DECEMBER 23RD
It was past midnight by the time Kim walked back into her parents' house. It was dark and cold, and felt like it belonged to strangers. Kim didn't know this house, she'd never been here before. The place she grew up in was warm and bright and full of energy and fun, the place where she played with her brothers and admired her parents. It was a place where she and Ron had conspired about babysitting services and, eventually, helping out people who needed help. It was an honest, good-intentioned dream borne out of a home of tenderness.
That place was gone now. All that was left was this dark house.
Shego turned the lights on, bathing the room in a yellow hue. The place was a mess. Tables turned and furniture out of place. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt at putting things back into a semblance of order but they clearly had not lived here. They didn't know that the coasters lived on the end table and it was exactly three paces between the couch and the recliner.
Ron followed Shego into the house and both stood beside Kim as she stared. It had been a long night, a long three days, and she couldn't remember ever being so tired before. How many hours of sleep had she gotten in the last four days? Four or five hours at the most? There were symptoms associated with sleep deprivation but Kim couldn't remember them. Things like depression and dementia happened to other people, not her. She was a hero, right?
The sound of several more feet approached from behind, and slowly but surely the house began to fill again. Team Go was still with them, as were several members of GJ. The latter of which were carrying several crates of equipment to be set up. The Possible house was to become some sort of 'command center', or so Kim barely remembered from the debriefing they had in Colorado.
Kim tried to remember more of the conversation. Something about Wade and … account numbers? Yes, GJ had traced the accounts from Junior's company to the purchase of a facility in India. An advanced toy manufacturing plant owned by Nakasumi. They finally decided to get off their asses and try and stop Allucinere, so they've organized an operation to infiltrate the toy plant and, if necessary shut it down.
It all swam and flowed out of her mind like water when Kim tried to spend more than a few minutes thinking about it. All that mattered was that there were going to be a bunch of strangers and acquaintances in her home but none of them would make it feel any more alive than when she opened that door seconds ago.
“Kim,” said Agent Will Du. “The Indian Op. will start in less than two hours is there anything else that you can tell us--”
“Back off,” Shego interjected and casually stepped between Will and Kim. “She's told you everything she can, she needs to sleep now.”
“Everyone's tired, but this operation--”
“Already has all the information it's going to get from us,” finished Ron, moving beside Shego.
Will looked between them two and then at Kim who looked back with a frown.
“Very well,” said Will, who turned to address another agent.
Kim sighed and looked towards Shego. In return she nodded and began herding her towards the stairs. “Ron,” she said simply and motioned with her head.
Ron moved behind them and then turned his back to the stairs. “Let her get some rest, guys.” He stood guard as Kim and Shego ascended the rest of the way.
Inside her room, Kim walked forward like a zombie to her bet then toppled forward. Her ankle ached where it was sprained and her shoulder throbbed from being recently re-set. She wondered if the Jade Hammer ever felt like this. She also wondered if that was armor she wore or she was a robot. These were the types of questions that had assaulted her mind in her most exhausted hour. It was embarrassing.
Shego sat down beside her, looking pensive, which introduced a new chain of thought into Kim's already rattled brain.
“You and Ron seem to be getting along suddenly,” Kim said, moving her head just enough to see Shego out of the corner of her eye.
Shego folded her arms and shook her head gently to each side. “He's still a buffoon,” she said abruptly. Then she softened. “But he stumbles onto the right words every now and then.”
Shego looked down at Kim. “We talked a little bit while searching the service corridors of the theatre. He told me some of what happened between you two.”
“He did?” asked Kim, a little surprised.
“Well, he wasn't unprompted,” Shego looked causally away. “He said your 'personal hell' was of him… hurting you.”
Kim closed her eyes. “Yes.” She reluctantly thought back to that day.
“That was why you broke up with him,” continued Shego, still looking away.
Kim frowned and propped herself up on her arms. “Did he really tell you all this?”
Shego looked back, surprised, then slowly looked down. “Well, I kinda surmised a bit of it based on how you two have been acting.”
“Why does it matter?” asked Kim as she lay back down. “It's in the past. You're not worried I'm going to leave you, are you?”
“A little bit,” Shego looked up. “But not entirely over this.”
“Wait, really?” asked Kim.
Shego frowned but nodded slightly.
“I don't get it, you're like the most confident person I know,” said Kim. “There's no reason for you to worry.”
“You didn't break up with him because you didn't love him,” said Shego plainly. “You did it because you'd been traumatized by the PH device. But it looks like over time you've figured out how to deal with that, since you don't mind him being around. And…” she trailed off.
“Shego,” Kim said with a shake of her head. Everything about this conversation seemed wrong.
“He still loves you,” said Shego. “That's why he ran at the restaurant a few days back.” She sighed and stood up to walk to the window. “He was holding out hope that you two would get back together.” Shego glanced back. “He's an earnest fool who didn't deserve what happened to him anymore than you did.”
Kim rolled over to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Shego, I've lost enough people I love in the last few days, I couldn't bear it if you ran now.”
“I'm not running,” Shego said, frustrated. “You need me now, so I won't betray you.” She paced angrily. “I just…” she wouldn’t continue.
“I don't understand,” said Kim, worried. “What's changed?”
“ME!” yelled Shego. “I changed! Before I met you I didn't care about anyone in the world except myself. But suddenly, now that I've opened up to care about you I can't keep myself from worrying about other people too. It's like some damned infectious disease.” Shego breathed deeply. “So many people… innocent people, hurt or in pain because of things I did.” She looked to Kim. “Things I'm still doing.”
“You can't leave me because of something I once felt for Ron,” said Kim.
“I didn't say I was leaving,” said Shego. “Just that I'm worried. I've never loved anyone more than myself before. I'm kinda scared at that whole revelation.”
Kim smiled slightly. “I've never loved a woman before,” she said. “I probably should be a little unnerved about that, but I'm not.” She put her hand to Shego's face and the pale beauty leaned into it instinctively. “We can't save everyone from harm any more than we can control the way other people feel.” Kim looked deeply into Shego's eyes. “I'm sorry for being manic recently. The truth I don’t want to accept is that I can't control anything that happens in the future. The only thing we can ever do is fight for what we feel right now and what we want right now.”
Shego looked so much like a little lost girl that Kim could hardly believe she was standing against one of the most successful thieves in the world.
“Shego,” Kim continued. “Ron is a like a brother to me, but that's all. I love you, more than I've ever loved anyone else. And I want you in my life. I will fight anyone and anything to keep you near me. But I still have a family, so please don't get worried when I run off to protect my brothers and parents. When they need me, I have to be there.” Kim smiled warmly. “I think you know about that already.”
Shego blushed then nodded. “Geeze, what have you done to me, Kim Possible?” she said, softly.
“Nothing you didn't want yourself,” Kim replied, softer.
Despite the chaos of the last five days of their lives, two lovers found a quiet moment of solace before slumber.
( KP )
“Maya.”
In the dark, reds, yellows, oranges, mixed with dark blues and black, dancing in the abyss in a tribal celebration. Soft crackling could be heard and a warm heat pressed against her as cool wetness dripped down her face.
“Maya?”
The smoke cleared and the dance resolved into a raging fire, burning deep in a forest, surrounding a small but once homey looking house. With a rumble, the ceiling of the private dwelling cracked then collapsed in on the house. She could feel strong hands grip her shoulders as she tried to run towards the inviting flames. Looking up, she could see the young face of a woman with short brown hair, and a swath cut from her left cheek to her forehead with her eye held tightly closed and bloody. She looked grimly on at the flames, her teeth grit as blood slowly crept down her smooth face.
“Madam Tromper?”
Although the scene suddenly dissolved in her mind, there was no doubt that it wasn't just a dream. She had really been there, standing before that fire, only yesterday.
Maya opened her eyes and focused on the man before her. He was an older man, probably older than Maya's father is -- was, with deep groves across his brow and beside his eyes, like he often spent time scowling but was now kindly trying to appear sincere. He wore a suit with a golden badge hanging from his coat pocket identifying him as a detective.
The dark lines around his mouth moved and the man spoke in simple, short words. He had asked if she was okay.
“Oui,” Maya answered affirmatively. “Que se produit après?” What will happen to me now?
The detective looked surprised and awkwardly looked to the other officers in the room for guidance before turning back to Maya and replying in French. “Do you have any other family you know of?”
Maya shook her head. Murmurs briefly faded into the room as the other officers spoke amongst themselves. Maya could pick out words, barely auditable from the mumblings, like 'romani', 'drifters' and, of course, 'gypsy.'
“We're going to bring you to a nice place where people will take care of you,” said the detective, finally. He tried to smile but Maya could see right through it. He was trying not to look a grim as the news he was delivering.
“Orphanage,” Maya said, breeching the topic.
The detective sighed. “Yes,” he nodded. “They will care for you there and you'll be safe.”
Maya nodded. She didn't know much, but her parents had often talked of the evils of 'social services' (whatever those were) of which orphanages was one of them. It didn't matter anyway. Maya didn't care what happened to her anymore. Her parents were one thing but without Anna, she might as well have died with the rest of them.
As if psychic, the detective suddenly asked, “Do you know the family of the girl that was with your parents?”
Maya looked towards the ground. “She was mine,” she said. “She had no one else.”
The detective frowned, confused, but didn't press the issue. There were other ways of tracing identity and this girl needed to be taken somewhere to be with kids her own age. Maybe there she would start to heal and liven again.
But the detective knew from experience with other kids, after losing everyone she ever knew in that fire, it would be a long time if ever to normalcy. He wished he could do more, but after taking the eleven year old to the orphanage, his responsibilities towards her would be over.
( KP )
It was cold, and the orphanage had few heaters. The children knew that odds were it would reach dangerous temperatures tonight if they didn't find a way of curling together beneath the thin blankets some might get sick or even worse. Benoite had collected a few candles over the season and had unearthed them to light and bring just a bit of heat to the dark room. One by one the girls moved towards the light and huddled together, feeling more like a family than many had experience in years.
Maya joined the group early, unwilling to die during the night from frost and when enough had joined them, she brought her hands slowly to the flame and moved them like her mother had taught her. The light glowed around her fingertips and warmed her hands, but on the distant wall, shadows danced like puppets across an imagined stage.
The other girls laughed and cheered quietly, lest they attract the attention of the matrons. Rabbits and dogs, cats and horses played with each other in a virtual farm. Sheep jumped over fences and dogs chased balls and each other. A bird flew free from the rest, soaring up the walls and across the ceiling as if free. There it joined a flock of other birds that flew in formation across the mauve painted sky.
Maya thought about the birds flapping free and wondered if she'd ever be free from this place. Her hands dropped on their own and she retreated back into the blanket.
The other girls complained and begged her to bring back the rabbits and horseys but Maya just shook her head.
“There are no rabbits,” she said softly. “They're just shadows.”
The girls continued to bother her and she eventually got up and faced the chill to retreat to her bed, staring at the wall. Wrapping her sheet around her tightly she tried to fight off the cold. She rubbed her arms slowly.
Another blanket suddenly descended around her and Maya looked up to see another girl sitting next to her on the bed. She was about her age, with bright red hair, freckles, and pale blue eyes.
“Hey,” she said casually. Maya said nothing, but was silently thankful for the blanket.
“All right then, I'll talk,” she said, moving closer to her and wrapping the blanket tighter to keep in the cold. At least, Maya suspected that why she was doing it. She wasn't sure.
“I'm Esme,” the girl said. “That was kinda cool, what you were doing back there.”
Maya nodded, she supposed it was cool.
“You're really good at it,” continued Esme. “Where did you learn that?”
“My mother,” said Maya.
Esme nodded. “Was she a performer?”
“She was a…” Maya drifted off. She didn't really want to have to go into her family, it would take too much time and too much talking. “Yes, she performed.”
“That's cool,” said Esme. “My mom was a hairdresser. At least, that's what they tell me. I don't think I got her skills.” She ran a hand through her tangled fiery hair. “Although I hear that hairdressers rarely do their own hair as well as others. Maybe I can give it a try on you someday?”
Maya grimaced. “Maybe later,” she said, hoping that 'later' would mean decades.
“Great!” cheered Esme. “Maybe you could teach me some of that shadow stuff too?”
“Maybe,” said Maya. For some reason Esme's unbridled enthusiastic was somewhat comforting, and insanely infectious. Maya struggled to remain her stoic self, but felt herself cheering up slightly anyway.
“Were you at the courtyard last Tuesday when Delphine got stuck in the prickle bush?” asked Esme.
Maya smiled, despite herself. “Yes,” she nodded. “How her sweater kept getting tangled?”
“Yeah, and the more she struggled the more she got tangled!” said Esme. “Then she tried to take off the sweater and her hair got stuck while she took it off.”
“She was stuck halfway out of her sweater and still attached to the bush,” finished Maya. She felt bad laughing at someone's misfortune, but Delphine was a bully who'd beat on her a few times. She didn't honestly deserve Maya's pity.
Esme laughed at the memory with Maya and the chuckles helped keep them warm as the night wore on.
( KP )
“Okay okay,” said Maya with a wide smile. She grabbed Esme's shoulders and forced her onto the chair before the computer. “Just try it out,” insisted Maya.
Esme raised a eyebrow and smiled playfully. “All right,” she said experimentally with a laugh. Tossing her long, luxurious hair behind her, she settled before the screen and placed her thin fingers on the keys.
They were in the meager computer lab at the public high school in Carcassonne, near to where the orphanage was located. They had a few PCs there, moderately powerful, but the students were given free enough reign that they could install any software they wanted so long as they didn't mind it being erased the next morning when the PCs were re-imaged. Maya had discovered a love for programming a few years back and Esme had always encouraged her. Maya felt she should pay back the favor.
Maya rested her chin on Esme's left shoulder and pointed at the screen by reaching over her right shoulder. “Click there.”
“All right,” giggled Esme. She did as she was told.
The screen faded then came to life again. On the screen was a simple prompt with a question mark.
“Okay?” said Esme. “So…what's next?”
“Ask it something,” said Maya, grinning.
“Like what?” asked Esme, turning her head to face Maya's.
“Anything,” Maya said simply. She shivered as Esme's breath tickled against her cheek because they were so close. She faced her, their noses brushing slightly. “Just ask it anything at all.”
Esme looked back to the screen. Her fingers danced across the keys. “What is this all about?” she voiced while typing. She smiled radiantly.
The screen hung for a second then replied:
IF I CORRECTLY ESTIMATE YOUR QUESTION, THIS IS ABOUT SHOWMANSHIP.
Esme looked at the screen strangely. She typed again. “Showmanship?”
THE PRACTICE OF CREATING SUSPENSE BEFORE THE PRIMARY RELEVATION.
Esme smiled. “What revelation?”
THE NATURE OF MY PROGRAMMING.
“Well, what is the nature of your programming?”
I AM A FULLY FEATURED INTELLECTUAL CONSTRUCT.
“What is an intellectual construct?”
A VIRUAL PERSONALITY, DESIGNED TO SIMULATE LIVING RESPONSE, USING A CHARACTER MODEL AS A GUIDE FOR RESPONSE.
“An artificial intelligence?” asked Esme.
NO, I AM INCAPABLE OF CHANGING OR ADAPTING, I CAN ONLY RESPOND ACCORDING TO THE GUIDES OF THE PERSONALITY I WAS IMPRINTED WITH. I DO NOT GROW, ONLY EMULATE.
“What personality were you imprinted with?”
I AM CURRENTLY FOLLOWING THE GUIDES OF A FABRICATED PERSONALITY CREATED BY MAYA TROMPER. HOWEVER, I HAVE BEEN IMPRINTED WITH A SECOND PERSONALITY.
“Oh really?” Esme smiled. “Who are they like?”
IF I CORRECTLY ESTIMATE YOUR INTENTIONS, YOU WISH ME TO SWITCH TO THE ALTERNATE IMPRINT. CORRECT?
“Sure, why not.”
The screen faded again and Esme looked anxious. Maya laughed at her excitement. After a few seconds, the screen faded to a faded orange color and then a 3D model of a head appeared. It quickly rendered and softened and then Esme gasped.
Her own face looked back out of the screen, somewhat passively, but with a slight curl to the edges of her mouth as if she was thinking about something funny. It was Maya's favorite look on her and the one she knew best.
“This personality construct,” the Esme on the screen started, “Is based off Esme Jay, but I guess you already know that, since you sound just like me.”
The real Esme looked back at Maya. “This is incredible,” she said. “You did this all yourself?”
“The imaging was easy to learn from the books in the library,” said Maya. “But the personality programming is all mine.” She looked bashfully at her. “I hope you don't mind that I… used you a model.”
“Are you kidding?” asked Esme. “This is great. How well does she resemble me?”
Maya shrugged. “Pretty good,” she said. “It's limited by the old computers. A fully featured version would require something a lot more powerful. But for casual conversation, she can figure out what you're talking about pretty well.”
Esme laughed and typed again. “So, what do you think about yourself?” she asked.
The model on the screen paused and the expression changed to a thoughtful one. Then, moments later, it changed to something more content. “I think I'm pretty easy going, but easily excitable. Other people probably think I'm strange, but that's their problem. I like who I am even if others don't. I've had a pretty lousy childhood but I tend to take it in stride.”
The virtual Esme's expression softened and she looked startlingly alive. “My best friend is Maya Tromper, who programmed this virtual interpretation of the real Esme Jay. She's a real off-beat kinda gal who probably could use a makeover but is otherwise a marvelously unique, fun, and amazingly intelligent girl who just needed an easily excitable person like me to break her out of her shell.”
Maya blushed and backed away nervously, trying to hide her embarrassment.
The virtual Esme continued. “I know she adores me and that makes me happy in a way, that someone can appreciate my nature. I hope we get to be together forever.”
The real Esme turned to look at Maya who was desperately trying to hide in the corner of the room.
“I--I'm sorry,” Maya blurted. “I didn't program a response for a question like that so it was just guessing… extrapolating based on information I gave it about you and some random events and oh god please don't be upset.”
Maya could feel sweat beading on her forehead. Why did Esme have to ask that question? Who on earth asks themselves what they think about their own personality?
“Wow,” said Esme looking at Maya with an odd expression. “It's… uh, pretty accurate.” She stood up and slid her hands into her pockets. She swayed nervously.
“I can fix it,” said Maya. “If it's too weird, I mean, I'll get rid of the personality -- replace it with, uh, Jean Reno or someone who won't--”
“Maya.”
“I… uh, yeah?”
Esme looked around the room, picking anywhere to focus except on Maya's face. “Do you… like me?” she asked, in a small voice.
Maya was surprised. “O-of course! Of course I like you! I love you!” She blushed furiously. “Er-- wait, that's not what I meant.”
“Really?” asked Esme, quietly. “You love me?”
“I--eerr…” Maya felt her brain turn to smoke and flow freely out her ears. “I-I'm not … may-maybe?”
Esme looked up at Maya and the latter felt like she was standing at a crossroads of a busy intersection, afraid of stepping in any direction at all for risk of being hit by a speeding car. Her fingers tingled with energy, her body aching to make a step forward but her mind reeling, telling her to wait for someone to rescue her.
Her body won out and she stepped blinding into the road.
“Yes,” Maya said, holding her arms across her chest and staring furiously at her feet. “I've been… in love with you for a long time. You're so… amazing… and fearless and… you give real life to things that have only ever been illusions to me. Just shadow puppets on the wall.”
Maya shivered even though it was summer. She prayed that Esme wouldn't tell everyone, that she'd let her be just a strange girl and turn her away kindly. She wasn't the vengeful sort, she liked people being who they were, she wouldn't change just because Maya had fallen for her, would she.
A warm hand touched her trembling shoulders and Maya realized with terror that Esme was standing right in front of her.
“I--!” started Maya but something stole the breath right from her lips. She panicked, worrying she couldn't breathe, that she could collapse in shock right after doing something incredibly embarrassing---
Oh!, Maya's mind realized as it caught up with the signals coming from her body. She's kissing me.
She's pretty good too.
Maya's mind decided to check out and just let her body run things for a few minutes. Her body was greatly appreciative.
( KP )
High school graduation was the mark of many things for the students of the relatively large high school: the end of mandatory schooling, full days of classes, putting up with people whose only similarity to you was their proximity to the school, and the start of the last summer vacation. For Maya and Esme, though, it also meant freedom from the orphanage, which was very similar to freedom from tyrannical oppression or alien invasion in its level of subjugation it had inflicted on them. Seeing the light at the end of that tunnel was intoxicating.
The amount of alcohol they were drinking at the graduation party was also intoxicating and the two girls laughed and partied with people they'd never previously gotten along with but were all suddenly bonded by the shared victory over public schooling.
As the party dragged along far into the night, the activities lessened and people were caught mostly sitting around, nursing a cheap drink, and chatting with the people they hoped they'd still be talking to in another four years.
Esme and Maya were sitting on a couch and drinking gin and tonics. To be precise, Esme was sitting on the couch and Maya was sitting on Esme. They laughed as they reminisced with some classmates about some of the funny things that had happened over the years, the chemistry experiment gone wrong, the bleachers collapsing during the soccer game, and of course Mr. Ackland's horribly tuned choir section.
Eventually the other students checked their watches and stood to bid their farewells, making empty promises to call or write or e-mail, as it was these days. Then they smiled as they vanished through the door, possibly never to again appear.
Maya leaned heavily against Esme as they themselves finally stood and put down their empty glasses. Maya was always the lightweight compared to the taller Esme. Together they staggered out of the club that the party was being held at and into the street, feeling the cool early summer night air.
“Now what?” asked Maya as they stood on the sidewalk. Well, Esme stood, Maya leaned.
“What do you mean, now what?” asked Esme, laughing. “We have to get you home or you'll collapse in the street.”
“Nah, I’m fine,” assured Maya, looking about the city at night. In the distance, Carcassonne fortress, and the surrounding Cité de Carcassonne, stood looming across the Aude, as it always did. It was pretty, Maya thought, the way it stood vigil over the lower city, even centuries after the end of the feudal days. Today it was mostly a museum, and occasionally a party house for celebrities.
“Always looking at that castle,” said Esme. “You're so strange. Intellectual Constructs and Castles. What a combination.”
“It's a fortress,” said Maya. “And it's just an old memory, staring up at those ramparts with my mother. I can't remember what was happening then, I just remember looking at those walls and thinking they were indestructable.”
Esme cocked her head. “You've never told me about that before.”
Maya smiled widely. “Well, I don't want to reveal all my secrets, need to keep that air of mystery so you won't get bored of me.”
“You don't have to worry about that,” said Esme, bending to press her forehead against Maya's. “I'll be trying to decipher you for ages.”
“I’m not sure that was the air I was trying for,” said Maya.
“Eh, take what you can get,” suggested Esme before kissing her.
A rumbling shook the ground, throwing the couple off-balance, causing them to clutch each other for support. The rumbling increased in intensity before finally culminating in an explosion nearby that threw fire and shrapnel into the air.
Maya grabbed Esme's hand and pulled them closer to the building the club was in, using the low overhang to protect them from the raining debris.
“What's going on?” asked Esme.
The two peered towards the source of the sound and saw a glowing intersection a couple hundred yards away, undoubtedly glowing from the fires. Maya had a flashback to her childhood and retreated slightly.
“It's okay, we don’t have to check,” said Esme, gripping Maya's arm in an assuring manner.
Just then, a group of men ran onto the street at the glowing intersection and started heading towards the two. The men were cloaked in black and following a leader with a set of dark armor on. Moments after they came into view, a series of dark blue suited men and women started appearing. First they came from behind then they started popping up out of buildings and rappelling from rooftops. As they got near the band of black cloaked men, one would break off and begin firing a pistol at the blue suited people to try to slow them while the leader got more distance from the pack.
“We should get out of here,” said Maya. “We don't want to get caught in the crossfire.”
Esme nodded and they retreated slightly away from the street the men were running down. Maya tried to pull them back into the club but Esme resisted, standing with her back against the building and looking around oddly.
“What is it?” asked Maya.
“I just wanted to see--” started Esme.
“This is dangerous,” insisted Maya. “Please, Esme.”
Esme looked down at Maya and then softened. “All right,” she said. “Lets go inside.”
“Thanks,” said Maya relieved. She grabbed Esme's hand and started to pull her back into the club.
Before they reached the door the first black cloaked man reached their street and looked around. Esme looked back then her eyes widened in shock.
“Hey, that's Laziero,” she said, then immediately covering her mouth.
The man's head turned towards her immediately. Maya and Esme froze for a second. Then the man stared running at them.
“Run!” Esme yelled and pushed Maya towards the club. They reached the door and were about to open it when suddenly Esme felt her hair being yanked from behind. She screamed.
Maya turned at the sound. “Esme!” she called as the man named Lazario pulled her close and then brought a gun to her head. He pulled he into the middle of the street and held her roughly.
“Let her go!” yelled Maya.
“Run, Maya!” Esme called before the man yanked her hair again and told her to shush.
Several of the blue suited people arrived in the street and then froze when the saw the man.
“Don’t come near me!” Lazario yelled. “Or she dies!”
“No!” yelled Maya.
“Let her go, Lazario,” a woman's voice rang out. A woman strode confidently to the front of the group of blue suited people. She was dressed in darker colors than the rest, with short brown hair and wearing a black eye-patch over her left eye. “You're not getting anything from us.”
Maya stared at the woman. She was old, older anyway, but in an instant she recognized her.
“You,” she said in awe.
The woman looked at Maya briefly then paused and looked back. “Oh good god,” the woman said, her eye wide.
Lazario looked over to see what had shocked the eye-patched woman and he also did a double-take. “Gisele?” he said, blinking.
Maya was confused and looked to Lazario. “You knew my mother?” she asked.
“Don't say any more,” warned the blue suited woman. “Go inside, this doesn't concern you.”
“Mother?” asked Lazario, surprised. He frowned and grit his teeth. “You said she was dead!” He turned to the blue suited woman.
“She knows nothing, leave her alone,” said the woman. “Let go of your hostage without hurting anyone and we'll let you leave here.”
“Director…” started one of the older men in blue suits.
“Later,” she dismissed him.
“I don't think so,” said Lazario looking at Maya. “I've got unfinished business with you, little girl.”
“Let her go,” said Maya at Lazario. “Trade for me.”
“No!” yelled Esme before Lazario tightened his grip around her neck.
“You don't know her at all do you?” asked Maya, trying to remain strong.
Lazario looked down at the struggling girl in his arms.
“All right,” said Lazario with a smile. “You come here and I'll let her go.”
“Don't do it,” the woman named Director said.
“Let her go first,” said Maya, trying a gambit.
“Don't be stupid, girl,” snapped Lazario. “When you're close, I'll release her.”
“Maya…” struggled Esme.
“Fine,” nodded Maya.
“Don't!” yelled Director.
Maya swallowed. She stepped forward slowly but determined. Lazario watched her with salacious eyes.
When she was still three paces away she stopped.
“Let her go,” she repeated.
Lazario pushed the butt of his gun against the back of Esme's head. “Walk slowly forward,” he instructed. Esme stepped forward, her eyes locked on Maya's filled with a mix of worry and anger. With each step Esme took forward, Maya stepped an equal distance towards Lazario.
“This is stupid,” whispered Esme when they were shoulder to shoulder.
“Wait for me,” said Maya quietly.
Another step and they were separated again. Maya was standing right before Lazario now, his gun still trained on Esme.
“One more step, sweetheart,” Lazario said, his voice steeped in indignation.
Maya moved forward again and Lazario lashed his arm out quickly to wrap around her neck and drag her against his body. He pulled against her neck to make sure he had a good grip before putting his mouth next to her ear.
“Say goodnight to your friend,” he hissed.
Maya's voice caught in throat just as Lazario fired once.
“ESME!” screamed Maya as she watched her body fall to the ground and a pool of crimson bloom from her head.
Lazario's gun was back at Maya's head and she felt the pistol's tip burn against her temple from the heat of it being fired.
“No call off your goons Dr. Director!” yelled Lazario over Maya's screaming.
“I wanted you alive, Lazario,” said Dr. Director, staring at him with her good eye. “But I'm not that charitable.”
“Come on, take a shot,” he taunted. “Drop me without taking this bitch down too.”
“Why… why… why…” Maya was wailing now, her eyes seeing only red.
“Shut up!” yelled Lazario.
“WHO ARE YOU?” Maya screamed.
“Just an old friend of your parents,” said Lazario breathing hot, discomforting breath across her ears. She hated it passionately.
“His name is Lazario,” said Dr. Director calmly. “He runs a criminal organization called the Black Seal. He's a scumbag, who has a little bit on everyone not strictly legit in this country.” She wavered slightly in her strong look. “Even your parents, Maya.”
“They wouldn't play, though,” said Lazario, pulling on Maya's neck. “So I sent them an incentive.”
“Your parents helped the police try to build a case against him but one of his goods came to kill them.” Dr. Director shook her head. “He tried to kill you too, but I managed to get there in time to save you.”
“An issue I'm going to fix,” said Lazario.
“You killed my parents?” asked Maya, feeling her rage boil within her.
“I don’t typically get my hands dirty, kid,” Lazario said. “But I wish I had been there to shut their squealing, dirty mouths up personally. I wouldn't have screwed up and left you alive, either.”
Maya couldn't take it anymore. She balled her fists and resigned herself to her fate. Twice she had had the things she cared about taken from her and this tie she wasn't going to let anyone get in the way.
She swung her fist up quickly and struck the gun in Lazario's hand. It jerked up and slipped off her forehead as she turned to kick him in the groin. His face contorted from the pain and he slipped to his knees, fully releasing his hold on Maya.
“Get down, Maya!” yelled Dr. Director.
Maya took a step back then swung he foot around, catch Lazario in the chin, knocking his head back and causing him to sprawl out on his back on the pavement, unconscious. Maya ran up to him and grabbed his gun, grabbing it by the barrel and smacked it across his face, causing him to spit blood.
“Maya, stop!”
Maya swung again, his face turned the other direction, blood splattering on the ground.
Maya swung again, but her hand was caught by a blue suited woman. “Don't,” she said simply and shook her head. Maya gritted her teeth in anger then caught a glimpse of the other blue suited people approaching Esme's body.
Maya dropped the gun and turned away from Lazario to run to Esme. The woman watched her as she collapsed near the body, sobbing. Dr. Director stood beside the woman and sighed.
“We need to clean this up before the police get here,” Director said. “Make it quick.”
The woman nodded. “What about her?”
Dr. Director frowned. “She comes with us.”
( KP )
“Justice?” asked Maya, covered in a blanket and yet still shivering in the back of a black van driving towards the airport.
“Do you mind if we speak in English?” asked Dr. Director, wearily. She had unbuttoned her tight collar and was writing on a tablet laptop -- something Maya had never seen before -- while they were riding. “My French is functional but not perfect. You do speak English, right?”
“You call what happened Justice?!” yelled Maya, in English this time.
“I guess so,” mused Director. “No, Maya, I don't call it Justice.”
“Then what? How can you call yourself 'Justice' and let … let…” she struggled to continue. “Esme never did anything wrong!”
“No, she didn't,” Doctor Director said. “At least, nothing I know about, but not everything we do results in the immediate balancing of the scales. It's more the big picture we deal with.”
“If anyone survives to see it!” snapped Maya.
“This may not be the best time to talk about this,” sighed Director. “You just lost someone very dear to you and this conversation will require a fair degree of clear-thinking.”
“Where are we going?” asked Maya, trying to see out the front of the van.
“The airport,” said Doctor Director. “There we go to Middleton.”
“Middleton?” asked Maya. “I've never heard of it.”
“It's a quiet Midwestern US city,” said Director, then shook her head. “Or was, anyway. At the time it was a good place for us to discretely establish our operations as the regional Midwest headquarters of Global Justice.”
“But…” started Maya. “This is the second time I've seen you here, in France.”
“I didn't always work in Middleton… nor did I always work in GJ.”
Maya paused. “And?”
“And anything else is classified,” said Director, tapping on her bulky laptop.
“Great,” sighed Maya.
“Of course, if you're really interested,” continued Director. “There's a way for you to gain security clearance.”
Maya frowned. “I don't think I want to know.”
“Very well then,” nodded Director. “I hate to ask but… were you… is there anyone else who we can contact about Ms. Jay?”
Maya looked slowly down. “No,” she said.
“We'll see to it she has a proper burial,” Director said. “Since she was killed because of our actions.”
Maya buried her head in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
A few taps later Doctor Director looked up from her tablet. “It says here you were accepted into a prestigious technical institute. You were planning a education in computer programming.”
“Computer science,” said Maya. “On scholarship.”
“Yes, I see,” replied Director.
“You've been watching me?” asked Maya, wearily.
“Personally? No,” the elder woman shook her head. “But I can call up your GJ file pretty easily. We monitor thousands of people in Europe related to criminals or criminal cases we've investigated. Just in case.”
“In case we can get in your way, like today?” asked Maya, cynically.
Director sighed. “I never expected to see you again after that day, Maya,” she said softly. “None of this was planned or even foreseen.”
“Tell me about justice,” said Maya suddenly. “How can you act outside of the law and call yourself justice?”
“We are infinitely more rigorous in our investigations,” said Director. “Than any local police or federal agencies anyway. We circumvent the criminal justice process when it fails to convict known criminals and take care of them ourselves. Without jury.”
“And that's justice to you?” said Maya, flatly.
“Maya,” started Director. “Public justice relies on a system of averages. On average, more bad guys are convicted and more innocent people are spared from being victims. The big picture for them are the numbers of successes versus failures.”
Doctor Director put her laptop down and adjusted her position. “Our big picture is that we violate due process, and we ignore publicly doctrined procedure and we do invade privacy, but we almost always find the perpetrator of the crime we're investigating, and we ensure they are duly punished.”
“Like Lazario?” asked Maya.
“Organized crime is a difficult beast to manage,” said Doctor Director. “Often we leave it up to local police in small cases. In the case of Lazario, we let the French police handle him. They failed. He committed a more global crime, so we stepped in to end it.” She looked down. “A few minutes too late, I'm afraid.”
Maya looked back out the windshield of the van. “Why are you brining me to the US?”
“I would like you to see our facilities,” said Director.
“Why? Isn't it classified too?” asked Maya.
“Yes,” nodded Doctor Director. “But I'd like to offer you a job.”
Maya blinked. “A … job?”
“If you accept it, there's no classification issues,” nodded Director.
“But you're showing me first,” said Maya.
“Yes,” Director continued to nod.
“I sense an incongruity,” said Maya. “You're not really giving me a choice.”
“I said we violate a few personal liberties,” said Director. “Welcome to your first GJ experience.”
( KP )
“Agent Tromper?”
Maya looked up from her computer and saw Doctor Director standing in the doorway to her office. Well, her cubicle. She was holding a manila file.
“Betty,” said Maya, surprised.
“I've got a project I'd like your expertise on,” she said, walking over to her and putting the folder on the desk. “You might have a unique understanding of the subject.”
The folder said 'Possible, Kim' on the cover.
“You're kidding?!” squealed Maya, quickly snatching up the file and flipping through it. “She's amazing!”
“I agree,” nodded Betty. “Your I.C. project will be of particular use to this assignment.”
“Robotic Simulator?” asked Maya. “You want me to write the AI for an android?”
“As you are quick to point out to me and others,” said Betty Director. “I want you to write an I.C. for an android. Not an AI. We want duplicates of Ms. Possible, not self-aware super powerful liabilities.”
“Ah, I get it,” nodded Maya, unable to contain her glee over being asked to work on a project about Kim Possible, her idol.
“She'll be coming in to see the shell,” said Betty. “I assume you'd like to meet her.”
Maya nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”
Betty laughed. “I realize that you've been studying her for your IC project from the first week you started working here, but please try to keep it civil while she's here. She's not exactly onboard with the whole project yet and we may need to convince her.”
“I would never do anything to offend her,” said Maya.
“I don't have to be assured of that,” said Betty, turning to leave. “I just don't want you to do anything to offend GJ either.”
“You have my word,” said Maya, her nose already buried in the file.
Betty shook her head with a smile and left the cube. They were behind in their PossiBot project and this might be the one way of bridging the gap. Maya was a bit obsessive, especially over self-empowered, redheaded women, but she'd always channeled her energies towards constructive ends. She didn't have to worry, right?
Betty continued out of the division offices.
Back in her cubical, Maya looked at the picture of Kim Possible included in the file and sighed. “Don't worry, Kim,” she said to the picture. “I'll make the most perfect agent of justice ever. You won't have to fear it. When it's done, it'll make sure nobody has to die in a dark alley ever again.”
( KP )
With a start, Kim sat up in her bed and blinked her tired eyes. Her mind was buzzing with activity and she felt strangely out of place. Through her window, she could see the sun already high in the sky. She must have slept through most of the morning by now, her exhaustion over the last five days finally catching up with her.
Movement on the bed drew her attention to Shego, who was just coming awake as well. She shook her head and then suddenly bolted upright as if surprised. She frowned and looked to Kim who appeared equally unsettled.
“I just had the weirdest dream…” said Shego.
“I dreamt I was watching scenes from someone else's life…” said Kim.
“… I think I was somewhere in France …”
“… but I wasn't in the dream at all, except for a bit at the end …”
“… and I wasn't in it completely …”
“… for some reason I could understand French …”
“… and I think the dream was about--”
“… it was starring--”
Kim and Shego looked at each other as realization dawned over them.
“Maya,” they said in unison.
They both turned away tried to dissect the parts of their shared dream, but it was fleeting, like river, and slipped through their fingers as they tried to grasp at it.
“I had no idea,” said Kim, finally.
“I thought I had it rough,” Shego agreed. “But she just can't catch a break.”
Kim frowned. “Why did we dream the same thing?” she asked.
“And is it what really happened?” asked Shego.
A knock on the wall broke their dialogue and a few moments later Will Du emerged from the staircase. “Kim?” he asked. “I'm sorry to wake you.”
“We're already up, Will,” said Kim. “What is it?”
“The Indian Op,” he said. “They discovered the Nakasumi factory abandoned.”
“That's good,” said Kim. Maybe it was a false lead but she hated to think what could have been going on in there.
“No, it's not,” said Will. “We had a specialist look at the equipment and… it's pretty clear it had been reconfigured to build something other than toys. What's more likely is that the plant ran out of resources and was abandoned after it finished its job.”
Kim sweated. “What were they building?”
“PossiBots,” said Will. “Hundreds… maybe thousands of them.” He shook his head. “Large crates were shipped from there to somewhere in France. We're still trying to track down where they went after they touched down but it's only a matter of time--”
“Carcassonne,” said Shego.
Kim nodded. “She's in Carcassonne.” She looked to Shego. “We need to get a flight out there right away.”
Shego shook her head. “I can't get us to France in my jet, it's too far.”
Kim looked to Will. “Will?”
“I'll call it in, but I doubt Ferris will say no now that GJ is back on duty. Pack your stuff.” Will nodded and turned to head down the stairs.
“What do you think we'll find there?” asked Shego.
Kim frowned. “Everything.”