AN: Okay, I know I should be working on Drinking and Mad Scientists Don't Mix, but I got subtly sidetracked. So I'm going to alternate on and off with that fic and this one (hopefully), mixing it up with various one/two/three chapter fics. (No spoilers, people!)

Ratigan: Great. More ways to annoy me.

Me: It gives you more screen time, doesn't it?

Ratigan: Um… true… Let me guess: No promises?

Me: Nope.

Ratigan: Oy.

            Señor Senior Sr. shuffled through the halls of his home, searching for his son. He had disappeared again, apparently to spend hours on the phone, trying to call music agents, and unintentionally rack up a gargantuan phone bill again.

            "Junior?", he called. No answer. It had to be his usual music agent splurge. "Junior-?" His call to his son was cut off by the dagger pressed to his throat.

            Behind him, a man's deep voice said in a mocking tone, "Well, well, well, if it isn't Triple-S!"

            "Who are you?", Sr. rasped, trying not to provoke the man into using the dagger. "What have you done with my son?"

            "Don't worry", the man said, chuckling darkly. "You'll be meeting up with your son soon enough. In fact", he added, slowly, dragging him off into the shadows, "I'll take you to see him now."

            ~          *          ~          *          ~          *

            Meanwhile, Kim Possible and her friends were standing outside the Middleton Museum of Natural History. They were there on a class trip, and Kim wasn't thrilled. "Welcome to the Middleton Museum of Natural History", Kim read, "Here you will discover much about our planet's history, and what peoples and creatures make up your past." She looked up. "Sounds fascinating", she said sarcastically.

            "KP", Ron said consolingly, "At least it's not a field trip to the state penitentiary."

            "Yeah", Veeken agreed, then said in her best gangster impression, "There'd be more than a few people who'd like to have a word with you."

            "Very funny, Veeken", Kim growled. "This is the weekend! I could be using this time to shop at Club Banana. What if Bonnie gets one of the latest fashions before me? I'd never live it down!"

            "Kim", Ron stated, "Two things. Number One: Bon-Bon's on this trip with us, too. Number Two: There are other things in the world aside from owning the latest Club Banana fashion."

            "Ron, I am not obsessed with fashion", Kim replied.

            "Oh, really, Kim?" Ratigan inquired, an amused grin on his face. "Need I remind you of the Bueno Nacho incident?"

            Kim groaned. The Bueno Nacho argument. She had already lost this argument. "No", she sighed.

            At the doorway, Barkin made the rules clear. "You will stay with your assigned group until twelve, when we will head to Bueno Nacho for lunch. During this time, you will observe the various displays and take notes and observations. Move out!"

            ~          *          ~          *          ~          *

            Kim and Ron walked past the various displays of artwork from various ancient civilization. They had just gotten into the museum, and they had already lost the others. Suddenly, in one solid moment, they heard Ratigan say "Wow", in a completely gobsmacked tone.

            They dashed into the room they heard his voice come from. And Ron screamed. And screamed. And... you get the idea. Standing on a replicated patch of prehistoric ground, was what appeared to be the skeleton of a saber-toothed rat the size of a baby cow. [1]

            "Ron?", Ratigan asked, concerned. Ron continued to scream. "Ron." Still Ron screamed. "RON!!!!", he shouted finally, snapping Ron out of his scream-fest.

            Ron looked at Ratigan, then looked at the saber-toothed rat and screamed again. Thankfully, this scream formed words. "GIANT RAT!", he screamed, leaping into Ratigan's arms.

            "Ron", Ratigan said sternly, "I doubt this prehistoric rodent which has been dead for who-knows-how long wants to hurt you, so please let go of me before I decide to hurt you for him." Smiling meekly, Ron got back onto the ground.

            "Ratigan?", Kim asked. "What is this?"

            "This is an ancestor of the modern rat", Ratigan stated, circling the skeleton reverently.

            "A rat the size of a baby cow", Veeken mused. "Yes, that is definitely one of the top ten worst Ron Stoppable fears."

            Meanwhile, Ron, no longer afraid that either rat would rip him to shreds, looked at the skull of the rat. "I wonder why most creatures of the Ice Age had teeth like that?" There was a moment's silence. "Opening canned goods?"

            "Ron", Kim said firmly, "I'm pretty sure they didn't have canned foods of any kind back in the Ice Age." Silence. "Ron?" There was a whoosh, followed by a whoosh, then another whoosh, until Ratigan was the only one there.

            Ratigan swiftly looked around. Strange whooshing sounds followed by disappearance of friends and daughter. This could only mean two things: Either GJ had a mission for them, or the museum had a serious gopher problem. He sighed. "Three, two, one-" He flinched, preparing for the ground to suddenly disappear from underneath him. Nothing. "What's the hold-up?" Still nothing. "Come on! Is someone asleep on the phone?!" Suddenly, the ground disappeared from underneath his feet in an instant. "About time."

            Down in his capsule, Basil was waiting for Ratigan. The sound of approaching screaming prompted him to press against the side of the container as Ratigan fell into the awaiting capsule. Downward the capsule plunged, until it reached the depths of GJ headquarters. The doors of the tube opened, and Basil jumped out from the capsule. Ratigan, however, was, for the lack of a better word, stuck.

            "Does anybody have a crowbar?!"

            ~          *          ~          *          ~          *

1: Believe it or not, rats did get to be this size during the Ice Age. Don't believe me? Read Who Are You Calling a Woolly Mammoth?

            ~          *          ~          *          ~          *

Me: Anyway, here's a preview of a future fic, Sic Suus Potestas Volo Defungo (So Her Power Shall Die) just for fun.

            There was a crack, like a gunshot, and Basil hurtled towards the ground. Ratigan saw this, and his eyes widened in fear and shock. He pushed the green and black lightning-striped hoverboard's engines into overdrive, speeding up towards the plummeting, inert mouse. "Faster", he shouted over the roar of the engines. "Faster!"

            Suddenly, he deactivated the engines, just as Basil collided with him. They crashed into the ground, and Ratigan winced in pain, because he was sure he felt something crack beneath him as the recoil from the blast flung them against the earth. As he opened his eyes, though his vision was blurred with tears of pain and terror, he saw Shego look around to make sure no one was watching, then flew off, satisfied with her job and the hollow sense of omnipotence that the stolen powers of the rest of Team Go gave her.

            Ratigan brushed the tears from his eyes and turned his attention to Basil. A quick check of his pulse revealed that he was alive. Alive. He set the mouse on the ground, being careful not to wake him, but absentmindedly placing a hand on his forehead to make sure he was alive. Ratigan then turned towards the sky and the fast-escaping Shego, and growled.

            There will be a day of reckoning, Shego. [1]

            He removed his cape and spread it over Basil, before sitting against the tree, facing the direction Shego had left in. He would wait there until the others came.

            Count on it.

1: In the real story, it'll have something a little more vulgar. Sorry.