The courtship and romance of Vivian Frances Porter and Bueno Nacho Ned, based on the stories of my fellow fanauthor, The Enduring Man-Child.

Viv and Ned

chpt 1

the tourney

Deep in the bowels of the city, under its teeming streets and bustling stores, exists a world unguessed at. There the people gather to cheer the primeval combatants. In a deeper pit still, from which only the victor ascends, square off the two opponents. Ringing the pit are those who acclaim or upbraid, according to their temper. They lay their wagers, and the combat commences. The warriors approach each other with weapons upraised. And when the din of battle ends, the din of applause begins. But no blood is spilt, for these antagonists are robotic, not human.

Like a monolith with arms, the powerfully-built one towered over the slighter, nimbler one. Armed with edged ax in one hand and blunt mace in the other, the bigger one struck first. The smaller one, a cross between a surveillance drone and a grasshopper, hopped about on spindly legs, upheld by the spinning helicopter-like propeller. Sparks flew as the bigger one's weapons struck the metal floor and wall of the circular combat pit, but the smaller one avoided all the strokes.

The builder of the bigger machine was like his creation, brooding and overbearing. He scowled, not at all pleased that the little machine evaded the killing blows aimed at it. The builder of the smaller automaton was like his handiwork, sprightly and animated. He hopped, chuckled, and capered every time his entry in the list dodged all the killing blows.

The smaller robot suddenly introduced a new tactic. With the quickness of a frog's tongue flicking out to catch a fly, a line shot out from the little machine. Like webbing it unreeled and entangled the arms and treads of the bigger robot. But it proved to be a mere distraction, encumbering the larger machine and annoying the machine's builder.

And at the bigger builder's side stood a maiden. Her petite hands clasped in anxiety as the bigger machine's weapons fell, her lyrical voice cheered at the smaller machine's adroit maneuvers, and her burnished golden tresses bounced as she jumped in exhilaration. Her violet eyes gleamed as she cast favorable glances at the smaller builder, and that pleased the bigger builder even less than the failure of his robot to score a decisive hit.

The tension was mounting. The crowd was getting restless, waiting for the impasse to break. The builder of the smaller machine suddenly grinned slyly. And the smaller machine's propeller suddenly detached and flew upward at the bigger robot's head, like a clay pigeon at a skeet shoot, glancing off its target.

The bigger robot staggered back and fell full length with a resounding clang. And the crowd likewise jumped in startlement. The little machine skittered up the bigger robot's body; a pair of curved prongs like spider fangs thrust into the visual sensor ports. There was a shower of sparks and whine of servos; the bigger robot twitched and was still.

The crowd erupted in roars and applause. The builder of the smaller robot smirked insufferably. "Like David and Goliath," he muttered, unheard above the noise.

The bigger fellow glared hatefully at his smaller rival-but the rival was no longer there to acknowledge the hostile stare. The maiden jumped and whooped and clapped, much to the bigger fellow's obvious discomfiture.

Those around the builder of the smaller machine hoisted him on their shoulders. They chanted his name deafeningly. "Ned! Ned! Ned! Ned!"

He pumped his fists in the air and shot a glance at his opponent and the maiden.

The maiden also chanted his name, but not so loudly. She smiled sweetly and finger-waved when she saw that she caught his eye. He visibly blushed. Her bigger companion glowered silently.

Oliver learned his lesson. The next time, he would take into account the quickness and agility of a smaller competitor.

Vivian glanced at the one next to her and sighed. There were many types of men in the world.

One was the jock, the athlete with a macho attitude; on the plus side, endowed with masculinity and courage, on the minus side, saddled with aggressiveness, insensitivity, self-centeredness; and capable of sexual assault.

Another was the exploiter, who attached himself like a leech, groveling to those above him, and arrogant to those below him. Such a one was her lab partner and immediate supervisor at the Middleton Space Center, Thelonious Fenster, or 'Fenn', as he liked to be called, imparting the appearance of camaraderie. It was a subterfuge. He was unscrupulous and could be a backstabber. He had leverage on her and stole her ideas. He sometimes tried to steal her virtue; she let him know that she would not shirk from drastic action if he tried that.

Then there was the nice guy, not necessarily with the sculpted body or the striking face, but with the generous heart. The good man, whom someone with her dating history could appreciate; the man who looked past her gorgeousness and appreciated her mind. But sometimes the good man let his self-effacement become self-loathing, as Ned was wont to do.

It was ironic that the 'man' Vivian built to keep the predators away also kept the good men away. In that sense, Oliver was the most successful automaton in the Robot Rumble. It was also ironic that he resembled in some ways the men she despised; the possessive and the aggressive.

In the midst of her musing, Vivian noticed that Ned was gone. Oliver was chatting with Larry.

"I wonder where our champion went," said a quiet haughty voice behind her. She turned to see Justine Flanner.

"Probably went prepare to the feast for this mob," said Vivian absently.

More irony; outside of their membership in the Robot Rumble, and their prodigious intellects, Justine and Vivian were quire dissimilar.

Justine accentuated her plain and severe appearance. Vivian had once tried to offer to give Justine a makeover. The response Justine gave her dissuaded her of ever trying that again.

Vivian wondered at times if Justine resented her for her beauty. After a time, she realized that Justine was a miser at life, as Ebenezer Scrooge was a miser at money; proud of her gifts and attainments, stingy with her time, and disdainful of all around her. Justine didn't need to build an automaton to keep the world at bay.

And the biggest irony of all? The most generous soul in the Robot Rumble was as socially furtive as both Vivian and Justine. He hid it under a façade of fussiness and insecurity. He wasn't even here to receive the kudos due him; he had rushed off to his vocation, to do his duty.

to be continued

afterword

Two things transpired that day that would have profound implications for the future. The first was Oliver's resolve to build a better robot for the next encounter.

He would make it more intuitive-or, rather, his builder would make it more intuitive, more capable of independent response. Against her better judgment, Vivian would incorporate the finesse and subtlety of programming she was capable of, to continue the subterfuge that it was Oliver building the robot, and it was Oliver who had a point to prove to the Rumble and the world. And in doing so, she would attract the suspicions of Kim Possible, who was investigating the theft of just such a robot from the Space Center-at the well-intentioned behest of Mr. Dr. P., and the deceitful behest of Thelonius Fenster, who wanted to divert suspicion from himself.

The other event was something that Ned, almost unnoticed, except for a few. At the moment of his robot's victory over Oliver's, amid all the clamor of the audience, Ned clasped his hands, bowed his head, shut his eyes, and addressed HaShem in his heart.

Barukh atah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam, M mmn t hdm shl lmlchmh, chch shhzrv'vt l'shvt lchvff ksht flz.

Blessed art Thou, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, Who trains my hands for war, so that a bow of bronze mine arms can bend.

Oliver, Justine, and Vivian beheld him. An automaton with Oliver's degree of artificial intelligence had no concept of mystical, so no expression of piety registered an impression on him.

Justine comprehended, and despised Ned for it. Unlike Johan Kepler, Isaac Newton, Gregor Mendel, and Albert Einstein, Justine had no inclination toward any spiritual outlook. Like Thomas Huxley, she was an ardent materialist and felt nothing but hostility for religion, organized or otherwise. Words like crutch, fallacy, and superstition formed in her mind.

Vivian saw, and was puzzled, one might say, even mystified. Unlike Justine, she was not repelled. She was even intrigued. But her life experiences inclined her toward a personal agnosticism as profound as Justine's.

And the implications for the lives of Vivian and Ned would be more far-reaching than either could foresee.

to be continued

A / N

This is complicated; chpt. 1 is the intro to the intro. Chpt. 2 is the intro to the story. Chpt 3 is where the story finally starts to take off.

My man Sentinel 103, my fellow KP fan author, once told me how he needed to write thousands of words by way of prelude and explanation before he could begin to feel comfortable with actually telling his narrative.

I dig; only I haven't taken lots of words to do it; I've taken lots of time. This story has been on my workbench for a long time. I wanted to tell the sequel of the Vivian / Ned romance my man EM-C.

But a couple years ago, a new plot bunny dug a burrow through my imagination, and I began to painfully assemble this tale.

I thought I was ready to unveil this thing back in the spring of 2014. Then I thought I was ready to post it before Xmas of 2014. Then I was sure I could get it up before Valentine's Day of 2015. But the prelude need a prelude and that prelude needed a prelude…

It's too complicated. Suffice to say, this chpt unfolded in 2 days. For the Geological Slow Fanfic Writer, that's like warp speed. The author's notes for chpt.'s 2 & 3 are encyclopedic and voluminous.

I write like a Victorian author, wordy and extravagant. It's just in my blood. And I just let the tendency have its way for this chpt.

Just some quickies; the title of this story is a word that means the same thing as a joust; the bad guy in Grudge Match is named "Finn" in most of the online episode transcripts. To my ear it sounds like "Fen", and my obsession with complete names led me to formulate the name "Thelonious Fenster". "Thelonious" rhymes with "felonious", and is from the famous musician Thelonious Monk.

I make Justine badder than I intend to. Her disdain for humanity is already established in the Partners episode, and the antipathy toward religion is a common trait of several smug scientists anyway.

This leads right into a contemporary Hot Potato: secularism vs. religion, or, evolution vs. creationism. And for now I'm going to dodge it. But if you're interested, consult a station of mine at Youtube, known as "idontgetno". There are a bunch of playlists concerning apologetics. The scientific one is Perimeter of Cognizance.

And Ned's Hebrew prayer; the first part, "Blessed art Thou..." is a standard Hebrew prayer. The second part "Who trains my hands for war..." is a quote from Psalms 18:35. I consulted a Hebrew Bible online, Google Translate, and a Hebrew transliteration website. I must take the rap for any mistakes.