Kim Possible is property of Disney. This is a work for fun not profit.

Heart of the Wyrm

A fan fiction by Six-string Samurai

Prologue End

Working together they managed to pry open the cylinder’s front hatch. The red head had managed to wait for a whole ten minutes after the mishap with the coolant system still showed no results before her curiosity got the better of her. It had taken far less coercion on her part to get the blond to help than she’d figured, but then again, threats of violence generally worked wonders in her past experience.

“No, damn it, you’re just scratching it.” She frowned, holding the light with one hand so they could see what they were doing, and prying at the seam between the hatch and the unit. There wasn’t much of an area to grip, but the broken seal had exposed about half an inch to work with, which was what her partner was working at with the edge of a multi-tool, attempting to lever more gripping space.

“Sorry, this thing is still iced up pretty good. I can’t get a solid grip with the screwdriver.”

“Just watch it; I don’t want that popping up and sticking me in the arm.”

“Me either.” The blond re-focused on his work, finally managing to get a good angle, wedging the metal bit fully into the seam. “Hah, got it!”

“Great, now start prying. My fingers are going numb.” She grimaced as faint tendrils of coolant slipped out going right through her gloves as the gap began to widen. “Geh, that’s cold.”

“You’re telling me,” he almost lost his hold on the screwdriver as he caught a face-full of the frigid air.

“Don’t you dare let go, if you crush my hands, so help me,” the red head let the threat dangle.

“Okay, okay…hang on; I think we almost got it.”

With a hiss of escaping air, the hatch slipped its catch and popped open half a foot. The two explorers toppled backward to avoid the wave of remaining coolant that rushed out.

“Holy crap, that was close,” the blond got to his feet first, pocketing the multi-tool and reaching over to help up his friend.

“Thanks,” she brushed off her shorts, giving the coolant time to fully dissipate. “So, shall we see what our paycheck looks like?”

“Uh, go ahead, I can see just fine from back here.” The blond backed away, making sure to be careful of the cords on the ground this time. He folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to ward off the cold that now permeated the room.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged, not really surprised at his answer. For a guy that took so much pride in his mystical abilities, he had a weird concept of the risks he was willing to take; an unnatural fear of robots was one of the contributing factors, at least this time. The red head gripped the flashlight and approached the hatch. It took a little elbow grease, but she managed to yank the portal open the rest of the way, until it swung free, clanging against the neighboring cylinder. “Oh,” she stifled a gasp as her breath caught in her throat at the sight of what lay within, caked in a paper-thin layer of frost, parts of which were stained dark red, ever so slowly sloughing away in sheets.

“W-what is it?”

The red head canted her head back at her partner, angling her body so that his view was obstructed. “It looks like a woman. She’s uh, leaving little to the imagination.”

“Huh? A cyborg chick? That’s just crazy enough to work. Can I see?”

“No, you can’t. Not yet, anyway. And what the hell are you going on about?” She turned a little more to make sure he couldn’t sneak a peek. But, the red head’s concern was unfounded as her friend was lost in thought, muttering to himself with a furrowed brow and a hand on his chin.

“--it’s a pretty basic concept, I mean who’s going to suspect a girl cyborg Death Machine; especially a sexy one. It is a sexy one, right?” At this, he looked up, regarding the container with a critical eye. “It’d be the only one capable of getting close enough to the target to execute the mission with a flawless victory.” Now he was starting to run on a tangent in his mind, scratching the back of his head. “I just don’t get why it had to be frozen? Maybe it’s more human than machine, and the biological parts degrade over time, so this was the best way to keep it in top condition between assignments?” The blond started walking in a small circle, heedless of the power conduits once more. “Or, it could be--,”

“Uh, yeah, sure…whatever you say,” the red head tuned out the blather that showed no sign of ending any time soon, and returned her gaze to the weapon.

As she’d informed the blond, the woman nestled in the capsule was less than fully dressed, or more from the look of it, had suffered a major wardrobe malfunction. There were remnants of what appeared to have once been a skintight outfit, a dark black with swatches of emerald green, splotches of crimson evident on the surface of the green material. However, the only parts that remained intact were the from the leggings, covered in rips, up to just shy of the bottom of the woman’s navel, and a patch covering her left breast and arm down to the elbow. The right side was missing, sheared off in a ragged diagonal tear, matching the angle that cut down toward her crotch. The woman’s right arm was likewise bared. Despite all the damage to the outfit, there were no signs of physical trauma, not even so much as a scrape or telltale scar.

From what the red head could see, no small amount, the comatose woman’s skin was flawless; her body tightly muscled even in repose. The one thing that worried her was the fact that the woman‘s skin appeared pallid. Though it was hard to be sure in the given lighting, her skin seemed to hold the faintest tinge of verdant. Of course, skin color could hardly be an indication of anything, if this woman, this weapon, was artificial in nature as the blond was behind her, insisting.

Even as she took all this in, she noticed the faintest stirrings of breath, and unavoidably, the swell of the woman’s exposed chest rise and fall, almost imperceptibly, in the weakest of movements. “She’s alive,” the red head leaned closer, almost inside the capsule itself, which was less than a meter deep. “Well, breathing at any rate.”

“Really,” the question came from just over her shoulder, as the blond decided to take a look for himself. Apparently, the idea of a nearly naked woman, Death Machine or not, overrode his phobia of dangerous humanoid constructs. He ended up with a face-full of glove rather than the eye-full he was expecting, when the red head palmed his face, pushing him back a step.

“I don’t care if it’s a robot, cyborg, or whatever. No means no, and you’re waiting until we get her covered up.” The red head turned the light away from the exposed woman, shining it around the room. “Help me see if we can find something useful around here.”

“But…,” the blond stuck out his lower lip, sucking it back in when he caught the threatening stare his partner was directing his way.

“But nothing. Start looking or we’ll have to just use your shirt instead.”

Slouching, the blond complained, scuffing his shoe against the floor, narrowly avoiding a tube. “I don’t see what the problem is, it’s not like she’s a real woman in the first place. Probably just synthetic skin poured over an indestructible composite skeletal frame.”

“Just start looking,” she felt the headache from earlier start to come back with a few of its little brothers and sisters.

“Fine, sheesh. Sometimes, you do act kind of like my mom.”

“Whatever, hurry up so we can get out of here. I still have to contact Paul. He better not take his sweet ass time getting here either.” She guided the light as her partner made his way around the room, checking the equipment on the far wall.

The blond didn’t care what it was; anything that would get the red head off his case was good enough for him, be it cloth, rag or even a cardboard box.

“I still don’t see why we have to rely on that jerk. He charges an arm and a leg, in case you forgot. Remember, last time he even suggested that you--,” The light snapped off suddenly, leaving him groping around in the dark, flailing his arms wildly in order to not slam into the generators he knew were somewhere just in front of him.

“No, trust me, I didn’t forget. As far as I’m concerned, he still owes me one for that little slip. I’ll probably take it out of his fee after we get back down the camp.” She tapped the handle of the light against her palm a few times. “We’re going to make a killing off of this, so I don’t think a few hundred is going to set us back all that much in the end. Besides, Paul might be a jerk, but you know just as well as I do that we’d be hard pressed to find another pilot willing to risk flying so close to Mega Go. Like you, he’s good at what he does; just don’t expect to get an intelligent conversation out of the deal.” The light clicked back on once she was sure he had time to let the point sink in.

“Paul’s not the only jerk I know,” the blond mumbled, wondering if the fumes from the coolant were toxic.

“You’re going to have to live with it. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I should have to put up with your weirdness all the time. It’s not like I mind working with you, usually. You’re always a big help, don’t get me wrong…but sometimes, you say things that make me want to strangle you,” she contemplated the wisdom of chucking the flashlight at him, but even that was beneath her at the moment.

“Uh, could we maybe talk about this some other time? You know, when we’re not in the middle of grave robbing.” The blond resumed his search, just knowing he was going to be out a shirt in the very near future. It felt like that kind of day.

“Grr, it’s not grave robbing. One, this isn’t a grave, it’s a ruin. And two, we’re not stealing. Everything around here is so old, the patents, if there were any, are long expired. No one’s coming back to claim anything, and even if they did, it would be stupid of them to mess with us.”

Sometimes he wondered if his friend wasn’t just a little bit on the wrong side of crazy, but he made sure never to voice his concerns, because that would be tantamount to signing his own death warrant. It was hard enough being around her on the good days, when she wasn’t being overly bitchy, controlling and sarcastic, or making fun of his Mystic Monkey powers. The blonde hung his head, realizing for the umpteenth time, that those were her good days.

As predicted, he ended up yielding his shirt to cover up the thawing weapon. Shivering, he relinquished the top to the waiting glove. “Can we hurry up and go now?”

“That’s the plan. As soon as I get this on her, we’ll have to figure out the best way to get her outside.” The red head took the proffered shirt and went back to the open cylinder. “Right,” she could tell just how much of a hassle this was going to be if she tried to put it on overtop of the ruined garments the woman was barely wearing. Not to mention the waist-length hair she’d have to work around. “How about we just tie this on, and call it a day. What do you think,” the question was idly directed at the pale form nestled within the capsule. She wasn’t surprised when no answer was forthcoming. “Yeah, we’ll do that.”

Shirtless and caught in the darkness of the corner, the blond rubbed his arms in an effort to ward off the creeping chill. Now that the hum of the machinery had ceased, the quiet was beginning to get to him again. Willing to risk further violence, he moved back over closer to the capsules, the chatter of his teeth announcing his presence. “We’re gonna have to carry her, aren’t we?”

Looking up from her handy-work, the red head sighed. “Unless you found enough material to make a litter, then, yes, we’re going to have to carry her to the entrance.”

“There’s not even enough around here to cover her…oh, gotcha,” the blond realized in resignation. Then an idea occurred to him. “Wait, can’t we just wake her up, it’d be a whole lot easier then.” He seemed to think about that for a moment, eventually nodding to himself.

“You want to wake up a potentially dangerous weapon, just because it would be more convenient?”

The blonde’s pleased look faltered in the dim lighting. “Uh, No? Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad. For all we know, she could wake up any second, especially since you unplugged the freezer. I just figured with all the Death Machine talk, the last thing you wanted was for her to be up and around.” The red head pointed out, smiling faintly at his obvious discomfort. “But, if it’s not going to bother you, I’m willing to do the honors.”

“W-wait! I’m totally down with carrying her instead.”

“And if she wakes up while we’re carting her around in the dark? It’s going to be pretty hard to hold her and the flashlight, even between the two of us. It’ll be slow going at best.”

“Um, crap. I didn’t even think of that. How else are we supposed to do this then? Piggyback her?”

The red head glanced at the sleeping woman, making a quick estimate on her weight. “I think she’s a few inches taller than me, probably has twenty pounds on me too.” Taking a look at her friend, she shrugged. “You could probably carry her better than I could. Or we could split the work, and grab an arm and a leg. You decide.”

“You’re letting me decide,” his expression was incredulous, turning thoughtful just as quickly.

After thirty seconds of silence, he was interrupted.

“Come on; just help me get her out of this thing. We’ll both carry her.” She decided, not willing to wait for him to finish his internal debate. It was pretty much a simple yes or no answer anyway. What was there to think so hard about?

“What happened to letting me pick?”

“It’s too late; you were supposed to spit out an answer yesterday, not sometime tomorrow.”

“Why’d you even ask me then, if I couldn’t think about it for a few seconds?”

“Hey, I make mistakes just like everyone else, now let’s stop wasting time.”

Hanging his head, he joined her in front of the open capsule. “Holy crap, I was right.”

“Huh?”

“I told you that female cyborgs were supposed to sexy,” he paused, arching a brow. “That’s kinda weird though. Does she look sort of green to you?”

“Stop pointing, and yes, she does, now that you mention it. I thought it was this crappy flashlight.”

“No, see,” he splayed his fingers in the light, “normal, right?” Withdrawing his hand, the contrast became all the more obvious. “And voila, crème de menthe.”

“Bravo. Master of the obvious. She’s mint-colored, what’s your point?”

“Hello? Cyborg assassins are supposed to blend in. That’s their point. She’d stick out in a crowd no matter what.”

“It’s not our problem, let the buyer deal with it,” the red head said. “Besides, I think it’s kind of exotic.”

“But, she’s green!”

“And you could use a tan, but you don’t hear me complaining to everyone about it. Here, turn around and put your back toward her. You take her left arm, and I’ll grab the right.”

“I still think it’s wrong that she’s green.” He said under his breath, maneuvering himself as she’d instructed. “Hey, who’s going to hold the light?”

She ignored him for a moment, taking up her position and looping the pale woman’s arm across her shoulders. “We can hook the light like this,” she twisted a loop into the right strap of her tank-top, cinching the flashlight in place with her free hand so that it faced forward. “Perfect.”

Moving together, they stepped away from the capsule, dragging the woman between them, reminiscent of carting along a drunken friend.

“Ugh, she’s heavier than she looks,” the blond complained, hitching the arm he was holding into a more comfortable position.

“She’d pretty warm too. Especially for being covered in ice not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Does that mean we should go faster?”

“Probably,” she spoke through gritted teeth as they made it to the door and out into the hall. “Exit’s to the right, right?”

“Yep, the big room was down that way,” the blond confirmed. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Just check, so we’re not walking around in circles.”

“I can’t reach the map, I put it in my left pocket. Arms are kinda full right now. Hold her for a second, and I’ll get it.”

“Hey, wait, I’m not ready,” she almost toppled over with the sudden addition of dead weight when he let go of his side to dig for the map.

“Hah, knew it was here,” the blond held up the scrawled map victoriously for a moment, then realized that the beam of light was almost pointed straight up at the ceiling. “Oh, crap…sorry, I thought you had a good grip.” He scrambled to retake his share of the load, earning a glare in the process.

“Next time, give me a little more warning. I almost dropped her.”

“Looked more like you were about to be smothered.”

“Whatever.” she waved him off. “Which way do we go?”

“Right, like you said, then the big room will be on the left. After that, we take another right in the moon hall, exit’s at the end.”

The red head started walking, forcing him to lurch forward in order to not trip over his own feet.

They’d made it halfway through the cavernous room before the woman between them showed the signs of awakening.