So it's a little late for post-StD fics. But the plot bunny kept attacking!
Anyway, I do own Kim Possible. And I'm sure Disney's lawyers don't know where I live.
"I'm going to kill you." It wasn't the first time those words had echoed through the police station, rallying irritated sighs and a few flirtatious winks from a tattooed mansion burglar. Yeah, like Shego was going to give him the time of the day. Or night. Whatever time it now was. Her position on the bench was not the best one to see the clock from. And no way was she asking Tattoo Boy. Or the lazy cop spending eternity on paperwork and yelling at the receptionist. Oy, but police stations weren't what they used to be. The good old days when they would instantly slam her behind bars and leave her to her own sweet time of escaping. But no! She had to sit here with all the local rifraff while Officer Donut-Belly tried to figure out how to process an arrestee. She seriously doubted he could tell time, anyway.
And there was even less of a chance of her asking Dr. Drakken. The moron sitting next to her. Yeah, he probably had a watch. All she was giving him were the death threats.
"So... what am I supposed to do if we're out of cell space?" the cop asking, reaching for another donut from the receptionist.
This wasn't happening to her. She took a deep breath, another attempt to calm the frazzled nerves of near-eloctrocution. "Dr. D, I am seriously going to kill you."
The cop swiped two donuts. "Hey, blue dude, hungry?"
No. He was so not offering Drakken a donut.
Drakken's eyes lit up. "Ooh... pink frosting with sprinkles..." He happily took it between his teeth. Apparently the cop wasn't dumb enough to do the service of removing the cuffs.
Shego's hands twisted at the handcuffs. "I almost trusted you. I almost thought you had an almost-brilliant idea. I almost thought you almost defeated Kim Possible."
Drakken mumbled something between donut crumbs and frosting.
"I can't hear you," she hissed. "How about I just shove the entire thing down your throat?"
He swallowed and licked the last of the sprinkles from his lips. Though she sensed that, with the noticeable lack of chewing, there was still a healthy chance he could still choke. "She wasn't supposed to do all that, Shego. It isn't my fault. Mm, that was a good donut."
"Forget the stupid pastry. I'm still going to kill you." Tattoo-Boy was smiling at her again. Some lame Chinese Dragon stretched across muscles that had long ago turned to fat. Ick. "Wait. What do you mean 'she'?"
Probably not the smartest thing to bring up with Drakken freshly arrested. "I didn't think she would do that. She was supposed to help us." His face twisted into rage. It would have almost been scary--if it hadn't been Drakken and there hadn't been pink frosting on his chin. "And that programming was supposed to be so right..."
This was news. Again he was keeping things from her. "And would you care to explain?"
"No," he said with the impertinence of a preschooler. "You'll just get mad."
"I'm already mad."
"Hey, Mr. Officer Man!" Tattoo-Boy suddenly shouted. "Give big-haired green girl a blueberry donut. And put it on my tab."
Every cop in the room stared. Then, to her horror, the cop at the desk went fishing through the donut plate.
Again, Tattoo-Boy winked.
Several others were added to her mentallist of people to kill.
When dramatically flinging open a door, it was best to make sure that said door was fully flung open and out of movement before entering a room. But Ron didn't care. His nose wasn't bleeding that badly. Bedroom door safely closed behind him, he threw out his arms and gave a jubilant "Boo yah!" to anyone who would hear. His parents downstairs. But they were already sick of the story of the night.
Oh well. Rufus was happy. Rufus would still listen. Rufus had helped anyway. The naked mole rat hopped from Ron's pocket to the dresser, squeaking excitedly.
Ron felt like doing the same. If he had the ability to speak naked mole rat, of course. But yes, the night had been good. The night he had been dreading, that had been full of Bueno Nacho horror, maybe just a little jealousy and, of course, getting knocked unconscious, had turned out so well.
The Prom. His first Prom--that he had actually wound up attending. And, like a dream, it had been with Kim. What were the chances? The cheer of the student body and the janitor--why had he been there anyway? And, of course, that kiss with Kim. So much better than the one in front of her locker with the moodulator and everything. A real kiss, one they both participated in. One that lasted for eternity until they both realized they needed water and lip balm. Not nearly as long as the last kiss of the evening. Dropping Kim off at her doorstep and getting a goodnight kiss--that had lasted approximately ten glorious seconds and had ended with her dad storming out of the door with some fancy rocket science ray gun of some sort and her mom happily snapping photos.
But it had been good. Yes, it had been good.
He changed out of his dad's old tux and flung it to the floor. A dream. That was how to describe the night. A wonderful dream that like a miracle was true. But it still felt unreal, somehow. Well, with his social luck, that was to be expected. Now, which drawer did he keep his pajamas in?
After several minutes of flinging things out of dressers, he fell back in his bed, knowing full well he wasn't going to sleep that night. Not after all of that.
Did Kim feel the same way?
What was she doing now, anyway?
Kim really needed to develop some better skills with the various types of laser bindings. Four hours. Four long hours and she still hadn't made a dent in the process of freeing herself. And the complete lack of light wasn't much help, either. She took another deep breath and twisted once more. Just the deep pressure of the bounds that were refusing to give way.
This wasn't fair. She finally collapsed back onto the cement floor, panting. She must look a mess. The floor wasn't clean, whatever building she was in wasn't clean, she was sweating in Wade's stupid super suit, and her hair was so lacking the volume she had moosed into it prior to the Prom.
The Prom. Now that really wasn't fair! It was her prom! She was supposed to go! And longer than the twenty minutes she had gotten! Every other girl on the planet tonight had gone to the Prom, all pretty and dressed up like princesses, with cute dates.
And she had somehow been captured by Drakken.
She had barely gotten to wear her dress. The dress that Erik had liked.
Erik. She struggled once more, summoning every escape artist trick she knew. That... that jerk! The first guy she ever seriously liked had to turn out to be... a jerk. A robot, excuse her, 'synthodrone' created by Dr. Drakken. Though she had to give the villain credit for making one so cute and charming and--
Ugh. What was her problem tonight? Erik was not cute! Erik was an evil synthodrone that hadn't even taken her to the Prom in a limo. And he hadn't been all that impressive, anyway.
And yet it was still there. The last image before all this darkness... trapped in Erik's arms after a supposedly comforting hug... the look on his face as he sent all that electricity through her... She hadn't felt actual heartbreak there, had she?
And she had to wake up to this, then.
She should have just gone to the Prom with Ron. Like everyone, even Bonnie and Monique, had been hinting. Ron was her best friend. He would have made an okay date after a few quick etiquette lessons. She liked Ron.
But what kind of friend was she for dragging him into this mess?
If only there was some sort of light... She hadn't heard him at all. No doubt he had been captured as well. If he hadn't, well, wouldn't he have rescued her by now? So hard to admit that he sometimes was the one who did the hero work. But he could... and he wouldn't have left him behind?
Though with all the Erik issues... No, Ron wasn't that way. He was no Erik.
That jerk!
Yikes. This was pathetic. Thinking about guys when she still had to somehow escape this... wherever she was.