his late-night snack.