Rated M for Kim and Ron’s amorous behavior.
Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Rufus, Wade Lode, Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Monique, Hope, and Dr. Betty Director are characters from the Kim Possible show, created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, owned and copyright © by the Walt Disney Company. This story © 2009 by cloudmonet. Chapter 8 of 10.
“There it is, my lady,” said Mudib. “As those men said, it’s badly burned. Is this wise? The same gun that hit their truck could hit ours.”
“No,” Christiana said. “See the second truck, some distance beyond the ditch?” In the twilight shadows, it was easy to miss. “That’s a UN truck. They’ve come out to meet us. I imagine they know who we are, and I think they knew who those men were. Let’s act like proper journalists and not carry weapons.”
“Just raise your palms like this and walk slowly toward the ditch. They’ll be squatting with their guns behind that berm.”
Christiana and Mudib walked around the burned Russian vehicle.
“Unusual looking damage,” she muttered. “Almost looks like it was hit by a shell filled with napalm.” She raised her voice. “Peacekeepers of the United Nations?”
“Ya,” said Hans, rising to a standing position with Maria, Kim, and Ron, all aiming their rifles at Christiana and Mudib, but with the levels set at 48, well below stun even at point-blank range.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” Christiana asked.
“Ya, you’re Christiana Manowar of t’e Satellite News Network,” Hans replied. “T'iss is special UN security zone. We can’t let you come over here.”
“I guess you don’t know who I am, then. May I show you my passport?” She pulled a green wallet from her pocket, with something that looked like the UN insignia embossed on it.
“Is t’at t’e kind of passport I t’ink it is? T’en come over here.”
“But Hans—” Maria said.
“She’s like Kim,” Ron explained.
Rather than crossing the mud puddles, Christiana and Mudib climbed down the road embankment and walked around. “This is Mudib, he’s with me, I can vouch for him,” she said, approaching Hans and the others. “Here you go.” She handed him her passport.
The green wallet had the UN insignia embossed in holographic ink on the front. Opening it up revealed a three dimensional hologram of Christiana’s head and shoulders. “I think you’ll agree that this grants me admission to any special UN security zone, or whatever you’re calling the region you’re defending,” she said.
“It’s certainly impressive-looking,” said Maria, “but I’m the assistant administrator of the aid distribution camp, and I’ve never seen any passport like that before.”
“I can show you one,” said Kim, pulling a very similar-looking green wallet from one of her uniform pockets, and opening it to reveal a hologram of her own head and shoulders.
“Kim Possible,” said Christiana. “I always had the feeling our paths would cross someday.”
“Uh, sorry for pointing the rifles at you, Ms. Manowar,” Kim replied. “Our security situation is kinda critical, and the last thing we wanted was to have this compromised by an SNN interview, much as I admire your work and I’ve always wanted to meet you. But since you’re actually a— what are you, actually?”
“Call me Christiana, Kim. I’m in the same category as you— a free agent for good in the world. Of course, our methods and even our goals may differ. I’m guessing from what I know of your career that you got your holographic passport from Global Justice. Mine comes from the Secretary General himself. To a rough approximation, you’re a free agent cop, and I’m a free agent diplomat.”
Fitting Christiana and Mudib in the Range Rover was accomplished by Maria crowding onto Hans’ lap. Christiana whispered something in Mudib’s ear that made him grin broadly.
“You know, you tell us to trust Mudib, but t’at’s hard to do if you talk in secret,” Hans said.
“My lady just told me, you and Maria make cute couple,” Mudib said. “Reminds her being young.”
Christiana chuckled. “I’m sorry. Your circumstances must seem dire, for you to be so suspicious even now.”
“And you’re telling us we’re not, in fact, nearly doomed?” Kim asked. “What do you know that we didn’t hear in your interview?”
“Well, try to see the situation from General Matombe’s point of view. Suppose all he wanted now was to move his troops and join the rebels. Would he say this? Of course not. The forces who oppose him would move to cut off his retreat. So he has to say he wants to rejoin the junta.”
“But he’d say that if he really wanted to rejoin the junta, too,” said Ron.
“I think he was originally hoping to seize the American church volunteers, under some pretext of ‘protecting’ them, and using them as hostages,” said Christiana. “But that plan was foiled when the UN replaced the volunteers with peacekeepers. I think I’ve made it clear to him that he can’t rejoin the junta. His choices are to stay in Kitanga as long as he can hold out, or join the rebels, and staying in Kitanga no longer helps him achieve any of his goals.”
“But is he that rational?” asked Ron.
“He can be, with the proper encouragement,” said Christiana. “From his viewpoint, I’m supposed to be feeling you out, to make sure you won’t impede his retreat if he uses the northeast road, that is, the one he was using before to, um, redirect your aid packages.”
“Really?” said Kim. “I think that’s a great idea! What do the rest of you think?”
“Boo yaah,” Ron said, slowly and emphatically.
“I’ll go with booyah,” said Maria.
“Ya, I t’ink we don’t object at all,” said Hans.
“That’s what I thought, of course, but you should understand why he’s uncertain,” Christiana said. “The UN is using novel tactics here, so he naturally wonders if there’s a novel strategic goal to explain this.”
“Of course, you won’t tell him anyt’ing about t’at,” said Hans.
“I’ll keep your secrets. All he needs to know is that you’re okay with him using that road.”
It was twilight by the time they reached the UN aid distribution camp. The first thing Christiana noticed, as they approached, was the homemade tank with twin cannons. “What in the world is that?” she asked.
“T’at’s a secret weapon,” said Hans.
“You’re kidding. I absolutely must see this.”
“Oh, all right,” Kim said, and stopped the car. “But we’re literally trusting you with our lives. Not a word of this to anyone till this crisis is over.”
“I assure you, Matombe does not want an incident with any UN peacekeeping force,” Christiana said, as she got out of the back seat.
Kim and Ron also got out, and Hans helped Maria slide off his lap.
Dieter, Ellen, and Stephen approached with hand blasters drawn.
“Why did you bring her here?” Dieter demanded furiously. “T'iss is special UN security zone.”
“Yeah, about that,” said Kim. “Christiana has special UN security zone clearance. Christiana, this is Dieter. Show him your UN passport.”
“Surely,” she said, and pulled it out of her pocket, and opened the holographic portrait, which glowed in the twilight.
“T’iss is for real?” asked Dieter. “You’re not just an SNN reporter?”
“I take some offense at that,” said Christiana. “My SNN work is very important. But yes, I am more than that. Are you the commander here?”
“T’at would probably be Kim, or maybe Maria, depending,” Dieter replied.
Christiana walked around the tank, shaking her head. “A homemade artillery piece,” she said. “This is world-class ingenuity. Does it actually work?”
“We hit the truck.” said Ellen.
“At what range?” Christiana asked.
“From right here,” said Stephen.
“Unbelievable! You’re lucky the barrel didn’t shatter. What is this, three gas tanks welded together?”
“Oh, it won’t shatter,” said Kim. “This was professionally engineered.”
“What’s happening, Kim?” Dieter asked.
“Short version, Matombe wants to evacuate Kitanga using the northeast road, and Christiana came here to verify that we’re okay with that.”
“T’at’s what we want, right?” Dieter asked. “Okay t’en, you told her t’at, why she gotta come here?”
“Because I’m curious,” Christiana replied.
“Well, until Matombe’s actually gone, we need to guard our secrets,” said Ellen.
“Your secrets are safe with me. Tell me, how many of you are real UN peacekeepers?”
“All of us,” Kim said quickly.
“With no commander?” Christiana asked, “Or maybe it’s you, or Maria, depending? Kim Possible, I don’t know where or how you got these uniforms and weapons, or how you trained these church volunteers to shoot so well so quickly—”
“Hans and Dieter did that,” said Kim.
“You’d better promise not to tell on us!” Ellen said angrily.
“I just said your secrets are safe.”
“You put your hand on your heart and promise us right now,” Ellen repeated, raising her blaster.
“Ellen!” Stephen said sharply. “What would Jesus do?”
“He got betrayed,” Ellen replied. “If we get killed, it won’t do anyone any good. So promise, Ms. Manowar.”
“A promise made at gunpoint doesn’t count,” Maria said quietly.
“I’m serious, Ms. Manowar,” Ellen insisted, but she put her blaster back in its holster.
Christiana put her right hand over her heart and looked right into Ellen’s eyes, “I promise not to tell on you. I promise I won’t reveal your secrets. Believe me, I feel nothing but love and admiration for all of you, and I will not do anything that could put your lives or freedom in jeopardy.”
Ellen suddenly started crying and embraced Christiana tightly, saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” while the famous reporter and secret diplomat gently stroked her hair like a mother trying to calm her daughter.
In a few minutes, everyone in camp was assembled at the picnic tables, and the coleman lamps were lit.
“I don’t think this situation is going to be too hard to manage,” Christiana said. “There’s still some potential danger to you, but I think we can make that go away quickly. As some of you already heard me say, what General Matombe really wants to do now is move his troops east and join the rebels, and the northeast road which he used to redirect your goods is actually a better route of retreat than the road which goes past this camp. So there’s no real conflict at this point.”
“Can I hear a booyah?” Ron called out.
“Booyah!” nearly everyone shouted.
“I do believe,” Christiana continued, “though of course Matombe admitted no such thing to me, and I have no proof, that he originally chose Kitanga as a place to make a stand because he thought he could easily collect some photogenic young American hostages under the excuse of ‘protecting’ you, create an international incident, and bargain with the junta for regaining his power. But it didn’t go this way, because your video bluff worked.”
“We weren’t just bluffing,” said Kim.
“Maybe you could have given him quite a battle, had he pressed the issue. But you don’t want that. Nor does he. He could play two-faced games with unarmed volunteers, maybe, but even a skirmish with UN forces could ruin his goal of bringing UN aid to the eastern provinces.”
“So what happens now?” asked Kim.
“Well, I go back to Matombe, and tell him the UN force has no problem with him using the northeast road, he slips his forces out of Kitanga as quickly as he slipped them in, you have your hacker verify Matombe’s moves, and once he’s gone, you reopen the road, the aid trucks come back, and everything’s back to normal— only now you should be getting all the aid you’re supposed to get.”
Kim pulled out her kimmunicator and tried to reach Wade. “Just one problem— your hacker seems to have terrified my hacker into inactivity.”
“Is Kolya that good?” Christiana asked, turning on her radio and pressing some buttons. “Darth Varna, come in, please. Christiana here.”
“Da, what? I am fixink major shecurity problim. Wait! I am showink you at de shame location as de end of de leak, which means—”
Suddenly the kimmunicator screen came to life, with multiple rapidly moving progress bars. Abruptly, Wade’s face appeared, on a split screen with a blonde, nerdy-looking guy in a torn black T-shirt. “And now, Darth Varna, we meet face to—” Wade began, then stopped. “Whoa! I mean, Kolya Dragonov, the Bulgarian virus author sometimes known as duckflu22 and ep1dM1k. Don’t even think—”
Christiana snatched the kimmunicator and spoke into it and her radio simultaneously. “Kolya! Kim’s geek! raise your hands from your keyboards and don’t do anything. We have nothing to gain from mutual assured destruction!”
“I had heem, but now he has me, because you are interruptink,” Kolya protested.
“What’s your guy’s name?” Christiana asked.
“Give me that,” Kim said, taking back the kimmunicator. “Wade, we can trust Christiana.”
“Oh yeah?” Wade asked. “Do you know who she set on me? This is THE Kolya Dragonov, author of the Leonardo virus, the Viennese Waltz virus, the Sally Hemings Loves Thomas Jefferson virus, the Pope Leo VIII worm, the Soyuz Capsule worm, the Sparkling Nematode, the Kofi Annan Trojan, and possibly the Blood of the Martyrs virus.”
“Nyet,” said Kolya. “You are mishtaken. I would never write shuch primitiff worm as Shparklink Nematode, and did not write de Blood of de Martyrs.”
“Wade, I didn’t set anybody on you,” Christiana said. “But if you try to jam my radio or satellite phone, you will rouse the attention of my own communications specialist.”
“Da. I’m not writink worms so much now. Helpink Ms. Christiana with de news is better.”
“I warned you about SNN’s hackers,” said Kim. “While you were locking horns with Kolya here, I was forced to act in the dark. You need to be more careful. What if real danger was on the move while you were distracted?”
“What does she know?” Wade asked.
“She figured it out,” Kim replied. “She’s keeping it quiet. Wade, she’s fixing our problem with the wandering general.”
“Really? I’m just judging her by the company she keeps.”
“Da? What’s dat shupposed to mean?” Kolya demanded.
“Darth Varna! ep1dM1k! Dude! You’re totally dark side.”
“And you’re just totally mishter shweety good! Bah! What a joke!”
“All right, Darth Varna, it’s fine,” said Christiana. “Leave Wade alone, as long as he doesn’t interfere with me.” Kolya’s face disappeared from the screen. “And Wade?”
“What do you want?”
“Can you see this?” she asked, opening her UN passport near the kimmunicator.
“Ah, okay, sorry,” said Wade. “My bad. So how exactly is our problem with the wandering general going to get fixed?”
“He’s gonna leave by the road his trucks used to steal the aid packages,” said Kim. “I want you to monitor that. Christiana, is there some secure way you and Wade can talk without rousing the wrath of Darth Varna?”
Kolya’s face split the screen in half again. “If Christiana wants to talk to you, no problem. You know your way in. But mess her up and I send you de Shally and Tom virus on a Mutatink Engine or somethink worse. Bye, bye, now!” His face was replaced by a cartoon animation of secret agent Boris Badenov from the Rocky and Bullwinkle show holding a bowling ball bomb with a lit fuse. When the bomb exploded, Wade’s image again filled the screen.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Wade said. The picture of his face suddenly changed as he turned to a different webcam. “Okay, now he can’t butt in because I switched the comlink to an old iMac. His stuff won’t work on the Macintosh operating system. Do I need to explain how culturally offensive certain features of the Sally Hemings Loves Thomas Jefferson virus are to an African-American like me?”
“I guess I can imagine, and I’m sorry about that,” said Christiana. “Kolya’s a post-communist rebel, a decadent punk who’s seen through all the heartless illusions of society. He sees evil everywhere, and wants his share of the fun. Despite this, there is some good in him, or he wouldn’t help me out the way he does. He can look right into the darkest heart of a dictator and tell me how he’ll respond to a given approach.”
“Watch out he doesn’t poison your mind,” said Wade.
“Not very likely,” said Christiana.
“Is he a threat to our security?” asked Kim. “Could he tell General Matombe the truth?”
“This situation bores him. If I tell him I need a live picture of Kitanga, or a certain street-corner in Kitanga, he’ll find a way to get it for me, but he doesn’t much care why I want it. The one thing that got his interest was defending my ability to communicate against Wade’s attempts to jam my signal.”
“So I’m a worthy opponent?” Wade asked. “Cool.”
Most of the people at camp went back to bed in the boys’ and girls’ tents, except for those like Dieter, Ellen, and Stephen, who had the night guard.
There was some stew and potatoes left over from dinner for Kim, Ron, Hans, Maria, Christiana, and Mudib. This was one of the few times Ron was able to take as big a helping as he pleased, but Rufus was still sleeping off an overdose of breakfast oatmeal, and not really interested in eating any more.
Stephen brought Mr. Tully from his trailer to meet Christiana and hear the news. “I’m the Reverend Luther Tully,” he said, extending his hand to hers.
“Pleased to meet you. Christiana Manowar, please call me Christiana.”
“Then you can call me Luther. We all watched your interview with my old friend, Dabel.”
“You know him personally?”
“I did know him,” said Mr. Tully, “but some of the things he’s done make me think I never knew him at all.”
“He’s a very complicated man,” said Christiana. “There is good in him, but there is also much that a man like you would probably consider evil.”
“Kim, in your judgment, can I talk freely here?” Mr. Tully asked.
Kim opened her UN passport to show the glowing holographic portrait. “Show him yours, Christiana,” she said.
“You can trust Christiana, or anyone else with a passport like this,” said Kim.
“You could say Kim and I are both members of a select secret club that keeps the world in balance,” said Christiana, “and that’s my big secret. Being exposed as anything more than a war correspondent for the Satellite News Network could greatly diminish my effectiveness. So, Luther, what would your secret be?”
“I’m the one who caused Dabel’s downfall, though this certainly was not my intention when I brought Kim here, as kind of a detective, to find out who was really taking the missing aid. I never imagined it was Dabel, and didn’t know that most of it was going to a good purpose.”
“I didn’t bring a camera,” Christiana said. “But I sense a story that should be told, someday. Kim, could I possibly borrow the camera you used to make that video? I really would like to film an interview with Luther. This won’t be news, but a documentary that won’t be broadcast for at least— how long do you think?”
This was directed toward Luther Tully, but Maria said, “At least three years, and then only if the Kitanga province is at peace.”
“Whatever you think,” Mr. Tully said. “You see, Christiana, Maria’s already taken over the day-to-day running of this camp. I’m just here to back her up, if any questions arise. I’ll be moving on, as soon as I’m sure the UN will give her my job.”
“So, about that camera, Kim?” Christiana asked.
“It’s in my trailer,” said Mr. Tully.
After finishing dinner, Christiana and Mudib went with Mr. Tully to his trailer, and Mudib used the video camera to record her interview with him. They talked long into the night about Luther’s life experiences, his faith, and his work at the aid distribution camp. Some of this footage would eventually become part of Christiana’s award-winning documentary, “The General and the Reverend,” but for several years, it was just three mini-HD cassettes, labeled “Tully 1,” “Tully 2,” and “Tully 3,” stored in a wall safe in her London apartment.
Meanwhile, Kim and Ron returned to their tent, and exactly what Hans and Maria might have chosen to do became the topic of Kim’s and Ron’s conversation while they sat in the dark, pulling off their shoes and socks, uniform shirts and shorts.
“It sure looked like they were going to Hans and Dieter’s tent together,” Ron said.
“Yeah, I gotta agree,” Kim replied. “It just seems weird to me. When did Hans and Dieter arrive? About a week ago?”
“Whenever it was, Maria and Hans have been together most of the time ever since.”
“I wouldn’t go into the tent of some cute soldier from Copenhagen after only knowing him for a week. I just wouldn’t. It’s so wrong.”
“I think you’re missing something,” said Ron. “He is a UN soldier, right? His commanders could move him out of here at any time. Maybe even as soon as Matombe clears out of here, though both he and Dieter seem to think they’ll be here longer than that. And Hans met somebody really special to him. He doesn’t have fourteen years. He’s only got a few weeks to make her his wife or he could lose her forever.”
“Ron, you’re hopelessly naive,” Kim said, pulling him down onto the sleeping bags and snuggling into his arms. “Most guys aren’t like you at all.”
“Watch them a bit more carefully. You’ve got Hans and Dieter confused. Dieter’s the ‘girl in every port’ dude, and he’s not getting anywhere with any of these girls. He’s sorta given up. Hans, though maybe he used to be that kind of guy, really does love Maria.”
“The way he was pawing at her in the rearview mirror was just— just— I don’t know what to call it!”
“What bugs you, that they’re making out, or that they did it in front of us? It’s like I said, they don’t have much time, or many opportunities.”
“He’d better not break her heart, Ron.”
“You really care a lot about her, don’t you?”
“I do feel connected to her, ever since that afternoon she cried a river for Mr. Tully and bared her soul to me. Hans arrived the next day, and it’s almost like he filled the empty space in her life left by her disillusionment with the reverend.”
“Well, maybe, but Hans seems good for her. Since they started getting close, she seems more mature, and more leaderish.”
Kim chuckled. “Not a word, Ron.”
“I guess I can accept that. I thought her confidence was my doing. I’ve been trying to encourage her.”
“Well, yeah, and Hans picked up on that right away, and he does, too.”
“Come to think of it, he’s also encouraged me, and a lot of the others too. Maybe he’s a better man than I think. For Maria’s sake, I hope so.”
Kim wiggled closer against Ron, felt for his face in the dark and started kissing him. His fingers found her strap and undid the clasp. Kim pulled it off, and on impulse, pulled off the bottoms as well. His fingers discovered this in the darkness of their next kiss.
“Oh! Should I light up the phone?” he asked.
“Mmm, I’m not quite ready yet,” she whispered.
“Oh, okay,” Ron said.
“I just thought I’d make it easy for you to get me ready.”
“Oh, okay,” Ron said again, and repositioned his hands and lips.
“You’re so sweet,” she said softly, “so sweet.”
The narrator must now, alas, skip lightly over the exact hand and lip movements of both protagonists, as well as the strong sensations and emotions associated with these actions, and note that, after a subjectively immeasurable amount of time, Kim paused and asked, in a relatively normal voice, “You want to light up that phone, Ron?”
“Sure, Kim,” Ron replied, and felt his way around the backpacks while she continued feeling her way around him. His boxers were already off.
“Having trouble finding it?”
“I think I found the purple box. Ah, here’s the phone.” Ron fumbled with buttons and touchscreen icons till he had the phone function turned off, the sound muted, and the startup screen for Devil’s Dungeon loaded.
“How many do we have left?”
Ron counted them twice. “Uh, five.”
“We’re gonna have to get some more of these,” Kim said, carefully tearing open a foil package. “I bet Dieter has some he’s not using. Hold the light.”
Ron held the light while Kim unrolled.
“You want to start on top or below?” she asked.
Ron lay back and smiled. Kim climbed aboard and turned off the phone.
Kim woke to a cloudy morning and the breakfast car-hood clank. “Wake up, sweetheart,” she said, kissing him lightly on the lips.
“Good morning,” Ron replied with a dazed smile.
“Time for breakfast,” Kim said, quickly pulling on her green silk undies, and, just as quickly, her UN uniform.
“I’m getting it together.”
Soon after, he followed her out of the tent, down the trail, and around the boys’ tent to the breakfast line.
“Would it be okay with you,” Christiana asked, “If I recorded brief interviews of everyone? Maria already gave her consent, but wanted me to ask you as well.”
“Same deal? No broadcast for three years?”
“In that case I have no objections. But if anybody doesn’t want to do this, don’t do it, okay?”
Here are some of Christiana’s interviews:
I’m Kim Possible. I’m 18. I come from Middleton, California. My dad’s a rocket scientist at the Middleton Space Center, and my mom’s a brain surgeon at the Middleton Hospital. I just graduated from high school in June, and I’m starting college next month. I’d rather not say where.
I’m here because Mr. Tully asked me to him discover what was happening to the UN aid we were supposed to be distributing. We discovered that General Matombe was causing some of our aid to be diverted to people in the eastern provinces. Maybe we should’ve just asked the UN to deliver some aid there, cause I guess that’s what’ll happen now.
I don’t want to go into that now. You can ask me about that later, when everybody’s safe. I can’t tell you how I arranged that.
My favorite experience was making friends with the village children, who were taught English by someone named Nicole. All I know about her is she must have been a wonderful woman. I wish you could have met these people, but they’re very scared of soldiers, and they’re not gonna come back until Matombe’s soldiers go far away.
I’m Hans Clauson, age 21, from Copenhagen, Denmark. I’m a UN peacekeeper, recently assigned to t’iss aid distribution camp. I’m a goot shot wit’ t’e plasma rifle. It’s a very flexible weapon. You can give someone a nasty shock, knock t’em unconscious, kill t’em, or even leave not’ing but a smoldering crater.
I’m a peaceful man. I won’t say if I already killed in battle or not, but I do t’at if t’e situation calls for it. Ya.
My favorite experience has to be meeting Maria. I know t’iss sounds kinda weird, but sometimes you just see someone, and she sees you, and you got a special connection.
I never t’ought so much about t’iss before, but now I t’ink t’ere’s a Gott, a loving Gott whose son is t’e Christ, who wants me to be here wit’ Maria, giving away t’e food and medicine to t’e villagers. I gonna be at t’iss place a long time, as long as Maria oversees t’e aid distribution volunteers. We are gonna get married and do t’e work of Gott toget’er.
I’m Ellen Harris. You’d better not be lying about keeping this secret, cause Jesus is watching us. Okay, I’m 16. I’m from Canton, Ohio. I’m through with high school, I’m not gonna go back, and I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t care if I ever graduate. I just want to go on doing God’s work here, giving food to the poor.
Yeah, I came here through this program at my church, you know, just for the summer, but I’m gonna stay. My place is here. I don’t fit in anywhere else. Maria and Mr. Tully told me they can work it out so I can stay. Maria herself was only 16 when she started living here in the girls’ tent.
My favorite experience was when Kim and Ron showed up. They’re a lot of fun and had some really good ideas about how to make the food distribution go better, like how to talk to the people. Ron has this pet, Rufus, who’s a naked mole rat or something like that. I really like giving him bits of food and petting him and stuff like that. He’s so cute.
I’m Maria Inez, I’m 18, I speak English, Spanish, and French, which is probably why the UN was willing to hire me at such a young age. I came from Chico, California, but this aid distribution camp has been my home for nearly two years. I’m assistant director now, and if all goes well, I’ll be replacing Mr. Tully as director when he steps down.
As you might guess, I was raised Catholic, but the reverend has been my spiritual mentor and inspiration for two years, so I guess I’m a Congregationalist now, whatever that is. I just try to do what the Lord would want me to do, to the best of my ability.
I’ve come through some dark times and disillusionment lately, but two wonderful things have brightened my life. The first is Kim Possible, who was just there for me when I really needed a fresh voice of guidance, and helped me to accept the imperfections of others and myself.
The second is Hans, my beautiful Christian soldier from Copenhagen. We’re getting married soon. I don’t know, it was like, I knew, the moment I saw him. He made some remark about protecting two beautiful girls— Kim was standing beside me, wearing this skimpy little top, too, but he was looking straight into my eyes when he said it. Hans and I just started talking, and we’ve never stopped.
Uh, yeah, hi, I’m Ron Stoppable, and I’m the Jewish guy. I’m 18, gonna be 19 pretty soon, and I’m gonna start college next month. I came here with Kim, cause Mr. Tully asked for her help, and when she helps people, I’m the one who helps her do that.
I don’t know if I had a real big role in this mission. I helped count the food, and give it to the people. Oh yeah, and I tried to roleplay General Matombe based on my experience playing Junta General Two. It’s a computer game. See, one time I was playing, and made some mistake, and got kicked out of the junta, so I took my troops to this other city, and took hostages to try to bargain with the other generals— sounds sorta familiar doesn’t it?
Rufus? Yeah, here. (Ron reached into his pocket and pulled him out.) Yeah he’s like 5 years old now, which is kind of old for a naked molerat, but he doesn’t seem old or anything. Yeah, he is kinda sleepy, but molerats can sleep, like, 22 or 23 hours a day.
(Rufus yawned and squeaked something that sounded like, “Bye bye,” and darted back into Ron’s pocket.)
My favorite experience is being with Kim. It’s always been like that, ever since we met in preschool, fourteen years ago. We were childhood sweethearts, and we’re together like that now. That’s how it’s supposed to be.
I’m Dieter Sanderson, and I’m a UN peacekeeping soldier from Copenhagen. Ya, I’m 22. I’m deadeye Dieter, you don’t mess with me or t’e UN, right? I’m assigned here to help defend t'iss place.
I t’ink I’m the only skeptic here. Everybody t’inks Jesus wants t’em to do certain t’ings, so t’ey do it. T’ey’re hearing voices in t’eir heads, you know, like crazy people, but I admit t’ey don’t seem crazy.
Even my partner, Hans, now he’s in love wit’ t’e boss church girl, huggie hug, smoochie smooch, and Jesus wants t’iss, Jesus wants t’at. Americans! It’s like t’ey’re in t’e Middle Ages! Too much religion. Who knows if t’ere’s any Gott or not?
Ya, I t’ink it’s important to be a goot person. I do my part to make t’e world a better place. I shouldn’t need Gott or Jesus to tell me t’at. You know, we got to grow up as a species, if we’re gonna survive. T’ere’s really no dad or mom in t’e sky telling us what to do. We got to figure t’at out for ourselves.
Inspiration? Ya, sometimes. I don’t know what t’at is or how it works. Could be Gott, I suppose.