Measure of a Mook (Chapter 3 – a Kim Possible fanfic)

Chapter 3“Hey, KP, can we talk?”

“Now’s not really a good time, Ron.”

“Aw c’mon, KP, we do this kind of thing all the time during missions.”

“…okay, that’s fair, what’s up?”

Drakken’s Old Place: Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean
July 16, 2007: 10:04PM

Kim and Ron were both crouched behind a makeshift barricade made out of a turned over table in the final lair of Dr. Drakken. Surrounding them were a myriad of Professor Dementor’s goons, all of them armed with plasma rifles. Bolts of energy tore through the war zone.

“A few months ago, during the Lowardian Invasion,” Ron started, ducking low behind the table. Kim cast a quick look over the table then back to Ron. “I said I was scared and you said you were scared too.”

Kim bit her lip, then took another quick look over the table, trying to find an opening. Dementor’s goon had them almost completely surrounded.

She remembered that moment. Ron had this awful “center will not hold” theory that Barken had really pushed on him. The prospects of his future were pretty bad, but despite her growing pile of college acceptances and the acclaim behind her name alone, she was pretty scared too.

“Ron, I don’t think this is a good time to talk about this,” Kim grimaced, her voice shaky. “We need to stop Dementor first.”

Ron frowned and looked down. He already knew what this meant; they weren’t going to talk about it, even on the flight home. But that didn’t matter right now, KP was right. They had a world to save. He looked back up, determined. “Okay, my head’s in the game. What’s the sitch?”

Kim peeked over the table again. “First, we need a way to breac—”

Before Kim could finish her sentence, a red energy blast soared right over the table and smashed Kim right in the jaw. The force of it sent Kim rolling several yards backwards. She recovered fast, getting to her feet quickly but it was too late. All of the goons had locked their sights onto her.

Ron got up to his feet to help, but a barrage of red light passed by him, almost creating a wall between the two of them. He stepped back, narrowing his eyes to get a better view. He heaved a sigh of relief as Kim danced around the area, doing some fancy jumps and spins that could get her a victory at the Cheer Regionals any day of the week.

Did they have cheer leading in college, maybe that was the issue?

Ron looked to the gallery of goons to his left and waved his arms at them frantically. “Heeeeey! I’m open!” he shouted desperately. One of them cast him a quick glance then waved his hand at him as if to say “As if!”

Ron threw his arms down in frustration and groaned, then rolled forward into the flurry of lasers, moving much more swiftly than he was used to two months ago. He had to move ahead carefully, only able to take a step every few seconds.

He heard a grunt come from Kim several yards away from him. He looked up from his careful footwork to find her falling backwards, having been hit in the head again. She landed hard on her back. As she hit the ground, he could feel a massive THUMP in his heart.

The goons all stopped firing away with their lasers and charged at them like a stampede of wildebeest. Once again, all of them swarmed to Kim and Ron once again found himself walled off from Kim.

He grabbed onto one goon in front of him who couldn’t see him by the neck and tried pulling him down. The goon spun around, knocking Ron off of him just as fast. The duo glared at each other hungrily. Ron couldn’t help but shoot a quick glance to Kim.

He couldn’t see her among the horde of goons but he could hear the victorious sounds of her fighting them off. That had to be good enough for now. He looked back to his goon to notice just in time that the goon had taken the initiative to charge at him, which quickly put Ron on the defensive.

The goon wouldn’t let up, throwing punch after punch. All Ron could afford to do was block him at every turn. After one particular heavy swing from the goon that gave Ron a good grip on both of the big guy’s arms, Ron looked back to Kim’s fight and saw her stumble out of the circle, holding her head in pain. He bit his lip and looked back to the goon and went on the offense, starting by launching a somersault kick at the goon’s face that landed perfectly.

Ron’s heart pounding, he kicked and kicked, not letting up, pushing the goon farther and farther back. All the while, he could feel that all too familiar mystical energy surge through him.

A blue flash.

No not now, he thought just as he found himself going for a kick to the side of the man’s head, the blow that would surely end the fight. Kim doesn’t want me to do this.

Ron reached out his with hands and grabbed his leg just before impact with the goon and pulled hard on it.

“C’mon, hold it together, Ron!” Ron cried out as the goon blinked at him in confusion. Ron pulled hard on his leg like he would to a finishing line and found himself somersaulting backwards, completely out of control. The magic had fueled him with too much energy; he couldn’t stop.

But after eight skips, he found himself firmly planted on his feet. He patted his head quickly, hoping it would calm down his powers. He looked up to see the goon rushing at him like a rhino. Feeling the power relaxing, he rolled right under the guy and kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling on the floor.

Finally, one guy down. He looked over to Kim’s group and saw at least five down, and that was with the blockade shielding most of his view. He rolled his eyes and launched a flying kick at the first goon he could see, successfully knocking him straight to the floor.

Ron landed with finesse and rubbed his chest with his knuckle, “Have a nice fall dude, see you next—wait—” Ron started but before he knew it, another goon had grabbed him by the shirt and lobbed him across the room. “OH IT’S TRIP! HAVE A NICE TRI—”

KER-THUNK.

Ron’s head smashed up against the table he was previously hiding behind. Pain thundered through his whole body as he collapsed into a heap. He tried looking again, but it was hard to make anything out, everything was so blurry…were the goons multiplying?

A red mane of hair was tossed out of the giant gray shape, pretty low to the ground…

“KP!” Ron shouted.

Ron jumped up to his feet, clutching onto his head, leaning against the table for support. His heart was beating like a drum now, the Monkey Power returning to him fast.

No, no, I can’t—not again. For KP.

Ron shut his eyes, trying to focus, he could feel the power surging through him inside, like butterflies in his stomach. Trying to force it down was going to be almost impossible, but he had to.

To his right, he could feel the table lifting off of the ground, his powers interfering with the gravity around him. He tried pushing it back to the floor, as if it would help quell his power, but it did nothing.

Giving up on the gravity, he took one step forward, and as he did so, one goon stepped out from the crowd and placed a gun against Kim’s head. The standard red light changed to an eerie green one.

“Oh, not cool, dude!” Ron shrieked as he charged towards the guy with reckless abandon, the power that was he was trying to seal away suddenly flooding through him. The pain in his head faded fast, he felt as light as a feather but with the force of a titan.

“HEY!” Dementor shouted amongst all the hubbub. “He has ze Mystical Monkey Power! Shoot him! Schnell! Schnell!”

Ron stopped in place just as all the lasers got retargeted onto him.

“Okay, so NOW you want to shoot me!” Ron cried out in frustration.

All at once, the Goons fired off their lasers, the red blasts creating a massive white haze in front of him. Like a deer in headlights.

Not having enough time to bust a move like Kim did, Ron braced himself for impact. But he felt nothing. He gave it another second and checked his body real quick. He—felt fine, at least. Looking up, his eye shot open. The lasers had all stopped in front of him, floating in a blue energy field that must have materialized around him when he wasn’t looking. The way the lasers floated about in the barrier reminded him of fish.

And then one by one, each of the lasers disintegrated into the aura, each disintegration giving him a new surge of power. As the final laser bit the dust, Ron smirked at the goons.

“Booyah.”

Ron charged across the room, ducking down as he surged past, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he passed though. He could see all of the goons prepping themselves for a fight.

Ron ran right into the clutches of the head goon, stopping in a crouch below him, then flipped upward, feet first, kicking the man in the neck. The man fell backwards and was out just like that. As Ron got back to his feet, he felt something pass through his aura. His right hand went out for a block and he felt a fist land in his open hand.

The fist went for another punch. And yet, still without looking, he was able to catch the fist again. Somehow he was instinctively knew where to put his hand as the goon kept throwing punches at him.

This is new,
Ron thought.

From his left he could feel another change in his aura. This time though, he figured he would go for the offensive. Still blocking with his right hand, Ron’s legs rose up to kick someone on his left, and while he didn’t see it, he heard the grunt of pain signifying another downed goon.

Three more goons charged in just like the last and each one fell just as quickly. “Badical!” Ron cried out as he went for his final block. This time he gripped the guy by the arm and dragged him in front of Ron and like clockwork knocked the guy out with a karate chop to the back. Dusting his hands off, Ron started to say, “I’ll be here all nights boys—” but stopped as he felt two arms wrap around his waist.

Something within him told him to let this one happen, so he relaxed his body as the goon tried lifting Ron over his head. But just as Ron hit his peak, the aura around him surged, shooting Ron up like a rocket, soaring twenty feet into the air. Gracefully, he did three flips on his descent.

This was Ron’s first time ever fighting this many people while under the guide of his Monkey Power.

This was also Ron’s first time ever trying to seal away his power.

Ron landed on the goon with a triumphant dropkick, then motioned for more to come.

This time two goons came from his left and right. He dodged them with ease; they both went for straight punches to his sides. He spun out of the way and grabbed each of their wrists, then raised his legs and spun them fast in a helicopter kick he didn’t even know he could do and before he knew it, both goons were down.

He did a quick scan of the room. All goons seemed to be downed. Kim was still down too. He frowned, then looked up just in time to see a red energy blast smash him in the face, but it faded away as if it was nothing.

Dementor stood before him, hands shaking on his blaster.

“Nein! Nein!” he spat out, knocking the gun into a new gear. That same eerie green light activated, and he fired another blast. But just like the last one, it did nothing.

Ron advanced on Dementor slowly, the ground cracking up at his feet. Pieces of debris rose up in the air, the gravity disturbed by his power. Ron barely took notice of it, his eyes sight on just one person.

“Hey, look, ve could vork something out, right?” Dementor said with a cheesy grin, tossing the useless gun to the side.

Ron shook his head. He reeled back, preparing to boot Dementor like he would a football. His aura began to fade, no, not fade, condense, around him, around his leg specifically. The muscles in his leg began to tighten, so tight that it was about to snap.

He remembered what happened to Sensei. Slamming against the bamboo wall. A miracle that he lived.

He pictured Kim lying there unconscious on the ground.

Eh, if Sensei lived through it, Dementor should be fiiiiine…

He leapt forward, going for the kick when all of a sudden, two hands grabbed Dementor by the shoulders and tore him out of the way.

Ron looked to his right to see Kim staring up at him with fearful eyes.

“Kim?”

“Ron—”

Before either could manage a second word, a shockwave burst from Ron’s foot, tearing the floor in front of him into pieces while also knocking the three of them ten feet backwards.

The shockwave continued, obliterating everything in its path.

The decrepit old lair immediately began to collapse in an avalanche before them, the whole half in front of them crumbling into the ocean below.

The entire room shook as stone and metal rained down from above. Fortunately, their half that they were standing in remained fine, but the rest was not so lucky.

By the end of it, half of the lair was gone. The trio looked out into the ocean, all slack jawed with wide eyes. Suddenly, Ron felt a tug on his shirt.

“Maybe this is bad timing,” Dementor began weakly, but suddenly looked distracted. “MYRON!”

Ron looked up to see the old lovable goon, Myron, washing himself in a bathtub. Unbeknownst to him, he was falling from the top floor all the way to the ocean below.

“Oh vell,” Dementor sighed as they all heard the splash. “I’m sure he’s fine—ANYWAYS, I—um…I kinda rented this place out from Drakken and…”

“Oh!” Ron started, snapping back into reality. He pulled his wallet out of his cargo pants and started leafing through the dollar bills. “How much do I owe you?”

“Ron!” Kim shouted.

“What?” Ron shouted back. “Guy’s gotta pay his rent! Hey, could I borrow two bucks?”

Dementor double taked.

“How much do you think my rent is?”


“So, as the Chief Operating Officer of Random Mayhem, what do you think of the going-ons at the company?”

“Uh…whatever.”

“Oh come on, you must have some opinion on what’s going on.”

“Yeah, you could put some more money into the heating.”

The Bermuda Triangle Club, Cuba
July 17, 2007: 11:34PM

Hank grimaced, stung by Shego’s sharp remark. He nervously tugged at his bowtie as they passed by the two bouncers.

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk to Renaldo about that one,” Hank squeaked out.

“Renaldo,” Shego repeated.

“Yeah, the guy in the charge of the heatin—” Hank started, more confident this time, but as he made eye contact with Shego his sentence began to putter off. “What? If we have a heating guy, it scores us more points with the investors.”

“Riiiiiiiight,” Shego smirked, pushing the double doors open to the infamous nightclub.

She smiled as she looked around the place. They gathered some extremely important intel here when Drakken’s biggest and most successful scheme, The Li’l Diablos, was going down. Brought back a lot of good memories.

Looking up, she could see that they installed in a new chandelier…with some extra reinforcement. It immediately brought back vivid images of one of her favorite fights that she had with Princess…

She looked around them. Back in the old days, Team Possible would be lurking around somewhere at the night club. Seemed like they had bigger fish to fry nowadays.

“Why are we here again?” Shego asked Hank who was busy stretching out his bowtie.

“Didn’t you read the briefing?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah,” Shego said lazily, then an idea came to her. “And I think as the Chief Operating Officer of Random Mayhem, isn’t it better if I don’t read the briefings?” she smiled, intentionally bumping into Hank as she passed by him.

“Hah hah,” Hank said, straining to hold his smile. “We’re here to see if Big Daddy Brotherson is interested in any of Drakken’s old things.”

“Gotchya,” Shego grunted, surveying the room again. She couldn’t stop thinking about that night.

“You’re really unhappy here, huh?” Hank said all of a sudden.

Shego turned to him, stunned that he had the moxie to say that.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone, but it’s just so obvious to me that you don’t care,” Hank offered.

Shego froze up for a moment, then shook her head.

“Yeah, the whole corporate angle’s not really my thing,” Shego said. “Beats Gourmet Cupcakes any day though.”

Hank smiled dreamily at the thought of those cup cakes. That job was at the tippity-top of his resume and always had a good 1-2 sentence bit in every cover letter he sent out.

“Say, what happened to those cupcakes anyways?” Hank asked curiously.

Shego remembered that awful image of Drakken in a jumpsuit storing the rest of the uneaten cupcakes in their lair, and for weeks he would chowdown on them breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She shuddered at the thought, sliding into a chair at one of the tables.

“Um…” Hank said, biting his lip. “Aren’t you going to come in with me?”

“Nah,” Shego sighed, looking over to the jazz singer on the stage. “Hey, um, you know Big Daddy Brotherson likes—“”

“Silly games, yeah, no worries, I did my homework,” Hank smiled, puffing his chest out. “I’ll be back in a few then!”

Hank walked over to the entrance of Big Daddy Brotherson’s office, stopping in place to take a few steps back, then a few more forward, like some kind of jig. Shego hated to admit it, but Hank’s quirks were a little endearing.

Shego looked back to the jazz singer. Was it the same person from last time?

I’m searching for someone…
I know I can trust…


Fifteen minutes later, Hank returned, a gleam in his eye as he crossed through the room. Right before reaching their table, he grabbed onto one of the waitresses hands and did a quick dance-and-spin with her. He waved her goodbye and slid into the chair across Shego.

“Sold all of it!”

“All of it?!” Shego’s blurted out, “You realize half the stuff in that lab is stolen right?

Hank blinked at her, raised a finger in protest, then paused, leaning his cheek against one of his palms. He raised a finger again, an idea striking him, but then lowered it just as fast.

“No,” Hank said flatly. “Could you—uh—point those out to me so we can not circulate those?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Shego said, looking back to the jazz singer with dreamy eyes.

“Shego, you know this is my last week, right?” Hank said, trying to come off as cool.

If Shego was a slightly more enthusiastic person who was down to own a calendar, she would have been crossing the days off leading up to the fateful day that the temp finally left the office.

“Nah,” Shego said noncommittally.

“Yeah, weeeeeellllllll…guess who’s gonna be the new Villainy Consultant for Big Daddy Brotherson?” Hank said, his voice shaking with excitement.

“Oh!” Shego nearly jumped, “Awesome, yeah, that’s cool.”

“Mhm,” Hank sighed, casting a quick glance at the ceiling. “He also happened to mention that he was looking for a new hit-person, figured that might be up your alley, right?”

“Oh…” Shego said. She didn’t expect this. Why was Hank trying to help her out? “What’s the catch?”

“What? No catch, I just—I mean a lot of people at the offi—sorry, evil lair, have picked up on the fact that you’ve been pretty miserable lately. Moreso than usual.” Hank said a little awkwardly. “I’m not wrong, right?”

“I mean—” Shego started, pausing to collect her thoughts, which was pretty unlike her. Dropping her general ‘I don’t care’ kind of attitude, she leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, it’s been weird lately with Dr. D. And I’m not gonna lie, that Jimmy guy—”

“Carl,” Hank offered gently.

“Carl, right! Jeez, now I’m doing it,” Shego sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’s kind of a creep, not gonna lie. And this whole thing with luring the Princess and her Buffoon to our lair just to fake them out is pretty twisted.”

“Yeah,” Hank said, going for the filler phrase so he could take a moment to think of his response; he didn’t see this coming. “Maybe this hit-man job’s not for you then.”

“Are you kidding me?! I would love to do that,” Shego said, shaking off the gloom, “I’m just too attached to the whole thing. You work with Dr. D for as long as I have and you start to get all mushy about everything.”

Hank nodded. “That’s the advantage of temping. So are you going to consider it? He said he’d take you without question.”

Shego took another moment to think, which she was really not digging.

Taking the gig would probably be good for her. It’d get her back on her feet, and to be real, it was the sort of thing that she wanted to be doing from the start.

But that also meant leaving Drakken behind, as well as Kim and Ron—sorry, the Princess and the Buffoon, how could she forget? And there was no way she was going to keep on existing without getting her revenge on those two for humiliating her before the entire world.

“Do they have good heating there?” Shego asked.

“Eh,” Hank sighed, “To be honest, don’t tell Drew, but our heating guy is actually freelance, and he’s working this place too.”

“I am so glad you are leaving,” Shego laughed as she got out of her chair.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Hank sighed.

Directory:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

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6 thoughts on “Measure of a Mook (Chapter 3 – a Kim Possible fanfic)

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