Jao: If you picked up the clue in the summery I want to congratulate you. This is the sequel to Paragon. You can find it in my story archive. It's not that long and is a pretty good KP horror fic. If you haven't read Paragon, stick around and all your questions will be answered in no time. The things you read here are opinions of characters that didn't see the events as they happened, and so have a false understanding of the events. And while no real Kim Possible characters come into play in this chapter I can assure you they will in the next and the rest to come. So… with that said, please enjoy.

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Sweet Dreams are made of these…

When a hero dies…you would imagine people would remember. But that's not the case here. Marilyn didn't like it here already, just moving into Middleton from busy little Newark from a distant state. She knew of the hero from this town, but was surprised at the lack of memorial. After all, Kim Possible had died less than a year ago and already all her pictures and name were removed from the news, the papers and every conversation. All they ever talked about was her crazy best friend that killed the teen hero's family.

How sad that they only remember the evil. Marilyn was a young fourteen-year-old girl left alone with her father. Her mother and brother had died recently in a car crash and she'd be damned if she'd be as quick to forget them as this town forgot their hero. It was just pathetic.

"I can't believe this place," she stated dully to her father as they drove to their new home. Mr. Benjamin was a businessman, a new accountant for the struggling Space Center. Without the help of Dr. Possible there it seemed things just faltered. Progress halved and from what he heard it was a lot quieter around the labs. Perhaps the town was still scared. After all, if one teenager can snap and slaughter a family that had practically taken him in, and destroy all the happiness in his best friend's life, then who knows what horrors could occur at any moment?

The car came to a stop and Marilyn undid her belt. The house was a medium sized house, seemingly untouched for a year or two. Obviously the house her father had described as a steal. She sighed and grabbed her bags from the front seat and followed her father up the drive way and to the door. Mr. Benjamin unlocked the cold metal doorknob and with a click tossed it open with a creak. In another moment he had turned on the lights to a blinding living room. Marilyn frowned and shielded her eyes with a free hand.

"It certainly is… white."

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Crestfallen Chapter One —

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And moving in wasn't easy. It wasn't long before Marilyn Benjamin was informed of in which house she had just moved into. The former home of Josh Mankey, the man Kim had obviously loved, no matter what. They even died together like some sad, twisted Romeo and Juliet story. It was a week now and so Marilyn was exploring the town, trying to imagine what it might have been like in the life of the hero she had loved since she was ten, the hero that died in her very house. And it was a cold September day as she looked at the home in front of her. The Possible residence was boarded up. No one really wanted to live in a place where innocent people were murdered so violently. After all, a mass murder of that kind made people believe that it was haunted. But that was just comical to the young teen. There was no such thing as ghosts, just hard facts. Just this strange little story…

The whole thing, Marilyn knew, was something like a mystery for her to piece together. It was something she just couldn't fathom. Hopping on her bicycle, the young girl headed down the hill, a smaller house coming into view. It was a lit house, but no longer belonged to the family named Stoppable. The mother and father of Ron Stoppable had disowned their son, even in death, and had him buried in the cemetery with just the initials RDS. Marilyn had visited the grave herself. It was the first place she went and she had sat on the plot, with his sinking head plaque of the simple three letters and two dates, and tried to comprehend what he must have been thinking. She tried to become him in that moment just to picture what might have gone through his mind.

And she was an odd little girl, that much was for sure. But this wasn't just some news headline to her. This was a modern tale, a mystery that involved jealousy, love and violence. It was the death of her hero. It was…an obsession. And it was something that Mr. Benjamin was getting tired of.

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Jerico Benjaminwalked across the living room, picking the paint roller from the brushes laid before him and dipped it in the gray-blue paint he had in his tray. The white just had to go; after all, you'd have to be crazy to live in an all white house. With a grin, he put the roller to wall and rolled it only to find the paint didn't stick to the cool surface.

"What's going on?" He ask no one, while rolling the tool over the wall with harder force only to watch it slide from the surface and to the tarp over the plush white carpet. Frustrated, the middle aged man picked up the can of paint and with a swing tossed the contence towards the wall only for it to slip, slide and splatter from it's gleaming white coat. Weirder still was where the paint did land, on the carpet, ceiling and furniture it soaked in and disappeared dry as the day he and Marilyn had walked in.

"What the hell is going on?" He picked up the can and read the label over, to see if he had indeed bought paint, and if it had expired or something because he was a man of logic and numbers. Surly there was an explanation.

And you could say that this way of thinking reflected in his daughter. Marilyn again sat on the plot of the infamous RDS. This wasn't part of her logic-based obsession with this event; it was more of her dealing with her loneliness. After all, who better to feel her pain than RDS?

"I'm back. It must be lonely, being crazy and all." She opened her backpack and pulled out a notebook, and with it a sandwich she had packed. She didn't believe in respect for the dead. After all, he was dead, what could he do to her now?

"There's still something I don't understand, RDS. I mean, the research, the news and the quotes from the girls who hated you all point to jealousy. But something like that isn't enough to make someone to up and do what you did. It just doesn't feel like it's all of the answer. Call it intuition." Marilyn took a big bite of her sandwich and swallowed before continuing.

"You were a sidekick, after all. Never in a fight in school, never laid a hand on anyone out of real anger. Sure you were a classic loser, no real friends, outcast poster boy, but still. Mass murder?" But she laughed. "Not like you can answer me. You're deader than a doorknob. I bet it was weird to have your best friend stab you to death like you did her family. I wonder what it was like to look up into the face of the girl you loved as she ended your life," Marilyn sighed and tucked her notebook away. "I better get going; my dad's going to have a fit if I don't hurry back. Don't worry, RDS. I'll try to figure it out, but you know…" she placed the half eaten sandwich on the plot. "You'll always be my favorite villain."

Jao: The best part of this so far is the irony. Marilyn sees Ron as the bad guy here, while people who have read Paragon and know what really happened know that that can't be farther from the truth.

And before you go "If this is a KP fan fic, how can Kim and Ron be dead?" If you read Paragon, you'll know that something like death won't stop characters from showing up. Marilyn's about to get more answers than she's ready for.