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The Stubborn Beast Flesh

Author: The Humbug

Disclaimer: “Kim Possible” and all characters within © The Walt Disney Company and its related entities. Kim Possible created by Mark McCorkle & Bob Schooley. All rights reserved. No profit is being collected from the fiction contained within. You can blame the rest of this on me.
Rating: PG-13 for combat violence and intimations of a physical relationship and intimate contact between consenting adult females. This should also cover a little harsh language now and then. If this will offend you, please read something else, and then seek professional help.
Summary: This is a Kim/Shego pairing fan fiction; there is love and romance between Kim & Shego, as well as plenty of action and adventure, and hopefully some humor and horror. Set in my ‘Who’s Writing This Crap’ Kigo-verse, this is a tale of what happens when something goes horribly wrong. Kasy Ann and Sheki Go Possible are the sole creations of NoDrogs (it is with great respect that I make mention of them). Special Note: Yes, I am still using the wrong first name of ‘John’ for Dr. Mr. P.

Chapter X.a / Convergence – part 1

“Ready for test-six… test-six ready to commence.”

“Affirmative to commence test-six. Clear the floor!”

John Possible was a simple man; he had been taught at an early age that to get ahead and be prosperous in life you must first learn to work hard. He was raised in a stable family environment and, because his own father claimed to be a prosperous man, John had always wanted for himself the sort of family that he’d grown up in. Becoming a good student and excelling in his classes, a natural aptitude for math and science dictated the path that he would follow in life.

“The test subject will please take his position.” A single figure, suited in protective armor like a 21st Century knight, walked to the center of the immense test chamber, the largest testing chamber of this Global Justice facility or any other. A final warning bell sounded and the lone figure stood waiting; the name ‘DU’ was stenciled on his suit.

John had met a girl in college, a wonderful girl, a girl that he’d fallen deeply in love with at first sight and quickly learned that she felt the same about him. They wanted a family and a home together, and after they had graduated they had built a world for themselves as man and wife. Careers were established and children followed, not without stress or tribulation to be certain, but their family was a good one and he could ask for nothing better.

“Hey, Johnny! The boys and me are clear! Seriously! You can fire it up any time!”

Off to the side and well out of the testing area, another man looked up to the control booth and signaled the project supervisor with a wave of his arms. He was a large man with a shaggy mullet and both he and his team of engineers knew that, with five failures under their belts, they were running out of precious time.

Up in the control room and gazing down upon his project partner and the test subject, John Possible wondered how he might trade in his perfect life to save that of his baby girl. For the man who believed that ‘anything is possible for a Possible’, John sighed and admitted that it just wasn’t that easy. He reached for the microphone on the console before him.

“Test-six commencing… now.” He reached out and flipped a switch that set events in motion.

Flashes of light brought illumination to regions of the immense chamber; parts of the room were so vast that even a hover sled could move freely in three dimensions and not risk hitting anything. Every white-suited tech looked off into the distance where the distinctive whine of a hover sled could be heard, almost as if it were awakening in some forgotten corner because of the bright light.

One of the machines, a newly constructed sled that was based on the upgraded design of Dr. Drakken’s older models, sped towards the center of the chamber and the waiting test subject. Identical to the basic model in most respects, the electrodynamic suspension system was far stronger to the original and they’d already tested that successfully. The force field from one sled could restrain a bull elephant if necessary.

The other modification was about to become apparent.

As the sled reached the suited man, a pair of metallic arms extruded from the undercarriage and flexed down to him. Constructed of interlocking coils that were thicker than a telephone pole and terminating in clawed pincers, the arms clicked and twanged from friction as they grappled with the armored figure and lifted him bodily from the spotless floor. These arms had also been thoroughly tested and found to be satisfactory; the true purpose of this sixth test was waiting just a few yards away.

Another switch was through and yet more electronic life blossomed.

In a corner of the chamber stood a massive flower; at least, it looked like a flower that might have evolved in a world where life grew from metal and plastic. The ‘stalk’ was a pylon of titanium that housed within it a power plant capable of generating raw energy in quantities that frightened the ‘GJ’ engineers. Atop the pylon were several ‘petals’ of advanced thermo-polymers and focusing plates made from the smoothest blend of neodymium, iron and boron that ‘GJ’ could obtain in so short a time. These ‘petals’ flared outwards from the top of the pylon and created an open cup that was large enough to hold an object many times that of a man.

This latest test was to see if it could hold a single teenaged girl.

“Ok, drop him.” The soft and measured tones of Dr. Mr. Possible could be heard throughout the chamber.

The pilot of the hover sled acknowledged the order with a wave of a gloved hand and manipulated the mechanical arms using the hover sleds keypad; they lazily held the suited figure up over the bloom and dropped Special Agent Will Du inside. Armored for his own protection, Will felt his stomach flutter as he dropped down into the containment unit, the focusing plates creating an inverted Halbach array that would duplicate the suspension field of Drakken’s hover sleds, but this time for a different purpose.

Will never struck the bottom of the metal ‘bloom’; he slowed and bounced as if he had landed on something soft and resilient, though the area within the focusing plates was empty. Dr. Mr. John Possible watched all of this as carefully as he had during the previous five failures and again reached for his microphone.

“Ok, Agent Du, try to escape.”

Will kicked and punched at the plates but he could not make contact, the array always keeping him positioned at the center. He was tethered to nothing, attached to nothing and every piece of the suspension array was well out of his reach. Every time he moved, the focusing plates repelled his body and the rest compensated; he was trapped floating by an invisible force that prevented him from coming into contact with anything. There was nothing that he could reach either for leverage or to damage the device, and the more he struggled the more the machine repositioned him in helpless suspension.

John watched as the Special Agent struggled wildly against thin air and his tired features relaxed. The damn thing finally worked.

“WHOOOO, YEAH! SERIOUSLY!” Down on the testing floor, his partner celebrated with a little air guitar. “aaaYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The rest of the white-suited techs knew that was the signal for celebration; the current crisis was far from over, but they were so much closer to their goal for the success they’d achieved here tonight. To a man, they whooped and applauded themselves and the two geniuses that had made the magic happen.

For the past several hours, the rocket scientist, the renegade mechanic and a staff of ‘GJ’ technicians had been attempting to perfect the calibrations of the focusing plates. The machine itself had been ‘simple’ enough to build, but the calibrations had to be exact. In each of the five previous tests the plates had been ever so slightly misaligned, causing them to work against each other. Will Du had almost broken his arms when, during test two, the plates had forced his body to rebound within the metallic bloom as if he were within a pinball machine. After that it was decided that the armor was a necessity. If the plates could not be aligned, the device would be useless as a containment unit.

John allowed himself a grin of victory and reached for the microphone again.

“Go ahead and take him out” This was directed at the pilot of the hover sled. “Eddie, please have the techs power down the containment unit. We can go over the telemetry in a few minutes.” The rocket scientist ran his hands through his graying hair. “I need a little time to talk with my wife, Ok?”

“S’Ok, Johnny! You go wrangle Big Red; the boys an’ me’ll handle everything down here ‘til you get back!” Motor Ed gave a salute towards the observation booth high on the wall.

John returned the salute with gratitude and left the observation deck without another word. When he closed the door behind him, John Possible stood alone in a stark white corridor. Observing the directional arrows and guide signs stenciled on the opposite wall, he walked quickly in the direction of the medical wing.

Back on the testing floor, the metallic arms of the hover sled had just lifted Agent Du out of the containment unit and gently set him down amid the eager techs. The pilot of the hover sled manipulate the tentacle arms as if it were second nature and they quickly began to retract beneath the hull of the flying machine. Will was given only a cursory examination before the techs returned to their task of deactivating the power unit and rendering the bloom’ dormant; the settings would be carefully recorded so that the machine could be reactivated with only a few minutes notice, which was probably all the warning they would get.

Du removed his helmet and moved out of the way to stand beside Edward Lipsky, more to clear landing space for the hover sled than out of a feeling of solidarity for this criminal. He was disgusted that Global Justice saw the need to join forces with the likes of Motor Ed, not to mention his more dangerous cousin Drakken, but would never dare to voice that opinion… a second time… to his superior. His ears still rang from the first time.

With its arms fully retracted and the suspension field deactivated, the hover sled settled on a convenient landing cradle, the high-pitched signature whine of the motor slowing and eventually fading away completely. Only then did Dr. Betty Director climb out of the pilot’s harness and remove her own helmet, running her gloved hand through her auburn hair and brushing it away from her face.

“Special Agent Du, please see to the complete lock-down and security of this testing bay as soon as the techs are finished with their work.” She wadded her gloves into the helmet and lobbed the thing in Du’s direction.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Du was quick to follow his orders as Dr. Director walked to the door, grabbing a clipboard from a nearby workstation and using a stylus to tick off the various results of this sixth, and apparently completely successful, test.

The battle-hardened woman sensed a presence in the hallway behind her and spun around, bringing up the clipboard as an ersatz buckler and brandishing the sharp stylus in her hand. She saw scruffy work trousers, a short-sleeved flannel button-down shirt and a large man wearing them.

“Whoa! Babe! Seriously! You know that the ones with the orange handles are decaf, right?” Motor Ed kept his distance but hadn’t moved to defend himself. He was several feet behind her and had apparently followed her out into the hall; she had been too wrapped up in her report to hear him.

“Then you had best be warned, Mr. Lipsky… the handles of the carafes holding decaffeinated coffee here at Global Justice are green.” Betty relaxed and lowered her ‘weapon’.

“Oh, ok. Seriously…” He shrugged and looked down at his feet. She sighed and turned back in the direction she’d been heading, but a double echo to her footsteps made her turn to face him again; he was still following her.

“Mr. Lipsky, what…”

“Hey, now first of all, the last person that ever called me ‘Mr. Lipsky’, seriously, was my eighth-grade school teacher.” Grinning and moving closer, he held out his hand to her. “Call me Motor Ed, or Motorman, or Eddie. Seriously.”

“Edward… what do you want?”

“Well, with the test being over, and all… seriously…and being a howling success, I, um… thought that we… might…”

“That we might what?”

“That we might, well, talk for a minute.” His mustache lifted at the ends in what looked like a hopeful smile. She appraised him with bemusement.

“Seriously?”

Something changed in his expression, going from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ in the blink of an eye and he took a deep breath before making a half turn towards the opposite direction of the corridor.

“Hey, babe, the Motorman is the butt of no one’s joke. Seri… I got work to do.”

Confused, she watched him turn on his heel and walk away before she realized what she had said. Dr. Betty Director actually took one single step away from her original destination.

“Mr. Lipsky, wait.”

“Babe, if you don’t want me around, I’m happy to oblige!” He didn’t slow down as he called back to her over his broad shoulder. “Motor Ed can take the hint … seriously!”

“Mr. Lipsky… Edward… wait a moment.” She forced the word out. “Please”.

The large man huffed and glared back at her silently.

“I assure you that I was not mocking you. I was reasonably doubtful of your veracity due to your history with Global Justice and, well, can you blame me, sir?” She watched as he stood there, arms crossed and obviously torn in his assessment of the situation. Why in the world would he want to associate with her?

“No, guess not.” He turned all the way back around. “So?”

“So… what?”

“Can we shoot the breeze for a bit?” He ambled back to her. “Seriously?”

“Certainly.” Why should they not? “My office is just down this corridor and up two levels; you my accompany me if you wish.” His grin returned and became wider with each word she spoke. “I do have a report to complete, as you have surmised.”

“Great! Seriously!” He kept an even pace with her, staying just a half step behind so that she would not see him smooth back his mullet.

“I do realize, by the way, that I have yet to thank you personally for the time and effort which you have invested in this project.” She busied herself with the report on the clipboard, ether looking down at it or straight ahead.

“Hey, babe, time I got plenty of when I’m not being tracked down by you guys, and effort ain’t effort when you love what you do!” This sentiment was punctuated with a prodigious cracking of knuckles. “And ‘sides… you guys got some really great toys!”

“We certainly should, considering how many components and parts that your cousin had me requisition from the Quartermaster… but, still, considering what you have accomplished in so little time…” They continued to move down the hallway.

“Hey, Johnny and I make a smok’n team, seriously. An’ no matter what’cha say ‘bout Drew, he’s a whiz at dreaming up stuff like that. Why, just last year…”

“Mr. Lipsky… Edward.” She stopped and turned to him, looking right at him with a single gaze that, though a matter of a hard lesson taught, had to perform double duty. It was enough to mesmerize Motor Ed.

“To point out that the world wants to see Kimberly Possible hale and hearty again would not only be cliché but also inaccurate; so far Global Justice has done a miraculous job of keeping the world ignorant of what has occurred to her. And it would be appropriate to say that to not make our best efforts to cure her of this nightmarish affliction would be a sin.” Betty recalled a discussion with Kim just a few days prior, the two of them standing in a corridor exactly like this one, with Betty thinking of Kim as a surrogate daughter in a life void of familial love.

“For most people, to know her is to love her.”

“Hey, I… I said that I’d a never wanted nothing like this…”

“I know, Edward. You have proven yourself to her family and me through your willingness to work with us so diligently. You have given us hope.”

The huge man blushed.

“Don’t write off Johnny! He’s a sharp cookie. Seriously! Man, the jobs I could pull with him on my crew…” He could feel her monocular stare. “Kidding! Seriously!”

Betty rolled her eye away from him, feeling the need to lighten the moment.

“So, Edward, what do you think of our little test facility?”

“S’ amazing! Seriously! Never seen anything like it; you could really whip up a fine, sweet ride with all the stuff you got here.”

By the time they had reached the elevators, he had given a suitable description of what would constitute his ‘dream ride’. It was quite impressive that one man could give so much thought into the development of the perfect vehicle, even if he did prefer eight-track to compact disc. To hear the man speak, grammar aside, she was shocked at how intelligent he was in all aspects of the engineering field. She was reminded of the credentials he’d presented the other day when Teams Lipsky had been introduced to the rest of the teams.

“Edward, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Shoot, babe.”

Did he just call her ‘babe’ again?

“I was wondering… why, with all of the education you’ve received, did you turn to a life of crime?”

“Hell, babe, I never wanted a life of crime. Seriously.” He smiled as if at some private joke. “All I wanted was a chance to design something faster and more powerful than anyone else ever had before.” He shrugged. “And personal freedom.”

“Freedom?”

“Yeah! See, the Motorman hit the ground running with a head full of dreams. I knew what I wanted, seriously, and was lucky enough to have a few marbles rolling around upstairs. Folks told me that my skills would bring me money and fame, but only if I stopping building my dreams and started building theirs. That’s what first made me take off on my own. Seriously.” He smiled and shook his head. “As for fame, geez, you can’t bank that. It’s dough that still makes the world go ‘round.”

“And that is why you began to take parts and components that did not belong to you?”

“Hey, I ain’t blaming nobody but me for all the eight and a half by elevens of my kisser plastered on the walls of every local post office. Seriously! I took the risks and paid the price… when you were fast enough to catch me.” He held out his open hand. “No hard feelings, right? Pax?”

Dr. Director shocked herself by actually taking it, and without conscious thought, either. His hand was enormous and totally engulfed hers. She imagined that she could actually feel the empathy of the man through his hands, which was likely what made him such a great mechanical genius, even if misguided.

“Agreed. Pax. But… it was rarely Global Justice.” She quickened her pace to the elevator and her back drew up tight and rigid. Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion before he understood her reaction; he charged through the closing doors before the elevator started to rise.

“No, um, I guess it wasn’t. Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about ‘Little Red’ for a second, seriously.” The large man was subdued. “Listen, I know that I said this the other day, but… uh, seriously, I’m really sorry to hear about Little Red. Seriously. I know that Drew has, like, a total mad-on for her but I’m not like him.”

“I admit that I was not sure what to expect from another member of the Lipsky family, but I do believe you, Edward.” Betty still felt sick at the prognosis for young Kimberly and could not raise her head. “I meant what I said a minute ago; you and Dr. Possible have achieved great things in the engineering labs these past few days.”

“Yeah, thanks. That Johnny’s a king-sized square but he’d make a first class grease monkey!”

Betty was surprised to discover that she didn’t mind having the man around. When had been the last time that she had talked with a male who was neither a superior nor a subordinate? She could not recall. Thoughts unbidden of further conversations appeared in her mind and vanished just as quickly. What was she thinking? After the final outcome of this project, be it for better or worse, the tenuous partnership between Global Justice and its guest criminal element would cease; she would likely never see Edward Lipsky again outside of a courtroom.

“So the tests are an unqualified success, then?” Maybe she could just hang around with the man for a while today.

“Well, sh’yaw! Seriously! Johnny and I and the white jump-suited dudes got the unit powered and rigged to fire up with less than ten minutes notice. The focusing plates will keep whatever’s in them as snug as a bug in a rug!” The man suddenly leapt forward and turned around to face her.

“aaa-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Dr. Betty Director dropped her clipboard and drew her sidearm when Motor Ed thrust out his right arm and began to whirl his left around and around, also dropping to one knee and arching his back. He seemed to be having a fit and the unearthly howl scared the willies out of her.

“What in the bloody HELL was that?” She calculated how fast she could bring assistance here if she needed it. Eddie stopped howling and gaped around before staring right at her, and looking severely puzzled.

“Babe! I did believe that a little celebratory air guitar was in order! Seriously!”

“...air guitar…?”

Eddie straightened up, appraising her stance and nodding in satisfaction.

“I dig a babe that can scrap! Seriously!” He eyed her weapon. “Whoa! Kicking roscoe! Sonic stunner? Cool…”

“Edward, I’ll ask that you never give rise to an unbridled ‘air guitar’ in my presence again without fair warning in advance.” She shook her head and looked around. “My office is just there.” He moved aside as she opened the door with her access code. The office was tiny and Spartan; Dr. Director preferred to eschew all personal attachments when working and there was little room for more than a desk, two chairs, a computer terminal, a cold cup of ‘GJ’ coffee and one thoroughly dead houseplant.

“Uh… nice digs.” Eddie made a crowd in the cramped space. Professional courtesy urged Betty to clear a chair for him but every other surface was piled with reports and facsimiles and files. Every square inch of desk space was littered with flotsam of a similar order. “You spend your whole day in here?”

“Hardly my whole day, no.” She admitted to herself that it certainly felt like it most of the time. “Forgive me for the lack of personal space; I don’t entertain much.”

He nodded and looked embarrassed, one large hand moving up to the door handle.

“Hey, I know that you’re busy, seriously. You probably got to finish and sign off on that progress report.” He pointed to the clipboard that she had brought with her and had almost forgotten. Betty looked around and sighed; she did have so much bloody work that she was responsible for. Good Lord, she forced herself to admit, I am so tired.

“Please, do have a seat.” She reallocated a stack of files from a chair to a corner of the floor. “May I make another personal inquiry of you?”

“Shoot, Secret Agent Babe!” Eddie found the plain-deal chair not to his liking and it was all that he could do to avoid setting his work boots up on her desk. Betty watched him shift and squirm in a desperate attempt to get comfortable. She was about to make him even more uncomfortable.

“Which begs the question… why do you insist on referring to me as ‘babe’? I am more than pleased to entertain a friendly conversation, but if you are attempting to provoke me it will not work.” She wanted to keep her tone light so as not to give the man the satisfaction of goading her but, truth be told, the teasing was starting to wear thin.

“Wha‘cha mean?” His expression was blank.

“The ‘babe’ appellation.”

“Well…” He looked a little embarrassed. “You kind’a are. Seriously.”

“Oh” Dr. Director felt a chill of anger when she first thought that he was teasing her, then a flush of apprehension when she realized that he was not. “Well.”

“It’s more of a ‘Ladies of SH.I.E.L.D’ photo spread thing than a ‘Snap-On Tools’ calendar thing.”

“Ok, Mr. Lipsky, I get the point!” She was thunderstruck by this revelation so the topic of conversation had to change… now! “To return to my initial question, sir.”

“Sure! What’s on your mind?” He still looked embarrassed.

“What might you be doing with yourself should you decide to eschew a live of criminal activities?”

“If I go legit? Whoa, let’s not talk crazy, here!” He held his hands out as if in defense. “The Motorman don’t work no nine to five job!”

“Seriously… oh, stop that.” She reached for the cold cup of coffee and scowled at him a little when he pretended to rankle at her use of the word. “What I mean is, if you could do anything else with your life, what would it be?” She sniffed at the coffee and poured in onto the dead houseplant, all under his observant eyes.

“That answers that question…” He rubbed his hands and ruminated. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I dunno… teach, maybe.”

“Really?” She leaned back in her own chair, pondering his answer.

“Hey, have you eaten yet?”

“Hm?” She looked up to see him watching her; she had apparently been woolgathering longer than she’d realized.

“When’s the last time you’d eaten? Seriously?”

“Oh, well… I believe that I was just nibbling on something before we initiated today’s series of tests.”

“Babe, that was, what… nine, ten hours ago!”

“Nonsense! All Global Justice agents are disciplined in maintaining the recommended caloric intake. There should be some of it left around here… somewhere.” Of this she was confident. The Chief Executive of Global Justice routed around her desk, lifting papers until she found her quarry.

“You see? Food. Right here.” She held the tray out for his inspection.

“Lemon squares?” He looked closer at the recognizable pattern in the tray and how dried-out the remaining confections were. “Babe! No way! Seriously! These are, like, leftovers from the confab we had, like two days ago! Seriously!”

“They aren’t so bad!” Why was she feeling that she had to defend herself before this man, a villain of all people? “Why, just a few bites this morning and they’ve kept me going all day long without the slightest pang of hunger!”  There was a rumbling and they both glanced down at the source. For once in her life Dr. Betty Director wished for a second eye patch to hide from the rest of the world.

“Right… You should really eat something, seriously. I don’t believe that a fine woman like you would ever touch that junk, especially anything whipped up by that DNAmy chick!” He whirled his finger around the side of his head. “She’s nuts and they probably ain’t safe! Seriously!”

The man was absolutely correct; she had to admit that. With more than a little regret, Betty knocked the crumbs down into the waste paper basket beside her desk and laid the empty tray in her outgoing dispatch bin.

“Do you know how many times these were run through our toxin and contaminant sensors before they would give me the tray? Fourteen times, though the security team still missed the most dangerous factor.”

“Huh? Uh, what’s that?”

“They will still make me fat.”

Displaying an unusual level of tact, Eddie said nothing but did allow his eyes to wander down the trim figure of the uniformed woman sitting at her desk. He was not blind to just how clean a line she cut in that uniform either.

“So, uh, I guess that you’re not hungry then, right?”

“Why do you ask, sir?” She listened to the huge man stammer and kick his heels underneath his chair for a few seconds before answering, running his strong hands back along his styled hair. “What is it that makes you so interested in my staying nourished?”

“I kind of thought that you might, you know, want to come up to the commissary for a hamburger…  with me…seriously.”

She leaned back in surprise; was he asking her to join him in a social context? She evaluated the loads of paperwork that she was still responsible to complete.

“And where is Dr. Possible right now?”

“Johnny? He’s gone to look for Big Red… you know, Annie? Seriously.” Eddie thought about the little girl that he used to think of as a foe and realized just how stupid that had been, once upon a time. “He needs a break as much as anyone; they both do. Seriously. So. Uh, how about that burger?” He scuffed his feet like an overgrown schoolboy, caught truant and forced to appear before the headmaster.

What good will it do for me to remain in this office for one single hour and work on these reports? Will it create a miracle through paperwork?

“Actually, I’m a chili girl, myself.”

“…oh…”

“But I could use a strong cup of java, and some idle banter to distract me for a time.” For all of the stress that had filled her recent days, Betty Director would risk the chance to shrug off her mantle of authority, if only for a while. “And maybe even a bite to eat.”

“Oh… oh! Ok! Seriously! Hey, yeah, thanks, seriously!” He even held the door open for her.

88888888

Ron Stoppable could barely contain himself as he waited for his tiny cohort to return to the loading bay door. The lanky young man would not move from that spot until Rufus reappeared. Ron had reviewed the plan with Bonnie during the entire ride out here and even now she was in her assigned location, waiting for him to act.

The wind was growing stronger and he was glad for it; the fast-moving air should disperse his scent and the noise should mask any sounds that he might make. This Havok-enhanced Kim seemed to have the senses of an animal, a predator of the first rank and he couldn’t afford to have her detect his presence before he even got close enough.

All he had to do was get in, locate the children and get them to Bonnie. From that point on he had only two other tasks to perform; one would be to assist Shego, the other would be to send a message to Global Justice that Kim had been located. He dared not do that until the girls were safe, lest Kim lose all control and do something unexpected. Ron smirked, finding no humor in the irony. Kim’s whole life had slipped into the world of the unexpected days ago.

He felt an urgent tugging at the hem of his black mission jersey and looked down; Rufus had returned through the open bay door and was pointing into the darkness.

“m’redi!”

“I hear you, buddy. It’s show time.”

Ron took a deep breath and did his best to clear his mind; he could almost hear Shego snicker at the idea. Reaching into his mission satchel and then setting the pouch aside, he removed a long thin cloth, much like a sash, which he wound around his waist several times before tucking the end into his belt. Tonight he must be faster and stronger than he had ever been.

Rufus waited until his friend and master was away and then he left the building entirely, moving off to join Bonnie and wait with her as ordered.

Sticking to the shadows, Ron slipped through the door and began to work his way through a series of pipes and conduits; the machinery used for processing and moving the fuel oil has badly caked with grime and residue. The vast room was dark except for the open loading door behind him and the meager light that shone from distant street lamps.

“Mongrels…” The voice from the darkness made him pause.

“No, Kimmie, they’re our babies, yours and mine!” The voices of the women close enough to clearly discern. He gauged their distance and altered his course to weave a new pattern; his direction was the same but he must be sure to keep the pipes and machinery between the women and himself.

“Hybrids…”

“Baby, no!”

Ron let the voices flow around him, not quite sinking into his consciousness. He had no time to be distracted as he drew closer to the wall that separated the tiny cluster of offices from the rest of the fuel depot. It was disturbing that the voice that he should have recognized as being Kim’s was off, was wrong somehow. It was not the KP he had known since pre-kindergarten.

“Kimmie, please come over here and explain it to me.”

That voice as Shego’s, and even if he wasn’t fully listening his psyche accepted it as being normal. Ron scaled the negligible height of the ten-foot wall and carefully crawled across the filthy roof of the internal office. The building within a building was prefabricated but sturdy enough to bear his weight without making any unwanted noise.

“No, baby, it’s not your fault! I don’t blame you! You were damaged, your genetics are weak!”

“Excuse me?”

The paneled office roof was slanted, making the front wall of the interior building just a few inches higher than the rear wall. This worked to his advantage, keeping him up out of sight and well hidden in shadow. The flaming barrel also gave Ron an excellent point of reference in locating the exact position of the door, as the barrel was just a few feet in front of it.

“The comet! Your genetics were altered! It’s not your fault because my perfect body and functioning uterus should have compensated for your flaws!”

With Kim’s back towards him and Shego’s full attention on Kim, now was the time to move. As agile as any arboreal primate, Ron slid over the edge of the office roof and dropped towards the floor between the open doorway and the barrel. His feet never touched the concrete, however, as he reached out and gripped the doorjamb with one hand and swung into the office, stopping his downward motion and pulling his body to the side and immediately out of sight within the office.

“So it’s not your fault! We can try again, you and I. We can have Drakken recreate the method again and this time it will be right!”

Moving towards the desk, Ron made a quick inspection of the infants and saw that they appeared whole and intact and healthy. Having been around Ron Stoppable many times before, the tiny girls burbled and smiled at him, kicking their chubby legs in anticipation of playtime.

“Sssshhhh…” It hurt Ron to ignore the little girls and not give them the attention that they wanted, but he was there for their safety and play could come later. He did pause to give them each a tender kiss from their Uncle Ron. Unwrapping the sash from his waist, Ron lifted Sheki and wrapped the broad thin cloth around her body, then repeating the same maneuver with Kasy. They were bound tight, probably too tight for comfort but he could not risk dropping either of them or have them making any noise. With both girls swaddled together in this fashion, Ron looped the sash across his shoulder and prepared to exit the office.

“But we can’t let ourselves be held back by these two ill-formed, impure little abominations! Surely, you understand?” Kim was smiling as she turned towards the office and Ron was standing right there in the doorway.

“Ron?”

There was nothing that he could do and nowhere that he could go that would hide him fast enough to avoid being spotted. He watched as his best friend in the whole world turned away from Shego and when Kim’s face was lit from the flaming drum now before her, she looked like an image straight out of Dante.

“Ron?” From Kim’s tone and Shego’s expression over the redhead’s shoulder, it was obvious that his presence was a surprise to both of them; neither had been aware of his entry. He spoke not a word to either of them, but remained still and watched Kim.

“Ron! Where did you…?” Her voice was soft, no longer raving. Ron could not, would not answer her.

“Kimmie, it’s Ok.” Shego edged closer, lowering her defensive posture. Lord, the older woman thought, why does she have to be so beautiful, even now? The only sounds were the wind outside and the dull crackle of the flames in the burning drum until there came one soft whimper from within the folds of the sash he carried over his shoulder.

“What are you doing with the girls?” Eyes flashing, Kim frowned.

“Princess, Ron’s here to help us.” Shego moved up behind Kim, hands out to support, or restrain.

“What are you DOING with the GIRLS, Ron?” Her voice was harsh, a slight rasp as more air than was needed was used to expel the words. Kim brought her head forward aggressively and, while Shego could not see her wife’s lips purse, she could see Kim’s petite hands clench into fists.

Give me strength, Shego prayed, to do what I have to do now.

88888888

“Amy, why do you have so many naked mole rats?”

“Why, Karen! You of all people should understand that one simply can’t have too many naked mole rats!” The frumpy woman danced from one device to another, every word a singsong that was slowly getting on Anne Possible’s nerves. “Even the most brilliant of scientists can’t rely solely on a well-stocked lab! They must accessorize!”

The four brilliant physicians had been working in the primary medical research bay for more than twelve hours, and everybody’s nerves were frayed. The dozens of cages, each containing several of the particular hairless rodents, did nothing to help the situation.

“Couldn’t we have ‘GJ’ move these animals to another room?” Dr. Mark Hall ran his fingers through non-existent hair. “We’re still hours away from being able to test the modifications and those critters stink to high Heaven!”

DNAmy scowled at him and walked over to one of the cages, lifting out one of the ill-tempered creatures and nuzzling it. She was apparently immune to the rank stench of urine and feces that all naked mole rats carry. Living as they do in a hive society, being more like insects than mammals in that regard, mole rats slather their bodies with their own filth to attract the attention of their queen; it was their version of ‘Hi-Karate’.

“Don’t you listen to that big meanie!” Since the average Heterocephalus glaber was nothing like Rufus, the wrinkled creature shivered and blindly tried to bite her. She dropped it back in its cage where it squeaked out a warning against further attempts at affection.

“And why naked mole rats? Why use them for testing?” Karen was as baffled as her husband. DNAmy pouted at them all.

“Because they don’t feel pain like other animals do and I don’t want the testing to hurt them! I don’t know if this altered process will be painful or not and I don’t want to take the chance!” In reality, Amy Hall had her own reasons for selecting naked mole rats as her ‘guinea pigs’, even at the risk of a mixed metaphor. Her experiences with Kim Possible and her affinity with creatures of all species had taught her well the resiliency of the naked mole rat. If she could just harness the Rufus Factor and impart it into a control group of laboratory-raised creatures, she could create an army of such beings!

And besides, who knew what a race of genetically enhanced naked mole rats might eventually accomplish?

Hearing DNAmy’s words but having no clue as to the motivation behind them, Anne felt grateful; the more people that remembered to think of her daughter’s welfare, the better. Amy just flashed her gap-toothed grin at everyone and began to measure the fluid mix of the chimerical slurry.

In addition to Motor Ed, the figurative spotlight was also shining on this other ‘guest’ of Global Justice. DNAmy and the amazing machines that she had either invented or assisted in the creation of were given cart-blanche down in the primary medical research bay. While her good humor would have been welcome at any other time and place, her antics were frustrating the healers in the group. Drs. Mr. and Mrs. Mark and Karen Hall were desperate to unravel DNAmy’s mysterious techniques and make certain that they could be applied to the plight of young Kim Possible, while the main thing on Anne’s mind was the life of her daughter and grandchildren.

Anne looked away from the prancing DNAmy and regarded the massive piece of equipment behind her. Constructed of a large central globe and two smaller globes on each side, the ‘Genetic Zipper’ dominated the room both by virtue of importance as well as shear size. While her years of training in medicine and its practical application did not specifically prepare her for this, Anne was able to understand the principle of the machine well enough.

During ‘normal’ use, two subjects with disparate genetic sequences would be placed into the smaller globes at the sides, one subject to a globe. The ‘Zipper’ would scan and record the full genetic map of each subject before breaking each one down into a form of ‘transient media’ that would be filtered through two ‘sorters’ before injection through the vat of ‘chimerical’ DNA slurry. This vat, supported directly above the ‘recombinant chamber’, was where the genetic sequence of both donors would be resorted and reorganized into a totally new creation, along with plenty of chimerical material to give it added mass. This material was also great for extrapolating any hither-to nonexistent anatomical merging between drastically different creatures, such as a dog being combined with a crab.

Then, through a method that exceeded her present understanding, the living matter would be retained within a bioelectric matrix while the gestalt genetics were resorted into a living, breathing amalgam of the two original subjects. It was a true miracle of technology.

Anne wondered if Dr. Amy Hall, no relation to Mark, had based her chimerical substance on Havok somehow. The two materials performed much the same function except that one material was no more alive than a crutch is when treating a broken leg. The chimerical matter, on the other hand, was comparable to using coral to replace missing bone fragments, with blood vessels eventually suffusing the coral and the body breaking it down for assimilation over time. The blood vessels carry the calcium needed to grow living bone that will replace the coral and, viola, new bone where before there were just missing pieces.

Knowing DNAmy, however, Anne would find it easier to believe that the rogue geneticist had developed Havok herself if the woman had been a few decades older. Why could such amazing science not be used for good? Anne shook her head in disgust and turned back to the other three. She had just finished uploading every scrap of medical data that existed for Kimberly Ann Possible onto a storage wafer for later use.

“Now the perfect scenario would be if we already had a fully grown Kim Possible clone from whence to lift piecemeal each and every replacement part that was needed for the original.” Mark was on a ladder so as to get a better look at the valve separating the recombinant chamber with the chimerical slurry. “That way we wouldn’t have to use his stuff.”

“I agree, dear.” His wife Karen was standing on the floor nearby, reviewing her notes on the subject. “That would be preferential but we don’t have that kind of time.”

“True, true!” Amy Hall was flicking a row of switches and recording the readouts from a set of corresponding gauges. “I’ve found that it takes me a good two weeks to grow a fully developed clone, albeit for harvesting purposes.” Her brows furrowed as she recalled the recent discussion on her inability to ‘create from scratch’ little more that a perfect corpse.

“And besides, Marky-Mark…” Dr. Mr. H refrained from cursing at the annoying woman. “That ‘stuff’ as you call it is just different enough from pure human tissue that Havok doesn’t like the taste; it won’t infect or replace it. And since we must be absolutely certain that little Kimmie-wimmie is entirely free of the Havok, she’d have to remain in the filter long enough to ensure total cleansing!”

“I just don’t see why we can’t…” While he was of average height and build, Mr. Dr. H took a step back as the short, frumpy woman skipped towards him. He cringed but held his ground as she raised her hands and pinched his cheeks. This time it was Mrs. Dr. H that glared from across the chamber and contemplated murder.

“Oh, look! He’s so sexy when he’s professionally jealous, isn’t he, Karen?” Amy’s expression hardened briefly in a glare of pure malice. “Listen up, ‘Wildfire-Boy’… that ‘stuff’ will save her life, so why don’t you just shut the Hell up and try not to trip on the tails of my lab coat, hm?” There was a muted and innocuous ‘ding’ from across the room; DNAmy ran over to a glass cabinet and removed a steaming tray, leaving Dr. Mark Hall glaring after her.

“Muffins?” She smelled the confections with delight the set the tray down. “Oh, and don’t forget… only through repeated scans by the filter will we be able to reorganize her structure enough to promote complete homeostasis. Mass transplants look great on paper but it risks the loss of perfect synchronization; the best way is to rebuild everything from the ground up.”

Dr. Mr. H curbed his temper and wandered back to continue working alongside his wife. Anne continued to remain silent, wishing that her husband could be with her. She looked up at the aforementioned filter and could only imagine the labors that John and Motor Ed were undergoing at the opposite end of the facility. The filter was the one single piece of equipment that was they were all counting on to work with one hundred percent efficiency; it was supposed to cure the baby girl of Anne and John Possible.

“Anne?” One of the doors to the laboratory had opened and John Possible was looking in at her. She ignored the sound of his voice calling to her because she thought it was just in her head, thinking that her yearning for him just then was making her mind play tricks. It was his touch on her arm when he reached her side that pulled her back into the world.

“Anne…?”

“Oh! John, I’m… sorry.” She shook her head to clear it.

“Anne? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing dear, nothing.” She took his hand. She smelled his cologne and found it more pleasing than a room full of chemicals and naked mole rats. There was a rustling of fabric and DNAmy sidled up to John from where she had been working.

“Why don’t you two lovebirds sneak away for a little while, hmm? Did you know that I once merged a female lovebird with a female Praying Mantis?” DNAmy brushed away a tear. “She pined away over all of the mates she’d killed and eaten. It was so sad!”

John was stunned and perplexed by the anecdote and his wife used his confusion to drag him away to a safe corner.

“So that’s the thing, eh?” He looked towards the ‘Zipper’ and gave a wave to the Drs. H who nodded back at him with empathy. “That’s the deus ex machina du jour?”

“Yep.”

“All of those years of medical school and the best I can get you to say is a ‘yep’?”

“Yep.” Anne let the gallows humor leach the stress from her bones.

“You know, I had this conversation with… with Shego once, almost two years ago now, where she lambasted me for daring to give her such a simple answer as ‘no’ to a question that she’d asked me.” He had caught himself in the act of tensing up when speaking the name of his daughter’s partner, and apparently this didn’t go unnoticed.

“Dear, we can’t stay angry at her. It isn’t fair; you know that.”

“I do know that, yes.” He raised a hand to massage a graying temple. Anne continued.

“I mean, everything she did was done out of love. Desperate, clumsy and half-cocked, but it was love nonetheless.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call a jail break from the depths of Global Justice ‘clumsy’ or ‘half-cocked’ but you’ve made your point. Love is a very precious commodity in our little girl’s life” He sighed. “We both know that our Kimmie-cub is a special girl; she’d never have found happiness with just anyone, not even a nice boy like Ronald.”

“And we certainly know that Shego isn’t ‘just anyone’.”

“Nope.”

“Years of education in rocket science and propulsion and all I get is a ‘nope’?”

“Yep.” Something nagged at his mind. “Anne, do you really believe that all of this…” He swept an outstretched arm to encompass everything in the immense chamber. “That all this will cure our little girl? That there really is hope, regardless of what Drew said?”

“Yes, yes I do.” If she had been doubtful in the beginning, Anne had seen enough in the last few hours to change her mind. “There are still tests to run, but we have a hopeful solution here, yes.”

“But even if we can save her body…” He wasn’t sure that he had the right words for his next question.

“John, what’s bothering you?”

“Anne, how do we know that Kim will come through this as herself? How can we know that, even if her body is whole, that her mind will still be intact?” John looked around at the august body working in the medical lab and noticed an absence. “Dr. Mayers isn’t here?”

“He’s double-checking the strength of Drakken’s anti-psychotics. John, I’d love nothing more that to tell you that I trust this woman, but I can’t.” Anne looked across the chamber at DNAmy. “She claims that with her genomic re-sequencer bolstering and refining the power of the filter, she can use the Zipper’s improved scanning to isolate the hippocampus, the amygdalae, the mammillary bodies and the rest of the limbic system.”

Anne turned her husband completely away from the sights and sounds of the research lab. She pulled him behind her and led him back out through the door by which he had just entered minutes ago. The empty hallway was a cold place but at least it was private.

“What I can tell you is that this is not only DNAmy’s game, John. The Halls are one of the greatest medical teams I’ve ever witnessed in action, and they want Kim cured as much as we do. And I’ve just invested the last several hours in translating every piece of our baby’s physical makeup into a format that should allow that machine, if it’s able to perform a tenth as well as DNAmy claims it will, to bring Kim back to us.” They had each been given time to wallow in the specialized areas that they had trained for, science and medicine, and their psyches were refreshed. Now they were together and needed to remind themselves that the human factor was necessary.

“Not as a clone or a copy of our girl, but the real McCoy. I admit that this area of cognitive neuroscience baffles me, but unless these last thirty hours have been nothing but smoke and mirrors, you and I may have just confirmed your own maxim.”

“Hm? And what’s that?”

“That anything’s possible for a Possible.”

John held her close and forced a grin.

“So the hard part’s over? Great. I was beginning to worry.” He let the lauded brain surgeon pull herself to him and he gave her the support she wanted. He gazed down into her blue eyes.

“So now comes the easy part… we have to find her.”

To be continued…

Author’s Notes: Sorry, folks, but chapter 10 is a long one.

Description
The Stubborn Beast Flesh

Author: The Humbug

Disclaimer: “Kim Possible” and all characters within © The Walt Disney Company and its related entities. Kim Possible created by Mark McCorkle & Bob Schooley. All rights reserved. No profit is being collected from the fiction contained within. You can blame the rest of this on me.
Rating: PG-13 for combat violence and intimations of a physical relationship and intimate contact between consenting adult females. This should also cover a little harsh language now and then. If this will offend you, please read something else, and then seek professional help.
Summary: This is a Kim/Shego pairing fan fiction; there is love and romance between Kim & Shego, as well as plenty of action and adventure, and hopefully some humor and horror. Set in my ‘Who’s Writing This Crap’ Kigo-verse, this is a tale of what happens when something goes horribly wrong. Kasy Ann and Sheki Go Possible are the sole creations of NoDrogs (it is with great respect that I make mention of them). Special Note: Yes, I am still using the wrong first name of ‘John’ for Dr. Mr. P.

Chapter X.a / Convergence – part 1

“Ready for test-six… test-six ready to commence.”

“Affirmative to commence test-six. Clear the floor!”

John Possible was a simple man; he had been taught at an early age that to get ahead and be prosperous in life you must first learn to work hard. He was raised in a stable family environment and, because his own father claimed to be a prosperous man, John had always wanted for himself the sort of family that he’d grown up in. Becoming a good student and excelling in his classes, a natural aptitude for math and science dictated the path that he would follow in life.

“The test subject will please take his position.” A single figure, suited in protective armor like a 21st Century knight, walked to the center of the immense test chamber, the largest testing chamber of this Global Justice facility or any other. A final warning bell sounded and the lone figure stood waiting; the name ‘DU’ was stenciled on his suit.

John had met a girl in college, a wonderful girl, a girl that he’d fallen deeply in love with at first sight and quickly learned that she felt the same about him. They wanted a family and a home together, and after they had graduated they had built a world for themselves as man and wife. Careers were established and children followed, not without stress or tribulation to be certain, but their family was a good one and he could ask for nothing better.

“Hey, Johnny! The boys and me are clear! Seriously! You can fire it up any time!”

Off to the side and well out of the testing area, another man looked up to the control booth and signaled the project supervisor with a wave of his arms. He was a large man with a shaggy mullet and both he and his team of engineers knew that, with five failures under their belts, they were running out of precious time.

Up in the control room and gazing down upon his project partner and the test subject, John Possible wondered how he might trade in his perfect life to save that of his baby girl. For the man who believed that ‘anything is possible for a Possible’, John sighed and admitted that it just wasn’t that easy. He reached for the microphone on the console before him.

“Test-six commencing… now.” He reached out and flipped a switch that set events in motion.

Flashes of light brought illumination to regions of the immense chamber; parts of the room were so vast that even a hover sled could move freely in three dimensions and not risk hitting anything. Every white-suited tech looked off into the distance where the distinctive whine of a hover sled could be heard, almost as if it were awakening in some forgotten corner because of the bright light.

One of the machines, a newly constructed sled that was based on the upgraded design of Dr. Drakken’s older models, sped towards the center of the chamber and the waiting test subject. Identical to the basic model in most respects, the electrodynamic suspension system was far stronger to the original and they’d already tested that successfully. The force field from one sled could restrain a bull elephant if necessary.

The other modification was about to become apparent.

As the sled reached the suited man, a pair of metallic arms extruded from the undercarriage and flexed down to him. Constructed of interlocking coils that were thicker than a telephone pole and terminating in clawed pincers, the arms clicked and twanged from friction as they grappled with the armored figure and lifted him bodily from the spotless floor. These arms had also been thoroughly tested and found to be satisfactory; the true purpose of this sixth test was waiting just a few yards away.

Another switch was through and yet more electronic life blossomed.

In a corner of the chamber stood a massive flower; at least, it looked like a flower that might have evolved in a world where life grew from metal and plastic. The ‘stalk’ was a pylon of titanium that housed within it a power plant capable of generating raw energy in quantities that frightened the ‘GJ’ engineers. Atop the pylon were several ‘petals’ of advanced thermo-polymers and focusing plates made from the smoothest blend of neodymium, iron and boron that ‘GJ’ could obtain in so short a time. These ‘petals’ flared outwards from the top of the pylon and created an open cup that was large enough to hold an object many times that of a man.

This latest test was to see if it could hold a single teenaged girl.

“Ok, drop him.” The soft and measured tones of Dr. Mr. Possible could be heard throughout the chamber.

The pilot of the hover sled acknowledged the order with a wave of a gloved hand and manipulated the mechanical arms using the hover sleds keypad; they lazily held the suited figure up over the bloom and dropped Special Agent Will Du inside. Armored for his own protection, Will felt his stomach flutter as he dropped down into the containment unit, the focusing plates creating an inverted Halbach array that would duplicate the suspension field of Drakken’s hover sleds, but this time for a different purpose.

Will never struck the bottom of the metal ‘bloom’; he slowed and bounced as if he had landed on something soft and resilient, though the area within the focusing plates was empty. Dr. Mr. John Possible watched all of this as carefully as he had during the previous five failures and again reached for his microphone.

“Ok, Agent Du, try to escape.”

Will kicked and punched at the plates but he could not make contact, the array always keeping him positioned at the center. He was tethered to nothing, attached to nothing and every piece of the suspension array was well out of his reach. Every time he moved, the focusing plates repelled his body and the rest compensated; he was trapped floating by an invisible force that prevented him from coming into contact with anything. There was nothing that he could reach either for leverage or to damage the device, and the more he struggled the more the machine repositioned him in helpless suspension.

John watched as the Special Agent struggled wildly against thin air and his tired features relaxed. The damn thing finally worked.

“WHOOOO, YEAH! SERIOUSLY!” Down on the testing floor, his partner celebrated with a little air guitar. “aaaYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The rest of the white-suited techs knew that was the signal for celebration; the current crisis was far from over, but they were so much closer to their goal for the success they’d achieved here tonight. To a man, they whooped and applauded themselves and the two geniuses that had made the magic happen.

For the past several hours, the rocket scientist, the renegade mechanic and a staff of ‘GJ’ technicians had been attempting to perfect the calibrations of the focusing plates. The machine itself had been ‘simple’ enough to build, but the calibrations had to be exact. In each of the five previous tests the plates had been ever so slightly misaligned, causing them to work against each other. Will Du had almost broken his arms when, during test two, the plates had forced his body to rebound within the metallic bloom as if he were within a pinball machine. After that it was decided that the armor was a necessity. If the plates could not be aligned, the device would be useless as a containment unit.

John allowed himself a grin of victory and reached for the microphone again.

“Go ahead and take him out” This was directed at the pilot of the hover sled. “Eddie, please have the techs power down the containment unit. We can go over the telemetry in a few minutes.” The rocket scientist ran his hands through his graying hair. “I need a little time to talk with my wife, Ok?”

“S’Ok, Johnny! You go wrangle Big Red; the boys an’ me’ll handle everything down here ‘til you get back!” Motor Ed gave a salute towards the observation booth high on the wall.

John returned the salute with gratitude and left the observation deck without another word. When he closed the door behind him, John Possible stood alone in a stark white corridor. Observing the directional arrows and guide signs stenciled on the opposite wall, he walked quickly in the direction of the medical wing.

Back on the testing floor, the metallic arms of the hover sled had just lifted Agent Du out of the containment unit and gently set him down amid the eager techs. The pilot of the hover sled manipulate the tentacle arms as if it were second nature and they quickly began to retract beneath the hull of the flying machine. Will was given only a cursory examination before the techs returned to their task of deactivating the power unit and rendering the bloom’ dormant; the settings would be carefully recorded so that the machine could be reactivated with only a few minutes notice, which was probably all the warning they would get.

Du removed his helmet and moved out of the way to stand beside Edward Lipsky, more to clear landing space for the hover sled than out of a feeling of solidarity for this criminal. He was disgusted that Global Justice saw the need to join forces with the likes of Motor Ed, not to mention his more dangerous cousin Drakken, but would never dare to voice that opinion… a second time… to his superior. His ears still rang from the first time.

With its arms fully retracted and the suspension field deactivated, the hover sled settled on a convenient landing cradle, the high-pitched signature whine of the motor slowing and eventually fading away completely. Only then did Dr. Betty Director climb out of the pilot’s harness and remove her own helmet, running her gloved hand through her auburn hair and brushing it away from her face.

“Special Agent Du, please see to the complete lock-down and security of this testing bay as soon as the techs are finished with their work.” She wadded her gloves into the helmet and lobbed the thing in Du’s direction.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Du was quick to follow his orders as Dr. Director walked to the door, grabbing a clipboard from a nearby workstation and using a stylus to tick off the various results of this sixth, and apparently completely successful, test.

The battle-hardened woman sensed a presence in the hallway behind her and spun around, bringing up the clipboard as an ersatz buckler and brandishing the sharp stylus in her hand. She saw scruffy work trousers, a short-sleeved flannel button-down shirt and a large man wearing them.

“Whoa! Babe! Seriously! You know that the ones with the orange handles are decaf, right?” Motor Ed kept his distance but hadn’t moved to defend himself. He was several feet behind her and had apparently followed her out into the hall; she had been too wrapped up in her report to hear him.

“Then you had best be warned, Mr. Lipsky… the handles of the carafes holding decaffeinated coffee here at Global Justice are green.” Betty relaxed and lowered her ‘weapon’.

“Oh, ok. Seriously…” He shrugged and looked down at his feet. She sighed and turned back in the direction she’d been heading, but a double echo to her footsteps made her turn to face him again; he was still following her.

“Mr. Lipsky, what…”

“Hey, now first of all, the last person that ever called me ‘Mr. Lipsky’, seriously, was my eighth-grade school teacher.” Grinning and moving closer, he held out his hand to her. “Call me Motor Ed, or Motorman, or Eddie. Seriously.”

“Edward… what do you want?”

“Well, with the test being over, and all… seriously…and being a howling success, I, um… thought that we… might…”

“That we might what?”

“That we might, well, talk for a minute.” His mustache lifted at the ends in what looked like a hopeful smile. She appraised him with bemusement.

“Seriously?”

Something changed in his expression, going from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ in the blink of an eye and he took a deep breath before making a half turn towards the opposite direction of the corridor.

“Hey, babe, the Motorman is the butt of no one’s joke. Seri… I got work to do.”

Confused, she watched him turn on his heel and walk away before she realized what she had said. Dr. Betty Director actually took one single step away from her original destination.

“Mr. Lipsky, wait.”

“Babe, if you don’t want me around, I’m happy to oblige!” He didn’t slow down as he called back to her over his broad shoulder. “Motor Ed can take the hint … seriously!”

“Mr. Lipsky… Edward… wait a moment.” She forced the word out. “Please”.

The large man huffed and glared back at her silently.

“I assure you that I was not mocking you. I was reasonably doubtful of your veracity due to your history with Global Justice and, well, can you blame me, sir?” She watched as he stood there, arms crossed and obviously torn in his assessment of the situation. Why in the world would he want to associate with her?

“No, guess not.” He turned all the way back around. “So?”

“So… what?”

“Can we shoot the breeze for a bit?” He ambled back to her. “Seriously?”

“Certainly.” Why should they not? “My office is just down this corridor and up two levels; you my accompany me if you wish.” His grin returned and became wider with each word she spoke. “I do have a report to complete, as you have surmised.”

“Great! Seriously!” He kept an even pace with her, staying just a half step behind so that she would not see him smooth back his mullet.

“I do realize, by the way, that I have yet to thank you personally for the time and effort which you have invested in this project.” She busied herself with the report on the clipboard, ether looking down at it or straight ahead.

“Hey, babe, time I got plenty of when I’m not being tracked down by you guys, and effort ain’t effort when you love what you do!” This sentiment was punctuated with a prodigious cracking of knuckles. “And ‘sides… you guys got some really great toys!”

“We certainly should, considering how many components and parts that your cousin had me requisition from the Quartermaster… but, still, considering what you have accomplished in so little time…” They continued to move down the hallway.

“Hey, Johnny and I make a smok’n team, seriously. An’ no matter what’cha say ‘bout Drew, he’s a whiz at dreaming up stuff like that. Why, just last year…”

“Mr. Lipsky… Edward.” She stopped and turned to him, looking right at him with a single gaze that, though a matter of a hard lesson taught, had to perform double duty. It was enough to mesmerize Motor Ed.

“To point out that the world wants to see Kimberly Possible hale and hearty again would not only be cliché but also inaccurate; so far Global Justice has done a miraculous job of keeping the world ignorant of what has occurred to her. And it would be appropriate to say that to not make our best efforts to cure her of this nightmarish affliction would be a sin.” Betty recalled a discussion with Kim just a few days prior, the two of them standing in a corridor exactly like this one, with Betty thinking of Kim as a surrogate daughter in a life void of familial love.

“For most people, to know her is to love her.”

“Hey, I… I said that I’d a never wanted nothing like this…”

“I know, Edward. You have proven yourself to her family and me through your willingness to work with us so diligently. You have given us hope.”

The huge man blushed.

“Don’t write off Johnny! He’s a sharp cookie. Seriously! Man, the jobs I could pull with him on my crew…” He could feel her monocular stare. “Kidding! Seriously!”

Betty rolled her eye away from him, feeling the need to lighten the moment.

“So, Edward, what do you think of our little test facility?”

“S’ amazing! Seriously! Never seen anything like it; you could really whip up a fine, sweet ride with all the stuff you got here.”

By the time they had reached the elevators, he had given a suitable description of what would constitute his ‘dream ride’. It was quite impressive that one man could give so much thought into the development of the perfect vehicle, even if he did prefer eight-track to compact disc. To hear the man speak, grammar aside, she was shocked at how intelligent he was in all aspects of the engineering field. She was reminded of the credentials he’d presented the other day when Teams Lipsky had been introduced to the rest of the teams.

“Edward, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Shoot, babe.”

Did he just call her ‘babe’ again?

“I was wondering… why, with all of the education you’ve received, did you turn to a life of crime?”

“Hell, babe, I never wanted a life of crime. Seriously.” He smiled as if at some private joke. “All I wanted was a chance to design something faster and more powerful than anyone else ever had before.” He shrugged. “And personal freedom.”

“Freedom?”

“Yeah! See, the Motorman hit the ground running with a head full of dreams. I knew what I wanted, seriously, and was lucky enough to have a few marbles rolling around upstairs. Folks told me that my skills would bring me money and fame, but only if I stopping building my dreams and started building theirs. That’s what first made me take off on my own. Seriously.” He smiled and shook his head. “As for fame, geez, you can’t bank that. It’s dough that still makes the world go ‘round.”

“And that is why you began to take parts and components that did not belong to you?”

“Hey, I ain’t blaming nobody but me for all the eight and a half by elevens of my kisser plastered on the walls of every local post office. Seriously! I took the risks and paid the price… when you were fast enough to catch me.” He held out his open hand. “No hard feelings, right? Pax?”

Dr. Director shocked herself by actually taking it, and without conscious thought, either. His hand was enormous and totally engulfed hers. She imagined that she could actually feel the empathy of the man through his hands, which was likely what made him such a great mechanical genius, even if misguided.

“Agreed. Pax. But… it was rarely Global Justice.” She quickened her pace to the elevator and her back drew up tight and rigid. Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion before he understood her reaction; he charged through the closing doors before the elevator started to rise.

“No, um, I guess it wasn’t. Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about ‘Little Red’ for a second, seriously.” The large man was subdued. “Listen, I know that I said this the other day, but… uh, seriously, I’m really sorry to hear about Little Red. Seriously. I know that Drew has, like, a total mad-on for her but I’m not like him.”

“I admit that I was not sure what to expect from another member of the Lipsky family, but I do believe you, Edward.” Betty still felt sick at the prognosis for young Kimberly and could not raise her head. “I meant what I said a minute ago; you and Dr. Possible have achieved great things in the engineering labs these past few days.”

“Yeah, thanks. That Johnny’s a king-sized square but he’d make a first class grease monkey!”

Betty was surprised to discover that she didn’t mind having the man around. When had been the last time that she had talked with a male who was neither a superior nor a subordinate? She could not recall. Thoughts unbidden of further conversations appeared in her mind and vanished just as quickly. What was she thinking? After the final outcome of this project, be it for better or worse, the tenuous partnership between Global Justice and its guest criminal element would cease; she would likely never see Edward Lipsky again outside of a courtroom.

“So the tests are an unqualified success, then?” Maybe she could just hang around with the man for a while today.

“Well, sh’yaw! Seriously! Johnny and I and the white jump-suited dudes got the unit powered and rigged to fire up with less than ten minutes notice. The focusing plates will keep whatever’s in them as snug as a bug in a rug!” The man suddenly leapt forward and turned around to face her.

“aaa-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Dr. Betty Director dropped her clipboard and drew her sidearm when Motor Ed thrust out his right arm and began to whirl his left around and around, also dropping to one knee and arching his back. He seemed to be having a fit and the unearthly howl scared the willies out of her.

“What in the bloody HELL was that?” She calculated how fast she could bring assistance here if she needed it. Eddie stopped howling and gaped around before staring right at her, and looking severely puzzled.

“Babe! I did believe that a little celebratory air guitar was in order! Seriously!”

“...air guitar…?”

Eddie straightened up, appraising her stance and nodding in satisfaction.

“I dig a babe that can scrap! Seriously!” He eyed her weapon. “Whoa! Kicking roscoe! Sonic stunner? Cool…”

“Edward, I’ll ask that you never give rise to an unbridled ‘air guitar’ in my presence again without fair warning in advance.” She shook her head and looked around. “My office is just there.” He moved aside as she opened the door with her access code. The office was tiny and Spartan; Dr. Director preferred to eschew all personal attachments when working and there was little room for more than a desk, two chairs, a computer terminal, a cold cup of ‘GJ’ coffee and one thoroughly dead houseplant.

“Uh… nice digs.” Eddie made a crowd in the cramped space. Professional courtesy urged Betty to clear a chair for him but every other surface was piled with reports and facsimiles and files. Every square inch of desk space was littered with flotsam of a similar order. “You spend your whole day in here?”

“Hardly my whole day, no.” She admitted to herself that it certainly felt like it most of the time. “Forgive me for the lack of personal space; I don’t entertain much.”

He nodded and looked embarrassed, one large hand moving up to the door handle.

“Hey, I know that you’re busy, seriously. You probably got to finish and sign off on that progress report.” He pointed to the clipboard that she had brought with her and had almost forgotten. Betty looked around and sighed; she did have so much bloody work that she was responsible for. Good Lord, she forced herself to admit, I am so tired.

“Please, do have a seat.” She reallocated a stack of files from a chair to a corner of the floor. “May I make another personal inquiry of you?”

“Shoot, Secret Agent Babe!” Eddie found the plain-deal chair not to his liking and it was all that he could do to avoid setting his work boots up on her desk. Betty watched him shift and squirm in a desperate attempt to get comfortable. She was about to make him even more uncomfortable.

“Which begs the question… why do you insist on referring to me as ‘babe’? I am more than pleased to entertain a friendly conversation, but if you are attempting to provoke me it will not work.” She wanted to keep her tone light so as not to give the man the satisfaction of goading her but, truth be told, the teasing was starting to wear thin.

“Wha‘cha mean?” His expression was blank.

“The ‘babe’ appellation.”

“Well…” He looked a little embarrassed. “You kind’a are. Seriously.”

“Oh” Dr. Director felt a chill of anger when she first thought that he was teasing her, then a flush of apprehension when she realized that he was not. “Well.”

“It’s more of a ‘Ladies of SH.I.E.L.D’ photo spread thing than a ‘Snap-On Tools’ calendar thing.”

“Ok, Mr. Lipsky, I get the point!” She was thunderstruck by this revelation so the topic of conversation had to change… now! “To return to my initial question, sir.”

“Sure! What’s on your mind?” He still looked embarrassed.

“What might you be doing with yourself should you decide to eschew a live of criminal activities?”

“If I go legit? Whoa, let’s not talk crazy, here!” He held his hands out as if in defense. “The Motorman don’t work no nine to five job!”

“Seriously… oh, stop that.” She reached for the cold cup of coffee and scowled at him a little when he pretended to rankle at her use of the word. “What I mean is, if you could do anything else with your life, what would it be?” She sniffed at the coffee and poured in onto the dead houseplant, all under his observant eyes.

“That answers that question…” He rubbed his hands and ruminated. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I dunno… teach, maybe.”

“Really?” She leaned back in her own chair, pondering his answer.

“Hey, have you eaten yet?”

“Hm?” She looked up to see him watching her; she had apparently been woolgathering longer than she’d realized.

“When’s the last time you’d eaten? Seriously?”

“Oh, well… I believe that I was just nibbling on something before we initiated today’s series of tests.”

“Babe, that was, what… nine, ten hours ago!”

“Nonsense! All Global Justice agents are disciplined in maintaining the recommended caloric intake. There should be some of it left around here… somewhere.” Of this she was confident. The Chief Executive of Global Justice routed around her desk, lifting papers until she found her quarry.

“You see? Food. Right here.” She held the tray out for his inspection.

“Lemon squares?” He looked closer at the recognizable pattern in the tray and how dried-out the remaining confections were. “Babe! No way! Seriously! These are, like, leftovers from the confab we had, like two days ago! Seriously!”

“They aren’t so bad!” Why was she feeling that she had to defend herself before this man, a villain of all people? “Why, just a few bites this morning and they’ve kept me going all day long without the slightest pang of hunger!”  There was a rumbling and they both glanced down at the source. For once in her life Dr. Betty Director wished for a second eye patch to hide from the rest of the world.

“Right… You should really eat something, seriously. I don’t believe that a fine woman like you would ever touch that junk, especially anything whipped up by that DNAmy chick!” He whirled his finger around the side of his head. “She’s nuts and they probably ain’t safe! Seriously!”

The man was absolutely correct; she had to admit that. With more than a little regret, Betty knocked the crumbs down into the waste paper basket beside her desk and laid the empty tray in her outgoing dispatch bin.

“Do you know how many times these were run through our toxin and contaminant sensors before they would give me the tray? Fourteen times, though the security team still missed the most dangerous factor.”

“Huh? Uh, what’s that?”

“They will still make me fat.”

Displaying an unusual level of tact, Eddie said nothing but did allow his eyes to wander down the trim figure of the uniformed woman sitting at her desk. He was not blind to just how clean a line she cut in that uniform either.

“So, uh, I guess that you’re not hungry then, right?”

“Why do you ask, sir?” She listened to the huge man stammer and kick his heels underneath his chair for a few seconds before answering, running his strong hands back along his styled hair. “What is it that makes you so interested in my staying nourished?”

“I kind of thought that you might, you know, want to come up to the commissary for a hamburger…  with me…seriously.”

She leaned back in surprise; was he asking her to join him in a social context? She evaluated the loads of paperwork that she was still responsible to complete.

“And where is Dr. Possible right now?”

“Johnny? He’s gone to look for Big Red… you know, Annie? Seriously.” Eddie thought about the little girl that he used to think of as a foe and realized just how stupid that had been, once upon a time. “He needs a break as much as anyone; they both do. Seriously. So. Uh, how about that burger?” He scuffed his feet like an overgrown schoolboy, caught truant and forced to appear before the headmaster.

What good will it do for me to remain in this office for one single hour and work on these reports? Will it create a miracle through paperwork?

“Actually, I’m a chili girl, myself.”

“…oh…”

“But I could use a strong cup of java, and some idle banter to distract me for a time.” For all of the stress that had filled her recent days, Betty Director would risk the chance to shrug off her mantle of authority, if only for a while. “And maybe even a bite to eat.”

“Oh… oh! Ok! Seriously! Hey, yeah, thanks, seriously!” He even held the door open for her.

88888888

Ron Stoppable could barely contain himself as he waited for his tiny cohort to return to the loading bay door. The lanky young man would not move from that spot until Rufus reappeared. Ron had reviewed the plan with Bonnie during the entire ride out here and even now she was in her assigned location, waiting for him to act.

The wind was growing stronger and he was glad for it; the fast-moving air should disperse his scent and the noise should mask any sounds that he might make. This Havok-enhanced Kim seemed to have the senses of an animal, a predator of the first rank and he couldn’t afford to have her detect his presence before he even got close enough.

All he had to do was get in, locate the children and get them to Bonnie. From that point on he had only two other tasks to perform; one would be to assist Shego, the other would be to send a message to Global Justice that Kim had been located. He dared not do that until the girls were safe, lest Kim lose all control and do something unexpected. Ron smirked, finding no humor in the irony. Kim’s whole life had slipped into the world of the unexpected days ago.

He felt an urgent tugging at the hem of his black mission jersey and looked down; Rufus had returned through the open bay door and was pointing into the darkness.

“m’redi!”

“I hear you, buddy. It’s show time.”

Ron took a deep breath and did his best to clear his mind; he could almost hear Shego snicker at the idea. Reaching into his mission satchel and then setting the pouch aside, he removed a long thin cloth, much like a sash, which he wound around his waist several times before tucking the end into his belt. Tonight he must be faster and stronger than he had ever been.

Rufus waited until his friend and master was away and then he left the building entirely, moving off to join Bonnie and wait with her as ordered.

Sticking to the shadows, Ron slipped through the door and began to work his way through a series of pipes and conduits; the machinery used for processing and moving the fuel oil has badly caked with grime and residue. The vast room was dark except for the open loading door behind him and the meager light that shone from distant street lamps.

“Mongrels…” The voice from the darkness made him pause.

“No, Kimmie, they’re our babies, yours and mine!” The voices of the women close enough to clearly discern. He gauged their distance and altered his course to weave a new pattern; his direction was the same but he must be sure to keep the pipes and machinery between the women and himself.

“Hybrids…”

“Baby, no!”

Ron let the voices flow around him, not quite sinking into his consciousness. He had no time to be distracted as he drew closer to the wall that separated the tiny cluster of offices from the rest of the fuel depot. It was disturbing that the voice that he should have recognized as being Kim’s was off, was wrong somehow. It was not the KP he had known since pre-kindergarten.

“Kimmie, please come over here and explain it to me.”

That voice as Shego’s, and even if he wasn’t fully listening his psyche accepted it as being normal. Ron scaled the negligible height of the ten-foot wall and carefully crawled across the filthy roof of the internal office. The building within a building was prefabricated but sturdy enough to bear his weight without making any unwanted noise.

“No, baby, it’s not your fault! I don’t blame you! You were damaged, your genetics are weak!”

“Excuse me?”

The paneled office roof was slanted, making the front wall of the interior building just a few inches higher than the rear wall. This worked to his advantage, keeping him up out of sight and well hidden in shadow. The flaming barrel also gave Ron an excellent point of reference in locating the exact position of the door, as the barrel was just a few feet in front of it.

“The comet! Your genetics were altered! It’s not your fault because my perfect body and functioning uterus should have compensated for your flaws!”

With Kim’s back towards him and Shego’s full attention on Kim, now was the time to move. As agile as any arboreal primate, Ron slid over the edge of the office roof and dropped towards the floor between the open doorway and the barrel. His feet never touched the concrete, however, as he reached out and gripped the doorjamb with one hand and swung into the office, stopping his downward motion and pulling his body to the side and immediately out of sight within the office.

“So it’s not your fault! We can try again, you and I. We can have Drakken recreate the method again and this time it will be right!”

Moving towards the desk, Ron made a quick inspection of the infants and saw that they appeared whole and intact and healthy. Having been around Ron Stoppable many times before, the tiny girls burbled and smiled at him, kicking their chubby legs in anticipation of playtime.

“Sssshhhh…” It hurt Ron to ignore the little girls and not give them the attention that they wanted, but he was there for their safety and play could come later. He did pause to give them each a tender kiss from their Uncle Ron. Unwrapping the sash from his waist, Ron lifted Sheki and wrapped the broad thin cloth around her body, then repeating the same maneuver with Kasy. They were bound tight, probably too tight for comfort but he could not risk dropping either of them or have them making any noise. With both girls swaddled together in this fashion, Ron looped the sash across his shoulder and prepared to exit the office.

“But we can’t let ourselves be held back by these two ill-formed, impure little abominations! Surely, you understand?” Kim was smiling as she turned towards the office and Ron was standing right there in the doorway.

“Ron?”

There was nothing that he could do and nowhere that he could go that would hide him fast enough to avoid being spotted. He watched as his best friend in the whole world turned away from Shego and when Kim’s face was lit from the flaming drum now before her, she looked like an image straight out of Dante.

“Ron?” From Kim’s tone and Shego’s expression over the redhead’s shoulder, it was obvious that his presence was a surprise to both of them; neither had been aware of his entry. He spoke not a word to either of them, but remained still and watched Kim.

“Ron! Where did you…?” Her voice was soft, no longer raving. Ron could not, would not answer her.

“Kimmie, it’s Ok.” Shego edged closer, lowering her defensive posture. Lord, the older woman thought, why does she have to be so beautiful, even now? The only sounds were the wind outside and the dull crackle of the flames in the burning drum until there came one soft whimper from within the folds of the sash he carried over his shoulder.

“What are you doing with the girls?” Eyes flashing, Kim frowned.

“Princess, Ron’s here to help us.” Shego moved up behind Kim, hands out to support, or restrain.

“What are you DOING with the GIRLS, Ron?” Her voice was harsh, a slight rasp as more air than was needed was used to expel the words. Kim brought her head forward aggressively and, while Shego could not see her wife’s lips purse, she could see Kim’s petite hands clench into fists.

Give me strength, Shego prayed, to do what I have to do now.

88888888

“Amy, why do you have so many naked mole rats?”

“Why, Karen! You of all people should understand that one simply can’t have too many naked mole rats!” The frumpy woman danced from one device to another, every word a singsong that was slowly getting on Anne Possible’s nerves. “Even the most brilliant of scientists can’t rely solely on a well-stocked lab! They must accessorize!”

The four brilliant physicians had been working in the primary medical research bay for more than twelve hours, and everybody’s nerves were frayed. The dozens of cages, each containing several of the particular hairless rodents, did nothing to help the situation.

“Couldn’t we have ‘GJ’ move these animals to another room?” Dr. Mark Hall ran his fingers through non-existent hair. “We’re still hours away from being able to test the modifications and those critters stink to high Heaven!”

DNAmy scowled at him and walked over to one of the cages, lifting out one of the ill-tempered creatures and nuzzling it. She was apparently immune to the rank stench of urine and feces that all naked mole rats carry. Living as they do in a hive society, being more like insects than mammals in that regard, mole rats slather their bodies with their own filth to attract the attention of their queen; it was their version of ‘Hi-Karate’.

“Don’t you listen to that big meanie!” Since the average Heterocephalus glaber was nothing like Rufus, the wrinkled creature shivered and blindly tried to bite her. She dropped it back in its cage where it squeaked out a warning against further attempts at affection.

“And why naked mole rats? Why use them for testing?” Karen was as baffled as her husband. DNAmy pouted at them all.

“Because they don’t feel pain like other animals do and I don’t want the testing to hurt them! I don’t know if this altered process will be painful or not and I don’t want to take the chance!” In reality, Amy Hall had her own reasons for selecting naked mole rats as her ‘guinea pigs’, even at the risk of a mixed metaphor. Her experiences with Kim Possible and her affinity with creatures of all species had taught her well the resiliency of the naked mole rat. If she could just harness the Rufus Factor and impart it into a control group of laboratory-raised creatures, she could create an army of such beings!

And besides, who knew what a race of genetically enhanced naked mole rats might eventually accomplish?

Hearing DNAmy’s words but having no clue as to the motivation behind them, Anne felt grateful; the more people that remembered to think of her daughter’s welfare, the better. Amy just flashed her gap-toothed grin at everyone and began to measure the fluid mix of the chimerical slurry.

In addition to Motor Ed, the figurative spotlight was also shining on this other ‘guest’ of Global Justice. DNAmy and the amazing machines that she had either invented or assisted in the creation of were given cart-blanche down in the primary medical research bay. While her good humor would have been welcome at any other time and place, her antics were frustrating the healers in the group. Drs. Mr. and Mrs. Mark and Karen Hall were desperate to unravel DNAmy’s mysterious techniques and make certain that they could be applied to the plight of young Kim Possible, while the main thing on Anne’s mind was the life of her daughter and grandchildren.

Anne looked away from the prancing DNAmy and regarded the massive piece of equipment behind her. Constructed of a large central globe and two smaller globes on each side, the ‘Genetic Zipper’ dominated the room both by virtue of importance as well as shear size. While her years of training in medicine and its practical application did not specifically prepare her for this, Anne was able to understand the principle of the machine well enough.

During ‘normal’ use, two subjects with disparate genetic sequences would be placed into the smaller globes at the sides, one subject to a globe. The ‘Zipper’ would scan and record the full genetic map of each subject before breaking each one down into a form of ‘transient media’ that would be filtered through two ‘sorters’ before injection through the vat of ‘chimerical’ DNA slurry. This vat, supported directly above the ‘recombinant chamber’, was where the genetic sequence of both donors would be resorted and reorganized into a totally new creation, along with plenty of chimerical material to give it added mass. This material was also great for extrapolating any hither-to nonexistent anatomical merging between drastically different creatures, such as a dog being combined with a crab.

Then, through a method that exceeded her present understanding, the living matter would be retained within a bioelectric matrix while the gestalt genetics were resorted into a living, breathing amalgam of the two original subjects. It was a true miracle of technology.

Anne wondered if Dr. Amy Hall, no relation to Mark, had based her chimerical substance on Havok somehow. The two materials performed much the same function except that one material was no more alive than a crutch is when treating a broken leg. The chimerical matter, on the other hand, was comparable to using coral to replace missing bone fragments, with blood vessels eventually suffusing the coral and the body breaking it down for assimilation over time. The blood vessels carry the calcium needed to grow living bone that will replace the coral and, viola, new bone where before there were just missing pieces.

Knowing DNAmy, however, Anne would find it easier to believe that the rogue geneticist had developed Havok herself if the woman had been a few decades older. Why could such amazing science not be used for good? Anne shook her head in disgust and turned back to the other three. She had just finished uploading every scrap of medical data that existed for Kimberly Ann Possible onto a storage wafer for later use.

“Now the perfect scenario would be if we already had a fully grown Kim Possible clone from whence to lift piecemeal each and every replacement part that was needed for the original.” Mark was on a ladder so as to get a better look at the valve separating the recombinant chamber with the chimerical slurry. “That way we wouldn’t have to use his stuff.”

“I agree, dear.” His wife Karen was standing on the floor nearby, reviewing her notes on the subject. “That would be preferential but we don’t have that kind of time.”

“True, true!” Amy Hall was flicking a row of switches and recording the readouts from a set of corresponding gauges. “I’ve found that it takes me a good two weeks to grow a fully developed clone, albeit for harvesting purposes.” Her brows furrowed as she recalled the recent discussion on her inability to ‘create from scratch’ little more that a perfect corpse.

“And besides, Marky-Mark…” Dr. Mr. H refrained from cursing at the annoying woman. “That ‘stuff’ as you call it is just different enough from pure human tissue that Havok doesn’t like the taste; it won’t infect or replace it. And since we must be absolutely certain that little Kimmie-wimmie is entirely free of the Havok, she’d have to remain in the filter long enough to ensure total cleansing!”

“I just don’t see why we can’t…” While he was of average height and build, Mr. Dr. H took a step back as the short, frumpy woman skipped towards him. He cringed but held his ground as she raised her hands and pinched his cheeks. This time it was Mrs. Dr. H that glared from across the chamber and contemplated murder.

“Oh, look! He’s so sexy when he’s professionally jealous, isn’t he, Karen?” Amy’s expression hardened briefly in a glare of pure malice. “Listen up, ‘Wildfire-Boy’… that ‘stuff’ will save her life, so why don’t you just shut the Hell up and try not to trip on the tails of my lab coat, hm?” There was a muted and innocuous ‘ding’ from across the room; DNAmy ran over to a glass cabinet and removed a steaming tray, leaving Dr. Mark Hall glaring after her.

“Muffins?” She smelled the confections with delight the set the tray down. “Oh, and don’t forget… only through repeated scans by the filter will we be able to reorganize her structure enough to promote complete homeostasis. Mass transplants look great on paper but it risks the loss of perfect synchronization; the best way is to rebuild everything from the ground up.”

Dr. Mr. H curbed his temper and wandered back to continue working alongside his wife. Anne continued to remain silent, wishing that her husband could be with her. She looked up at the aforementioned filter and could only imagine the labors that John and Motor Ed were undergoing at the opposite end of the facility. The filter was the one single piece of equipment that was they were all counting on to work with one hundred percent efficiency; it was supposed to cure the baby girl of Anne and John Possible.

“Anne?” One of the doors to the laboratory had opened and John Possible was looking in at her. She ignored the sound of his voice calling to her because she thought it was just in her head, thinking that her yearning for him just then was making her mind play tricks. It was his touch on her arm when he reached her side that pulled her back into the world.

“Anne…?”

“Oh! John, I’m… sorry.” She shook her head to clear it.

“Anne? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing dear, nothing.” She took his hand. She smelled his cologne and found it more pleasing than a room full of chemicals and naked mole rats. There was a rustling of fabric and DNAmy sidled up to John from where she had been working.

“Why don’t you two lovebirds sneak away for a little while, hmm? Did you know that I once merged a female lovebird with a female Praying Mantis?” DNAmy brushed away a tear. “She pined away over all of the mates she’d killed and eaten. It was so sad!”

John was stunned and perplexed by the anecdote and his wife used his confusion to drag him away to a safe corner.

“So that’s the thing, eh?” He looked towards the ‘Zipper’ and gave a wave to the Drs. H who nodded back at him with empathy. “That’s the deus ex machina du jour?”

“Yep.”

“All of those years of medical school and the best I can get you to say is a ‘yep’?”

“Yep.” Anne let the gallows humor leach the stress from her bones.

“You know, I had this conversation with… with Shego once, almost two years ago now, where she lambasted me for daring to give her such a simple answer as ‘no’ to a question that she’d asked me.” He had caught himself in the act of tensing up when speaking the name of his daughter’s partner, and apparently this didn’t go unnoticed.

“Dear, we can’t stay angry at her. It isn’t fair; you know that.”

“I do know that, yes.” He raised a hand to massage a graying temple. Anne continued.

“I mean, everything she did was done out of love. Desperate, clumsy and half-cocked, but it was love nonetheless.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call a jail break from the depths of Global Justice ‘clumsy’ or ‘half-cocked’ but you’ve made your point. Love is a very precious commodity in our little girl’s life” He sighed. “We both know that our Kimmie-cub is a special girl; she’d never have found happiness with just anyone, not even a nice boy like Ronald.”

“And we certainly know that Shego isn’t ‘just anyone’.”

“Nope.”

“Years of education in rocket science and propulsion and all I get is a ‘nope’?”

“Yep.” Something nagged at his mind. “Anne, do you really believe that all of this…” He swept an outstretched arm to encompass everything in the immense chamber. “That all this will cure our little girl? That there really is hope, regardless of what Drew said?”

“Yes, yes I do.” If she had been doubtful in the beginning, Anne had seen enough in the last few hours to change her mind. “There are still tests to run, but we have a hopeful solution here, yes.”

“But even if we can save her body…” He wasn’t sure that he had the right words for his next question.

“John, what’s bothering you?”

“Anne, how do we know that Kim will come through this as herself? How can we know that, even if her body is whole, that her mind will still be intact?” John looked around at the august body working in the medical lab and noticed an absence. “Dr. Mayers isn’t here?”

“He’s double-checking the strength of Drakken’s anti-psychotics. John, I’d love nothing more that to tell you that I trust this woman, but I can’t.” Anne looked across the chamber at DNAmy. “She claims that with her genomic re-sequencer bolstering and refining the power of the filter, she can use the Zipper’s improved scanning to isolate the hippocampus, the amygdalae, the mammillary bodies and the rest of the limbic system.”

Anne turned her husband completely away from the sights and sounds of the research lab. She pulled him behind her and led him back out through the door by which he had just entered minutes ago. The empty hallway was a cold place but at least it was private.

“What I can tell you is that this is not only DNAmy’s game, John. The Halls are one of the greatest medical teams I’ve ever witnessed in action, and they want Kim cured as much as we do. And I’ve just invested the last several hours in translating every piece of our baby’s physical makeup into a format that should allow that machine, if it’s able to perform a tenth as well as DNAmy claims it will, to bring Kim back to us.” They had each been given time to wallow in the specialized areas that they had trained for, science and medicine, and their psyches were refreshed. Now they were together and needed to remind themselves that the human factor was necessary.

“Not as a clone or a copy of our girl, but the real McCoy. I admit that this area of cognitive neuroscience baffles me, but unless these last thirty hours have been nothing but smoke and mirrors, you and I may have just confirmed your own maxim.”

“Hm? And what’s that?”

“That anything’s possible for a Possible.”

John held her close and forced a grin.

“So the hard part’s over? Great. I was beginning to worry.” He let the lauded brain surgeon pull herself to him and he gave her the support she wanted. He gazed down into her blue eyes.

“So now comes the easy part… we have to find her.”

To be continued…

Author’s Notes: Sorry, folks, but chapter 10 is a long one.