A/N: Yeah, it's short. Sue me; I was busy this weekend.
"Alright team, is everyone in position?"
"All clear here."
"Ready on you."
"Alright. Crash, disable the lasers."
"Done." In the hall before him, Burn saw a veritable spiderweb of crisscrossing infrared beams of death-trap-triggering-doom winked temporarily out of existence. "You have twenty seconds."
"Move!" Burn shouted, launching himself forward at a faster pace than he had ever moved in his entire life. Regardless, he only made it to the end with around a tenth of a second to spare. It didn't matter to him, though. He was at the end.
"Everyone alright?" He panted heavily, completely winded.
"Affirmative."
"Aye."
"Good." Burn smiled. "I'm opening the door." The door in question was ten feet high and over a foot thick. Very little was getting through without the key. The lock such a key might fit was smack dab in the center of the door. It had forty-two tumblers, each of which shifted their position once unlocked, and sent the new combination to the key it fit, causing it to shift accordingly. It was nearly impossible for a human being to pick. Burn did not attempt it. Rather, he stuck a large cylinder-about the size of an average coffee cup-to the lock. For an eternity, there was much whirling and grinding of gears. After ten minutes, the lock clicked off in rapid succession. One, two, three… Burn grinned in anticipation as he counded of the clicks while his eyes remained fixed on his watch. Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one… There it was, all forty-two tumblers defeated. With a heavy groan, the door pulled itself upward. Mist surged forth from under the rising portcullis, accompanied by a pale blue glow. Unwilling to wait any further (the door was really slow), Burn ducked into the next room.
"Finally," he heard Crash whisper into his mic, "it's ours."
"As it should be." Burn replied. "Finally! The trophy goes to team…"
He looked up, and his voice failed him.
Inside this deep, highly secured vault, two miles underground, and normally thought impenetrable by any sane mind, lay a treasure so priceless, so incomparable, so prestigious, that every professional thief in existence vied for it at least once in their career.
The treasure was far more than art, gold, gems, or relics. It was the ultimate prize. It was the official International Villains Convention Best Thief trophy, sitting on it's own majestic pedestal…
Being held by Kim Possible.
"...impossible." Burn gasped.
"Not quite!" Kim giggled. "Lose the 'I' and the 'm,' and you'll have it right.
"Oh, come on!" Crash groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
"How?" Was all Burn could manage. He'd paid good money to bribe the access codes to the laser grids from the tournament supervisor this year. The prize should've been his! Theirs. Whatever! Not hers!
"I have skillz." Kim smirked, giving Burn a conspiratorial wink. "with a 'z."
"And for the twelfth year running," A loudspeaker helpfully piped up, cutting of any retort Burn thought of making, "Kim Possible takes first place! Let's hear it for our winner, evildoers!"
The subsequent applause was almost enough to drown out Burn's agonized scream.
A/N: Ugh; a charity event that I helped run ate up my whole weekend. Blegh. It was really fun though, so I don't regret it. It was all about the vintage games, board and video. F.Y.I. the Mortal Kombat fatalities aren't that hard. Been playing lots of Tomb Raider to catch up on my lost weekend when I realized I hadn't updated in some time. Don't say I never get you anything. Now back to the raiding of tombs! (Cue scene transition music)