Infiltrating the base of the crimelords had been the easy part, even while solo without Ron — up until a bullet grazes Kim's ear, and another ricochets against her kneecap, embedding in.
She manages to dig out most of the bullet fragments, before a goon finds her and manages to knock her out with a lucky hit to her jaw. He hauls her bleeding, limp form towards a more fluorescent-lit spacious area of the warehouse.
Kim stirs back to consciousness, wincing at the agony in her leg, her arms bound together in rope too. She gazes around, her neck craning up.
"… well, well," comes a familiar, raspy voice. A flash-flare of heat in her gut. "If it isn't Kimmy…"
"Shego?" Kim asks mumbling, craning again to see the young woman in her ripped uniform, lying out motionless on the concrete floor. Not even tied up. Shego's mouth appears bloody and also coated with a thin white liquid, drying on her chin.
One of the crimelords waves a hand. "Kill the green one," he orders. "She's a waste of my time."
"No, don't!" Kim yells, dizzy from her injuries and the mounting confusion. Why is Shego here? What have they done to her? How is this—?
"Ss'okay…" A weakened, gurgling breath. To Kim's dismay, Shego lifts her bloody, heavy head up and aims a faintly reassuring smile in her direction. "Rather be dead…" she says grimly.
Kim stares back, lost for words, as a bigger, tattooed man gets a fistful of Shego's costume, pulling her to tiptoes without letting her stand.
"Use what's left to your fullest, gentlemen," the crimelord boasts with his hands spread apart over his head. He preens under the approval and dark, hungry snickers. "Then dispose of the body."
To… where? And to what end?
She realizes, slowly with gag-inducing revulsion, that something much fouler than jewel-theft and bribes were taking place in their hideouts.
"Now, you," the crimelord squats down, blocking Kim's view of a dazed, groaning Shego being dragged out. "Miss Possible? Yes, I'm going to need your undivided attention in order to answer some questions I have. The first is—"
Her communicator goes off.
Kim's lips tilt upwards, as he grumbles out a swear and fishes aggressively into her cargo pocket. As soon as the crimelord's face nears, Kim headbutts him, with enough force to rattle her senses, but also break his nose in two places.
Stunned and in pain, he crawls away, shouting to the guards. It's enough time for her to press for the hidden lazor in her gloves, slicing her ropes.
For good measure, Kim lands a kick to his skull.
There's no running with a fresh bullet-wound in her knee, so she hops and limps away into the shadows of the warehouse, dodging more gunfire.
"Wade, get me a helicopter, a jet—ANYTHING," Kim frantically whispers, gritting her teeth.
Before she heads to the rooftop, Kim follows the path of male muttering echoing from an adjacent, interior room, along with the clinking of a belt.
She glimpses Shego propped up on a table, a pair of hairy, flabby arms holding her upright, as a goon sloppily kisses her bruise-littered throat, lowering his hands to her uniformed bottom and rolling Shego's curvaceous hips tighter against his.
By the look of it, Shego is caught still in the throes of a drug-induced state, possibly unaware of what was going on — and god, Kim hopes so.
It takes only a few minutes to attempt to subdue him, ditching the chokehold around his thick, meaty neck for hitting a pressure point. The goon utters a cry, sliding onto the wall and passing out.
"We're getting out of here, Shego, okay? I'm calling a truce," Kim says, sounding braver than she feels, gripping onto the other woman's middle.
Shego's fingers drift over hers, squeezing.
No words could ever give her this kind of relief, heady and staggering, as Kim exhales, smiling.
Kim Possible isn't mine. Another darkish tone for this particular challenge (I didn't say I was finished on that). It feels like I'm setting up for my next challenge in June at this point. And also thanks for reading everybody even if it was a sadder story and comments/thoughts appreciated!