Author's Note: Yes, a new chapter at last! Sorry I've been gone so long, but the real word got insanely busy. Not only have I had a lot of paid writing and directing work, but since about 90% of the work coming in is CG these days, I'd hit the point where I knew I really had to upgrade my education in Computer Graphics in order to stay competitive. That meant spending a lot of what spare time I've had learning mocap, rendering, modeling, etc., rather than writing. And… what can I say… time got away from me and FFN kind of fell off my peripheral radar. Oops.

So, let's see… for those who don't want to go back and re-read the previous 60 Chapters, here's roughly everything that's going on in a nutshell:

Gill and Aviarius are still in jail, along with Professor Dementor, Monkey Fist, DNAmy and the now testicle-less Duff Killigan.

Summer Gale is still in Global Justice protective custody.

The Mathter is still dead.

Jackie the Jackal never got his invitation, so he's still working his day job.

Anna is in New York, making deals with publishers based on the first galleys of the early Kim/Shego photo shoots.

Peter Laska is still trying to get other celebrities to come out for his TV special.

The attitudinator-ed Hell-O-Gram courier is playing canasta and waiting for the signboard museum to open.

When last seen, Monique and Tara were hitting the shops in Rio.

Senior Senior Senior is at Kim and Shego's lair… er, Global Rescue HQ along with Mrs. Dr. Possible.

Mr. Dr. Possible is at the Space Center and still missing an eyebrow.

Wade and the Possible Twins are at Wade's house, where Mrs. Load is currently baking pies and her special lasagna.

Helen Dassak and Seymour Datum are crunching madly through the goldmine of Henchco data that the Possible twins and Wade hacked into.

Nana Possible and her fellow retired GJ agents are at a casino that Shego is a partial owner of, helping crunch through all that data.

Dr. Director is very, very busy coordinating both the number crunching efforts and the evacuation of the towns downstream from the endangered dam.

Jack Hench is at Henchco, watching his empire crumble while his (former) head accountant is running off to his new employers, The Friendly, Friendly Bank and Trust.

Big Daddy Brotherson is holed up in a bunker somewhere.

Will Du is in Global Rescue one on his way to a destination that has not yet been revealed.

Kim is taking a forced time-out (per Shego) in the hovercraft along with Cyn Rushing, Gay Ellis, the pilot Stevens and the trussed up Team Impossible and Adrena Lynne.

Bonnie, Ron and Hirotaka… disguised as Camille Leon, a henchman and Kim… are in a truck heading toward Castle Senior. They are accompanied by a small mixed crew of Ninjas and GJ agents disguised in the uniforms of a captured team of Senior Senior Junior's henchmen. The remainder of that team is presumably holding the now uniformless Henches somewhere.

The real Camille, also uniformless when last seen, is tied up in a ski chalet along with the team of henches SHE had, who also belonged to Senior Senior Junior.

Yori was last seen near Castle Senior with a team of even more ninjas.

Junior, meanwhile, is still holed up inside Castle Senior with the dwindling group of his remaining force of henches, his film production crew, a large gold penis statue and some extreme delusions of grandeur.

The first and second of the Nanny Nane/Gemini forces of henches, codenamed Omega and Kamikaze, and led by Nane and Gemini respectively, are moving on foot at full speed towards Castle Senior.

Cholla and the main team of the Black Widows… now sans vehicles and also on foot… are also making their way through the forest towards the Castle as fast as their feet will carry them.

The team of Black Widows that was originally sent to put out the fire has split into two groups, with the first half of that fire team, led by Dallas, currently MIA.

The second half of the Black WIdow fire team, (formerly led by Ralph and now led by Rod Troja,) has run into the THIRD of Nane/Gemini's three strike forces, who are coincidentally being led by Ralph's friend Sam Jackson, (no relation to the actor of the same name.) Abandoning both their wounded and the regular Henches who were attached to their group, Troja's Widows have bugged out, and are currently on the move trying to get as as far away from the opposing force (which they mistakenly believe to be far bigger than it is,) as possible.

And, finally, Shego and Ralph have now hooked up with that same third team of Nane/Gemini henches, codenamed the Morituri, and are attempting to disarm the proximity ring bombs that they have discovered that all the Nane/Gemini hench teams have strapped to their ankles. To this end they have the help of Dr. Drakken, who has actually just stepped off a beach somewhere and is present only via holographic projection, but a major monkey wrench has been thrown in the gears with the unexpected reappearance of Electronique, Motor Ed and a VERY strange giant mecha.

There, I think that's everyone you need to know about. So, on with the show. And as always: Ye Old Legal stuff at de bottom!



Chapter 61


Never taking her gaze off the hundreds of readouts cascading across the sub-windows of her master monitors like electronic waterfalls, Dr. Director carefully reached up and used the sodden back of her uniformed cuff to both push the soggy strands of hair out of her one good eye and blot the sweat off her perspiration dappled brow. Somewhere, submerged among all the streams of electronic flotsam and jetsam, bobbing up and down in that seemingly endless sea of displayed data, were the last keys she needed.

Not to put Hench away. They'd already accumulated enough damning evidence to effectively shut down Henchco for years. As the hacked leak in Hench's information pipeline continued to gush and the concealing layers of encryption were slowly washed away from the ever accumulating pool of data, it had quickly become clear that Hench's promises of complete client confidentiality and anonymity had never extended to his own internal records keeping. Oh, there were a frustrating number of major transactions carried out with those damned Plutonium Cards, which would probably keep a number of major super villains from being immediately swept away by the deluge of carefully itemized receipts that documented exactly who had bought what on what date, but the same wasn't true for several less savvy and even less savory governments, over three dozen terrorist organizations, hundreds of smaller time super villain wannabes and one highly unethical computing firm who, it turned out, had been using a variant of Henchco's mind control chips to create an almost fanatical level of loyalty to their illogically popular phones and personal computing devices.

But, as gratifying and amazing as all that might be in the long term, what she needed now was something to handle the IMMEDIATE situation, and if Possible had guessed right…

"Bet… I mean, Ma'am," Helen Dassak suddenly interjected. "I think I may have something."

"Send it to my screen," Betty replied, sparing a single cyclopean glance at the equally disheveled and sweat-soaked Dassak. Global Justice now had over three hundred agents and former agents sifting through the millions of Henchco files at a feverish pace, and every single one that was deemed "of interest" was being shoved through the brain of the attractive young intel expert, whose ability to link seemingly unrelated data bordered on the supernatural. Chewing her lower lip with her too perfect white teeth, Betty followed the red-highlighted items Helen was sending her at the speed of light. Bip. Bip. Bip.

"Bingo," She nodded in agreement as the last file opened, wishing Global Justice rules allowed a commanding officer to kiss a subordinate on the lips while on duty. "I concur and excellent work Helen. Mr. Load, are you available?"

"Right here Ma'am," chimed in the voice of the young genius as his face suddenly appeared on a screen among the data flow. "Have you…?"

"Sending it now," Betty answered with satisfaction. "Looks like scenario D-36 is go."


Kim looked up, a granola bar half inserted in her mouth as the information spooled in front of her on the shuttle's monitor screen. She should have felt a glow of satisfaction at being proved correct, but instead she felt faintly nauseous. "Understood, Betty. I'll get our half of Surprise Package in motion. In the meantime, what's the latest status on the evacuation?"

"Well, it may be redundant now since your people disarmed the bombs on the glacier," Dr. Director's image blinked (or winked, actually, given the single eye,) "But the first three villages below the dam are mostly cleared, as well as most of the low lying areas of the next two. Of course, that's based on door to door sweeps by the local authorities and trusting that the most recent records they're working from are accurate. There's no way of real knowing how many people we might have missed. Beyond that, however, we were able to use air raid sirens and other less subtle methods to get people to high ground, so overall we've actually done a lot better than I thought likely at this point. I'm assuming this is going somewhere?"

"Yeah," Kim's brows knit as she digested the information. "Wade, can you pull up that last overhead map?"

"You got it, Kim." Wade's image popped up on the monitor, then flickered and one half of Dr. Director's image was replaced by a 3D schematic of the area surrounding the lake and below, though from Betty's point of view, it would be one half of Kim's image. "As you can see, we've had the time to input the known depths of the lake, and Kim's been concerned about the transports on the lake being a potential escape route..."

"However," Kim continued. "If you'll look on the overhead, you can see that, except for the one that sank, they're all now clustered in fairly close to shore in a relatively shallow area. So if you think it's safe to sneak the flood gates open just a little more…"

"We could effectively strand them there," The one eyed woman nodded, picking up on the idea immediately.

"Not to mention that it would make also it a lot harder for anyone else to use the lake as a landing zone," Kim agreed. "So if you're reasonably sure that we can safely start increasing the runoff into the river without endangering anyone, it would make me feel a little better about the odds of anyone else dropping into the party behind us."

"Which," Wade added as his face popped back in over the image, "given that both the Tripod and the SkyVixen were able to elude our best tracking systems coming in, is no small consideration."

"Right," the director of Global Justice concurred. "I'll get someone on it. The team that's been assisting Will is probably the closest."

"Please and thank you," Kim smiled as Wade and Betty's images popped off, but the curve of her lips got noticeably thinner once she was no longer 'on camera.'

"Are you okay, Kim?" Cyn asked nervously, passing Kim and insulated bottle of sport drink to replace the now empty glass that she'd been drinking from.

"As fine as I'm going to be," Kim sighed as she took the bottle and clipped it to her belt. She'd been able to push it to the back of her mind as long as she'd been talking, but simply sitting in the nice warm shuttle had, ironically, given all the aches and pains that she'd been ignoring time to finally to catch up with her. Her recently broken arm was hurting like hell, and she could feel the broken ribs every time she took a deep breath. But Shego had been right about needing to eat. The sugar in the Croc-aid was kicking in and by the time that gave out, the solids would be starting to hit her system.

And, with any luck, this would all be over by then. One way or another.

"Yori," she spoke into the air in front of her as she bit off another chunk of the cereal bar. "Are you guys in position?"

"Yes, Kim-san," Came the Japanese girl's soft voice. "As much as is possible, without betraying our presence, that is."

"Good enough," Kim nodded. "Ron?"

"Ready to roll in when you give the word, K.P."

"Right," Kim grunted as she staggered to her feet and began to re-latch her helmet. "Cyn, Gay, secure yourselves and the prisoners. It's going to get a little windy in here. Evan, stand by to open the hatch."

"Yes ma'am, Miss Possible," Evan Stevens acknowledged.

"In that case," Kim grimaced, "Get ready to drop on my mark, and let's just hope nothing else we've forgotten comes to bite us on the ass."


With a grunt and a wheeze, Lieutenant Moody cautiously reached up from his precarious position on the side of the rocky outcrop. Expecting to fall to his death at any moment, he was instead gratified to feel the lead climber's hand clamp around his. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax the death grip he'd had on the cliff face in order to let himself be pulled up and over onto the large ledge of rock that his team had spent the last five nail-biting minutes inching their way towards.

Fortunately, as he flopped over onto the narrow escarpment, he saw with relief that this ridge would suit their needs as well as he'd hoped it would, affording the team a clear vantage point that overlooked the glacier as well as a (more or less) direct line of sight view in the general direction of the pass that Cholla and the rest of the Black Widows were currently heading through. That was good, because between the fires, the rocks, the trees and all the damn smoke on the ice sheet side and the rapidly darkening shadows on the forest side, it wasn't going to be an ideal place to keep either direction under observation for long. Still, as a place to launch and view an exchange of signal rockets, it was probably as good as they were likely to find without a lot more searching. And, given that the sooner they recalled the firefighting team that had been dispatched under Dallas, the sooner they'd have armored transport again, that would have to be good enough.

Of course, that was assuming Dallas and his men hadn't succumbed to the same "gremlin" that had hit Cholla's main force, and that any of them were in any shape to be able to come to the rescue. And assuming that Moody and his team would personally benefit from said armored cavalry, which, given the very high chance that Moody's team would be giving away their own position to any hostiles in the area the second they started firing signals, wasn't exactly stellar. That was the reason Moody and his men had been required to put a considerable bit of both horizontal and vertical distance between themselves and the other Widows before lighting anything up, after all. Which was another damn good reason for not pressing any further up the mountain and taking the risk of getting themselves trapped higher up on some crag like a treed wildcat. No, this spot was far from perfect, but going down from here would be a lot faster than going up had been, and the rough terrain directly below should offer enough cover to skulk away before any callers came calling.

"Starburst, Whistler, Whistler," the Widow Lieutenant issued the regroup code sequence as he turned and allowed his own sorry butt to settle into an ice-cold but conveniently chair-like rock.

Damn, he was getting too old for this crap. He could keep up with the younger men well enough when he could take periodic breathers in the seat of a Scorpion or Leviathan, but between the freezing temperatures of this frigid ice-hole, the recent fiery destruction of the Widow's main motor pool, and the unanticipated need to scale a God-dammed MOUNTAIN because someone (possibly Possible, possibly Senior, possibly someone else,) had so effectively jammed radio communications in the entire area surrounding the glacier that they were reduced to using ROCKETS for communication… Well, maybe it was time to think about getting out of the mercenary game before his age and a bullet caught up with him.

With three quick "thoomps," the Widow with the mortar sent three ultra-bright flares blazing into the air in rapid succession, and Moody stuck his dirt-caked fingers in his ears braced himself for the concussive bang of the Starburst and the earsplitting screams of its shrieking companion Whistlers. Hopefully help would be on its way soon.

He had no way of knowing that, in sending up those rockets, he'd just shot down his chances of retirement forever.


"Starburst, whistler, whistler," Nanny Nane counted off, her fake combat teeth glinting in a feral smile as she watched the brilliant lights in the sky fade, falter and fall past the obscuring line of a distant stand of trees. Between all the radar and communications jamming, not to mention the heavy smoke from the forest fire and the general darkness that comes from being in the mountains after sunset, she hadn't been exactly sure which groups were where on the playing field. However, there was no mistaking the standard "regroup" signal that came straight out of the Black Widow codebook she'd memorized. Given the location and angle, it made it an almost sure thing that at least part of that opposing force was still back on the ice somewhere.

Which was good, as of all the forces that she knew had to be converging, the Widows were the wild card that had worried her the most. Before she'd had to pull in her Umbrella Recon system, she'd been able to ascertain that at least one contingent of Henchco's elite mercenaries had suffered some kind of massive strike that had taken out all of their armored units, but she hadn't been sure whether the unit that was now on foot was the foremost or rearmost element or perhaps even the entire body. Knowing that a good portion of the Widows were probably still out on the ice, though, implied that the Widows' chances of intercepting either her own forces or beating them to Camille Leon's column were now much closer to nil than she'd dared hope. Better yet, the trackers she'd attached to her own Morituris showed that they were in the general area that she surmised the Widow relief force would probably have to cross. And THAT meant she still had an excellent chance of using the Morituris for their original purpose of killing two birds with one stone.

On the other hand, she frowned, while the fact that the Widows were resorting to communicating with something as crude as flares could only mean that their own original plans of deployment had somehow completely fallen apart, it also meant that their communications must be at least as effectively jammed as her own. And THAT made it unlikely that any of the jamming she was having to deal with… at least at the moment… was coming from the Widows. And while the well established fortifications of the Senior's castle were the likely source of much of the interference, she couldn't rule out the odds that there were more major players in the game than she was aware of. In fact, it was perfectly possible that…

Nane froze, and not because of the sub-arctic draft that was whistling between her bony knees.

"Possible…" Nane rolled the thought around in her knotty old head, pausing only to spit a nasty gob of Denture-Grip scented spittle, which hit the ground with a nasty splat and slowly began to glazed over into an icy spit-sicle as she masticated the known facts like a mangy dog working over an ancient soup bone. If it was anyone else, the odds against it would be astronomical. But Nanny had invested a good deal of time into researching her current target since their last encounter, and if the nasty little hunch that was sending shivers up her hunchy back was right, the excrement could really be about to hit the fan.

Not for the old battleaxe and her Omegas, of course. It was Sheldon and his Kamikazes that were the most likely to suffer whatever ill fortunes might be planned for Nane's forces… especially since THEY were still operating under the mistaken assumption that they were just one half of a pincer-like attack and could therefore expect quick reinforcements if things were to suddenly go south. Nane's REAL plan to hold her own Omegas back and "accidentally" arrive a little late to the dance would no doubt come as a bit of a shock to Sheldon, but it did have the excellent perk of leaving her with a fresh complement of men to take on whatever bloodied remnants of opposing forces survived after the unexpected detonation of several dozen exploding Kamikazes.

As for the Morituris… the confirmation that the Widows still had men back on the ice suddenly made them not quite as superfluous as she'd expected them to be. So she'd give those unwitting loose ends a few minutes before pulling the plug. Just in case.

But it would be just a few minutes, either way, as things were about to get very chaotic, VERY quickly.


"Oh crap!" Shego hissed as the barrel of the Plasma Cannon that was being aimed at her began to glow. "Guys, get ready to run for cover while I draw their fire."

"Actually, THEY should be safe," Drakken's hologram… still displaying the former fiend's image as a giant blue mole rat… argued. "After all, any supervillain who targets another villain's Henchmen would be in violation of the basic terms of his Henchco contract and my cousin Eddie would never…"

"KILL THEM ALL!" interrupted the shrieking voice of the brassiere and panty-clad and extremely blue woman on top of the insane device that resumed hopping towards them with a series of earth-shaking mega-hops , punctuated by the ear-splitting P-THOOM! P-TOOM! of Motor Ed's jury rigged plasma cannon unloading rounds in the general direction of Shego, the Henches and Drakken's projection.

"Or I could be wrong!" the ex-villain's ghost admitted as his holographic likeness began to fly rapidly westward (despite the fact that he was still apparently facing eastward,) tied as it was to both the Shegofone and its namesake, who was madly sprinting in the same general direction. Meanwhile, the sordid and assorted Henches of Strikeforce Morituri very wisely began to beat feet towards the nearest concentration of concealing smoke.

"Scatter!" Shego yelled, somewhat redundantly as the command was issued towards the already vacating Henches' high-tailing hind ends. If there was one order that rarely had to be spelled out for Henchco employees, it was when to retreat, but as she suddenly recalled the explosive problem that they'd been in the middle of trying to address, she hastily amended the order to: "No! Wait! I mean scatter, but stay together! And don't leave your packs behind!"

"Terrific," Sam huffed and puffed as he made sure to hold the backpack that held one of the proximity detonators for the bombs on the Morituri's leg VERY close. "Hired by WEE, nearly drowned in a frozen lake, wired into a bomb by a psycho old lady and now this! What a week I'm having."

"It DOES make our insurance package look pretty pathetic," Ralph admitted as chuffed alongside his friend. "Not that I think I'm eligible anymore. So give me a heads up if you think you're going to blow…"

"Oh, swell! NOW you agree that our insurance sucks," Sam groaned as the two of them disappeared into the smoke.

"Shego, slow down!" Drakken protested, his projected eyes bobbing up and down as, thousands of miles away, as his remote real self attempted to make visual sense out of the wildly bouncing images being sent back to his display via Shego's Shegofone. "I can't see what's going on!"

"Consider yourself lucky," Shego grunted as she hopped back just in time to dodge an incoming round. "Just keep working on how to get those locks open and disarming the explosives and let me worry about the immediate situation."

P-TOOM! P-TOOM! Interjected the plasma cannon, lobbing green bursts of energy wildly across the general landscape.

"DIE SHEGO DIE!" Electronique warbled, now standing on the back of the cobbled-together seat of the giant-hoppy mech and shaking one blue fist at the dodging derriere of the dashing green damsel as she slapped the back of Ed's head with the back of the other! "Shoot her, damn it!"

"I'm trying babe, I'm trying, but Green's, like, way fast, and I'm aiming manually!" Motor Ed wailed, frantically trying to counterbalance his own precarious position on the Mecha-Hopper so that he wouldn't be thrown off by the recoil of either the massive weapon or the hopper's hopping hops. His reward was another knock on the noggin. "Ow! Watch the hair!"

And all of this, of course, was just a fraction of a second before they ran straight into SECOND wall of battle.


"Yeaaaaaaaagh!" screamed Sam, Ralph and the other Henches as they narrowly missed being run over by the approaching armored vehicle.

"What in the he…urk!" Dallas screeched with a squawk as the driver of the Widow's last remaining Scorpion frantically steered to the right just in time to avoid the flying pack of Henches that flew out of the bilious smoke like bats out of hell, their fleeing forms fleetingly framed in the blinding shafts of the Scorpion's halogen high beams before they disappeared like wraiths again in the even thicker smoke on the other side.

"Those were Henches," His driver stated needlessly, ignoring the bitching from the battered men in the back of the vehicle.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dallas snapped. The commander of the other half of the firefighting team and his half of the men had been racing towards the origin of the flares when he'd realized the smoke over here was still so thick that the second half of his original squad, the half that had gone off with Troja and the ballsy Henchman, might have missed the regroup signal. Not wanting to face Cholla's wrath for showing up with only a single Scorpion when he'd taken out a Leviathan as well, Dallas had decided to make a VERY quick sweep down the fireline and make sure Troja, Quilp and the others weren't left behind.

This, as it was turning out, had perhaps not been such a wise decision, and his jaw dropped in a wild double-take as Shego and what appeared to be a giant floating blue rodent flashed past on the left. "That was Shego!"

"…and Rocky the flying squirrel?" The driver hazarded a guess, making the fatal mistake of taking his eyes off the smoke in front of him for just a fraction of second.

P-TOOM! P-TOOM! From out of the smoke, some kind of glowing anti-something fire raked the road in head of them, causing the Scorpion's driver to hit the brakes so hard that the vehicle went into a wild, uncontrollable skid in the half melted snow, just as a giant hopping THING came bounding over them.

"Incoming!" yelled at least three of the other Widows who'd been hanging on the framework of the Scorpion, as everyone went flying in a half dozen different directions. Fortunately, the slushy snow was still thick enough to cushion the bulk of their, falls somewhat, but unfortunately, it was also extremely wet, cold and unpleasant in the way that only someone who has had a slushball shoved down the back of their pants can truly understand.

"And I have no clue what the hell that was," the driver added, attempting to locate the varied locations of his now shattered teeth before pitching forward, unconscious.

"Return fire!" Dallas screamed, not specifying a direction as the crazed slide in the slush had spun them so radically around that he wasn't exactly sure where either the original attack had come from or where the hopping thing and the fleeing Henches had disappeared to. Still, at the moment, it seemed like the best defense was a really good offense and the one thing they had lots of was bullets.

Ironically, perched high atop the Mecha-hopper and deafened by the constant P-Tooming of the Plasma Cannon, Ed and Electronique weren't even aware of the rapid ping-ping-pinging of the continuous bullet fire impacting against the Hopper's one giant leg

Others, however, were not quite as blissfully oblivious.


"We're under attack!" Sikes yelled as a wild spray of bullets came hurtling out of the smoke and tore the ground around them into ragged clumps of mud and rotten snow. Until that instant, Rod Troja's unit of Black Widows… the ones that Ralph had run off on only a few short minutes before… had been under the impression that they'd retreated completely from the field of battle, Instead, it seemed to have snuck back up on them when they weren't looking. Thanks to the smoke and the sonic distortion caused by the still burning fires, the first that they had known that they were under attack was when the ground in front of them was suddenly peppered with an advancing hail of liquid lead.

"Aaaa! They've surrounded us" Kurtz wailed as he threw himself, belly first, into the slush.

"WHO's surrounded us?" Troja shot back, though he and the rest of his men had lost no time in joining Kurtz in the Slurpee-like ooze. "Can anyone see anything?"

Wisely, not a single Widow got up to take a look.

"It's got to be those Henches," Quilp spat, both in general disgust and also because he'd half-swallowed some of the semi-frozen mud cocktail. "Those sneaky bastards must have snuck around us while we were waiting."

"Can we jus kill 'em now, boss?" Sikes drawled.

"What the hell," Troja snarled. "We're not supposed to leave any survivors anyway. Fire at will!"


Ye Old Legal stuff: Kim Possible, Shego, Ron Stoppable, Dr. Betty Director, Dr. Drakken aka Drew Lipsky, Bonnie Rockwaller, Yori, Will Du, Senor Senior Jr., Wade Load, Electronique, Motor Ed, the Henchco Henches, the Yamanouchi Ninja School, Global Justice and all other characters borrowed from the wonderful KP Universe are the creations of Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and those names are all trademarks of the Disney media organizations. Cholla, Dallas and Moody, along with name "The Black Widows," are property of the Malpasso Company, while Quilp, Sikes and Kurtz are public domain, the first two from Dickens and the last from Joseph Conrad. Original characters Cyn Rushing, Sam Jackson (no relation), Ralph Emerson Shepherd, Rod Troja and Evan Stevens may be used by any and all, just send their paychecks to me. Although use in this context may be considered fair under parody law, just in case: this work was not created for profit, no money changed hands etc. Also, this story takes place at a time at which all characters shown should be considered to be over the legal age of 18… except, obviously Wade and the Tweebs.