(Special thanks to Dementia of KPSH for the putter line and Lex, also of KPSH, for his suggestions to refine that line)
Duff Killigan sailed across the room and crashed into the display of professional grade golfing equipment. He groaned as he felt pain radiate up his spine and into his brain.
"Ah, now THIS is more like it." said the woman who had taken Kim Possible's place. She strode around the ballroom, twirling the five iron she'd taken from Killigan. She smirked at the bound form of Leopard Forest. "A beautiful sunset, a cute guy bound and gagged to a chair, and someone's about to die." She turned to Duff, who was hauling himself into a sitting position. "It's you, by the way, Duffy old boy."
"All right, lassie. I dinna know who ye are or how ye managed to trade places with Kim Possible," he said, gettign to his feet. "But I'm gonna put you in a whole new world of hurt." He grabbed a pair of clubs form the pile around him and twirled them menacingly.
The woman's grin widened, and she spun her own club in response. She dashed acorss the room, used the club as if she were a pole vaulter, and into the air. Duff held the clubs up in front of him in a defensive postion, ready for the impact.
Which didn't come. Duff blinked and lowered the clubs. The five iron was lying on the floor. Duff glanced upwards and his eyes widened in shock.
Somehow, the woman was hanging from the ceiling, her fingers sunk deeply into the tile. She gave Duff a madness-tinged smile and dropped down onto him, slamming a heel into his face. Blood gushed form the golfer's nose as they crashed to the floor. The woman kicked off Duff's face and backflipped into a standing position, lnading withone hand on her hip, and the other up near her face. The fingertips of her gloves were ripped and torn.
"Well, damn." she said, "I'm gonna need new gloves now. Well, Kimmie's gonna need new gloves."
Killigan looked up at her. "I'm gonna feed yer spleen to weasels." he snorted through clogged nostrils. The woman's smile vansihed, replaced by a cold stare. She dashed up to Killigan at a speed that no human should have been able to reach and kicked him in the face again.
Killigan flew into the air, somersaulted, and landed on his back. The woman stood over him and placed one foot on his chest. She leaned over, resting her elbow on her knee and applied pressure. Duff tried to howl in pain as his ribs protested, but the air was being forced form his lungs. His hands scrabbled for something with which to attack his tormentor.
"You know," the woman said casually, "You really need to work on how to talk to a girl. Spleen feeding is a lousy way to start a conversation." Keeping her foot on Killigan's chest, she leand over and picked up a putter that was lying just out of Killigan's grasp. She held it up for a moment, then smashed it down on Killigan's fingers.
The Scotsman gasped from the intial shock, and repeated it several times as the woman turned his hand into a broken and mangled mass of flesh and bone. She then stood back up, took her foot off of Killigan and hauled him up by the plaid across his chest.
"Yer the Devil herself..." Killigan said faintly. The woman laughed.
"Not yet. But it's not a bad idea." She brandished the putter. "But first. You see this putter?"
Killigan nodded frantically, staring into the woman's purple eyes. Purple eyes in which he swore he could see the madness at play. Her brow curled down into a deep frown, while her lips turned up into another demented smile. Her eyes wandered lovlingly over the titanium-tungsten shaft of the club.
"It's a lovely little club. Smooth...firm...rigid. And I think it's going to be great friends with your spleen." she finished. Killigan's eyes widened and he raised his hands to fend her off...
"KIM!" Ron Stoppable screamed as he finally made it through the rubble blocking the main entrance to the ballroom. Killigan decided the hell with machismo and started screaming for help.
"Laddie! Get this she-devil offa me! She's gonna turn me into a golf bag with only one slot!" he cried.
"A golf bag with only one--EWWWWWWWW!" Ron said, cringing. "Kim, you aren't seriously considering...oh."
The "oh" was because the woman had turned around and Ron found himself confronted with the face he and Kim had seen on the Kimmunicator. She grinned in the way a cat grins at a small defenseless animal that's about to become lunch.
"Sorry, Ronnie. Like I said, Kimmie can't talk right now. I'm in the house. And if you turn around and leave right now, I MIGHT leave major parts of your anatomy intact for Kimmie to play with later."
Behind her Killigan made frantic "no no" motions with his hands. Ron swallowed and walked forward.
"Okay...whoever you are," Ron said, trying to keep his voice from cracking in panic. "Just, put Killigan down and let's talk about this. There's a bunch of police out there and the media and I'm sure you don't want to do anything that will result in you being arrested, right?"
The woman laughed again. "Oh please, do you really think those idiots out there could take Kimmie, much less me if either of us didn't want to go?"
"Um, you kow now that I think about it, no I don't think they could. But, come on, why kill him? I mean, I'm sure he'd agree that you won...right?" Ron raised his eyebrows in Killigan's direction. The golfer began nodding his head frantically.
"Aye! Aye! Ye've beaten me fair and square! I give up!" Killigan said. "Ye can have Forest back!"
The woman curled her lip up in a perplexed expression as she turned her attention back to Killigan. "What the hell would I want him for? Besides, beating the hell out of you and then removing your lungs through your nostrils would be LOADS more fun."
"Come on!" Ron said, coming closer. "If you kill him, then you have to fight your way through the cops, and what then? Running from state to state with the cops chasing you. And when Kim gets back, you KNOW she's not going to be happy and will probably turn herself in--YIPE!"
Ron leaped back as the woman turned back to her, still not releasing her grip on Killigan. She had an annoyed expression on her face and glared at Ron.
"I really hate it when you make sense." She said. She turned back to Killigan and quickly thrust her head into his. Killigan let out a squeak and passed out. The woman let him drop to the floor and turned her full attention to Ron.
Oh god, please don't let me wet my pants. Ron thought. "Um..okay...great." he began. "Um..thank you?"
The woman leaned forward and cast her gaze up and down, causing Ron to begin shifting uncomfotrably, and actuely aware of the pressure in his bladder.
"Yeah..." the woman said, standing back up. "I guess I can see what Kimmie sees in you. You aren't entirely uncute. But definitely not my type. Okay then, I'm going out. See you later."
She started walking to one of the large widows looking out over the golf course. Ron blinked and folowed her.
"Out? Out where? We need to get back! Kim will be--"
The woman's head snapped up, her blood red hair bobbing as she did so. Her expression could have killed a bird in flight at fifteen paces. "Rule One, Ronnie, don't you EVER try to tell me what to do. You didn't ask me not to kill YOU."
Ron snapped his mouth shut and gulped. The two of them looked at each other for a few momenets, then she smiled brightly.
"Good boy. Good boy, Boy Wonder, you're learning. Now, I'm going out for a while, and because you learned so well, I'll try not to cause any more bar fights, just so you don't have to listen to Kimmie whining about it. I'm sure she spent most of today freaking out about it."
"Um...thank you?" Ron said. "One thing, please?"
The woman quirked an eyebrow. "Nyesssss?"
"Um, could you not leave her in a seedy motel this time?"
She smirked. "We'll see. You're lucky I like you. Ciao!" With that, she crashed through the window. Ron dashed to the window and watched as she yanked a golfer out of a cart and drove it over the horizon.
"Oh, boy." Ron said. He pulled out his cell phone and called the cops to come in for the clean up.