“If you like cars that are coloured black, well, then, today’s the time go buy one! Sales of black-coloured vehicles have jumped 1.5 percent in the last three months, and dealers are starting to notice – meaning prices are about to get lower. So for all our viewers, we’d just like to give a heads up for y-”
CLICK.
“Hey! I was watching that!”
“The news? C’mon, man! Sportscenter’s on!”
“Dude, how can you handle a hangover like this? My head feels like it’s about to explode!”
“Hangover? Dude, you can’t cal it a hangover until the next day! We just got back from the party!”
“It’s 1 AM, Flaggpole. I’d call that the next day.”
“Oh.”
“Man, that party was a blast! Who knew Shego could sing?”
“I didn’t even know she could be that happy! You see that? Like a damn toddler half the time!”
“Yeah, that was weird. You think somebody’s been slipping something into her drink?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. Kim’s probably doing it. I mean-MMMPH!”
THUMP.
“What? Handle your hangover, dude. You’re slurrin’ your words again.”
“No. He’s just passed out.”
“Dude, you can’t kill a hangover by drinking more b – waitaminute. Who said th-MMMPH!”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody at all, Brick! Just the friendly mother of one of your neighbors who’s just happened to have been turned evil by use of the last Attitudinator in the world on them, and is now working with her daughter’s former ally turned enemy. I’m just kidnapping you and the rest of MU’s team for a while.”
“MMMPH! MMMMMPHHH!”
“Hope you don’t - mind! AH-HAHAHAHA! Oh, what a really bad joke…Still have to work on that…”
WHUMP.
“NURSES! Collect the patients - but do them no harm. Yet… There’s two more on the schedule here. Oh! And look! Same diagnosis – unconscious due to a nasty bump on the head while trying to fend off being kidnapped! Tsk Tsk tsk… Looks like they’re gonna get the same treatment as these 11 over here! Attend to them - our shift’s over! We’ll be able to watch Wade burn Washington faster than a Redcoat!”
“Aight, two months ago, we brought you a Sunday Conversation with Shego, where she showed herself to have changed tremendously from the infamous criminal she used to be a couple years ago. Now, even though she recently said “Stop giving me so much hype, I haven’t proven anything on the field yet,” we’ve decided to not agree. And so now, with the help of my old pal Chris Berman, we have compiled two Top 10 lists for this broadcast: One is of the Top 10 women athletes ever, and the other is the Top 10 insane plays by Shego in high school – at least, the ones that got caught on video. Swami?”
“Thank you, Stuart. Now, normally, we’d start with the Top 10 women athletes ever – but today isn’t normal! We’re gonna go straight to the Top 10 plays made by Shego in high school! Why? Because we wanna! Number 10: This is back when she was under the guise of Shennen G. O’Reilly – beautiful name, she shoulda’ kept it – but that’s beside the point! Shego, opening kickoff receiver – takes it all the way down the field in this return filled with so many jukes and jives, Brian Setzer just wet his pants!”
“Number 9: Same game, just a little further into it. Middleton’s been previously stuffed 3 times in a row up near their own goal line, so what does the coach do on 4th down? Sends in "Shennen G. O’Reilly" as the punter! Nobody picks up on the switch ‘till she’s already got the ball, and by that time – yo, man, that just ain’t right – she’s goin’ so fast Twista’s pantin’ just tryin’ to keep up! 90 yard dash! Insane.”
“Number 8: This is actually a two-in-one special! First: A Middleton home game. Shego, still under the name Shennen G. O’Reilly, in as the running back. She gets the handoff – WHOOP! Strongarms two defenders, breaks a tackle, then runs it 40 yards downfield before the safety comes over for a great tackle to stop the otherwise easy score! Second: Thought that tackle was great? Watch this one. Same game, Shego still the running back. She takes the handoff, runs it 10 yards – before the same safety pops the ball out! It’s a FUM-BLE! The safety picks it up and runs the other way– but if there’s one thing we’ve all learned recently, it’s that you do not wanna make Shego angry! She comes flyin’ back up the field, and – OOH! My leg twitched there… The poor safety got – Stu, say it with me – JACKED UP!”
“She said in an interview with the school paper after the game that she was actually holdin’ back on that hit – I don’t even wanna know what woulda’ happened had she hit him full force – but let’s move on to Number 7: The game after that one, against the Brookdale Horned Toads, and another great defensive play. You can’t see Shego on the screen right now because she’s in the backfield. Middleton High is up by 3 with 24 seconds left right here. Brookdale, tryin’ to get into field goal position to tie it up and take it into OT. This pass from Brookdale looks like it’s gonna do just that – but someone forgot to say hello to my little hater in the house! Shego - picks off the pass to save the game for Middleton! The Mad Dogs would recover an onside kick, run out the clock, and stay undefeated in the Tri-City Metro Division.”
“Number 6: Another 2-for-1. First: The next game. Shego, now playing at the linebacker spot. Can we say BLITZ? Shego - just bowls over the lineman and wraps up the quarterback in a bone-crushing sack! Second: The game after that one. Shego, now at wide receiver. Middleton - play-action pass – Brick Flagg sends up the mother of all high school hail marys! This thing looks like it’s way over everyone’s heads – but then we are talking about Shego here! Watch this: Jukes the defender off his feet, then leaps about a mile over everyone’s head to make the catch – check out the elevation she gets! They were able to measure it after the game because someone got a great photo of it – just look at that! That’s high jumper height, not football player height! Now, honestly, c’mon – how could she ever top that?”
“Easily, Chris – and she was able to do it easily five more times. Here we go with the last 5 top plays. Number 5: I’m gonna say beforehand, this is just ridiculous. This’ll make you a snake, your jaw will become so unhinged. Last game of the regular season for Middleton High, 3rd quarter. Shego, the man – er, woman – in motion. Switches off with Brick Flagg at the snap! Brick runs down the field while Shego, feelin’ the force, moves like Yoda to dodge everyone comin’ at her, then throws an absolute beauty of a spiral to Flagg, who’s returned to the Jedi in the goal! 65 yard touchdown pass. Ridiculous.”
“Num-behr 4: Shego - After being cleared of criminal charges and teaming up with your former archenemy to save the world from another giant robot invasion engineered by your former employer, what are you gonna do next? Said she: I’m gonna go play in the 1st round State Playoffs and make plays like this one: Lined up as the running back, Shego takes the handoff – and uses about half of the other team as pommel horses as she dodges tackle after tackle! Finally brought down at the 20, but it set up a field goal that pretty much wrapped up the rest of the game for the Mad Dogs right then and there.”
“Utter insanity, my man. Number 3: Back to when she was still under the name of Shennen G. O’Reilly at this point. I said with Number 5 that your jaw would become so unhinged – this one’ll make it fall off! Wide Receiver Shego, runnin’ down the field. How does she make this play? I have no frikkin’ idea! The pass, again overthrown, but that’s no big: Shego’ll just backflip over the defender and catch the ball as it sails over the goal line! Another sick ridiculous play that just has to be seen to be believed.”
“Number 2: State Playoff Quarterfinals. Middleton down by 7. Shego as the running back. Takes it 72 yards, but it ain’t ovah till it’s ovah! Two defenders leap at her, so what does she do? Ducks and rolls underneath them, comes out of the move completely untouched, and keeps goin’! To paraphrase Al Michaels: She did WHAT? That – that, my friends – that is why the NFL is even interested in her!”
“Now, you’d think that’d be Number 1 – but it ain’t! This is! Remember that Brookdale pick at Number 7? Well, here’s the rest of that play! After she picks off the pass, Shego runs it in for the score – sliding into the end zone like Sammy Sosa headin’ for home plate! Everyone else is celebratin’ like crazylicious - but Shego’s nose knows somethin’ ain’t right. Instead of joining the party in the house, she races over to the Brookdale lineman who tried to tackle her last. Why? He’s not movin’, that’s why! Replays show the dude painfully landing on his head after missing the tackle. Shego frantically waves over medics from both sides of the team – and when the dude recovers, she offers him her shoulder to help him off the field. Later, in interviews, Shego said it was that point where she really began to second-guess her criminal lifestyle. Well, with a play of sportsmanship like that, one wonders how she ever became a criminal in the first place… We’ll be right back with the Top 10 Women Athletes of all time, after this.”
“Oh, sorry, you’re going to have to miss that, boys.”
“Huh? Who said th-MMMPH!”
WHUMP.
“As much as I’d like to watch the Top 10 Women Athletes, I’ve got a little woman of my own I have to lure out to Washington, D.C.! And you two are going to help me by being some of the unwilling bait!”
The morning sky was deep red like last night when Shego’s eyes fluttered open. “Mmm…Kimmie…” The redhead was lying on top of her, the both of them stark naked. “You awake there, Kimmie? Kimmie? Hello-o…” Shego craned her neck up and around to see if Kim was asleep or awake, not sitting up or rolling Kim off because she wanted to enjoy the warmth radiating out between their bodies. Kim made no response, no movement at all. “Hmm…This calls for a little test.” She grinned evilly.
Shego’s green energy flames were the result of – according to what the nerds in Go City High School told her was their best guess some 5-odd years ago - some kind of weird reaction when the comet had hit her. The band of unique green ionized plasma energy around the comet had mixed in with her skin, sinking down through the epidermis to the blood vessels – explaining why her skin was the green tint it was now. When the ionized plasma energies had reached those first few capillaries - the reaction between them and her blood plasma – and that was all they could tell her, just "the reaction" – resulted in the powers she had now. Contrary to popular belief, the energy wasn’t actual flames – moreover, it was… Well, basically, it was pure energy that she tapped from within herself – if it actually was partially comprised of her blood or blood plasma, then it put back whatever it took, because she’d never become drained simply by using her powers too much in one day – it just looked like flames by default. How she controlled it, she didn’t exactly know. She knew learning to control it had been as hard as learning to walk, and using it now was nothing more than the equivalent to an animal controlling its tail - it was pretty much her own green, glowing Centurion Project, just with no guns or lasers or jetpacks built-in. But whatever. The point, was that she could control the intensity, density, temperature, and shape of the green energy – all with the same precision skill as she could, say, lift her arm up. Meaning she could do what she was doing now: Ignite a tinny burst the same shape and density of a feather, that wasn’t scalding when it touched someone, either. She grinned devilishly. This would be way too easy…
The moment the “feather” touched Kim’s nose, Shego knew her prey was awake. She just had to coerce it a little more. “Wake up, Kimmie…” She purred, rubbing the “feather” across the sensitive area of her cheek. Suddenly, she had the urge to do something that she’d never done before – and did it. “Gitchy-gitchy-goo! Gitchy-gitchy goo!” Shego cooed as she tickled Kim’s whole face. “Gitchy-gitchy goo! Wake up, Kimmie…Time to get out of bed…” She saw Kim trying not to laugh. “Oh, you’re awake, Pumpkin…Guess I’ll have to take drastic measures.” She stopped briefly, letting the “feather” go.
Then she attacked Kim’s belly with her fingers, tickling her maniacally. “GITCHY-GITCHY GOO! GITCHY-GITCHY GOO!” Shego repeated, moving up to Kim’s armpits. “GITCHY-GITCHY GOO! GITCHY-GITCHY GOO!” Kim jerked from the tickling, tried not to, but finally exploded in laughter.
“Shego – ah hah – stop! Stop! I’m – ah! Up! I’m up!” Kim protested, doubling over in laughter as Shego tickled every highly ticklish part of her body. “Shego, okay! I’m up, I’m – ah!” She laughed some more.
“GITCHY-GITCHY GOO! GITCHY-GITCHY GOO! GITCHY-GITCHY GOO! GITCHY-GITCHY GOO! GITCHY-GITCHY GITCHY-GITCHY G-” Shego pulled the laughing redhead’s legs around her waist, pressing her body against hers again, capturing the woman’s lips between her own. “I love you.”
“Mmmm…” Kim closed her eyes and licked her lips, savoring the kiss. “As do I, Shego…As do I… Ooh!” She jumped out of Shego’s grasp so fast, Shego lunged out to grab her with a short cry of protest, missing her. “I know what I’m gonna wear today!” Kim exclaimed, happily bounding over to the closet.
Shego sat back in the bed and smiled, watching her lover, admiring Kim’s body from afar. Those legs, those perfectly swaying hips, that ass, that chest, those perky breasts–
Shego smirked as she shivered. Some ass of a fan had once asked Kim why her breasts were so pointy. Well, after sleeping with Kim in a room that stayed so goddamned cold all the time, Shego’s breasts were starting to become glass-cutters themselves. Hence why she savored every moment they cuddled…
“Like it?”
Shego blinked. She’d been lost in a such a daze, she hadn’t even noticed that Kim had changed.
“Well?”
Shego took one look – and squealed in delight. “Oh my god, you’re wearing it!” she gasped as Kim modeled every angle of the way the black-and-silver Team Go uniform she’d spent hours knitting fit the cheerleader’s body. “You look great, Kimmie. Absolutely gorgeous,” she purred. “Er, waitaminute… You barely had time to take off –” She grinned. “Well – my, my… Kim Possible – the Kim Possible - going without a bra or underwear. What will the neighbors say?” she mocked, shaking her head.
Kim pecked her on the lips. “Naughty is as naughty does, baby. Now c’mon, already. We’re already late for breakfast as it is, and then we have a van to pack and a college to head off to. Let’s move.”
----
Ron and Monique had come over for breakfast, invited by Mr. Possible for one last breakfast with his daughter and their friends before they jetted off to college and he was stuck alone with the Tweebs. “Who wants omelettes?” Mr. Possible asked once everyone was awake and ready to eat.
“Where are the Tweebs?” Kim looked around. “They’ve usually ransacked the kitchen by now.”
“Your brothers? Oh – they’re at a birthday party for one of their friends.”
“Wow - early party…” Shego mumbled.
“Oh, their parents are busy beavers, Shego. Work in the afternoon. Had to schedule it in the morning.”
“I see...” Shego yawned.
“Wait – what time is it?” asked Kim.
“Nearly 11.”
“Sounds like they weren’t the only busy beav-OW!” Ron exclaimed as Monique elbowed him in the gut.
“Ron!” Monique hissed, tilting her head towards Mr. Possible.
Mr. Possible chuckled. “Oh-ho, don’t worry, Monique. When we lived in an apartment before Kimmie was born, her mother and I used to give the landlord quite a time with many a wild night of our own.”
“DAD!” Kim protested while everyone else chuckled.
“Kimmie-Cub, not to be rude or anything, but I should probably tell you the rest of us have been wearing earplugs when we’ve gone to bed for about…oh, nearly a year now. You get pretty loud there.”
Kim’s face was damn near black, it was such a deep red. She looked at Shego. “Shego – is that true?”
“Oh, yeah, Kimmie - you’re, uh…You’re quite the shrieker there...My ears still ring from last night.”
Kim slid down in her spot, so far beyond embarrassed, there wasn’t even a word for how she felt.
Mr. Possible chuckled. “Don’t worry, Kimmie. Your mother was the same way. Loud as a banshee…”
“Oh, yes, thanks – that just makes me feel so much better, Dad…” Kim grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Hey, you feel that?” the man asked.
“Do I feel wh-” She stopped, as the low rumble suddenly became much stronger.
“Shh! I-395!”
They peeked out over the balcony at the freeway that crossed the Potomac.
“Holy crap, that’s a lot of black cars.”
Ken Du sighed. He was good at poring over reports, construction bills, budgets, and other paperwork – his current position definitely reflected that - but it still wasn’t his forte. He was at his best in the field.
He sighed again. Sometimes, he did wish the worst could happen.
“SIR! A CLUSTER OF PRIVATE SATELLITES ORBITING DIRECTLY OVER WASHINGTON, D.C. ARE CHARGING UP SOME PREVIOUSLY UNUSED AREAS OF THEIR CIRCUITRY!”
“…So?” asked Ken.
“SOME ENERGY SIGNATURES MATCH EXACTLY WITH THE COMET-LIKE OBJECT THAT DESTROYED THE GREY CAR SHEGO PURSUED PRECISELY THREE MONTHS AGO, SIR!”
Ken looked up. “Say that again?”
“SIR! SOMETHING’S HAPPENING IN THE GIANT ROBOT HANGAR! I DON’T KNOW WH-”
BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM! Multiple, powerful explosions rocked the room, and the transmission went to the hiss of static.
Ken sprang to his feet. “AGENT DOYLE! YOUR TEAM! UP THERE! NOW! FULLY ARMED! FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED, WHO’S RESPONSIBLE, AND MAKE SURE IT’S STOPPED!”
“SIR!” Agent Doyle turned to his squad and gave the hand signals to move out – which they followed.
“Agent Orwell, check the security cameras in the Hangar!”
“Yes, Sir!” There was the sound of typing for a moment. “What th-SIR! ALL SECURITY CAMERAS IN THE FACILITY HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY DISABLED! TRYING MANUAL OVERRI - AAAAGHH!” cried Agent Orwell, shielding his face with his arms as his console erupted with sparks.
“EVERY NON-CRITICAL AGENT, GET OUT OF HERE!” Ken bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“Waitaminute – that’s not a cluster of private satellites…That’s one huge private satellite!”
“SIR! AGENT DOYLE HERE! EVERYTHING’S BLOWN TO PIECES! ALL THE GIANT ROBOTS ARE DESTROYED! SOMEONE’S INSIDE THE FACILITY, AND THEY KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING!”
“SIR! THE ARMOURY IS UNDER AT-” A loud RATTATATTA! was heard, and the line went static.
“AGENT WIKI, FIND OUT EVERYTHING YOU CAN ABOUT THAT SATELLITE! AGENT DOYLE, YOU HAVE MY AUTHORIZATHION TO DO EVERYTHING THAT YOU MUST TO DEFEND GLOBAL JUSTICE! IF YOUR TEAM ENGAGES THE INTRUDER, TAKE ‘EM OUT!” barked Ken.
“Understood, Sir!” came the reply.
“Sir! Information found on the satellite!”
CRACK! The sound of a very big shotgun going off rang out in the distance. Multiple shots followed.
“Go on, Agent Wiki!”
“Vulcan Project II! Made: Early ‘80’s! Design– SIR! MIGHT WANNA SEE THIS FOR YOURSELF!”
Ken checked the console. “Designed by young scientist James T. Possible, the Vulcan P- oh, holy shit – GET ME THE MILITARY DISTRICT OF WASHINGTON COMMANDER ON THE LINE! THE NATIONAL MALL AND SURROUNDING AREA MUST BE EVACUATED NOW!”
BOOM! An explosion on one of the upper levels sent an agent sailing over the guardrail high above. Everyone turned their heads as the agent plummeted to their death on the other side of the room.
Ken grit his teeth. “Now” was fast becoming a precious commodity…
“Can you believe this?”
“Nope.”
They both stared as the endless stream of black cars went by.
“No way the President needs that many cars in his motorcade.”
“No shit – or, it could be some dealership’s taken buying by volume a tad too far.”
“Dammit – we’re already a day late to this Congressmen’s Families thing! Argghh!”
“Sir! I have a Secret Security Agent on the secure line!” called out Agent Bell.
“Finally!” Ken sighed, running back up to his office and picking up the phone.
“Ken! The hell you calling here for? The President’s in a meeting in the Oval Office, for Chrissakes!”
“Smith? Look, I’m sorry, but Global Justice picked up the Vulcan Project II Satellite charging up-”
“Vulcan Project II? Reagan cut that to focus on developing the Centurion and Hesphaestus Projec– ”
“Yes, but Smith! The satellite was accidentally launched the day funding was cut, by Mr. Pos-”
“Hey, lookit’ all them black cars! Some tourist group they got there!” came a voice in the background.
“WHAT? SMITH! GET THE PRESIDENT TO ORDER EMERGENCY DEPLOYMENT OF THE D.C. NATIONAL GUARD! THOSE BLACK CARS ARE NOT A TOURIST GROUP! THEY’RE-”
“SIR!” Agent Doyle came interrupted over the intercom. THE INTRUDER! IT’S – AUGHHH!”
BOOOOOM! An enormous explosion tore through the upper levels. Rubble fell into the main room.
“AGENT DOYLE!” Ken shouted, completely forgetting he was on the phone. “COME IN!”
“Ken? What the hell was that?”
“AN EXPLOSION! MRS. POSSIBLE AND WADE SENT SOMEONE TO ATTACK GJ, AND THEY’RE ABOUT TO ATTACK YOU! YOU HAVE TO EVACUATE D.C. – ALL OF IT!”
“Mrs. Possible and Wade?”
“THEY’RE IN THOSE BLACK CARS! GET OUT OF THERE ALREADY!”
“Hah hah hah hah! He sounds like Will talking about Betty!” came another voice in the background.
“AND WAS WILL WRONG ABOUT BETTY?” Ken snarled.
There was a pause on the other line.
“Smith?” asked Ken.
“I’ll tell the Police to get the Bomb Squad to check it out first, Ken. I do trust you, though. If it comes down to him having to order the deployment of The National Guard, then so be it. But it’d be better to avoid having to put the troops and citizens in harm’s way if we don’t have to. Isn’t that right, Ken?”
Ken sighed. “Yes. Thank you, Smith.”
“Right. I guess I’ll interrupt the meeting… Thanks for the warning. You take care of your problem.”
“Yes, Smith.”
Ken hung up and returned to the situation at hand. “SECURITY TEAMS NUMBER ONE THROUGH FIVE! ASSIST AGENT DOYLE IN SUBDUING THE INTRUDER!” he yelled, pointing furiously.
“Uh, Chief – exactly which black car you want us to check out?”
“Whaddya mean, White? The one on Pennsylvania Avenue!”
“Well, uh – not to be rude, Sir, but there’s like black cars all the way down Pennsylvania Avenue!”
“Well, I don’t – Pick one!”
White looked at his partner – who shrugged.
“Uh, gotcha, Chief.”
“Mr. President?”
“Yes, Smith?”
“It’s believed that Wade and Mrs. Possible are in the city.”
The President looked up. “Well, then, we best be gittin’ out of here, ain’t that right?”
Guns drawn, Sergeant White and the rest of his SWAT squad cautiously approached the black cargo van they’d picked. On his mark, they swung around to the driver’s side door. “FREEZ – What the hell?”
No driver. Or passenger. “CHECK THE OTHER C-” He stopped as his hand brushed the door of the van while he turned around. It didn’t feel anything like a metal car door. Instead, what it felt like was—
Cloth.
“HEY JERRY!”
“What is it, Sarge?” asked Officer Bay.
“It’s goddamn cloth!” Sergeant White lifted part of the material up.
Officer Bay was stunned. “Well, whatever – We gotta see what’s underneath it!”
“Sommers! Woo! Help us out with this!” Sergeant White yelled. “Everyone else get back!”
When the way was clear, the four officers lifted the cloth, and peeled it back off the contents it covered:
A large, clear fuel drum marked “4,000 gallons Styrene” – resting on top of and covered by numerous 1.25 pound blocks of C-4 laid out in the van shape, every one connected to a remote detonation charge.
“Holy god…FALL BACK! FALL BACK!” Sergeant White bellowed.
“To where?”
The SWAT officers whirled around to find Wade standing there – clad in the Centurion Project armour, holding a remote. He was surrounded by a couple dozen groups of ninja scrubs. He held up the remote in his hands as the cybertronic armour’s menacing red-eyed mask formed over his face. “Whoops!”
He pressed the button.
There was a bright flash. A powerful shockwave as the C-4 went off sent the SWAT officers and other cars in the area flying, shattered all the nearby windows, demolished the fence in front of the White House – and then the Styrene exploded, sending up a sky high ball of fire the width of a two-lane freeway that fried anything that ended up in its path. And all of it happened within the span of 5 seconds. And it didn’t stop. It devastatingly repeated as the chainlink of “black cars” detonated one after the other with frightening fury. Debris from one explosion was turned into shrapnel by the next explosion. A few civilian cars seemed to hang in the air as the multiple shockwaves from the C-4 blasts crossed paths. The ground felt like an earthquake as the explosions raced down Pennsylvania Avenue, connected with the “black cars” on Constitution Avenue and tore down that road all that way down the National Mall. The explosions continued down Pennsylvania Avenue as well, connected with the “black cars” on 1st St. NW in front of the West Front of the Capitol Building, demolishing the two statues by the small reflecting pool, then connected with 1st Maryland Avenue and raced down that road until it connected to Independence Avenue – where the explosions followed that road down through the National Mall, meeting up with the explosions that raced down Constitution Avenue when those blasts turned onto Henry Bacon Dr. NW and Daniel C. French Dr. NW and met up on Lincoln Memorial Circle NW. Civilians screamed as the sky high Styrene explosions filled the air with massive columns of smoke – not to mention the poisonous fumes that arose when Styrene burned. The chainlink of earth-shattering explosions still wasn’t done. After the explosions finished on Lincoln Memorial Circle NW, they followed the “black cars” on the now-merged roads across the Arlington Memorial Bridge, crossing the Potomac and tearing down Memorial Dr. all the way into Arlington National Cemetery - where the Woman in Military Service For America Memorial was destroyed by the explosions that ended there.
Meanwhile, back in the National Mall, the Smithsonian buildings along Madison Dr. and Jefferson Dr. lost their windows and a few chunks of concrete as the C-4 blasts sent cars on the street airborne again, joining their counterpart buildings on Constitution Avenue and Independence Avenue that had just recently suffered the same fate. Along with those buildings, the explosions along Constitution Avenue and Independence Avenue raced up around the Capitol Building, where they met via the chainlink of “black cars” on 1st St. SE, the C-4 blasts there sending cars flying into the U.S. Supreme Court building. The new World War II Memorial was partially destroyed from the explosions that had graced 17th Street NW. The explosions that had left the West Front of the Capitol Building via Maryland Avenue had connected with the “black cars” on the rest of Maryland Avenue a few feet down from where it crossed Independence Avenue. That chainlink of explosions destroyed the U.S. Department of Education building, and they went down Maryland Ave. as it turned into C St. SW and then merged with 9th St. SW. The “black cars” kept exploding along 9th St. SW, all the way through the merger lanes of I-395, where they met up with the chainlink of more “black cars” exploding along the freeway down into Virginia., where the last of the “black cars” exploded along the roads that surrounded the Pentagon.
And all of it happened within the span of about just under 2 minutes - flat.
The nation’s capital was now enshrouded in epic plumes of smoke. Back at the West Front of the Capitol Building, there suddenly was heard a terrifyingly insane cackle. Looking everywhere for its source, everyone screamed as a legion of ninja scrubs poured from the curtain of smoke. Mrs. Possible was right behind them holding an axe, the most deranged look on her face. “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE’S MOMMY!”She immediately ran towards the nearest civilians, swinging the axe violently, not caring if it hit anyone. “THAT’S IT! RUN! RUN, YOU COWARDS! RUN ALL YOU WANT! AHAHAHAH!” She kept laughing maniacally, swinging at anyone who came near, as she ran up the Capitol’s steps. “GO ON, YOU HUMANS! RUN LIKE THE SCARED LITTLE VERMIN YOU ARE! AHAHAH!”
U.S. Capitol Police officers ran up and surrounded her, their guns drawn. “FREEZE!”
“NURSES! WE HAVE SOME PATIENTS TO TREAT!”
“What – AUGHH!” cried all the agents as what seemed like boomerangs whipped through the air, slicing across their necks. The ninja scrubs emerged, all catching their scalpels, while the agents fell.
“TREAT FOR DEATH, I’M AFRAID! AH-HAHAHAHA! Now where do I start again? OH! Here!” Mrs. Possible ran down the length of the main West Front entrance, swinging the axe through the main 8 massive granite columns holding part of the building up. “Follow me, nurses! Don’t wanna become a patient, do we?” She ran, laughing hysterically, all the way down the Capitol steps as the columns crashed to the ground and the front part of the building collapsed in upon itself with a choking cloud of dust, the columns tumbling down, crushing the sculptured fountain on the Terrace that split the stairwell.
“HOLY SHIT!” the President yelled, ducking as Wade unloaded round after round from the Centurion Project’s sub-machine guns into the seemingly bulletproof glass of the White House – which was shattering faster than Vanilla Ice’s career. Planning to escape, he’d first insisted on getting his family. But the explosions and subsequent attacks had prevented that and driven him and his bodyguards back into the Oval Office. Now, he was cowering under his desk as Wade fired outside the main entrance.
“MR. PRESIDENT! IN A MOMENT, WE’RE GOING TO MAKE A BREAK FOR MARINE ONE! the Secret Service agents yelled. “CAN YOU KEEP UP WITH US, EVEN OVER THE SHORT DIST-”
BOOM! The VH-60 Blackhawk outside on the Presidential Lawn exploded in a furious fireball.
“CANCEL THAT ORDER! MARINE ONE HAS BEEN DESTROYED! REPEAT, MARINE ONE HAS BEEN DESTROYED!”
“GODDAMMIT! DEPLOY THE NATIONAL GUARD! I WANNA SEE SOME GODDAMN APACHE CHOPPERS TAKING THIS GUY ON – AND FUCKING SOON!” yelled the President over the din.
With the help of Wade’s special axe, Mrs. Possible, done with the Capitol building, jumped out of the grey van and laughed as she hurled the axe through the middle level of the Washington Monument. “Oh look – WASHINGTON FALLS! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Picking up the axe, she jumped back into the van and floored it about 20 feet – where she reached the just recently built World War Two memorial. “Two theaters of battle?” she asked, looking at the arches marked PACIFIC and ATLANTIC. “Sorry – but this theater’s reserved for one thing: RUBBLE!” she cackled, and promptly ran wildly around the memorial, chopping down everything that was a part of the structure. The Freedom Wall wasn’t spared. Finished, she got back in the van and drove down to the Korean War Memorial. Skipping down the paths, laughing hysterically, she gleefully chopped the heads of the statues in the memorial off – or sometimes, if she hit them hard enough, knocking the statues over. Reaching the Pool of Remembrance, she took out a can of gasoline and poured into the water. Lighting a match, she turned around and flicked it into the water – where it promptly burst into flames. Getting back in the van, she drove over to the Vietnam memorial. Approaching the Vietnam Wall, she laughed, swung the axe into it with a loud CHUNK! – then dragged the axe all along the length of the wall. The sound was like a million nails scarping chalkboard. Reaching the end of the wall, she turned and did it again – this time heading the opposite direction. She repeated this until the Vietnam Wall had 6 deep, long gashes running its length.
“Now – where should we broadcast this to Kimmie from?” she asked, looking around. “Hmmm – better wait until Wade captures the President.” She smiled with gleeful evil as two more grey vans drove up.
The sub-machine gun fire outside suddenly ceased. The President stood up.
A shadow moved down over the Oval Office windows. It seemed like a cloud, it was going so slow—
“GET DOWN, MR. PRESIDENT!” An agent tackled him to the ground as Wade let loose with the Centurion Project’s other machine gun accessory. Gunfire ripped through the Oval Office windows, shattering the glass as if it were balsa wood. Two Secret Service agents went down. The others surrounded the President and furiously returned fire, aiming at the sound origin of the guns outside. Debris flew in every direction. Picture frames on the President’s desk were mulched to nothing. The mug passed through 3 generations of his family – turned to ceramic ashes. Continually ducking on noise alone, the President did a double-take. A small militia of Secret Service agents had suddenly appeared.
“"The First Lady’s not there?" WHADDYA’ MEAN, "THE FIRST LADY’S NOT THERE?"”
“They got the Vice President and the rest of the Cabinet already? AND THEIR FAMILIES?”
“Sweet Jesus! Three of the memorials are already completely defaced!”
“WHAT? They’ve only been attacking for five minutes!”
BLAM! BLAM!
“STAY ON THE GROUND, MR. PRESIDENT! STAY ON THE GROUND!”
“THEY’VE TAKEN THE SUPREME COURT JUSTICES!”
“STAY LOW, MR. PRESIDENT! WE’RE GONNA GET YOU TO SAFETY, PRONTO!”
“NUMEROUS HOSTAGES! REPEAT: THEY HAVE NUMEROUS HOSTAGES!”
“SHIT! THEY WIPED ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE? HOW THE HELL? WITH WHAT?”
“THE PENTAGON HAS BEEN DESTROYED? WHAT? HOW? SAY THAT AGAIN?”
The machine gun fire tore into the agent in front of the President’s hiding spot, hitting the man with so much force, the agent was sent rolling over the desk, landing right in front of the horrified leader. Two more agents went down, and the President couldn’t take it. “CHRIST! WILL SOMEBODY TELL SOMEONE TO GET SOME GODDAMN SOLDIERS THE HELL OVER HERE ALREADY?”
A very loud BOOM! echoed through the National Mall. Instinctively ducking, even though nothing was there, the President sighed as the civilian screams faded. At least some people were getting out alive…
The explosions were getting closer. All Ken could hear was chaos coming from the upper levels.
Gunfire. Screams. Sub-machine gun fire. More screams. There wasn’t much time left. Thank god Wade was focused on attacking Washington – Global Justice would be just a memory in few eyes by now…
“SIR! THE VULCAN PROJECT SATELLITE HAS BEGUN FIRING!”
“PATCH ME TO THE UN WHILE WE STILL HAVE A CONNECTION!” Ken yelled. “THE REST OF THE SECRITY UNITS, ASSIST AGENT DOYLE IN STOPPING THE INTERNAL ATTACK ON US!”
“SIR!”
In a flash, the UN Security Council appeared on the monitor. “Ken, what the hell are you calling for? We don’t have time for you right now! We’ve gotta deal with the Ambassador of Iceland – He’s right furious at this incident with those surgeons kidnapping that couple in broad daylight-”
“They’re in Washington, D.C.! And it’s ninja scrubs, Ambassadors! Not surgeons!”
“Come again?”
BOOM! Another explosion shook the GJ headquarters.
“NINJA SCRUBS, AMBASSADORS! THEY’RE MRS. POSSIBLE’S HENCHMEN!”
Gasps and whispers erupted throughout the Council. “Mrs. Possible’s henchmen? Where is she?”
“MRS. POSSIBLE AND WADE ARE DESTROYING WASHINGTON, D.C. AS WE SPEAK!”
The members of the council looked at each other, stunned.
BLAM! BLAM! Ken looked up as multiple shots were fired. At least his agents were fighting back…
“Ken? KEN! Should we send international troops?”
“NO! NO! ALL MRS. POSSIBLE WANTS IS TEAM POSSIBLE! I’M GOING TO GET THEM, BUT FIRST I NEEDED TO CONTACT YOU SO I COULD ARRANGE SOMETHING BEFOREHAND! AS GJ HEADQUARTERS IS ITSELF UNDER ATTACK, I HAVE LITTLE TIME LEFT TO TALK!”
RATTATTATTATTATTA! The unmistakable sound of submachine guns roared in the distance above.
“Go on, Ken! Hurry! What do you need us for?”
“I NEED YOU TO RELAY THIS TO MY AGENTS POSTED UP THERE WITH YOU: TELL THEM TO FUEL OUR SPECIAL RESCUE HELICOPTERS AND STAND BY FOR MY SIGNAL TO LAUNCH! IF THEY DON’T RECEIVE A SIGNAL FROM ME IN THE HOUR, TELL THEM TO LAUNCH IMMEDIATELY AND TO HEAD DIRECTLY FOR THE NATIONAL MALL IN D.C.!”
“What? Are you serious?”
“AREN’T YOU WATCHING YOUR NEWS, AMBASSADORS? JUST TELL MY AGENTS TO FUEL UP THOSE HELICOPTERS AND STAND BY, DAMMIT! THERE IS NO TIME TO ARGUE! I HALF-EXPECT THIS ROOM TO BE DESTROYED THE MOMENT I FINISH THIS SENTENCE!”
Much to his chagrin, it happened. Waves of fire came racing down the transportation tubes ringing the room, and when they reached the end of the tube’s trails, enormous explosions instantly ripped through the place, the shockwaves hurling machinery and agents in every direction – and propelling Ken straight backwards through the tongues of flame that licked the air. Picking himself off of the ground, he looked around the room – which was now full of carnage. “AGENT CHRISTIE! AGENT MCCARTHY!”
Nothing. Ken hung his head, but only briefly - there was no time to mourn now. He turned and dashed towards the escape tunnels - which, much to Ken’s gratefulness, were located nowhere near the main room of Headquarters. Yes, the underground tubes that had saved Kim and Shego’s lives during Drakken’s 2nd Hesphaestus Project fiasco had been converted into Middleton’s new underground reservoir and water treatment plant – but what had been converted was only a portion of the entire network of tubes. Built for GJ use originally, they’d mainly been used to transport agents – or, in the case of Kim Possible, allies – to and from GJ headquarters. Never considered for emergency escape by Betty Director, they were quickly converted to handle that situation when Ken took over the agency. Now, as other agents ran past him and rippling explosions followed their every footsteps, Ken ran for the direct line into Kim’s garage she and her family had agreed be installed after Mrs. Possible turned. It wasn’t much, but at least it would only take him 10 minutes to get there – considering how badly the National Guard was gonna be slaughtered, anything that lessened the number of casualties was good.
As the rippling explosions consumed not only the hallway, but also the agents who were too slow, Ken barreled as fast as his feet could take him. Reaching the corner he wanted, he snatched up two agents falling behind him and dove into the adjacent hallway. The enormous feather of flames shot past the three, the hallway crumbling to ashes at their heels. In its wake, there was now a venomous crevasse.
“Oh, irony…Just how do you always know when to appear?” Ken muttered, peering over the edge of the crevasse. He turned back to the two agents he’d just picked up. “AGENTS! YOUR NAMES! NOW!”
“AGENT TROSH, SIR!”
“AGENT VELDI, SIR!”
“C’MON!” Ken yelled, waving. “YOU TWO ARE COMING WITH ME TO GET TEAM POSSIBLE!”
“YES, SIR!” they both replied. All three drew their Desert Eagles and ran down the hallway.
After a moment, Ken spotted the entrance to the escape tube he wanted. “TARGET ACQUIRED!”
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Ken froze. The gunshots had sounded behind him. He turned—
“Targets hit — Ken.”
Ken aimed at the intruder in the darkness. “Come out of the shadows — Betty.”
The figure stepped into the light, aiming their gun directly at him.
“Affirmative. I am Betty Director – reanimated by Wade, with my brain recently restored to full functionality by the help of Mrs. Possible. You are pretty perceptive, Ken. The President chose well when he anointed you the head of Global Justice after my – unfortunately premature – passing.”
“You were chewed to bits. How could Wade re-animate you if there was nothing to reanimate?”
“May I remind you that this is Wade whom we are talking about?” Betty scoffed, cocking her gun.
“So it would seem Agent McCarthy was only 90 percent wrong, then…”
“McCarthy, eh? I’d swap stories with you about his – ahem – theories…if I didn’t have other motives.”
“If you’re really Betty-” snarled Ken, “You’d explain those motives.”
Betty tilted her head with a smirk.
BLAM! BLAM!
The guns flew from each other’s hands as they both leapt at each other at the same time, the gunshots deflected away from them. Ken grabbed Betty’s wrist and flipped her over his back, sending her crashing into the wall. Betty quickly recovered and directed a flying kick into his gut, knocking Ken back a few feet. Running to pick up her gun, Ken grabbed her legs and pulled them out from under her. The SMACK when she connected against the cold, hard concrete ground was a painful sound to hear. Unfazed, Betty kicked him in the face, her boot heel connecting with his nose, shattering it to pieces. Instinct overriding, Ken released his grip – and Betty dove for her weapon. The blood dripping from his nose, Ken spun his leg around, simultaneously kicking her in the face and once again knocking the gun out of her reach. Rising to his feet, he charged her and drove a punishing uppercut into her chest as she stood up. Grabbing her head and trying to slam it down against his knee, Betty countered by grabbing his arms and tumbling backwards, kicking him off and hurling him down the hallway behind her.
“C’mon, Betty – can’t we resolve this in a diplomatic manner?” Ken asked. A quick jab to his right cheek gave him his answer. He quickly stood up – dangerously close to the crevasse’s dropoff now. “Alright – so much for diplomacy. HRRRAH!” He leapt through the air at her – and then felt the pain of a thousand swords driving into his nether region as Betty’s boot connected solidly with his crotch. Stumbling backwards in pain, Ken fell onto the ground. Looking over, he spotted his gun off to the side. He reached for it, but Betty noticed him and immediately kicked it off the broken edge into the crevasse.
She stomped on his hands and kicked him in the gut, pushing him back, closer to the crevasse edge. He caught her with a low roundhouse, but it wasn’t enough to knock her off her feet. He stood up delicately, tiptoeing on the ledge. Somehow, he kept his balance as he fended off a vicious flurry of attacks from her. He silently thanked God, even though he didn’t go to church, that his mother had put him through ballet lessons when he was 3 – there was no other explanation as to how he was staying up presently. “Y’know – whoah-“ He ducked a punch and got his footing back. “I’m a little surprised, Betty – we’ve been fighting for a solid two minutes and you still haven’t used the Standard GJ Main Weapon?”
“Hmm… Good poi-ARHGHRARHGHRARGHGHR!” Her voice was reduced to inane babbling as Ken fired his suit’s Taser cartridge first. As she convulsed involuntarily, Ken yanked his arms backwards, pulling her towards him (The Taser cartridges GJ used had wires that were especially stronger than the standard-issue cartridges received by most of the world’s law enforcement, due to the fact that GJ’s agents needed to make sure the wires wouldn’t just up and snap in the suits with normal movement.) Making sure to keep away from contact with the wires, Ken ducked while throwing his arms over his head. Betty sailed over him, flung out over the crevasse – and Ken detached the wires from his suit.
Scraping himself up off the ground, he grabbed her gun and walked towards the escape tunnel entrance.
“Not so fast, Ken.”
He whirled, instinctively drawing the gun.
Betty’s bloodied hands gripped the concrete as she climbed back over the ledge, brought herself to her feet, and aimed the Taser part of her suit at him. “I would say that you are not through with me just yet.”
“Oh, I’m quite sure that I am,” Ken snapped back.
She glared.
Locked into a standoff, Ken stared into her eyes.
Betty stared into his.
Ken suddenly realised what he was doing.
And he started laughing.
And kept laughing.
“What?” asked Betty. “What is so funny?”
“Oh, you’re so not Betty Director.” Ken spit out some of his teeth she’d tore out with her high heel.
“I can assure you, I am indeed Betty Director.”
They circled each other.
“Oh yeah?” Ken asked.
They circled each other again.
“I am quite positive that it is indeed me,” replied Betty.
“So tell me, Betty: How come you have two eyes?”
Startled, Betty reached up to her face—
BANG! The shot from rang out across the emptiness.
Betty Director - whether it really was her or not - fell into the crevasse, a bullet hole in her right eye.
Ken sighed, dropping to a kneeling position.
He holstered her gun. “Sorry, but I think I’m gonna have to borrow this for the time being.”
He stood up, hobbling his bruised body over to the escape tube entrance.
The gunfire stopped. The President looked up—
“MOVE! MOVE!” The Secret Service agents grabbed him and took off running. “WE’RE GOING TO GET YOU TO THE PRESIDENTIAL EMERGENCY OPERATIONS CENTER, MR. PRESIDENT!”
“WHY NOT THE SITUATION ROOM?” The President asked.
“THE PATH TO THE SITUATION ROOM IS BLOCKED BY MRS. POSSIBLE’S HENCHMEN!”
The President looked up as he ran. The roof of the White House had been nearly completely ripped off. 2nd story rooms were now 1st floor rooms. Balconies were porches. Flames & smoke licked everywhere.
BLAM! BLAM! An agent whirled and fired two shots to the President’s left, hitting 2 people in surgical scrubs carrying massive biopsy needles - whom he’d never seen, but who were only 5 feet behind them.
“C’MON! KEEP MOVING, SIR!” The agents reminded him, and they all took off again.
“Uh…Hey, tell me again, you guys – Exactly how can we move away from THOSE?” The President yelled, pointing up into the sky. Already red when everyone had woken up, the sight of near-fifty or more comet or meteor-like objects hurtling down through it made it suddenly all the more terrifying.
The agents looked at each other. “WE RUN FASTER!” With that, they bolted ahead at full speed, the President somehow willing his legs to keep up with them.
As the “comets” began raining down out of the sky, each one split off into 2 individual pieces, which then slammed into ground with monumental explosions. The ground shook tremendously with each.
“KEEP UP WITH US, MR. PRESIDENT!” the agents yelled as the hallway was obliterated around them as some of the “comets” found ground and turned their path into Tongues of Flame and Splinter Shrapnel Central. Two more agents went down as an a few of the larger splinters were sent ricocheting out of an explosion and stabbed into their jugulars, with enough force to knock the agents down, too.
“GET DOWN, SIR!” the agents left around him yelled, diving to shield him as another explosion knocked out the last keystone holding the partial roof above them up, and it crumbled down upon them in a shower of wood, metal, glass from the lights, and a supremely choking cloud of smoke and dust.
The agents jumped to their feet, circling around the President. He started to get up – but the BLAM! BLAM! of more gunfire persuaded him not to. He dropped himself back on the ground instantly.
“STAY DOWN, MR. PRESIDENT! WE’RE SURROUN-ACKGPLGLTH!” the agents sputtered, falling to the ground as a flurry of needles slammed into pressure points on their necks and spines.
The cloud of debris was halfway clear.
“HONEY!” The President heard his wife scream, and scrambled to his feet. Through the cloud, he saw he was surrounded by shadows – shadows with weapons. And two other shadows were there, one taller than the other. “HON-MMPH! MMMPH!” The taller shadow kicked the shorter shadow down and clearly tied a gag around their mouth. The President got ready to run – but then the cloud cleared.
His wife’s hands and legs were bowed, and she was gagged. He’d expected to see that. He hadn’t expected to see the rest of his family bound and gagged in the exact same manner, however…
The shadows with weapons were Mrs. Possible’s henchmen – all holding more needles at the ready – and standing over his wife was Mrs. Possible – her thoroughly chilling laugh enhanced by her grin.
“Morning, Mr. President! My oh my, isn’t it a wonderful day?”
The President looked at the mini-Armageddon going on around him. “Yeah - it’s Zippity Doo-Dah alright.” His voice stayed unwavering – which surprised even himself, actually. “What do you want, Mrs. Possible? Money? Us to release some of your colleagues who were found guilty of malpractice?”
“Hmm… The thought hadn’t occurred to me before – and, well, he wasn’t exactly found guilty of malpractice – but if you released Dr. Drakken, that would be a nice perk, come to think of it now…”
“Not a chance. I don’t negotiate with terrorists. Dr. Drakken is an example for people like you.”
“Oh my, Mr. President – that sounded quite…dictatorship-ish…Forget that that’s not a word.”
“So it may have. Crisis situations don’t exactly give one time to think their words through.”
“Oh, well, put, Sir – but you see, I’m not a terrorist, really.”
“You’re a psychopath who’s killed people in order to achieve a goal. Sounds like a terrorist to me.”
“Soldiers kill people to achieve a goal,” Mrs. Possible countered. “And some are pretty psychotic.”
“Soldiers protect the freedom of their country’s citizens, Missy. Don’t go confusin’ the two.”
Mrs. Possible, who’d had back turned, turned back around. “Missy?”
“Aw hell…” muttered one of the ninja scrubs as they backed a little bit further away from the President.
“That’s right: Missy. And don’t get snippy with me about it either. I’m the goddamn President of the United States of America. I can say whatever the hell I want to say, whenever the hell I want to say it. And can’t no one stop me – ‘cept my wife, but that’s another story that I ain’t gettin’ into right now…”
“So,” Mrs. Possible held out her hand to one of the henchmen, who handed her a rusty scalpel. “If I were to, say, slit your wife and children’s throats right now with this rusty scalpel, then you can scream in horror however the hell loud you want to scream in horror?” she asked, tapping it on his wife’s neck.
“Do whatever you want to us, Missy – we all know at the end of the day who the papers will declare stood fast against the evil forces invading their territory – and who all paid the price for their sins.”
“Golly, Mr. President – that sounded like a lot of terrorist rhetoric we’ve been hearing recently…”
“No – It’s my rhetoric. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Son! Could you come here for a moment?”
Wade appeared quickly. “Yeah, Mom?”
“And you know what, Missy? I actually pity you. You’re not yourself. When this is over, if you’ve returned to normal or not, you’ll have paid for the crimes you’ve committed here - whether you truly deserve to pay for them or not. And it’s not all because of you. It’s because of that young man there.”
“Me?” asked Wade.
“Yes. You, Wade. Kim Possible did everything she could to save your mother in Iceland –”
“NO SHE DIDN’T! SHE COULD’VE ARRIVED FASTER! SHE COULD’VE SAVED MOM!”
“AT LEAST SHE TRIED TO SAVE HER, SON! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU, BOY? SITTIN’ IN YOUR ROOM!” the President snapped back, becoming less scared by the second.
“SHUT UP!” Wade snapped. “SHUT UP!”
“I won’t shut up, son! Kim Possible did everything she could to save your mother. You sat in your room – WAITIN’! And when Kim couldn’t get there in time to save everyone, and your mother died – you refused to accept the truth, blamed Kim for destroying your family – then went and destroyed hers for revenge? PATHETIC, THAT’S WHAT IT IS! A RIGHT PURE COWARD YOU ARE, BOY!”
“SHUT UP! KIM COULD’VE SAVED HER! SHE’S ALWAYS SAVED EVERYBODY!”
WORD TO THE WISE, SON – NOBODY’S PERFECT!” the President snapped back.
“Hmm…He’s not as dumb as most people think he is…” noted Mrs. Possible.
“Thank you for the compliment, Miss,” The President nodded.
“What? Oh, how nice! He just earned his life for a while! NURSES! Throw him in the van, will you?”
Wade grumbled as the henchmen kicked the President down, then bound and gagged him.
“Son? I think I hear military helicopters. Do me a favour and stop the National Guard, will you, dear?”
“As long as I get to k-”
“Don’t worry, Wade – we’ll save him for last. How about that?” asked Mrs. Possible with a wide smile.
Wade grinned. “Works for me!” He engaged the Centurion Project’s rockets and blasted away.
The AH-64 Apache helicopters of the D.C. National Guard were the first to arrive on the scene crime. Wade perched on what was left of the Washington Monument and watched as they surrounded him. “Lessee, what do they have? Hellfire missiles, Hydra 70 rockets… Oh, please! Don’t make me laugh!”
He activated the Centurion Project’s dual XM124 minigun assembly – the only actual working versions of the weapon whose manufacturing and design had been stopped before it reached any use in the field.
Or so they said.
“Mr. Wade! This is the U.S. Army! Give up now and we will not fire upon you!” came the transmission.
Underneath the mask, Wade raised his eyebrow. “Mr. Wade? I like that…However, I decline. You see – ALL THIS IS A RUSE TO DRAW OUT TEAM POSSIBLE AND I AIN’T GOT TIME TO BLEED!” He promptly fired the XM124s at the main rotors of the Apaches, taking each one out with precision, swiftly spinning around. He grinned. The Centurion Project was awesome – absorbed the massive recoil from the 4,000-rounds per minute firing rate, and produced its own bullets for the damn guns. Awesome. One of the helicopters fired a Hydra rocket at him, but it merely exploded against the armour – and in seconds, the Apache had no main rotor, and was plummeting to the ground. However, before it reached the ground, a “comet” crashed into it, taking it out in a large explosion. “Ooh – that sucks,” Wade noted.
Then the Air National Guard showed up – a few F-16s from the 113th Wing. They wasted no time in firing a few Sidewinder missiles at him. Wade fired up the rockets and headed straight for the White House. Just before reaching it, he turned on the Centurion Project’s anti-heat-seeking shield. The Sidewinders, unable to lock onto their target suddenly, went for the next best thing – the fires below. The missile explosions just further collapsed what was left of the already nearly-destroyed building. “You know, you guys really aren’t being smart here,” Wade noted as the F-16’s turned towards him. The jets gave chase to Wade, and he manoeuvred with precision, just as he had trained for three months. He ducked under and looped over two planes closing in on him from opposite sides, causing them to crash. He led the remaining F-16’s through the volley of “comets” pelting the National Mall. And all along the way, he sighed. “This is boring. C’mon, guys – Kim – no - RON could do this stuff! Sheesh!” As he swerved back and forth between two “comets” before they broke into 2 pieces which slammed through the two F-16’s giving chase, sending them plummeting to the ground, he yawned in annoyance. He turned as they came towards him and fired the XM124’s directly at the cockpits of the planes, striking the pilots and destroying the planes’ controls, shutting down the power for the fighters – even the engine controls. With no engines, the planes glided down – and plowed into the Capitol Building.
“Are we done yet?” Wade asked, looking behind him – and seeing one more jet coming after him. “Ugh…” He turned and fired off a few cybertronic shoulder missiles at the jet, destroying it fast.
Then the ground forces arrived: Soldiers marched in line down from the West Front of the Capitol Building, across the National Mall. Some were in Stryker vehicles, some were in machine-gun mounted Humvees. Two Abrams tanks were also part of the assault. “Mom?” Wade called over the comm.
“Yes, Son?” Mrs. Possible asked.
“Could I please have some nurses help me clean up the yard?” he asked.
“Why, of course, Wade!” came the reply from Mrs. Possible. “I’m so glad to see you being so responsible lately! Just hold out a few minutes. I’ll send them right over. You go have fun now, dear!”
“I will, Mom!” Wade looked at the approaching soldiers with a dark grin. “Don’t worry about that…”
As he waited for the backup to arrive, he used the Centurion Project’s special hose mechanism to suck up all the water in the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, as well as the pool for the WWII memorial.
Then the ninja scrubs arrived, and immediately got into their defensive battle positions and squadrons. Another fireball from the Vulcan Project II Satellite crashed in front of Wade as he turned to the ninjas. “All right, guys! You know what we have to do! LET’S TAKE THESE SONS OF BITCHES OUT!”
The ninja scrubs all produced their favoured shuriken – needles, scalpels, small bone saws, etc., and turned to face the oncoming soldiers. Wade turned last, pointed forward – and silently, they charged. Being ninjas, this was surprising to none of them in the least, but apparently the other soldiers thought otherwise, and were clearly not prepared for the assault. This was compounded by the fact that they were already trying to avoid the numerous fireballs from the “comets” that were still raining down from the sky above. They fired some machine gun rounds from the Strykers and Humvees, but the ninja scrubs danced and jumped around the bullets faster than any tap-dancer could ever dream of moving. The soldiers on the front lines opened fire with their M16s, but they did no good at all. Wade, having activated the weapons cooling system of the Centurion Project, fired back all the water from the Reflecting Pool that he’d sucked up. The droplets came out at the hardest icicles one could find. They flew through the air and ran through dozens of soldiers, dropping them like the flies that they were. Bodies fell one after another. But when the ground was lost and both sides met each other in hand-to-hand, the action went so fast it was hard to believe there’d been a fight after all. Every ninja soldier incapacitated his opponent in about a minute or less, doing so in various ways. Meanwhile, Wade fired some more cybertronic shoulder missiles at the tires of the Humvees, exploding them with tremendous force. The pathetic vehicles flipped over and sailed through air – landing upside-down in the now-empty Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. A few more cybertronic anti-tank missiles later, and soon the Stryker vehicles and tanks were lying belly up in the Reflecting Pool as well. Finally, he had finished his task…
The ninja scrubs quickly regrouped back up with Wade – not a single one had been lost in the battle. “What? That’s it? The Armed Forces are giving up already?” he asked. The sudden sound of a fighter jet being destroyed in the sky above them told him otherwise. “Oh, well, we had our lovely fun – let the satellite take over the defense position for now. My dinnertime happens to be closing in!” He juiced up the firing rate of the satellite, then with a quick wave, he and the ninja scrubs returned to Mrs. Possible.
He knew from studying the Centurion Project that it wasn’t completely invincible. Eventually, some cracks would start forming in the armour. What Wade didn’t know – was that a crack was just starting.
“Oh, honey, you’re back!” Mrs. Possible cried when he landed, the mask off his face. She engulfed him in a big bear hug. “I was worried sick – thought I was never going to see my little Wadee’s face again!”
“I’m fine, Mom, really.” Wade patted Mrs. Possible on the shoulder. “What’d you want me to do here?”
Mrs. Possible looked at the Vietnam Women’s Memorial statue. “I found just the perfect spot to broadcast from!” She nodded at Wade - who looked at it – and emptied the remaining bullets in the Centurion Project’s sub-machine gun into it, reducing the statue to a shattered version of itself. Mrs. Possible nodded at the ninja scrubs. “Line them all in front of me – and get my good side, Wade!”
The ninja scrubs opened the doors of the vans and forced the hostages inside – who had their arms and legs tied; their mouths gagged – to exit and kneel where pointed. Eventually, all of them were lined up:
Brick Flagg. The rest of Middleton University’s football team.
Stuart Scott. Chris Berman.
The President. His whole family.
The Vice President. His whole family.
Every other member of the President’s Cabinet. Their whole families.
All nine Justices of the United States Supreme Court.
A Senator, his wife, and their little girl - who just seemed to be in the wrong spot at the wrong time.
And a random couple, a black man and woman, whom Wade had picked to be the first ones kidnapped.
Struggling against his bonds, the President sighed when he felt a warning tap from a needle on the back of his neck. Then his head was suddenly violently grabbed and jerked up, however, and he found himself looking up at the images on a small TV screen that Mrs. Possible forced him to look at. “Just look what we’ve done, Mr. President!” Mrs. Possible cackled as he stared in horror at what he saw:
The White House burning. The Capitol Building in complete ruins. Smoke rose from the area where the Supreme Court Building was. The Washington Monument sliced in half. The big, long Reflecting Pool completely drained - but it was filling up fast with all the public service, and military vehicles and planes that either Wade or his “comets” continually took out every time they got close – fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, tanks, Humvees, armoured trucks, the Stryker vehicles, Apache helicopters… All of them were burning in the Reflecting Pool. The statues in the National Korean War Memorial destroyed; the water in its Pool of Remembrance mixed with gasoline and on fire. The World War II Memorial’s pillars and arches nothing but rubble, the gold stars from the Freedom Wall strewn about the damage like confetti. The water drained from that memorial’s pool. The lingering walls of flame from the Styrene explosions along Constitution Avenue and Independence Avenue. It was truly bone-chilling.
The “comets” screaming down from the skies in tubfuls of bucketfuls in number were just mopping up the rest of the destruction at the present moment. The forty-odd thousand explosions they created all seemed like one gigantic, drawn-out explosion, there were simply so many of them screeching down.
All the President could do was stare. It was like the War of 1812 – as if it had been started by Satan.
Which – as he looked at the blue-skinned woman laughing insanely – it may very well have had been.
BRANK! BRANK!
The sound made a chill run down everyone’s spine. The noise was the alert: Ken was coming.
Everyone ran to the garage. Ken stepped out of the tube.
“Jeezus, Ken – What the hell happened to you?” asked Shego.
Ken sighed. “They’re attacking Washington, Kim.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Possible and Wade – they’re attacking Washington, D.C. right now.”
“The attack’s been going on for 20 minutes so far. Last I knew; the President had ordered the National Guard to come in. I’d assume they’ve just begun engaging them at this point. This?” he looked at his bruised self. “Oh yeah -You’ll never guess who I ran into today while they destroyed GJ Headquarters.”
“Uh…” said Ron.
“Hint. One word: Eyepatch.”
Ron gasped.
Shego’s eyes went wide. “No…”
“BETTY?” Kim’s voice was the most tense it’d been in…since forever. “BUT SHE –”
“As she told me – and this is a direct quote of the exact sentence she said – "I am Betty Director – reanimated by Wade, with my brain recently restored to full functionality by the help of Mrs. Possible."”
Shego looked at Kim, both women dumbfounded. “She’s back? I thought she-”
“Was back,” Ken clarified. “That hole my gun made in her eye was pretty deep. Course, you never know – it’s incredibly possible Wade’s been watching his Six Million-Dollar Man and Bionic Woman reruns lately. Oh, and another thing: Dr. Possible, Wade’s hacked into the Vulcan Project II Satellite to atta-”
“Vulcan Project II Satellite?” Mr. Possible looked up.
“Vulcan Project II Satellite?” asked Kim.
“…Vulcan Project II Satellite?” Shego raised her eyebrow.
“One of my first designs, and something I regret having worked on.” Mr. Possible looked away.
“Vulcan Project II Satellite: Designed in the mid-‘80’s by young James T. Possible of the Middleton Space Center, as part of the scrapped Star Wars Defense program. The day that program was scratched was the day the satellite was scheduled to be launched. They got the order to cancel the countdown on time-”
“-But some stupid idiot – everyone said the Janitor did it - accidentally leaned on the launch button before they’d taken the rocket off the launch pad…” Lowering his head, Mr. Possible sighed heavily.
Kent went on. “Almost completely automated. Circuitry 30 years ahead of its time. Designed to fire very tiny, but VERY powerful SCUD missile-like projectiles when it detected an oncoming enemy ICBM. The alignment and positioning engines used an odd variation of the Viking satellite’s ion engines – which was so weird, in fact, their discharge was a unique set of rainbow-coloured plasma energies. However, because the launch happened far after it was supposed to, one of these engines became quite brittle due to the oxygen re-cool, then sudden re-heat. It snapped off over Go City after reaching or-”
“HOLD ON!” Shego screeched, igniting her green energy flames in a sudden fury.
“SHEGO!” Kim protested, knowing where this was going.
"Ho ho, oh, snap!" Rufus chittered, ducking back into Ron’s pocket. Monique and Ron backed up.
Shego grabbed Mr. Possible by the throat, slamming him furiously against the wall. “It was YOU?”
“What was – oh…” replied Mr. Possible.
“YOU’RE THE REASON I’M LIKE THIS?” Shego pushed Mr. Possible further back against the wall.
“Ken – where did the engine land?” Kim asked quickly, hoping it was just the sheerest of coincidences.
“According to my agent who found the information - somewhere in the suburbs. The tracking device was damaged, which pretty much made it impossible for the Space Center to track back then-”
“DID THEY THINK TO CHECK THE BURNING HOUSE WITH 3 CORPSES INSIDE IT, AND 5 LITTLE KIDS HUDDLED TOGETHER WAILING IN THE FRONT YARD?”Shego pulled Mr. Possible off the wall – then viciously slammed him right back up against it, sending chunks of the wall flying through the air from under the force of the impact. Mr. Possible coughed as her grip tightened.
“SHEGO! STOP!” Kim screamed, leaping on her arm. “HE ALREADY SAID HE REGRETS IT!”
Shego swatted her away, her anger so much a simple swing of the arm sent Kim flying across the room, where she smashed into the picture frames by the stairs and fell to the ground - unmoving and silent.
“SHEGO!” protested Monique while Ron ran to check on Kim.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME, MR. POSSIBLE? WHY?” Shego asked, her eyes roiling with anger.
“SHEGO! STOP!” Ron waved his arms. “JUST STOP!”
“YOU DON’T GET IT!” growled Shego, tightening her grip even further. “YOU ALL JUST DON’T GET IT, DO YOU? IT’S BECAUSE OF HIM THAT I WAS LEFT TO SURVIVE WITH JUST MY 4 BROTHERS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE THAT LIFE FORCED UPON AN 8-YEAR OLD? IT’S BECAUSE OF HIM THAT MY FAMILY WAS SHATTERED!”
“AND UNLESS YOU STOP CHOKING HIM, KIM’S FAMILY WILL BE SHATTERED, TOO!” Ron roared - so loud, Monique blinked, not wanting to believe that she actually hadn’t lost her hearing.
Shego’s pupils shrank, the raging fire in them extinguishing. She slammed Dr. Possible against the wall again. “You should be very glad that I’ve learned how to forgive people from Kimmie, Dr. Possible.” She released her grip on his neck, and he fell to the floor, gasping for air. “Otherwise, you’d be dead.”
Kim coughed. Shego whirled, seeing her lover on the ground. “Kimmie!” She raced over. “I’m sorry...”
“No. You had every right in the world to be furious with me.” Mr. Possible stood up, rubbing his throat.
Shego looked stunned that Mr. Possible said it. Kim smiled. “He’s right, Shego. However, you aren’t the same person you were then. And that makes all the difference in the world. All the difference.”
“You gonna be okay, sweetie?” asked Shego.
“Yeah.” Kim stood up. “I’m-”
The TV turned on. “HELLO, WORLD!” Mrs. Possible waved to the camera enthusiastically.
Kim drew a sharp intake of breath when she saw what was on the screen:
Mrs. Possible standing on the half-destroyed Vietnam Women’s Memorial, laughing maniacally. The four gigantic, deeply etched gashes on the Vietnam Memorial Wall behind her. In front of her, on the ground, all of her hostages. The black man and woman in front of the hostage group Kim didn’t recognize – but the many other faces whom she definitely recognized made Kim’s blood freeze in its arteries. “MRS. POSSIBLE’S COME TO TOWN! DAH-HAHHAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!”
Irony of ironies, Shego’s blood started to run cold.
“I know you’re watching this, Kimmie! I don’t need to introduce myself - you know exactly who I am – nor do I need to tell you we’ve been rather quite busy since you tried to get rid of us a few months back! But y’know, I couldn’t take it anymore - I just have to see my darling little Bubble-Butt one more time!”
Suddenly, loud minigun fire erupted from behind her. A blur of smoke plummeted down through the smoke and met the wreckage in the Reflection Pool with an explosion of tremendous size and force.
Soon after, calmly down through the smoke came Wade.
“Sorry about that, Kimmie!” Mrs. Possible laughed. “Wade’s just making sure you’re the only one who gets to me first. I know it’s quite rude, but I do want to be alive when I meet you for the second time!”
She threw back her head and let out a cackle the Wicked Witch of the West would be envious of.
Wade popped in front of the camera. “Hey Kim – wanna see something cool?” He walked over to the hostages, and picked up the black man and woman he’d picked to kidnap. “That couple who saw Tara climb out of the crevasse? Well, turns out they also happen to be Monique’s biological parents!”
“WHAT?” Monique shrieked.
“You’ve got 30 minutes to get here before I start to pick off these people, Kimmie – and I won’t start with the adults, either – I’ll begin with the children! Shall I give you a taste?” Kim’s eyes grew wide with horror as Mrs. Possible picked up a girl who had to be no more than just 3 years old, struggling furiously to break free of her restraints, thrashing everywhere, screaming loudly through her gag.
“Oh my god – that’s–” Shego gasped, knowing she’d seen the face before.
Mrs. Possible cackled as the girl squirmed in her grip. “This here’s the daughter of one of our Senators – feisty lil’ bitch, ain’t she? Been strugglin’ like this ever since we kidnapped her last night. Even in her sleep. Dad’s website says she’s a huge Shego fan – also says you recently ran into her two days ago!”
“RUGUA!” Shego gasped.
“Oh no…No, Mom, nonono…” Kim grabbed Shego’s hand in an attempt to calm her nerves a little bit.
“Should I note her red hair – adds a nice touch, eh?” Mrs. Possible asked. Suddenly, she viciously slammed the girl face-down onto a flat part of the statue. The muffled screams of Rugua’s parents grew even louder. Shego, who considered herself to be one of the most apathetic people on the planet, felt her knees buckling as she watched the terrifying display. Mrs. Possible then held down the struggling toddler with one hand, and put out her other hand. “Needle!” she barked – and one of the ninja scrubs gave her one of their huge needles. Turning back to the child, Mrs. Possible raised the needle high—
“NO, MOM…NO!” Kim screeched. Monique, Ron, and Mr. Possible looked away.
Laughing maniacally, Mrs. Possible plunged the needle down. The sickening wet THIK! said enough.
“NO! NO!” Kim hugged Shego as tightly as she could, tears streaming down her face. “Not again…”
Over the horrified but muffled shrieks of Rugua’s mother in the background, Mrs. Possible laughed again. “Oh, too bad, Kimmie – you could’ve saved her, just like you could’ve saved Wade’s mother! But–” She gasped. “You didn’t… For shame, Kimmie. For shame…There’s other children her age here, Kimmie! 30 – no…25 - minutes to go, or I start lobotomizing them without anesthesia! AHAHAHAHA!”
“O–kay – She certainly likes to laugh a lot,” noted Monique.
Kim cried on Shego’s shoulder. “Oh god…I can’t believe I just saw that … I didn’t know anything could be a worse sight than when Drakken killed Bonnie…Shego, why – why did I watch that happen?”
Shego looked at Kim’s trembling eyes. “You know why you watched that. You care for people, baby. You watched that because you expected Rugua to somehow break free and run – didn’t you, Pumpkin?”
“Y – yeah…” Kim answered, slowly realising herself that, subconsciously, she had been expecting something like that to happen. She sniffed back a tear in surprise. “H - how did you know that, Shego?”
Shego smiled. She ran her fingers through Kim’s bangs. “I know you, Kim.”
Kim smiled a little bit through her tears, embracing Shego tighter. Shego didn’t say anything about the way she was feeling at the moment. Kim could understand why her body was shaking the way it was.
“Yeah, yeah, enough remorse – CAN WE JUST GO STOP HER ALREADY?” Monique screamed.
“Thank you, Monique,” said Ken, who was just about to say the same thing.
“She’s right – C’mon, Kim!” Shego ran to the garage. Everyone followed her – except for Kim, that was. Shego turned back to see Kim still staring at the TV. “KIM! WE’VE GOT PEOPLE TO SAVE!”
“I know!”
“Well, come on, then! Ugh!” Shego dragged Kim to the garage before Kim resisted, breaking her grip.
“But-” Kim sniffed. “Shego, I – I can’t fight her! I can’t fight my mother!”
“Oh, come on, Kim – Don’t go right back to being emo after that conversation we just had! Please!”
“I – Shego, I – I can’t!”
“YOU HAVE TO! SOLDIERS ARE DYING! LET’S RIDE, KIMMIE! THE FASTER WE GET THERE, THEN THE FASTER WE CAN SAVE MORE OF THEIR LIVES, TOO!” yelled Shego.
“Soldiers given orders by the government…”
“YES! THERE’S MEMBERS OF THE GOVERNMENT WE HAVE TO SAVE! MOVE, WOMAN!”
“The same government that betrayed us nearly a year ago, Shego?”
Shego threw up her hands. “Oh, is that what this is about? Recall - Ken’s part of that government, too! GJ is part of Homeland Security! Goddammit, woman, please do not make me slap you right now!”
“Yeah, you heard your what your m– Mrs. Possible’s gonna do, Kim!” said Ron. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t like the people you save – they’re still people, and Team Possible saves people! And animals, Rufus,” he noted as Rufus popped up to protest. “Now can we move? I’d really like to give Monique a chance to know if those people are really her biological parents. She grew up pretty much by herself. It’d be nice for her to have some family coming to our wedding. But it’s kinda hard if they’re DEAD!”
Kim just stood there, frozen, uncertain of what to do.
Mr. Possible sighed. “Shego, I’ll take Kim’s place, then. It is my wife out there, and she needs-”
“WHAT? DAD, NO!” Kim screamed as he got in the backseat next to Ron and Monique.
“Ronald, would your parents mind if we asked them to pick Jim and Tim up from that party? This seems a tad too dangerous for them. Anything’s possible for a Possible, but they’re not completely ready yet.”
Ron snorted. “You have to ask, Mr. P.?”
“Always good to check, Ronald. Always good to check.”
“DAD, YOU CAN’T GO!” shrieked Kim.
“Listen here, Kimmie-Cub…Your mother is out there, yes. But the woman you saw on TV was not her. I know your mother better than anybody on the planet except her mother – even you and your brothers – and that’s not her. I’m going with them to stop that monster who has my wife hostage inside her. I can’t give up. There has to be a way to reverse the Attitudinator effect. Nothing is permanent. Well, except for nothing itself – but anyways – you’ve got a choice You can stand there and watch us leave – or, you can come with us and help save your mother. She wants to face you. I imagine she’ll do more and more horrible deeds than the one you witnessed until the time you finally face her. Besides, Wade’s using the war games satellite I designed to shatter more families, just the way that satellite shattered Shego’s family. I can at least prove to Shego that I do regret working on that damned thing by coming along.”
There was a loud SKRITCH! as the car key Shego was trying to put in the ignition slipped out of it.
Mr. Possible looked over at Shego, her semi-stunned face clearly showing she hadn’t expected to hear him say that. He looked back at Kim as Shego fumbled to start the car again. “I’m sorry, Kimmie-Cub, but instead of the truth being all lies like last time, this time it’s pretty clear. It’s your choice to accept that truth, no matter how difficult it may be to do so, or go the easy route, ignoring people as they die.”
Kim clenched her fists. Resolved, she sighed, half-reluctantly walking around to the passenger door.
“That’s the Kimmie-Cub we know,” said Mr. Possible.
“Kim!” Ken called out. She stopped and turned around - and he tossed Betty’s gun to her. “Take it.”
Kim nearly dropped it when she saw what it was. “Are you INSANE? I guess I can fight Mom, but sh-”
“Last resort, Kim.” Ken slipped in next to Mr. Possible in the backseat. “If you have no other option.”
“But I don’t even know how to-”
“Kimmie-Cub, I’m sorry to say this, but Ken is being quite practical with his reasoning right now.”
Kim looked at Ken – who was pressing a button on his watch and was not paying any attention to them at all. She wanted to keep protesting – but time was running out. Holstering the gun, she got in the car. “Now, anyone know how the hell we can get all the way from here to Washington, D.C. in 15 minutes?”
Shego looked at Mr. Possible as she backed out of the garage.
He grinned. He’d helped her install boosters with his J200 rocket fuel when they’d repaired her car.
Shego looked back towards the road and revved the engine, a certain gleam in her eyes that hadn’t been there in a while returning with a vengeance. “Your dad helped me fix this car, Pumpkin. Just buckle up.”
END CHAPTER FOURTEEN (REWRITE - NEW CHAPTER)