Dank stone pressed hard against Kim Possible's back, the chill stealing what little warmth she retained in the thin cotton shift that barely covered her body. The tips of her fingers had gone numb almost an hour before, and her toes…she had long since lost any semblance of feeling in her bare feet, pressed as they were against the rotting thrushes that littered the worn stone floor. In one corner of her cell, a rusted bucket had fused to the ground, the welling stench of filth that once was having already passed into memory. The dark stains that discolored the bucket and the stones that surrounded it made her stomach recoil in disgust. For the pressing needs of nature, she had forced an alternate corner into use, the farthest from where she crouched, a huddled mass seeking to retain warmth.
Distant clanking echoed softly down the hallways, hinting at human existence. She had remained within this harrowing hole for an uncountable number of hours, possibly days - she had arrived here unconscious and could not reliably determine the passage of time. Her mind had ticked off possible exit strategies rapidly. Though aged, the stone and mortar still held strong, and the wrought iron gate was far too heavy for her to lift from its hinges. Her body had burned from that effort, her back creaking beneath the concerted effort of her slim body. That activity had warmed her up - perhaps some exercise would do her good.
Sluggishly, her prompts to her limbs went through, her fingers spreading across the withering stone in trembling claws. The muscles in her legs quivered from the effort of rising, and her left knee threatened to give out and send her crashing back to the unforgiving flagstone below.
With grand effort, she gathered her wits and will and forced herself upright. Cautiously, with deliberate movements, she began a slow exercise she'd learned from a karate instructor many years past. Each movement painstakingly slow, she swept her arms through the air and shifted her weight, each change accompanied by measured, calm breaths.
The muddled and scattered nature of her thoughts dissipated into logical progressions, each successive movement bringing with it more clarity. Calm stillness settled over her and she continued, allowing her mind to process what little she knew as her body reacquainted itself with movement.
She had never thought that answering a call would put her in a situation such as this. Routine never meant being captured and knocked unconscious. She'd awoken here, in this depressing entrapment born of ancient necessity and modern perversion. The room was an almost perfect square, eleven paces wide in each direction. No window served to allow her to gauge the time of day or attempt to call for help. The only obvious egress was through a single iron grate that formed the fourth wall of her damp cage. Solid, it defied any effort to move it, forcing her to look elsewhere for possible escape. Testing the mortar between the solid stones had offered no hope - only the barest hint of decay appeared, though the stones and mortar were stained the sickly brownish green of aged mold.
Large, shuffling footsteps accompanied a disjointed jangling of what Kim presumed to be a ring of large metal keys. It would be only too appropriate for this place if her jailer turned out to be some deformed hunchback with one yellowish eye and a taste for chicken blood and fish eyes served on a bed of finely mashed medically clean maggots.
Further thought fled as sweetly scented smoke billowed in through the gate's bars, approaching Kim with menacing speed. Startled, she inhaled sharply and held her breath, closing her eyes tightly. Damp warmth trickled along her skin as the smoke enveloped her, licking along the firm lines of her thighs and reminding her arms what it felt like to not be chilled through. Experimentally, she cracked open an eye, barely, and snapped it shut again.
No burning there. She waited a long moment, but no reaction began in her vulnerable eyes. Opening them fully, she looked through the smoke in a hope to view her captor. Tinged either by design or by the wan light of the cell, the smoke obscured the large, apparently normal looking figure that lurked just outside of the cell, watching her. More smoke continued billowing in through the bars as her lungs began an insistent pressure, reminding her that her sharply inhaled breath had run out. Desperate for air, she clenched her jaw against the burning need and took a shallow, controlled breath.
It smelled of lavender.
That was her last thought before falling to the floor, once again unconscious.
Upon her second awakening, Kim kept her eyes closed. A soft splashing was all she heard, the distinctive sounds of someone bathing in the classic sense. The air, redolent with the light scent of sweet peas, hung heavily over her, tense with expectation.
Raising her head, she turned toward the sound and blinked owlishly. On one wall, a recessed television showed her footage of a woman bathing, her back presented to the camera. Dark haired and lithe, the trim body was hidden by water made murky by soap, the rich length of dark hair slick and smoothed by the water. Slender arms raised from the water, running the sliver of soap over their full length, fingers tracing decadently over curves and muscles that were all too familiar to Kim. Dipping her arms beneath the surface, the woman cleansed the filth from herself and then rose from the bath, water sluicing down the lengthy expanse of toned nudity.
If the frame of the woman hadn't clued her in, the distinctive pallor would have.
Running her hands over her body, Shego swept excess water from her skin, then emerged from the depths of the tub with a sure step. Kim turned away, heat flooding her cheeks.
In the center of the room in which she stood was a claw-footed bathtub, a throwback to days of sleek elegance and anti-trust suits. Delicate wisps of tendriled steam rose from the calm surface of the water. On one curved lip of the tub rested a sliver of soap atop a folded piece of paper.
Curiosity would probably get her into trouble one day. Opening the thick foolscap, Kim read the simple sentences in silence.
My dear madam,
Your presence is requested in the performance this evening. To this end, we have provided you with an opportunity to cleanse yourself in preparation for the performance. We remain,
Faithfully yours,
La Distribution de le Grand Guignol
That was rich. ‘Your presence is requested’ - more like ‘you've been kidnapped for our pleasure’. Kim shook her head, looking at the tub. The chilled rug beneath her feet prickled against her soles as a light movement of air drifted across her bare skin. Sensation nipped at her spine, making her shiver and reminding her that she was almost the exact opposite of warm.
She dipped a finger into the tub, the blessed warmth embracing her select protrusion. Closing her eyes briefly, Kim weighed her options. As much as she hated accepting their perverse kindness, she needed to warm herself. The tepid air did little to raise her temperature, but the bath most assuredly would.
With a sigh of resignation, Kim stepped into the tub and lowered herself into the warm, clear water.
When she'd soaked for some few minutes, a knock sounded at the door, which opened almost immediately after. A light hand thrust through the opening, then the door opened fully to reveal…someone.
The snowy white neck piece of the shirt hidden beneath a brocade jacket abounded with frills and lace, rising almost high enough to meet a pointed chin. The deep burgundy of the embroidered coat flowed over a slight frame cinched in by a black leather corset. Pants the exact shade of bleached bone loosely covered the legs of her intruder, down to the mirror polish of black boots. The face was heavily rouged and made up with pouty lips and pale skin, half hidden by the pointed brim of a hat that resembled nothing so much as a deep purple rendition of Robin Hood's traditional covering.
Out of sorts with the smile on garishly red lips and the perverted mockery of Napoleonic fashion was the gaping maw of the pistol in one hand. From the cocked flint and curved grip, Kim recognized the weapon as one she'd seen only in period movies.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Possible! It is an honor to have you among us! Come, come, your audience awaits!” The figure swept an arm to her, motioning her toward the open doorway.
Glaring, Kim stood from the depths of the tub, the water flowing from her revived body. The brightly twinkling eyes of her captor barely flickered over her nude frame as Kim stepped from the cooling water.
“Who are you?” Tightly controlled anger lined Kim's shoulders and back, forcing her hands into clenched fists.
The smile on the figure's face twisted into a mocking smirk, the eyes crinkling with malicious glee. “All of your questions shall be answered upon the stage. Come.” The mouth of the antique pistol gestured her toward the door. “Your audience awaits.”
The garishly bedecked figure guided her through labyrinthine passageways, cramped and musty with ancient greasepaint. The narrow pathways were made even more claustrophobic with discarded scenery and set pieces. Ahead looked to be a coffin stained with dirt. The upper half lay propped open, allowing Kim to see the torn satin of the lining, parallel lines ripping through the eggshell fabric stained with mysterious brown blotches. Deep scores in the exposed wood filled Kim with an unnamed terror as she was forced through the bowels of this unknown theater.
Ahead hung tall curtains, bright lights bathing the area hidden behind them. A final shove from the mystery that had guided her here pushed her through the curtains to stumble onto a broad stage heavily marked with colored bits of tape. The garish flood of brightness blinded her to the audience she assumed sat in the inky blackness beyond the edge of the stage.
From the opposite end of the stage, a similarly attired Shego was shoved into the view of those waiting in the darkness of the theater. Kim stared at the expanse of pale skin that stumbled slightly before straightening and glancing around with a snarled frown. Upon seeing Kim standing across the stage, also nude, Shego visibly started, her anger dissolving into confusion.
“Welcome to le Grand Guignol du Verite! Our performers tonight will present the most thrilling of encounters - mortal enemies locked in bare handed combat, ended only when one…dies.” The leering grin in the booming voice forced Kim to hide the crawling fear that curled around her spine at the cold words. She would not allow these sick, twisted fools to revel in her pain! In her…in her fear! The chorus of boos that surrounded them was unexpected, but brought no hope. Kim had the sneaking suspicion that their displeasure tied more into how unsatisfactory such a pedestrian offering was, rather than that it would end with death. “Not enough, dear patrons? Then consider this succulence: one of these women is desperately in love…with the other!”
The cheering that erupted was almost deafening.
Sometimes, Kim really hated being right.
Looking over at Shego, she saw the pale woman shooting a squinted glare at the invisible audience. Glancing upward, Kim saw no less than three people in the scaffolding with pistols trained on them. Looking behind Shego, she saw a glimpse of someone, similarly attired to her guide, also holding a pistol trained on them.
With a sigh, Kim returned her gaze to Shego. The pale woman looked back at her, dark mystery lurking in her expression. Kim glanced upward, then shot her eyes to either side. Shego's expression tightened almost imperceptibly, then she stepped forward. Kim dropped into her fighting stance, preparing to meet the coming fury.
Twin arcs of green fire lit through the air, one shooting almost directly overhead, the other shooting into the darkness of the theater along the line of the lights that blinded them. Kim's nude form flipped through the air as a booming shot sounded in the air, underscored by electric crackling. Sliding through the curtains, Kim's bare foot connected solidly with a shocked face, driving the nose into the skull with a sickening crunch that was barely heard under the screams.
The lights of the theater flickered as the green fire scurried along the electric lines, a ball of destruction that met a junction at a breaker. The explosion of sound cracked loudly in the confined space of the theater, almost disorienting Kim. Shaking her head, she lifted the pistol from the body at her feet, aiming upward to one of the shadowy figures clutching at the steel grating of the askew scaffolding. Shego's blast had burned through two of the ropes that supported the scaffolding, ending at one of the large curtains and setting the heavy velvet aflame. Aiming carefully with the ancient weapon, Kim fired, the ball arcing through the air to impact against the figure's weapon and strike it from their hand.
Returning to the stage, she was in time to see Shego shoot another blast directly into the audience, before running toward Kim with a vicious grin. The crumpled body behind the loping woman told Kim what had become of the other that had lurked in the wings.
“They really didn't do their homework very well, did they?” Kim planted her hands on her hips, smirking at the other nude woman.
Shego's smirk matched Kim's almost exactly. “Not a bit. If they had, they'd have found out I asked you out two months ago.”
- end -