Chapter 7

Kim found herself unable to concentrate within first block...well, not that 'Advanced Calculus' normally stimulated her to new heights anyway. But, after that particular morning, her attention deficit had become exceptionally noticeable. She often found herself blushing to a ridiculous and near over the top extent as she tried to get the dream that had been pleasantly plaguing her out of her head.

Kim found herself lounging at the Middleton beach, her body oiled and glistening within the pleasant heat of the afternoon July sun. She was stretched languidly over an over sized beach towel depicting Harrison Ford (of which whom she had previously rescued from his sinking fishing boat) as his famous archetypical character, Indiana Jones. In the low humidity at 96°F, there was not a better spot in all of the inland Americas to be than within this Middleton, California mini-getaway.

In her favorite cocoa-brown suit, complemented with a single gold bangle, Kim sighed with pure and relaxed satisfaction as the sound of the waves crashing against the white sand, the seagulls soaring through the clean, salty air and even the echoing of a foghorn in the distant, blue deep seemed to draw her into a peaceful lull…it became hard to form coherent thoughts from this pleasantly apathetic stupor within which she was so deliciously enveloped. How could this day be any better?

Suddenly, a shadow passed over her line of sight: a shadow that was now blocking her body from the beloved rays of delicious warmth that were previously permeating her relaxed form. Her annoyance was brief however, for when she opened her eyes, she found Ron Stoppable smiling down at her…wearing swim trunks with...penguins printed upon them?

"Hey KP…sorry I'm late. Dad wanted my help rearranging his CD's in order by both the release dates and the number of Yiddish words used."

Kim could not help but smile brightly at this as she was unsure if Ron was joking around or not. Amused, she then asked, "Ron, are those penguins on your pants?"

Ron glanced down at his trunks for just a brief moment, and then he smiled that classic goofy grin of his. He then brightly exclaimed, "Yeah KP, aren't they bon-diggity?" He then turned back to her and then playfully muttered with a sly wink, "Or maybe I'm just happy to see you."

As Kim's cheeks flared with flattered embarrassment, he continued.

"How's it going over here on your end?"

Kim laughed brightly and then stretched, arching her back like a cat, seemingly oblivious to the appreciative gaze of her best friend. "It feels wonderful…except I have this slight kink in my neck…"

Ron raised his eyebrows as he knelt down beside her. "Well," he said with a sly grin upon his face, "we'll just have to do something about that…won't we?"

She giggled, and then turned over so that she was lying upon her stomach, her legs gently crossed at the ankles and slightly rasied as she settles into the sun-warmed cotton. In turn, Ron kneeled over her so that he was gently straddling her back with one leg on each side of her waist, and then cracked his knuckles lightly. He then pressed his hands to her shoulders and began to slowly kneed her back, starting from within the middle and then working down to the small of her back. His hands then gently moved back up to the top along the back of her neck. He pushed and molded the muscles in a gentle and soothing manner, yet they were firm and powerful.

"Ron…don't…stop…" Kim mumbled sleepily, her words almost bordering upon a satisfied purr.

Ron leaned over her shoulder and then whispered gently into her ear, "Anything for my Kim…"

Kim shook her head to clear the dream induced fog.

Ron had returned to school to find himself once again a figure of both awe and desire. The news of his thrashing Terry Durtman had made him the next 'new thing' amongst the student body. Surviving an attack from Shego and walking around the morning after made him a celebrity, a heart throb and a boy toy worth working/scheming for. He may have been a demigod among the other young men, but from within the sea of estrogen that had become Middleton High, he was as paranoid as a schizophrenic hydrophobe that was being circled by a rabid school of hammerhead sharks. Kim had passed no less than four packs of both eager and plotting girls that were planning upon the best way of how to both corner Ron and then claim him for their own (even talking of 'sharing' him, much to Kim's chagrin).

Kim shuddered: how were they going to get Ron out of here in one piece? "Or at least," thought Kim, "with his chastity intact?" Kim could not help but blush heavily at the thought, and she once again found herself reliving that morning's events by using her mind's eye once more. Her pulse rate once again quickened in response to the relived memory...fantasy?

This is ridiculous! We're best friends! We were just...uh, happy to see each other and, uh…

She stole a quick glance towards the back of the room where the classroom clock was kept, and she found herself eagerly wishing that the time would go faster: it was too bad that she and Ron did not have first block together. They could have used the time to plan upon just exactly how they were going to get him out of school whilst remaining both fully clothed and unscathed.

"…and you're wearing them right now?"

"Yep, and at lunch I'm gonna walk into him and drop my books in front of him. You know, just to catch him off guard."

"Wow…and what about Kim?"

THAT caught Kim's attention. As she turned to her left, she found Liz and Marcella, her fellow cheer leaders, speaking in not so hushed whispers (although, it was not really necessary as the calculus teacher at the school was nearly stone deaf; it was a running joke within the school concerning his inability to be fired since it was apparent that he simply just could not hear his dismissal in the first place).

"What," asked Marcella in a questioning sort of tone, "it's not like she's claimed him or anything. She had her chance. Now, it's open season…and I've got a loaded rifle…"

They're talking about Ron?

Kim watched as Marcella reached down to her hips and then rolled something between her fingers…the side tie-strings upon her underwear? Marcella pulled them just above the waistband of her black, leather pants as Liz once again spoke.

"Well, what about that photo? You got the email, right?" she muttered with a sly smile stamped upon her face.

"Like I said, it's open season and Ronnie's fair game. If she wants him, she gonna have to fight for him....but, once he's with me, Kim'll be old news too..."

Kim fought back both anger and nausea as Marcella continued to describe just exactly what she intended to do with both Ron as a whole and with certain pieces of him. Liz sat in sordid fascination.

"…and with him as the next new thing, whichever girl he picks is QB material for sure," Marcella finished with a sly grin.

Liz stared at her for a moment before she finally realized what Marcella was saying. Breaking out into a laugh, she chuckled, "Oh, Queen Bee! I get it now!"

Marcella merely raised an eyebrow in annoyance at Liz's usual slowness to catch onto various High School acronyms. Kim knew most of the acronyms, but those were mostly from Monique's own special brand of linguistics: her patented 'Monique-speak'.

Liz continued. "And what did Bonnie say about Ron?"

Marcella snorted. Kim inconspicuously leaned in a little closer as Marcella treacherously whispered, "Bonnie says that he's still a loser and off limits, but I heard that she's planning to try and play both Brick and Ron for double the points."

Liz and Kim (with the latter being unheard) gasped at this and the conversation continued with further gossip. Kim was unable to take further notes due to her eavesdropping.

When the bell finally rang, Kim was the first one out of the door. Rushing to her locker, which was right across from the bathrooms, she practically tore the door off of its hinges as she hurried to boot up the Kimmunicator computer that was contained within. She needed Wade to get them out of here, NOW, before third block. She had study hall this period, so she was hopeful that she could find a distraction or an emergency within that time period. As the computer booted up and opened a connection onto Wade, she heard someone loudly whisper her name.

"Pssst…Kim!"

She looked around for a few moments before finally noticing Ron's head peeking out from around the corner of the boys bathroom door frame. She cautiously walked over to him.

"What's wrong?"

Ron sighed. "A group of girls chased me and I ducked in here! Mr Barkin and some other teachers sent them off to class with week-long detentions when they were caught trying to melt the locks with welders from Shop Class."

Kim sweat-dropped. "Uh…wow."

Ron started to say something else but stopped when he heard Wade's voice emanate from Kim's locker.

"Kim?"

She ran back over to her locker with relief shining out of her eyes as the rounded genius, Wade Load, waved at her her. She motioned Ron to come over from the bathroom door as Wade curiously asked, "Yo Kim, it's been a few days. What's up?"

"Wade, have there been any hits on the web site? Anything at all?"

Wade, used to this sort of pushiness that was evident within her voice, bent over his computer keyboard and then typed furiously for a few moments. Ron, on the other hand, had not left the sanctuary that was the men's bathroom.

"Ron," Kim called impatiently, "get over here, I need Wade to look at something."

"Are you sure they're all gone?"

Kim sighed wearily.

"Yes, Ron, I'm the only one out here…well, not including Wade on the monitor."

Ron sighed and, peeking up and down the hall twice each to ensure it was truly deserted, left the safety of the men's room behind. He sauntered over to Kim's side by the monitor. Kim found herself snorting in amusement.

"Paranoid much, Ron?"

Ron shuddered in remembrance. "You would be too if you'd seen the things I'd seen." With his eyes widened, he continued to rant to his semi-captive audience, "This one girl, she, like, dropped out of the ceiling tiles while her partners tunneled out from the floor using sporks from the caf…and don't even get me started on the set of twins with the trip wires…"

At Kim's sudden burst of laughter, his eyes narrowed as then he indignantly responded, "Well, that's what it felt like at least!"

With a slight grin still adorning her graceful features, Kim turned back to Wade who seemed both confused and highly amused by Ron's vivid description/imagination. Curious, he asked, "What's Ron talking about, Kim?"

"Actually," Kim mumbled slowly as she bit her lower lip in deep thought. She then sighed before continuing, "that's sort of what I needed to talk to you about."

Kim quickly filled Wade in on the events of the past few days, with Ron interjecting every few seconds when he felt that the description was not lively enough. Kim conveniently, however, skipped over the events of that morning and the, uh, more personal moments of Kim's hospital visit.

"…and he still has the scars from the first attack, but not from Shego's," Kim finished.

Wade rubbed his non-stubbled chin in deep thought as he pondered over the events/evidence that Kim and Ron had laid before him. He then leaned forward and quickly typed his notes onto his computer with a blur of activity.

"Ron," Wade asked, "can I see the actual bite marks? Kim had me check the hospital records and their photos, but I'd like to scan them into the Kimmunicator directly for analysis." Ron simply nodded and then lifted his shirt up so that Kim could scan him. Wade did a double take at Ron's apparent new found figure, but said nothing. He simply typed some more as he added this additional information into his computer notes, his eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. However, this went unnoticed by both Kim or Ron.

Kim, on the other hand, activated the Kimmunicator scanning function and then ran the red bean slowly over Ron's scars. She passed over them two to three times from multiple angles to ensure complete accuracy. She then noticed Ron's sagging waistline and could not help but think, "Oh, my..."

A hint of Ron's pelvic bone was peeking over the waistband of his boxers, along with a thin line of hair from his navel to his…

Kim nearly dropped the Kimmunicator as she fumbled to put it back inside of her bag. Her heart was racing and thus pounding against her ribcage as if it were performing some sort exotic, drum orientated dance routine.

Ron noticed her shaking hands and, dropping his shirt back down so that it covered him once more, asked if she was alright, concern clearly present within his voice. Kim responded promptly by dropping her entire bag - along with the majority of its contents - onto the hallway floor.

"Dang it, I, uh…"

She bent down to pick up the scattered books, papers and other educational materials as Ron knelt beside her to help. As they were picking up the last book, they both reached for it at the same time: Ron's rather large paw almost completely closed over her smaller and slender hand.

They looked up at each simultaneously and found themselves locking eyes with one another. Kim's breath caught itself within her throat as she traced his visage carefully: the playful way his slight bangs swayed as he cocked his head slightly to the side, the gentle curvature of his jaw and…was that stubble? How long had Ron been shaving for? Or even growing facial hair for that matter? How had she not noticed this now critical piece of information before? He was her best friend now for over thirteen years, and she had just begun to notice…

"-kay there KP?"

Kim blinked and found herself being snapped back to the present as she quickly realized that Ron had just addressed her. Judging from the concerned glint radiating from within his soft and brown eyes, she had the feeling that he had tried to apparently do this several times previously.

"Sorry Ron, I was…distracted. You were saying?"

Still appearing concerned, he offered her his hand so that he could help her up.

"I just asked if you were feeling okay, KP. You seemed sort of zombified for a second or two there," he said with mild humor glinting from within his eyes. Kim stared at him for a few moments, and then smiled herself, glad that Ron was at least acting like the Ron that she had known for all of these years.

"Ron, 'zombified' is sooo not a word," she started playfully as he helped her back onto her feet with her book bag in tow.

"Of course it is KP," he quipped with an almost righteous indignation, "it is the act of becoming or being made a zombie or zombie-like."

"Well," she started with a twinkle inside of her eyes as one of their oh-so-serious-but-so-not-really debates began to fire up, "technically 'zombified' would be an adjective, much like tall or handsome, not an action. Example: a Zombified Barkin, a Barkin who has been made into a zombie!"

Ron slowly shook his head in the manner that an old sage might display disappointment in a promising yet foolish apprentice.

"But, in order to become 'zombified' Barkin, he must first undergo 'zombification' and be 'zombificated,' which may also be shortened to 'zombified.' It is a verb and an adjective the same way 'taught' is both a verb and an adjective. Example: you have been well taught in the art of zombification. Since you have been taught so well, make use of your talents and zombify Barkin immediately. Thus, Barking will have been 'zombified.' Also, it would be a passive action which could be called a process, such as the calcification of the protagonists's knuckles against Barkin's zombie face."

He gave a slight bow as Kim slowly shook her head whilst sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose in a strange mixture of annoyance, amusement and outright disbelief.

"Ron, how is it you can debate and provide evidence for the validity of words normally unusable in hu-…normal human conversation, yet you can't seem to do more than barely pass English?"

"I like to chalk it up to my essential Ronness."

"Uh guys…I'm still here," came Wade's voice from within Kim's nearly forgotten locker. Sheepishly, the duo turned back to face the heavy set genius, clearly embarrassed for having forgotten about his company during their little moment of banter.

"Sorry about that Wade," Kim quickly apologized. She tilted her head slightly as she addressed him. "Did you find anything about the bite marks or compiled evidence that may point to what happened to Ron?"

Still typing with both hands, Wade simply replied, "Nothing yet except for the obvious. Canine-like scar pattern, but far too large for a big dog or even a large wolf. Maybe the scanner also picked up some DNA evidence, like a hair trapped in the scar tissue."

Ron shivered with distaste at the thought whilst Kim pressed on: she was eager for any sort of situation to present itself that would get them out of the soon to be swarming fan girl mobs that would almost certainly be upon the hunt for her best friend.

Trying to get their grubby hands on my Ron, well I've got news fo-...wait, what!? My Ron? Where'd that come from?

But look at him, he's sooo yummy right now. I just wanna nibble on those ears and-

That's it! When we get home, you are getting a nice cold shower, I mean, WE are getting a nice cold shower!

Kim's torrential inner monologue was once again interrupted by Ron, this time as he held her chin gently inside of one of his palms and as he pressed the backside of his other hand against her fairly heated forehead.

"Uh, Ron, what are you doing?"

"Hmmm, that's like the fourth time you've spaced out this morning, KP. I was just wondering if you were feeling okay." He frowned slightly as he pressed the back of his hand against her cheek now instead of her forehead, seemingly oblivious to (or perhaps concerned about) Kim's fairly flushed appearance. "Hmmm…you do feel warmer than normal."

Now it was Kim's turn to turn the tables.

"Now, Ron, how do you know how warm I usually am?"

Ron, quickly realizing the possible implications of his own words, suddenly turned a remarkably vibrant shade of magenta as he quickly pulled his hands back and away from her face so that he could stuff them deep into his pockets.

"No, I mean, uh, you know, how warm you might expect someone to be. Not that, you know, I touch girl's faces all the time, uh, yeah so…or faces! I mean girls! I mean…"

Kim grinned both mischievously and with amusement as she watched Ron's nervous stammering.

He's so cute when he's nervous!

And when he shuffles his foot like that!

Or when he's just standing around-

…

Definitely a cold shower for you when we get home…

Slightly perturbed this time, Wade once again interrupted Kim from her internal battle royale with a slightly annoyed, "Kim, is there anything else I can do right now? Otherwise, I'm going to go play with this data and see what I can come up with regarding the Ron sitch. That okay with you, Ron?"

At Ron's affirmation, Kim remembered the more pressing reason for her call.

"Wade, is there any sort of sitch right now? Like five minutes ago would have been great."

Wade typed for a moment before his eyes suddenly lit up.

"Well," he began, "there's a robbery at Middleton Central bank right now, but that's not real-"

"Thanks loads Wade! We'll get right on it!" Kim interrupted as she quickly passed the Kimmunicator to Ron so that she could grab her bag and run into to the girl's room to change.

"Ron, get the intel from Wade and then change quick," she shouted from over her shoulder just before she swiftly vanished into her designated lavatory.

Slightly stunned, Ron turned back to Wade.

"Well, I guess we're in a bit of a hurry."

Ron shrugged.

"Okay Wade, what have you got for us?"

Recovering from Kim's quick exit, Wade quickly began to remotely download the information directly into the miniature supercomputer resting between Ron's hands.

"Well, it looks like there are 3 perps: two with tasers and one wielding a small firearm…"

"Oh, my God…"

Tiffany was just a junior Biology major at Middleton University. Working in the nearby medical laboratories, she hoped that she could work her way into a laboratory technician's position through medical school and then finally get both her Phd and MD in medical research and physician certification. A 4.0 student with high hopes for the future, her excitement had reached critical mass when the research team of the most distinguished Dr. Richard Stimpus requested her assistance with a genetics project that involved accelerated healing in human beings, due to some slight allelic variations found within a certain research specimen.

She just barely stifled a horrified scream as yet another gunshot was fired: blood and grey matter splattered the pristine walls of the genetics laboratory as her lab partner was mercilessly obliterated just as effectively as an annoyed homeowner might have stamped upon a cockroach. Far beyond the realm of normal and rational fear, Tiffany could not force her lungs and vocal cords to form any type of noise as she became literally paralyzed with soul chilling fright. As she moved further under the bench in an attempt to hide from her hunter, she felt something squish lightly under her palm. To her horror, she found the majority of one of her former lab partner's eyes flattened against the palm of her hand, the dark, distorted pupil reflecting her shocked expression in the glassiness of the eye's filmy covering. Tiffany promptly vomited.

When she had accepted the position offered to her, she had been warned by Dr. Stimpus that some higher ups might possibly attempt to pull their research (after all, if the US government knew what was going on here, they'd at best want to control it, at worst take it away from the Stimpus research team by military force). Faced with these possible 'dangers', Tiffany had decided that nothing worth doing was completely risk-free.

Nothing could have prepared her for this sort of evil brutality.

"Where is he, hmmm…?"

The voice seemed to purr once again, as if relishing in the violence and destruction its source was wreaking; Tiffany heard yet another gunshot be fired. A cry of agony ripped its way away from its source as the unfortunate victim desperately gripped his now useless left leg in mortal anguish. Dr. Stimpus's haggard breathing reached her ringing ears even from this far away. Sheer terror and horror were easy to read upon his terrified features.

"I don't know! I, I don't have access to that sort of informa-" he screamed in agony once again as the blatant dishonesty lacing his voice was apparent even to Tiffany's naïve ears. His lie was interrupted by yet another air cracking boom of merciless gunfire and the doctor's gripping of his own torn, right shoulder as yet another bellow of uncontrollable agony was pushed forth from his aching lungs.

The assailant raised the gun again, this time training it upon the ill-fortuned researchers' terrified face.

With his voice deep and smooth, he merely purred quietly as he asked, "One last chance: where is he?"

Dr. Richard Stimpus, Phd & Md, raised his quivering chin in one last act of defiance.

"Never. You can go straight to he-"

The crack of the large pistol's thunder silenced the respected physician and scientist forever.

Tiffany's paralysis continued even as the figure spat upon the still warm corpse and then turned his head in her direction. His dark eyes gleaming with both mild frustration and amusement at the sight of her huddled beneath the lab bench, much like an unfortunate mouse cornered by a cat…

"Hello, my dear," he softly said with a surprising gentleness carried deep within his voice. He strode over to her with a disturbingly warm smile gracing his features.

"Hopefully, you can help me. I'm looking for the subject of your wonderful genetic experiments. Do you know how I may contact him?"

He knelt next to her and offered his hand towards her cowering form. The corners of his eyes crinkled with apparent delight. She glanced around in apparent shock as she was surrounded by the gore of her fellow researchers, yet she was faced with the absurdity of his calm and soothing demeanor. He chuckled, his voice like soft and silky velvet as he whispered, "Oh, there's nothing to fear from me my dear…I would never allow pain to come to someone as helpful and charming as yourself."

Tiffany's fear seemed to seep from her body as she tentatively took his hand: her eyes, however, remained locked onto his own bright blue orbs as she crawled out from underneath the table, her refuge, to stand before him. Her voice seemed to come unclenched and she quickly found herself replying without really thinking about it.

"Yes, his, uh, records are kept in that computer terminal over there. All of the professor's records are."

She spoke softly, pointing to the monitor and switchboards within the corner. Her eyes became slightly glazed over as she whispered, "The password is 'Ozymandias,' uppercase 'O,' like the ruler…"

"Ah, thank you, you've been most helpful…" he said softly, yet his voice had lost its soothing quality and his eyes lost their luster. Tiffany's eyes seemed to suddenly clear, and she quickly realized what had just happened. She raised her hands to her face in horror.

He smiled once again, but this time there was a mad gleam within his eyes as he raised his weapon past Tiffany's wide and terrified eyes and towards her brow.

"This won't hurt a bit…"

The laboratories' sound absorbing walls kept anyone outside of the room completely unaware of the events that usually went on inside (as the machines within the lab tended to hit about 75-80 decibels, and even as much as 100 at peak processing, the labs had been sound-proofed to prevent the noise from radially affecting other experiments within the building). Even the resounding howl of the stranger's pistol only gave off the slightest of thumps to anyone who may have been standing in the abandoned hallway located outside.

His fingers skimmed across the keyboard as he accessed the well of information in the genetic laboratories computer system. Although they were admittedly interesting projects worth millions (perhaps eventually billions for the right people), they were quickly passed over as he searched for his goal. A few short moments later, he grinned as a portrait of his subject loaded on screen (looking as if it was taken for a high school photo, of which it had been). He kept his glee to himself as he read off the subject's name to himself.

"Ronald Dean Stoppable."

He quickly scanned all of the available information: weight, height, age and even, surprised at his own great fortune, the name and address of the subject's high school (oddly enough, not his home address…no matter).

After assuring his own memorization of the available information, he retrieved a small, spherical device from his belt. Pressing a switch upon its side, the terminal quickly fizzled out as the high powered magnet completely scrambled, erased and thus destroyed the terminal's hard drives.

"Well, Mr. Stoppable," he said with a slight sneer, "it's time we had ourselves a little talk..."

"…and when you dropped him with that kick to the face, and both he and your pants hit the ground at the same time!" Kim sputtered through her giggle fit, tears literally falling down her face as she held her now aching stomach as she rode out this latest set of spastic abdominal contractions.

"…but still, KP, you didn't have to laugh so hard. It happens at least every few missions, so how could it inspire such a powerful reaction even now? You'd think you would have grown used to it by this point."

Ron tried to form his patented 'serious face,' but seeing the incredible amount of mirth provided by his most recent wardrobe malfunction completely stole the wind from his sails and thus, his own mouth split into a wide grin as well. Seeing Kim happy could pull him out of any sour mood nigh instantaneously…but of course, she could not know that.

Not even the most prominent hopes of love were worth risking the middle tier of his little hierarchy of needs. Ron may have gotten a lot of guff in school for not doing homework and for generally lazing about and procrastinating in his work, but he was by no means stupid. And he very well understood Maslow's pyramid, where the basic needs formed the supportive and how relationships fell into place.

Nothing could ruin a friendship like a botched confession, or worse yet, complete rejection…and nothing was worth the risk of losing both his and Kim's friendship. It was quite literally his entire world. Sure, his parents were great and they did love him, but they were so busy all the time…they never really felt like his parents so much as a wonderful aunt and uncle who had raised him and who hung out with him in their spare time. And Rufus...he was a wonderful pet...no, friend.

But Kim…

"And what were they again, Ron? Blue with bananas?"

He gave her a sheepish grin and then answered, "Yeah, they say 'happy to see you' on them. They were a novelty item at Smarty Mart, so I just had to have 'em…"

Kim stared at him for second before yet another fit of laughter rendered her completely helpless.

Ron's mind fell back to this morning and he felt his heart ramp up as he recalled Kim's knocking him off the bed in her enthusiasm to greet his still living form. Sure, that may count for something, but that proved nothing concrete other than her relief at not being responsible for, directly or indirectly, the passing of a dear friend.

I'm sure she would've have reacted the same if Monique had been in some sort of accident.

Yeah, and what about that dream she was having?

Yeah, she was telling me to stop something. I mean, who knows what that was all about.

Or, was it 'don't stop?' I mean, it could have been, right? Why not?

Because you're Ron Stoppable, that's why…not Josh Mankey and not Brick Flag. Heck, you're not even Richard Simmons on the coolness scale…

…okay, maybe it's not that bad, but still, the point has been made.

"Ahhh," Kim sighed, her laughter finally leaving her in a state of control, "let's get back to the school Banana-Boy. You've still got another makeup exam with Barkin."

"You know KP, I just don't understand how Barkin can teach all of our classes. I mean, I think I've only met about four, maybe five other adults at Middleton High in the last, uh, two and a half years. Where are all the other teachers?"

Kim stopped at Ron's comment, lost in the realization that Ron had a point. With the exception of her Advanced Calculus teacher and a select few others, Barkin was really the only authority figure she could recall seeing off the top of her head.

"Hey Ron, you have a poi-"

Her response was cut short as the Kimmunicator chirped loudly, saving the conversation for another time. Slightly put off, she nonetheless pulled the device from her cargo pocket and put on her "mission face" as she answered the call.

"What's the sitch Wade?"

"Kim, big problem here," Wade shouted over the transmission, his fingers flying across the keyboard as his crinkled brow beaded with sweat. Kim had never seen him so bent out of shape before and it made her more than a little nervous. Ron, who had stepped behind Kim to see Wade as well, also felt uneasy at the young prodigy's panicked state.

"Wade," Kim started, her voice both an example of calm and authority, "just tell us what's going on. What's the big?"

"Kim, it's Middleton High. Some psycho dropped in and is holding the students hostage in the gymnasium at gunpoint."

Kim managed to keep her surprise from flickering across her face, but the shadow of worry and confusion settled onto Ron's face almost immediately. Why would anyone take their high school hostage? If it was not an anonymous bomb threat or a kid on a spree of revenge, then what possible reason would there be to…unless…they were after…

"Wade," Ron yelled over Kim's shoulder, grabbing the Kimmunicator with one hand to turn it towards himself, "are they asking for us? Is it one of our enemies targeting us directly at our school?"

Kim's eyes widened as she realized that she had never really thought about that option before…the possibility that a super villain might actually target her school just to get rid of her…and Ron.

"Actually Ron," Wade began, his eyes trained directly on Ron's, "he's asking for you. Just you."

Sorry it took a while for the update everybody, I've had a lot of catching up to do lately. I won't bore you with the details (unless you really want me to), but hopefully my next update will be out in the next couple of weeks (and remain this length as well without sacrificing the...uh..."quality" of my writing?)

Again, please read and review. It helps me grow as a writer to learn what is good and bad about my writing (and of course, what tanks immeasurably). Again, huge thank to Mike, my beta. High fives to you and yours buddy!