He had never felt such power in his legs. He should have been clumsy, he should have sent himself flying into the ceiling above him, or overshot his quarry. Somehow, he knew how much strength he had and how much he needed to use to put him where he needed to be. Somehow, he also knew that he could now withstand an impact that would have cracked his bones moments before.
Warmonga got her staff up in front of her in a blocking posture, so he didn't strike the glowing ends. He caught the staff and slammed into it, driving into her body and sending her stumbling back. Despite his strength increase, she was still large and powerful; he drove her back into a wall but she kept her balance and the grip on the weapon.
Determined to disarm her, he planted his feet into her chest and pulled back on the staff for all he was worth. Maybe he had a strength advantage, or maybe she was caught unprepared but he quickly extended her arms. Then, she clung to the staff for all she was worth, turning the struggle into a contest of will and strength. What would give first, her grip or his strength? It turned out, there was a third factor at play. With a booming crack and a release of energy, the staff shattered.
He went flying away from the alien and through the crackling energy in the air. He felt the pain and his muscles spasmed, but he recovered quickly enough to to a tuck and roll...and roll and roll and roll. Stopping against the far wall, he used that wall to lurch to his feet and look towards his opponent. Warmonga had been driven against her wall, which now sported an imprint of her body. She was also struggling to her feet and Ron was relieved to see that she was doing so more slowly than he had. This gave him a moment to check out the rest of the room.
Drakken was standing next to one of the machines, his mouth hanging open in shock. Kim was kneeling where the shredded remains that had once been Eric were visibly disintegrating. She was crying while Rufus attempted to console her. Shego was down but seemed to be coming to, struggling to her knees while shaking her head.
"This insult cannot be borne!" Warmonga's roar brought his attention back to where it should have been all along. The massive alien set the broken remains of her staff on the ground, acting almost reverent while doing so. Ron had a moment to reflect that maybe a warrior culture put a great deal of importance on their weapons before she rose fully to her feet and faced him.
"You betrushulsa!" She roared at him. "I forged that weapon from the weapons and spaceships of the first four opponents I faced. I have carried it with honor for over seven cycles of the second sun of Lowardia and honored both myself, my world and those I have defeated by doing so. Now you, a mere primitive from the spiral arm, have earned the ultimate scorn! You shall pay with your life and the lives of all of your miserable species!"
With that, she pulled something that looked like a pistol from her belt and started to shoot at him. From the pistol, coils of energy flew his way. When they struck a solid object, they coiled, seeking something to cling to. Fortunately, Ron had been keeping well away from the impact points, constantly dodging and changing direction...broken field running like Coach Roughman had drilled into him. The pistol must have had limited ammunition, because after a half-dozen shots, she threw the weapon at him in disgust and charged him bare-handed.
Being smaller meant that he was much more agile than her. He took a defensive stance and held his ground until the last moment, then side-stepped her and hit her backside with a backhand as she went by. The blow, and her own momentum, sent her smashing into another wall. She staggered back from it, leaving another dent, to glare at him. She looked bruised, angry, and more cautious. This time, she raised her arms in a fighting stance and stalked towards him.
Ron didn't really like this, even as he dropped to his hands and feet and closed in monkey-style. He would have preferred her to be angry and not thinking straight. His years of being a sidekick had taught him that an angry opponent was better than a calculating opponent. But it was what it was; he had to deal with what was in front of him. If one of them was going to be cold and calculating, then the other might as well be random and impulsive.
He came in low, dodged her kick and caught her wrist when she tried to punch him. She drew back her fist and he went with the motion; scampering up her arm to perch on her shoulder and strike her twice in the face. He jumped away before she could react. He landed on hands and feet and sprang towards her. She lifted her hands to protect her head and he went low, sweeping her feet from under her. She was large, but agile for her size. She did a proper fall and immediately rolled over, catching him with a kick when the tried to leap on her.
The blow sent him back, but he recovered, spun and struck a wall with his hands and feet. He had just a moment to consider that either the kick or hitting the wall would have probably finished him off before he went full monkey. Instead of splattering, he was able to spring back towards her, bounce off of the floor and deliver a flying kick while she was trying to get to her feet. The massive alien was sent tumbling across the cavern floor. Ron took the opportunity to rush back towards the machine that was about to crisp his world. Once there, the stopped to think a moment.
Drakken's machines were usually pretty simple...they almost always had some sort of self-destruct button. Now that he was actually thinking about it, Ron didn't understand why the blue man made it so straightforward to destroy his work. Maybe, deep down, he really didn't want to destroy the world and would rather threaten people into giving in to his rule. It wasn't time to try to analyze the older man's mind, it was time to wreck this machine. Drawing back his fist, Ron knew he could drive a punch into the thing...but should he? What would happen? Would it still damage the magnetic field? Did he need to shut it off somehow, in order to keep disaster from happening?
"I was deceived!" Warmonga's voice thundered throughout the lair. "The Great Blue isn't this simpleton!"
"Why must I always be surrounded with assistants who hurt with words?" Drakken bemoaned.
"You are the Great Blue!" Warmonga faced Ron. "You destroyed my favored weapon! Despite your small stature, you wield strength worthy of Lowardia! I pledge my service to you!"
"No thanks," Ron snapped at her. "But would you mind telling me how to turn off this contraption? If I crush it, will it do any damage to the world?"
"You deny my service?" Warmonga's protest sounded like it was about to turn into upset, and Ron was having second thoughts about upsetting her.
"I can't take on any servants," he tried to be reasonable. "I still live with my parents. But about this machine..."
"Your living arrangements are irrelevant!" She snapped at him. "I can give you dozens of abodes, all with a staff to care for your every need, if you'll just lead me in conquest!"
"Dozens of homes?" He shook his head. "Conquests? I'm having enough trouble with algebra. Now, back to this machine here..."
"You will rule over entire star systems!" She shouted at him.
"I can barely pass civics," he admitted. "But, seriously, this machine..."
"You turn your back on what I offer?" She demanded.
"Lady, you got the wrong guy!" He roared back at her. "I'm a seventeen year old kid! The only reason I can stand up to you is that a crazy man would have killed me if I hadn't accepted the Mystical Monkey Power, then some secret organization mutated me without me knowing about it, then the head of this organization pointed out that you would kill everyone on Earth if I didn't go full monkey! I'm not here because I'm some hero, I'm here because you're the last in a group of people who've cleverly pushed me into a corner. So, before I do something really desperate, how do I turn off this machine?"
"Your words are confusing," Warmonga admitted. "Yet troubling. You are not a champion?"
"I can't even beat my friend at Zombie Mayhem!" He yelled back. "You keep talking about conquests, but what would I do afterwards? I haven't even managed a real girlfriend! The only girl that I thought was into me manipulated me under the orders of the same old man who pushed me into facing you! If I can't even get a real girlfriend, how am I going to rule some empire? I'm not the Great Blue you're looking for and I'm pretty sure Drakken isn't either. So now, before I come to the conclusion that the way to stop this machine is to shove it in a random orifice on your body, how do I turn this thing off?"
"This deception and insolence cannot be borne!" Warmonga shouted. Flexing her powerful legs, she jumped towards him.
Ron realized that she wasn't going to land on him, so he maintained his perch on the doomsday device. She landed in front of him, grabbing the broken ends of her staff.
"Your mockery and lack of respect ends here!" She declared, holding the still sparking ends by the broken pieces of handle; as if they were clubs. "My vengeance shall be to see you fall by using the weapon that I gained with valor and forged with honor!"
Ron ducked under the first swipe. When then next swipe came in lower, he not only jumped over it, he jumped up and planted a double-kick on her face. She had braced for the blow, but he still split her lip and flattened her nose. She spat teeth out and came on again with a roar of anger, stabbing savagely down at him with both improvised clubs. At the last moment, he side-stepped the strike and brought his own arm down, hard, on top of hers.
The sparking ends of her staff, with her still holding them, were driven through the machine's casing and deep into it's inner components.
Ron took a jolt in his arm. Somehow, he knew that he would have been in serious trouble if the Mystical Monkey Power hadn't given him some sort of shielding but he was still thrown off of the machine. He landed on his feet and noted, horrified, that Warmonga wasn't so lucky. She was frozen in place, clinging to the ends of her staff while massive energy arced and sparked through her body. She couldn't even scream, but the expression of fear and pain on her face made it clear that something very, very unpleasant was happening to her. Before Ron could even decide if he wanted to help her, flame and smoke poured from her mouth and eyes.
Over the years, he had become something of an expert at judging just how big of an explosion a doomsday machine would make when it destroyed itself. In general, there were two categories; the first was the fizzle that spat out a few sparks and maybe some smoke. The proper hero and sidekick etiquette for such a sitch was to laugh at the mad scientist when it was over. The second was the big boom, that brought down the lair. Proper etiquette for this sitch was to run very fast and be well clear of the lair before the big boom actually happened. Ron came to a quick conclusion that he was about to experience a fizzle that built up to the big boom. Running would be preferable to laughing.
Besides, there was nothing to laugh about here.
"Time to clear out, scooter," Shego snapped at him. Ron turned to note that she had grabbed Drakken by his collar and was hustling him towards the door.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," the green mercenary continued. "You grab the princess while I get The Great Blue outta here."
Ron didn't even nod his agreement, he just ran to where Kim was still slumped to the floor, shocked and weeping.
"Kim, we gotta get out of here," he announced, grabbing her shoulder with one hand while holding the other hand out, allowing Rufus to scamper up his arm and onto his shoulder.
"But...he's gone," she wept. "There's nothing left of him...nothing to remember him by..."
"He gave it up to save you," Ron pointed out, hauling her to her feet. "If you stay here, it won't mean anything."
At first, she neither resisted him nor really helped him; she merely stumbled along the direction that he pushed her. Then, she seemed to realize the sitch. She gave one last, horrified look at Warmonga, who was now a pillar of intense, white flame, before putting in the effort to sprint out the door.
"Wade, I need info," Ron shouted into his Kimmunicator. "Is this going to do what she threatened us with? Wade? Wade?"
There was no response, so Ron concentrated on running down the tunnel and out into the open. Again, experience helped him. As soon as he reached the mouth of the tunnel, he grabbed Kim and dove to his left. In typical Team Possible style, it was just in time. A gout of flame and lighting burst out of the tunnel, barely missing them. After several heart-stopping seconds, the eruption came to an end, allowing him to see Shego and Drakken on the other side of the tunnel.
"Ron!" Wade's voice shouted from his Kimmunicator. "Can you read me? Please answer!"
"I'm here," Ron answered, not taking his eyes off of Shego and Drakken. "What just happened."
"I'm not sure," the young genius admitted. As soon as Warmonga made her threat about disrupting the magnetic field and turned on the machine, I lost all contact until just now."
"Did it do what she said it would?" Ron demanded. "Is the world going to end?"
"No," Wade told him, causing him to slump in relief. "There was a powerful discharge and it affected the field in the immediate area...temporarily...but there's no permanent damage. How is everyone?"
"Kim, Rufus and I got out with only minor scrapes and bruises," Ron reported. "Shego and Drakken seem to be the same way."
"Oh," Wade sighed. "Warmonga and Eric...?"
"We'll talk once we get picked up," Ron told him.
"Understood," Wade murmured in return. "Global justice is on the way. There's some pretty serious ramifications to all of this."
"No kidding," Ron groaned. He noticed that his blue glow was gone, and he was feeling every bit of the pain and exhaustion he had earned over the last several minutes. "Just...get us home as soon as you can."
"I'm getting the report out now," Wade told him. "There's going to be a pretty extensive debriefing before you can really rest."
"I guess that makes sense," Ron noted, eyeing Shego. "Keep on the channel as best you can, I don't know if it's really over yet or not."
"Why don't we just call it quits for now?" Shego suggested, having clearly overheard him. "I'm not in any mood to continue this and I don't know if you're going to go all blue-boy again. I've got an aircraft here and you got Global Justice on the way to pick you up. If you don't mess with me dragging this idiot out of here," she shook Drakken as emphasis. "I won't mess with you."
"Deal," Ron sighed, then watched Shego haul Drakken off, telling him that he had really gone too far this time.
"C'mon, Kim," he put an arm around his old friend. "Let's get out of here, we don't know if the cave is going to collapse or not."
Kim nodded and clung to him as they picked their way down the slope, heading for flatter ground and a ride home.
Despite the fact that Global Justice worked closely with with Kim and Wade... and to a lesser extent, him; and sometimes had a reputation of coming up well short of being completely professional, it could be ruthless when it needed to be. Apparently, this was one of those times.
As soon as he and Kim staggered off of the GJ hover-jet in what he assumed to be the Middleton Headquarters Complex, a swarm of uniforms and plain-clothed people surrounded the teens, all demanding custody of them. He was exhausted, but Ron managed to count at least three factions who insisted on taking the two of them who knew where. Things were getting very tense, with hands sliding into open jackets or resting on sidearms, when Dr. Director, flanked by at least twenty burly security agents, stormed into the hangar to face down everyone.
"Gentlemen," she informed the crowd. "This is a Global Justice facility, the suspects were taken into custody by Global Justice agents and transported here via a Global Justice aircraft. That makes them Global Justice prisoners."
"Prisoners?" Ron asked. "Suspects?"
"I can assure you all that they will be held in secure facilities," she continued, ignoring the teen. "Any and all of you will be free to file for extradition through the proper channels. I would also like to remind you all that Global Justice falls under the authority of the U.N., with the full cooperation of the United States' Government. Should any of you decide to take a more...direct...approach in gaining custody of my prisoners, the implications will be serious; in the highly unlikely event that you succeed."
As if on cue, the burly security agents stalked in and surrounded the teens, blocking any of the others present from getting to them. Ron found himself, with Kim, ushered out of the hangar area and towards what he assumed would be a holding cell. He was more than a little upset to learn that he and Kim were going to be held in separate cells.
Just a year ago, he would have wanted to stay with Kim out of fear. Now, he wanted to stick together because she was in no mental state to be left alone.
"Play it cool, Stoppable," Ron spun to see Will Du approaching through the guards. "There are counselors waiting for both of you, in your holding cells. In addition, both of your parents have been informed that you are in our custody, and under our protection."
"Are we being charged with anything?" He demanded.
"At the moment, no," Du told him. "But several agencies were caught flat-footed by all of this, so they're looking for scapegoats. Dr. Director should be able to calm down the worst of the scramble to cover asses in a few hours. Until then, the best place for the two of you is here. However, we have to do this by the book, so you're going to be separated. Like I said, counselors are waiting. This isn't going to be a harsh confinement. Now, if you'll cooperate, we'll free these large agents to go to the two of your homes."
"Our homes?" Ron was confused. "Why?"
"So they can stand outside your front doors and growl very menacingly at anyone who approaches," the agent told him. "I'm expecting a flood of reporters, lawyers and sports drink marketing consultants to be pestering your families at any moment. These large, angry-looking men are very good at making trespassers choose to be somewhere else."
"Okay, fine," Ron heaved a deep sigh and looked to Kim. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I..." she seemed to be fighting for words. "I guess. What choice to we have?"
Ron glared at Du, hoping that he could convey some threat about what would happen if Kim had some sort of breakdown before a couple of large men ushered him towards one door while a couple of other men directed Kim through another. His holding cell caught him by surprise.
If it wasn't for the lack of windows, it would look like a small, but comfortable apartment. There was a sitting room, a small kitchen and what must have been a bathroom and bedroom. Sitting on an overstuffed chair was a pleasant looking, middle aged man.
"So I take it you're my counselor?" Ron asked him.
"If you choose to think of me in that light," he replied. "I'm here to get your statement about what happened and see if you have any issues about what happened tonight. You're a young man and even veteran soldiers have trouble with the aftermath of violence. Now, rather than get right into the interview, why don't you hit the shower? You're exhausted and filthy, cleaning up and getting some fresh clothes on should make you feel a little better."
Once he thought of it, he realized that he was oily, sweaty, dirty and probably more than a little odoriferous. With all that had happened tonight, a shower seemed trivial but, upon reflection, he realized that being dirty wasn't going to help matters. There was a GJ jumpsuit and some undergarments in his size waiting in the bathroom and after his shower and putting on the clean clothes, he had to admit that he was feeling a little better. The pleasant man on the chair showed no sign of impatience when Ron emerged from the bathroom.
"Care for a soft drink or a light meal?" The man asked. "I'm afraid that all we have to eat is frozen stuff, but we have pizza, burgers, tacos and some other things to check out."
"Aren't you supposed to be interviewing me?" Ron asked him, poking through the freezer to see what there was to eat. "Or, more to the point, interrogating me? This seems a little...friendly."
"You can call it whatever you want," the man shrugged. "I just need to get your view on what happened tonight and I've found that someone who's clean and fed usually does a better job of telling the story than someone who's dirty, hungry and thirsty."
"Fair enough," Ron shrugged. "Do you like sausage? This might be a frozen pizza, but it's looking good at the moment."
"I've already eaten," the man answered, with a smile. "But do you mind talking while the oven heats up and cooks your meal?"
"Not a problem," Ron told him. The teen drank two glasses of water before opening a can of cola. Coach Roughman had told him that water was for thirst and soft drinks were for enjoyment.
"Why don't you tell me what happened, from your point of view?" The man asked, while Ron was hydrating himself. "Take your time. While what you say is going to be recorded and noted, it's the property of Global Justice. Getting such information from us is a very difficult and time-consuming business."
Ron thought for a moment, thinking about keeping Yamanouchi's secrets. Then he came to the conclusion that after as many times as that organization had manipulated and misled him, he really didn't owe them anything.
"Good enough," he told the man, while he set the temperature on the oven and turned it on to heat up. "For me, it started with a call after my football game..."
The man simply took notes and occasionally asked for more detail while Ron described the mission and put the frozen pizza in the oven. He even told the man about Sensei's visit to him during the fight and his sudden powering up.
"Is 'Sensei' this strange man's title or name?" The man asked. Ron, with a mouthful of pizza, had a few moments of chewing and swallowing to think about his response.
"I really don't know," he finally admitted. "All of his students called him Master Sensei, so it could be either one."
"Care to tell me the circumstances in which you met him before?"
"Not really," Ron shrugged. "He manipulated me and did things to me, but if I don't really have to give up his secrets, I wont. Just saying that he exists is sort of giving away secrets."
"Fair enough," the man nodded. "And what more can you tell me about this Mystical Monkey Power that you claim to have mastered?"
"I really don't think I've mastered it," Ron noted. "I think it just sort of showed up when I really, really needed it. I can tell you that it seems to have a mind of its own. I think trying to get it and master it drove Monkeyfist insane."
"Monkeyfist?" The man's eyebrow rose.
"That's the professional, villain name for Lord Montgomery Fiske," Ron supplied.
"Ah, a British Nobleman who vanished," the interviewer noted. "I take it you know something of his disappearance?"
"Something else I'd rather not talk about," Ron pointed out.
"Very well," the man clearly looked curious, but shrugged it off. "Let's concentrate on the issue at hand. Upon becoming 'powered up', so to speak, you engaged this Warmonga again, correct?"
"Yeah," Ron took a deep breath, and another piece of pizza, then described the final fight and fleeing the lair.
"I'm sure you know the rest," Ron concluded. "Global Justice picked us up and brought us here."
"Very well," the man noted. "There are plenty of items I would like to question you on, but I've been instructed to keep as much of your privacy intact as possible. We're going to keep you here tonight, for your own safety. By tomorrow, much of the initial furor over this attack should be abated and we'll return you home. If you need anything, just pick up the phone."
Ron was tempted to try to force his way out of the door when the man left, but decided against it. There were more GJ agents around than he could handle and he really didn't know the route to get back outside. Nor was he sure that he was in Middleton. Instead, he went into the bedroom and tried his best to get some sleep. It was an attempt that was doomed from the start.
He kept seeing first Eric dying and then Warmonga. At one point, he must have managed some sleep...exhaustion was good for something...but he immediately relived everything in his dream and woke sweating worse than after a hard workout. Rufus was looking at him, clearly concerned. Shaking, Ron stumbled to the small kitchen for a glass of water. While drinking, there was a knock on his door.
"Come in," he called, then realized how stupid that statement was. Whomever was outside the door would be able to come in at any time. He was the one who couldn't leave.
Maybe it was Global Justice's attempt to put him at ease, but the same kindly man, looking like he was well rested, walked in with the same attitude as someone who had just been invited into someone else's home.
"Having a rough night?" The man asked him.
"Yeah," Ron admitted, realizing that there were probably hidden microphones and cameras in this suite.
"That's understandable," the man told him, gesturing towards the couch. "Why don't we both have a seat and talk about it?"
It wasn't like he was going to be able to sleep anyway, and talking to someone was better than sitting around with just Rufus. As much as the little guy was a great listener, there were limits to how he could help with things like this.
The kindly man mostly listened to him while he poured his heart out about what he had done to Warmonga. It didn't seem right; even a villain shouldn't have to suffer like that. She should have been struck down in a moment, maybe after a moment of epiphany that made her understand that what she had been doing was wrong. She shouldn't have died screaming and burning.
Occasionally, when he ran out of words, the kindly man gently pointed out what could have happened if Ron hadn't done what he did. It took some hours, and Rufus had nodded off by the time he started to feel a little better about himself. The kindly man never showed any sign that he was impatient or irritated by what he was hearing. The conversation ended when the phone rang.
Ron gave the kindly man an odd look at that. The counselor...or interviewer...or interrogator...simply smiled and said that it must be for Ron, since the suite was his while he stayed here. Amused, Ron answered the phone.
"Mr. Stoppable," Dr. Director's voice addressed him. "We are prepared to release you to your parents. Your clothing from last night has been laundered and repaired, and is sitting outside your door. Please get dressed and I will see you and Miss Possible briefed as to the current situation, then returned to your homes."
Ron thanked her, then took a deep breath. Somehow, he was sure that the really rough stuff was about to start.
A/N: As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading.