Author's notes:

I'd like to thank Digi-Girl101, Acaykath, and Omnisentinel. They have really helped refine the story, catching a lot of problems. More, it's been a helpful reminder that there is a lot more for me to learn about writing.

Drop in Reality

Chapter 3: Show me the Money

The roar of turbines filled Ron's ears as he squatted next to a box with an arrow pointing down marked fragile. The scent of smoke was suffocating as a constant stream of it came from the cockpit. None of these distractions mattered, his eyes were firmly glued to the palm pilot nestled in his hand.

On closer examination, one would see a generic map of an ocean. Over the vast stretch of blue were several trails of tiny dots. A single line came from the left only to split into two midway. While one crossed straight to the other side, the other veered straight down and continued to blink as time progressed toward a small dot of green. Along the bottom was a scroll of text going at a frantic pace. The boy nodded, placing the device into his cargo pants pocket. His hands patted the pack strapped to his back, double-checking the parachute.

"Sam, check what we got from that last heist?" filtered a voice from the front. Ron spared a glance at the large man that ambled through the littered boxes in the cargo plane. Brushing his mustache, he absently squinted at the Chinese text. With a growl, he kicked it. "God damn it, Seymour, I told you that truck wasn't worth diddly squat. It's just a bunch of useless foreign crap."

"Good evening," Ron nodded as he walked past the man.

"What the!? Who the hell are you!?"

The man's meaty hand made a grab for the boy's shirt. It didn't get far as his wrist was captured between waif thin gloved hands. With slight pressure, Sam staggered back knocked into the same crate he had kicked.

"Sam, Sam, Sam. I'm the least of your worries. You see, your buddy just entered a military no-fly zone. They have a nasty habit of firing first and asking questions maybe later," Ron said.

"Impossible. I just checked, we're nowhere near military airspace," Sam replied, grunting as the hold grew a little tighter.

"Oh, that reminds me." With a flick of his other hand, Ron pulled the palm pilot out and tapped a few keys. "Better," He said, stowing the gear away.

"SAM! Get your ass up here, the instruments just went haywire!" A voice screamed from the cockpit. The man's gaze looked back to Ron and then to the front of the plane. Ron smiled, letting Sam go to dash to the front.

Ron's smirked as he opened the escape hatch and slipped into the air beyond. The wind whistled past his ears. Unending blue expanded out below him highlighted by a searing red sun bidding farewell to the world as it sunk beneath the waves.

He closed his eyes, the wind whipping wildly around him, ruffling his hair. For one brief moment, the boy allowed himself to relish the feeling of freedom. It ended all too soon as with a jerk of the cord, the chute snapped open.

There was a jolt and he was floating. Pulling one of the straps sent him angling towards a large island to his left. It represented a little slip of paradise that hadn't existed several short years ago. His eyes carefully examined the beach, cross-referencing with the palm pilot. People who went to all the effort of making an island in the middle of nowhere tended to like their privacy. He smirked as he found that a few missile turrets were locked onto his abandoned ride.

just shy of the island, he pulled another cord that cut the shoot. For a moment, the air recaptured him, bringing him to a tumbling roll onto the warm sandy beach. Ron crouched, clutching his side while taking deep breaths. Deliberately he forced his hand away from the bandage, dusting himself off and checking through the pack.

Satisfied, Ron jogged along the beach, his eyes glued to the monitor. Every few minutes, he shifted his course, sometimes jumping over suspicious lumps in the sand. It wasn't long before he reached a large wall. Pulling out a gun similar in design to Kim's, he pulled the trigger. A puff of smoke was the only sign of a grappling hook launching itself over. He tugged it sharply and smiled when it didn't give an inch. With practiced ease, he climbed up and silently dropped over, hiding behind a large shrub.

His eyes scanned the perimeter, spotting no disturbance from his impromptu entrance. He moved from one palm tree to the next, timing his movements with the various video cameras surrounding the building. Crouched next to a large cactus, he slipped a small rock into his hand, eyeing the last obstacle in his path. A pale door with a reader and a camera focused directly on it.

His hand blurred, neatly nicking a cord attached to the camera. The green light flickered off. He continued to sit there, waiting. One minute stretched into five before the door opened. A large Asian man in a suit exited. He curiously examined the loose cord.

"What could have caused this?" The man whispered, reaching to reattach it. He was gifted with a free trip to dreamland for his troubles by a sharp knock to the head.

Ron caught the man, gently letting him slide to the ground on his side. The boy patted the security guard's pockets, finding a small set of keys and a plastic card. He extracted his palm pilot, swiping the card through an attached reader. A barrage of numbers started to scroll across the display.

He stowed the various items away, letting himself into the building. His movements became faster, ducking into passageways at the smallest hint of sound until he came to a final door, behind it lay his target. He eased the door open and his entire stance changed, he walked casually as if he owned the place.

"Father, what do you think of making another disco club? Perhaps this time without the hypnotic ball?"

"Son, we have gone over this many times. After the previous attempt, no one of importance would be willing to come."

"That is all right as long as I can be doing the dancing," Junior responded, his hands swinging about in time with some unheard tune.

"Marvelous idea Junior," Ron spoke, descending the steps. The room's occupants turned as one away from the indoor pool. The buff young lad froze in his parody of dance.

The gentleman stood in a violet robe, his hands behind his back as he examined the boy.

"Oh, it is... that one person. Ah, what was his name?" Junior asked, snapping his fingers in thought.

The elderly gentleman shook his head. "My son, it is very important to remember the name of people you encounter regularly. Why this young man's name is... "He stopped in deep concentration.

"Ron Stoppable," The boy offered casually.

"Ah, yes. Given your presence, it is only appropriate that we prepare for your comely young companion." His eyes roamed across the room's vents.

"If you're looking for Kim Possible, I'm afraid she isn't here today," Ron mentioned as he lowered himself into one of the beach chairs, taking a sip from the fresh drink sitting on the stool next to it.

"Indeed, most unusual. We hadn't planned on guests tonight so it is quite a surprise to receive you without the lovely lady. Now, what can I help you with, my dear boy?" Senior asked only glancing at the drink with a shrug.

"Ah, that is a very good drink," Ron said, setting the glass down.

"Wonderful, the pineapple was imported just this morning from Hawaii." Senior acknowledged, his hand fingering a device in his pocket.

"Yes, I suppose we should get on with it," Ron sighed, "I've come here with a business proposition."

"Ah, you've come to talk business... what pray tell would this business involve if you don't mind me asking? During our past... encounters, you did not strike me as a very enterprising individual."

"Very true, you could say that my thinking has flipped on its head recently and made me see the big picture. In essence, I intend to make a business to provide countries with items for their various affairs."

"What is he talking of, Father? If countries are needing things, should they not be making orders on the internets?"

"Junior, could you leave us? The young gentlemen and I have things to discuss." Senior rested a hand on Junior's shoulder, quieting any additional comments. With a shrug, the man left, letting the door slide shut behind him.

The elder gentlemen watched him leave, standing silently for a moment. "Dealing in arms is a very difficult venture in which to start a business. You'll find that the competition is more than a little cutthroat in their handling of new ventures into the field."

"New weapons are only one aspect that I would offer. I'm more interested in information. You would be surprised how many battles have been decided by finding the right information or believably planting false information."

"Ha, ha, ha, ha you amuse me greatly, my boy. Either industry requires immense resources and personnel typically backed by a sizeable country. An individual's effort would amount to little." Senior waved his hand, dismissing the notion.

"Oh, then you wouldn't be interested in the movements of the Russian fleet off the coast of Africa. It looks like they may soon start a small-scale war. Part of their fleet was a little ambitious and arrived a few days ahead of schedule. What do you think the Chinese would pay for this information with their fleet only hours away?"

Senior turned sharply on the boy. "How did you acquire this knowledge?"

"I see you are already familiar with the situation. I won't ask why. All I will say is I have my ways."

"Very interesting," Senior said, a finger tapping his chin. "Now, why have you come to me?"

"Any new business requires funding. Money to make sure everything goes smoothly. Venture capital if you will."

"Ah, you seek funds. Given your unique knowledge, I could be convinced that such a business could be worthwhile... as long as it appears profitable. What kind of dollar amount are you looking for?" Senior asked, taking a sip from a new glass offered by a waiter who discreetly made himself scarce.

"A simple billion dollars will do," Ron shrugged as if talking of the weather.

The drink found itself flying through the air, crashing against the side of the pool. "A billion... is rather extreme. There are very few businesses that require such a large investment." Senior whispered, wiping what remained of the drink from his lips.

"You needn't worry; you'll get your money back with a great deal of interest. I wouldn't ordinarily bother to gather such a sizeable amount, however, I'm somewhat on an accelerated timetable and don't have the time to properly gather funds."

Senior gazed at the youth, catching every last detail as he had never before. The boy had always been the clown. At best, he was a minor inconvenience. At worst, his bumbling had caused entire schemes to fall apart. There appeared a different air about the boy. Focusing on the eyes, he nearly flinched as they met his ounce-for-ounce in strength. This was definitely not the lad that he had dealt with previously. His inquisitive mind wanted to probe, but business first.

"I am terribly sorry, but I'll have to refuse your most generous offer. In the meantime, I have a few toys to entertain you on your way out." With a flip of his concealed switch, small lasers appeared across the room. As one they oriented on a single chair and its occupant in particular.

Senior raised an eyebrow when he noticed the boy also held a device in his hands.

"Wha..." The device vibrated violently before a large transparent wave emanated from it. The lasers around them sparked violently as the wave hit, sending some crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks.

"You seem to forget that you were not always a villain. In fact, it was my suggestions that started you along the path. Perhaps one I should have mentioned at the time was protection from an EMP blast. It's rather expensive and not mainstream so few outfit their equipment to defend against it.

Now that the formalities are out of the way, I wanted to be the first to thank you for agreeing to finance my little venture."

Senior's gaze shifted from the destruction of his hidden defenses to locking with the youth. "What are you talking about? I have not agreed to any such thing."

"What? Make it two billion? You are so generous."

Senior's gaze darkened. "Stop this silly nonsense. I have not agreed to any amount. I would, however, suggest you leave. If you do, you may make it before I call my men."

He stopped as a little beep sounded in the room. Ron pulled out his palm pilot, browsing through its information. "Yes, just as I expected, you've diversified your fortunes to many smaller unaffiliated front businesses to hide and prevent any governments from getting their hands on or freezing the assets." Ron's hands quickly flipped through and with a final tap, a figure appeared. "Very nice, you're currently worth roughly fifty billion dollars."

"That is impossible, those accounts are untraceable and the information is triple encrypted."

"With a little help from a security guard, I was able to hack your files. I have to say, I'm impressed by your security, my application only just finished. Of course, it was not enough to stop me. I can now transfer any amount I care to with the touch of a finger so I'll ask one last time. Will you finance me?"

Senior shook, his face going beat red as his eyes darted first to the boy and then to the device. His eyes went wide as he turned to a nearby table. He picked up a piece of paper, scanning through it before slamming it to the table sending it and its contents flying through the air. He slowly turned away from his actions, facing Ron. "I find it in my best interests to assist you, but I will do so under one condition."

Ron nodded his head to continue.

"That this information regarding the Russian fleet remains unsold."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Not to worry, I won't mention to anyone about it or the three hundred million rubles you have riding on that gamble.

In addition, you needn't worry about transferring the funds as I already have. I would love to stay and talk further, but there are things to do. I'm sure you won't mind loaning me one of the helicopters outside." Ron said, walking through the door he entered. He stopped before closing it.

"Oh, before I forget, I'd highly advise against shooting it down, or that billion will be lost forever." With that, Ron quietly disappeared.


"I swear, if I see one more pickle jar, the whole batch is going up in flames," Shego muttered as she stomped by volcanic rock, a constant reminder that Blue Boy had decided an active volcano would make for a good lair. "I mean what obscure company sends a whole friggin pallet of pickles from around the world as a thank you without mentioning what for? But oh no, he doesn't think of these things and digs right in. Worse, he can't open a single one so it's operation gherkin over and over and over. 'Shego, I want to try the brandy flavored ones next'," Shego muttered in a high-pitched whiny voice, her hand imitating the doctor. "Well, he can sit there and eat his pickles for all I care, it's late and I'm not dealing with it."

Shego stopped in front of a small crevice, her hand moving along a nearly undetectable edge. As the hidden door frame opened, her muscles grew taunt. Her tripwire lay on the ground having already done its job. It had only taken one example for the Blue Boy and his merry henchmen to learn coming into her room uninvited was very bad for their health.

She quietly opened the door. Its well-oiled hinges not making a sound. She crept in and heard the sound of shuffling papers. Her eyes narrowed, 'Someone is going through my stuff!' A barely suppressed glow emanated from her hands, but the professional in her kept it back. She needed to gather as much information as possible before making her presence known. When she peeked around the corner, her silent entrance came to an abrupt end.

"Hey, you! What do you think you're doing in here?!" Shego stomped into the main bedroom, the red cowled henchman leafing through a file.

She was a little taken aback as the person calmly shut the file, returning it to her cabinet. The cabinet with three fail-safes and a small charge strong enough to take off someone's hand.

The person turned, causing Shego to squint. "Which flunky are you? Drakken has so many of you lazy bums that I can't tell you apart. But after this little prank, I'll the effort to make your life a living hell," she demanded.

"Good evening, Shego. I was waiting for a while so I decided to confirm a few of my suspicions. Hope you don't mind."

"Like hell," Green flames snapped into existence around her hands, and Shego charged at the intruder. At the last moment, the person stood, captured her right wrist, maneuvered his body around, and added a little momentum. Shego found herself flipping straight into a seated position on the bed behind him.

"What the..." Her eyes narrowed, "None of Drakken's flunkies could do that so just who are you?" Shego asked standing. It wasn't often she found herself at a disadvantage and she really, really hated it.

The visible face smirked, "I thought you would never ask." With that, he lifted the helmet up and over to reveal a clump of yellow hair.

"The Buffoon!?" Shego asked, nearly falling on her butt.

"Tu, tu, tu, I'm not the 'Buffoon' you so fondly remember. You could say I'm 'The Big Dog' now." His eyes burned into her own.

"No, that's impossible. It was the Princess that got hit, not you… unless she..." the question was left hanging in the air.

"In a manner of speaking, however, it's a long story and I wish to complete my business here before having to deal with the nuisance of Drakken spotting me."

Shego eyed the boy, her gaze flicking across the room to various bolt holes for any signs of movement.

"You needed worry. She isn't here. In fact, she is part of the business I wish to discuss with you."

"Ok, I'll bite, what do you want?"

"To put it simply, I want you to work for me again," Ron stated with a small shrug.

"Oh, you mean as the 'hired help'. Yeah, I don't think so, buddy..."

"Yes, as the 'hired help'. Keep in mind, however, that when you hire the best, you pay the best."

Shego raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean? I doubt you have what it takes to pay me as well as Drakken."

"That's funny, Shego. From these records, Drakken doesn't pay you a cent." Ron said, tapping the file cabinet.

Shego's eye's narrowed. "He pays..."

"…thirty thousand dollars a month? You may receive that, but both you and I know it doesn't come from Drakken."

Shego motioned for him to continue. "For some time now, I've found it rather unusual that Drakken has the money to buy doomsday machines, lairs, hire a small army of men, and someone like yourself, a professional amongst professionals. It all adds up. I did a little checking and found that Drakken is as bad with money as he appears. He doesn't do anything to make it.

I dug a little deeper and found that all sorts of funds were being funneled into his accounts. It turned into quite an intriguing little mystery. So many little itty-bitty companies paying out the nose for services ranging from bottled water to dog food. Last time I checked, Drakken deals in neither, and small companies don't have the finances to pay such costs. Then I found out that they were numerous front companies for additional front companies of front companies. What could warrant such obscure financing? Finally, I came across the actual company and things started to come together. The final piece I needed to confirm I found in your notes. This company is the group behind your thirty thousand monthly salary," Ron said, pulling out a piece of paper to tap lightly on the top insignia.

"Now here is the big question. Why would such a corporation finance Drakken of all people? The answer seems to come from all of your observational notes. Oddly, they are unrelated to Drakken's schemes, but rather just after they flop.

In addition, your computer has a lot of entries under an email account registered to a Veronica Hernandez. It's filled with messages offering him solace and suggestions for products. Not just any products, the kind of products that would sell relatively well on the market. A quick check at SmartyMart amongst others and you can find quite a few things very similar in design to those suggestions. I believe they are using his inventions to make many times what they are paying him." Ron stopped, apparently waiting for her to raise a contradiction to his logic. She gave a hesitant nod, sitting back on her bed.

"So, now that you've come to all these 'conclusions', what do you want?" Shego asked, she knew the boy was good, he had been evil for a few hours and had topped all of Drakken's previous projects. She had thought at the time that he would make a good replacement for the doctor. Perhaps landing her a hefty finder's fee.

"As I said from the beginning, to hire you."

"Pfft, yeah, a sixteen-year-old boy is going to match thirty thousand a month and, did I mention, completely untouchable?"

"You're right," Shego smiled in triumph, "I intend to pay you eighty thousand dollars a month and use a method that will prevent governments from touching a cent." The smile vanished.

"Again, Mr. Money Bucks, where is the money coming from? I doubt your family is doling out that kind of doe."

"Hmmm, yes, the five dollars a week they provide is a simple pittance. In truth, I've recently started my own business and secured a very generous backer. They loaned me a billion dollars to get everything up and running."

"A billion? Right and Drakken just single-handedly won the Superbowl while I wasn't watching."

Ron took out a portable laptop and typed in a few numbers.

"What, you pulling up some report of your bank account with a few added 0s?"

"Not quite," With the last touch, he turned the screen to face the green-toned villainess. Despite herself, Shego's interest was piqued. In truth, she half believed him after the crap he pulled last time. What she found wasn't just a statement, it was an overview with the backer at the top.

"Señor Senior Senior actually backed you?" Shego nearly busted a gut laughing.

"Yes, I was very... persuasive."

"Ok kid, convince me, why should I leave a cozy life here foiling up those few projects that Kimmy doesn't? I get to read all the magazines I'd like and kick the Princess's butt on the regular." She said this last with a little bite as she recalled their recent encounter and the butt-kicking she owed the little b.

"Come now, Shego, do you find sitting around and being comfortable all that interesting? You work under someone whose common sense ranks with a preschooler and about as evil."

Shego cracked a grin at the description.

"First, there is the money, I'm offering over twice the amount you currently make and even more secure than you currently have. Second, you'll find that I am far more competent than little Drakken. I'm sure that just once you would like to be a part of evil with a purpose other than to take over the world." Shego nodded along.

"Third, my aim this time is not all the nacos of the world. It is the complete and absolute defeat of one Kim Possible, a subject matter I believe you have an interest in." Shego's face went blank. Her 'just playing with the kid' attitude flatlining.

"And finally, I will help you."

"Help me? In what way?" Shego asked. 'This kid might be useful.'

"Don't you find it unusual? From the moment we first met to this day; you have used the same abilities. Your martial arts and superpowers paired against Kim Possible over and over and very rarely have you come out as the winner. Drakken sees this and his default plan for Kim is 'Shego attack!' He somehow expects a different result each time." Shego grimaced.

"Haven't you noticed that Kim hasn't been idle? She is evolving her skills and gear."

"What are you talking about?" Shego said, her mind turning towards their little recent encounter.

"For example, her combat suit." Ron started listing points with his finger. "It catches plasma and throws it back, has energy powers similar to your own, a force field, self regenerates, enhances power and stamina, allows the user to go invisible, need I go on? In essence, it's a suit that blunts your abilities and adds to her own."

"I can take the Princess any time, any day!" Shego screamed, seeing red. 'How dare that pompous redhead humiliate me!' Her fists turned a deep green as they flared in time with the boy's words.

"If you couldn't defeat her in the beginning, what makes you think you will when she uses technology that all but makes your attacks useless? And what has Drakken done all this time? …Nothing. Join me and I'll give you the edge you need to overcome her."

The fire surrounding her hands slowly dimmed as she stared at the boy. "I am already better than Kim Possible, but will what you have to offer put me on par with the mind-flipped bitch?"

Her question earned a nod in return.

"Then I'm on board,"

"Excellent. Now we just have to get you up to speed with the regular Kim."

"I...SAID... I ALREADY AM!" Shego screamed, her hands surging with flaming power.

"Heads up." The boy threw a can that Shego caught instinctively.

"What?" The can disintegrated into her plasma. She looked up at Ron askance.

"What the hell was that supposed to be?"

Instead of answering, the boy sat back with a large smile, his hand gesturing to her own.

Looking down again, Shego became confused as her flames slowly faded away.

"What have you done!?" Shego was furious, the boy had offered to help and somehow had stolen her power. With all of her anger, she poured out every bit of energy she could muster, smiling as her flames reignited. That smirk vanished as she noticed a film in her hands, a film that was expanding. She tried to scrape it off with her other glowing hand only to find it racing up her arm. Concern turned to panic as the stuff continued up, wrapping around her shoulders, and going up her neck.

"Ron, get this stuff off of me right now or so help me." When the boy continued to smirk at her, she jumped to attack. Her leap turned into a barely controlled slump; her energy sapped. It didn't stop that cold feeling on the back of her neck, expanding up to her chin, and then she could see it at the edges of her vision. She shot a furious gaze at the boy even as it enclosed her mouth. Her closed lips did nothing to halt its progress, it was suddenly in her mouth, down her throat and her head was completely covered, one last screech escaped her lips before Shego's world went black.


Author's end notes: This last scene was actually what started the whole story. It was rolling around in my mind for nearly a year now. It is very satisfying that the scene incessantly playing through my head at night is finally out there. Still, have quite a while to go, but it'll get there.

Thinking through it, there may be a few things that have drawn concern in the story. For example, the epitome of evil Ron borrowed money instead of stealing it. The explanation goes like this. Since actual killing has never been his thing, it makes sense that Ron doesn't want another nuisance after him when he's trying to focus on a target as dangerous as Kim's alter ego. And Senior with all the money and experience behind him would represent quite a distraction. Borrowing it keeps Senior off his back at least for the moment.

If you were wondering, the pickles did come from Ron. It is a lot easier to recruit someone if they have a fresh reminder of why they don't like where they work.

In other news, I've almost finished writing the story. Of course, that is almost sixty-odd thousand words away from this point. And a whole lot of editing… shudder.

If you have a moment, let me know what you think. It's very helpful to see others' perspectives on what is happening. If you see any errors, let me know and I'll get them corrected.

brindani