Ron coughed hard twice, each violent movement causing sharp pain to surge up his spine and to grip his head like a vice. Several gray shadows hovered over him, animatedly waving their hands, shouting at each other in rapid-fire words that sounded more gibberish than foreign to him. A low guttural groan escaped his lips which called the attention of the gray shadows back to the semi-conscious man. As he tried to turn his head, a large black object hovered over his face and pressed hard over his nose and mouth.
He raised his hand weakly and pawed at the dirty rag pressed against his face, but it was futile. His lungs finally gave in and screamed for oxygen and he inhaled the sickly-sweet fumes emanating from the rag. He was struck by a wavering vertigo; a downward spiraling plunge into nothingness as his mind tried to grasp desperately to consciousness. But even that was futile.
"Water…" Ron croaked out before his eyes even had time to adjust to his dark surroundings. He was vaguely aware of lying on a hard metallic surface, far unlike his usual comfortable accommodations.
"Here," a nasal-sounding voice with a heavy German accent offered, holding a flimsy beat-up tin container to his lips.
Ron slowly sipped at the precious cool liquid flowing down his parched throat. His tongue continued to lick his lips, desperately searching for the last few drops remaining there long after the container was withdrawn. "More…" he croaked hoarsely, as he turned his head to look at his benefactor.
"Later," the voice replied bluntly. "But first you need to sit up. How do you feel?"
"What…" As Ron struggled to prop himself up on his arms, he felt an unnatural pain shoot through his chest. Gasping in pain, he slumped back against his sheet metal bed and groaned in pain. His hands felt slowly around his chest, and to his horror, his fingertips touched a smooth metallic ring about six inches in diameter embedded in his sternum.
His silent scream reverberated in his head, as he could only make small coughing sounds as his parched throat refused to work.
"Calm down…" the voice replied, as the man finally stepped into view and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "You were quite a piece of work when they brought you in. Quite the irony, I must say, for you. Never have been on the receiving end of one of your own weapons, have you Stoppable?"
"Who…" Ron coughed as each word hurt his throat, squinting his eyes at the speaker.
"I'm surprised…" the man smiled strangely. "You don't remember me… But there will be time for introductions later; first you must get to your feet."
"What did you…?" Ron gestured with his hand at the device embedded in his chest to complete his sentence.
"A simple electromagnet," the man explained bluntly. "Your own invention was quite well nicknamed the 'slow iron death'. Very common in the villages I've seen. Hundreds of pieces of steel shrapnel punctured your body, and this isn't exactly an operating theatre." The man looked around at the dark cave they were in. "The operation to remove every last bit of little piece of metal in your body would probably kill you. So I did the most convenient thing, put an electromagnet inside you to pull the shrapnel away from your heart. With any luck, you should be able to avoid a heart attack and live long enough."
"Live long enough?" Ron coughed, as he managed to prop himself up. Sitting upright, he discovered that the new attachment to his torso weighed heavily, and he found it hard to breathe. But that could also be due to the intense pain that his entire chest seemed to be radiating. "What is this?" Ron pointed at two wires leading out from the cavity on his chest to a car battery.
"Your power supply," the man replied without a hint of emotion on his face. "Without it, you will die… Painfully." The man picked up the car battery and shoved it into his hands. "You had better keep it close by."
Holding the heavy car battery in his arms, he balked at the realization that his life depended on such a flimsy piece of technology. Turning to his benefactor, he asked, "What do you want from me?"
"It's not what I want from you…" the man spoke mysteriously. As if on cue, a loud banging sound echoed from a huge iron double door behind him. "It's what he wants from you."
"Who…" Before Ron had time to speak, his benefactor had already moved beside him to face the door, and raised his hands behind his head.
"Quick!" the man hissed. "Follow my lead. Hands behind your head…"
Ron had tentatively raised his hands behind his head, wincing in pain as he raised his hands above chest level. Before he could speak, the doors were thrown back and half a dozen men stormed in, bearing AK-47s, half of them aimed at the two men. They yelled rapidly in a foreign tongue, forcing the two men to their knees.
Too weak to protest, Ron let them shove him around, gritting against the pain they caused as they jabbed his tender chest. He glared up angrily at a man who had spat at him and aimed his rifle right between his eyes. Gritting his teeth he weighed his options as he wondered if he could beat the hell out of this guy and tear his rifle from his hands.
Just as the man screamed incomprehensible verbal abuse at his face and raised the butt of his rifle to strike, a sharp command ordered the man to stand down. The man looked hesitantly at the source of the voice before backing down slowly. A short round man with a heavy beard around his face stepped forward, dressed in dirty green combat fatigues. With a generous smile, he spread his hands wide open and started speaking quickly in a language that Ron didn't understand.
"He says that it is a pleasure to meet you, Ron Stoppable, merchant of death," Ron's benefactor offered to translate from behind Ron. "He introduces himself as Raza."
"Tell him to make an appointment with my secretary next time," Ron growled as he glared at Raza. The man just laughed at Ron's spirit and replied lightly.
"He's saying that it's good to see that you are in good spirits," the man translated. "You must be well enough to work."
"Work?" Ron growled. "What work?"
The leader of the armed men laughed as he barked a few commands to the men around him. They roughly yanked him to his feet and shoved him out of the door. Ron barely had time to pick up his car battery before a rifle muzzle poked him in between his shoulder blades. Stumbling on his feet, he took in his surroundings carefully. They were leading him through a maze of tunnels, and Ron specifically took the time to remember the direction they were heading. After a good fifteen minutes of walk, he was finally greeted by a bright light at the end of the tunnel.
Stopping to squint at the intensity of sunlight blasting his dark-accustomed eyes, Ron received another hard jab in the back with the muzzle of a rifle. Ron growled at the treatment, but otherwise kept his cool as he stepped outside and took a look at his new surroundings. His face instantly darkened at the sight before him.
There were crates and crates stacked up high against the mouth of the cave, hidden under brown tents camouflaged against the sandstone walls. And there were men, dozens of men, milling around or lifting and moving those crates. Ron almost stumbled as he passed by one of these soldiers, a boy that looked barely over ten who was gripping an AK-47 almost as tall as him, watching the men carrying the boxes around. While anyone would have cringed at the use of child soldiers, Ron's heart was filled with dread as his eyes glazed over an open box sitting next to the boy.
My weapons! He realized in shock, his mind reeling at the sight before him, But... How?
Despite his company's very stringent policy of selling his latest weapons to only certified and authorized buyers, right before his eyes were new shipments of his latest RPGs, rifles, and even targeting lasers. Turning back to face his captors with a look of outrage on his face, Ron shouted as loud as he could, "How did you get all this?"
Raza laughed out loud at Ron's reaction, and remarked coolly in English, as he rubbed his fingers together, "Money!"
Ron felt an intense anger surge up inside him as he glowered at the man. Raza spoke quickly as he gestured at all the crates before him.
Ron's benefactor was pushed forward beside Ron, and stooped his head lower a little and spoke, "He wants you to make him your latest weapon: the Unstoppable."
"No!" Ron yelled out loudly as he could, as his eyes opened wide. "Never!"
Raza did not flinch from his outburst, and instead coolly turned to his men and gestured to one of them. He stepped forward quickly and raised his weapon and struck Ron across the face with the butt of his rifle. The jarring shock split open his cheek and almost cracked his jawbone as Ron fell to the sandy ground, almost letting the car battery slip through his grasp as the connected wires tugged painfully at his skin.
Spitting aside blood from his mouth, Ron growled defiantly at the leader, and shouted, "Never!"
Raza stepped forward, and shoved his face into Ron's bruised features. In crude English he spoke. "If you're not afraid I will kill you, then…" he pulled out a Beretta from his side-holster, and cocked the hammer. At first aiming at Ron's gritting face, he turned and aimed the barrel at Ron's benefactor who flinched away from the sidearm pointed at him. "I will kill him."
Ron glared at Raza with an intense hatred before looking at the terrified man before him. Knowing in his heart what he must do, Ron's head drooped to his chest as he shut his eyes tight. "I'd do it…" Ron whispered.
"Fine!" Raza laughed as he slapped Ron twice firmly on the back. "Everything you need is right here!" He turned to order his followers with a few words, before he strode off laughing.
Ron could only glare at the man's back with a renewed burning hatred as he grasped the crumbling sand in his hands. He knew, without a doubt, that he was now caught between a rock and a very, very hard place.
"You still don't recognize me, do you?" the man asked, as Ron slumped down against the wall back in the cave where he woke up in. The captors had thrown them back into the dungeon, after being satisfied that they had found a way to get what they want. "I am grateful that you have spared my life, but perhaps if you did recognize me, you would not have."
"Should I recognize you?" Ron asked wryly, as he took in deep breaths to get use to the foreign object in his chest.
"Perhaps you might recognize me better with my mask on," the man said replied with much bemusement. "After all, you and your friend, Kim Possible used to thwart me back in the day."
"You?" Ron squinted hard at the figure of the man, trying to picture all of the masked villains he and Kim had fought. "Professor Dementor?"
"Used to be," the man nodded with a wide smile at the younger man. "But now, I am just Hans Demenz, from Bavaria."
"What happened to you?" Ron asked in surprise.
"Seven years ago, I came to this forsaken hellhole," Demenz spoke evenly. "Offering my services to a potential partner to take over the world… It would seem that in these parts, a man is only as good as the gun which he carries… Not the mind that he possesses. Since then I have been forced to work for these madmen…"
Ron let out a little laugh, "The irony, you used to be one of these madmen yourself."
Demenz joined Ron in his laugh. "Not these kind of madmen. At least I had a dream of building a better world. These men… They only dream of destruction… Bringing down the west and those they see as infidels…"
"They would think that they are justified too," Ron replied darkly. "But it's good to see a familiar face in these parts, even though it is yours."
"Aye…" Demenz nodded with agreement. "I've long given up hope of escaping. Each day spent underground making these weapons… One could not hope to get past all these men, and even if we do… Only the desert awaits. So what news do you bring from the outside? I have watched your meteoric rise from teen hero to merchant of death." Demenz snorted in irony at a realization, "I never thought you, of all people, would have it in you to contribute to this madness."
"I'll have you know that my weapons have brought peace to many regions around the world," Ron replied quickly, feeling the anger surge to his face.
"Save your words for the press," Demenz replied dismissively. "It's not like anyone can hear or believe your lies down here."
"Who are you to criticize me for that? You have done your fair share of trying to destroy the world yourself." Ron shot back angrily.
"All the more am I qualified to criticize, then, when I meet a fellow world-destroyer?" Demenz shrugged, as he picked up a container of water. "If you let your work speak for yourself, you have killed far more men, women and children than I, Gemini, Drakken or Shego have put together. Congratulations, Ron Stoppable, you have more than undone all the hero work you did in your teen years."
"I had good intentions," Ron insisted, gritting his teeth at the new source of pain that he was feeling.
"So did we," Demenz shook his head as he took a drink. "So did we."
The two men sat quietly in the room, glaring angrily at each other. Ron was grinding his teeth in anger, and he could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, as his eyes welled up with tears. The darkness of the room had never seemed more enveloping.
"So what now, Ron Stoppable?" Demenz spoke up finally. "Look, What you just saw. That is your legacy, Stoppable. Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out?" The man questioned. "Is this the last act of defiance of the great Ron Stoppable? Or are you going to do something?"
"Why should I do anything?" Ron said, sounding defeated and angry. "They're going to kill me, you, either way. And if they don't I'm probably dead in a week." Ron pointed out logically and hopelessly.
"Well, then," Demenz started, a smile spreading on his face. "This is a very important week for you, isn't it?" He asked.
Ron looked into the fire, the hopelessness on his face disappearing and being replaced with determination.
And here is the next chapter. Sorry, it took so long for an actual update for this story, but life just got in the way. Was going to post a schedule a while ago, but needed to make huge changes as I'm still working on it as I just want it to be perfect. But let me know what you all thought of Dementor being in this series instead of Yinsen. Though it is cool to show a different person. Yes, Ron does have his monkey powers, but since it has been a long time since he used them he doesn't know how to activate them.
I'm hoping I can post DDSK either tonight but most likely tomorrow. Been meaning to do that for the past three days, but I had to rewrite them. Got two of the chapters rewritten, just need to do the third chapter and a brand new one. Already rewritten two chapters of Earth's Mightiest Heroes today along with DDSK of RWBY and this one as that is why it is taking so daman long to post anything.
But make sure you all favorite and follow this story as well as leave reviews. I will have them answered in the next chapter. See you all later, UltraPhantom is out! PEACE!