Kim Possible Porn Story: Taken Chapter 7

Kim Possible Porn Story: Taken Chapter 7

Chapter 6

What Friends Are These?

Life In the Fast Lane

by

The Eagles

He was a hot headed man, he was brutally handsome, and she was terminally pretty,

She held him up, and she held him for ransom in the heart of the cold, cold city,

He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude, they said he was ruthless, they said he was crude,

They had one thing in common, they were good in bed,

She said faster, faster, the lights are turnin red,

Life in the fast lane, sure to make you lose your mind,

Life in the fast lane,

Are you with me so far?

Eager for action, hot for the game,

The coming attraction, the drop of a name,

They knew all the right people, they took all the right pills,

They threw outrageous parties, they paid heavenly bills,

There were lines on the mirror,

Lines on her face,

She pretended not to notice, she was caught up in a daze,

Out in the evening, until it was night,

She was too tired to make it, he was too tired to fight about it,

Life in the fast lane, surely make you lose your mind,

Life in the fast lane, uh-huh,

Life in the fast lane, every day, all the time,

Life in the fast lane,

Turnin and burnin, blinded by thirst,

They didnt see the stop sign, took a turn for the worse,

She said listen, baby, you can hear the engines ring,

Weve been up and down this highway, havent seen a Goddamned thing,

He said Call a doctor, I think Im gonna crash,

Doctor said hes comin, but you gotta pay him cash,

They went rushin down that freeway, mess around and got lost,

Baby, you know they were just dying to get off, and it was,

Life in the fast lane, surely make you lose your mind,

Life in the fast lane,

Life in the fast lane, everything, all the time,

Life in the fast lane,

Life in the fast lane,

Life in the fast lane.

For Kim, time seemed to creep by. She tried desperately to run, to escape, but for some unexplained reason, her body betrayed her, she couldnt master herself to take to her feet on her own, and start running, and keep running until she saw daylight.

Cmon, Kim, you can do this, just get to your feet, and run. her mind screamed at her, but her body refused to move.

All she could hear were the fast talking of several men around her, most of it sounding like gibberish, she couldnt make out a single word, even though it was in English.

Get ready to move them, we got an auction in about an hour, and a ton of very wealthy clients that are ready to see our wares. one man said. Kim couldnt make out faces, because she had a black veil over her face, obscuring her vision, she could, however, smell the familiar smells of being near water, she could hear waves breaking over what sounded like rocks, so, she knew she was near either a river, or a lake, if not on it, in a boat, because she could feel slight rocking, all she could hope for was that Ron was somewhere close by, and waiting to strike, to show himself, and take her back home.

Meanwhile, halfway across town:

Jean-Pierre LaMond walked up to the main entrance of the apartment complex he lived in, with the reports of Ron still fresh in his mind,

That crazy American bastard, hes going to blow it for me, all of the work I put into keeping my family, and hes going to blow it all. he thought, as he unlocked the main door, and walked through the narrow hallway, to the front door of his flat.

When he opened the door, his wife, Isabelle was there to greet him.

Jean-Pierre, welcome home . . . we have a visitor. Isabelle LaMond said, taking the grocery bags from her husband, and his overcoat, and leading him into the living room, where Jean-Pierre nearly swallowed his tongue. There, sitting on the sofa in his apartment, was the cause of his current case of indigestion, Ron Stoppable.

Jean-Pierre . . . is that any way to greet an old friend? Ron asked, standing up, and smiling cordially.

Hello, Ronald. Jean-Pierre replied, nodding.

Ronald said hes going to try to find a place here in Paris. Isnt that wonderful, darling? Isabelle stated, blissfully unaware that Ron was on a hunt, and that her husband was his next target.

Yes, Jean-Pierre said, his voice sounding somewhat hollow, just like old times.

One can only hope, huh? Ron replied, smiling in a way that told Jean-Pierre, in no uncertain terms, that he knew everything.

A few minutes later, at the dinner table of the LaMond family:

Ron, and his two friends were sitting down at the table, preparing for dinner, when Ron spoke first.

Jean-Pierre . . . do you know anyone named Chevalier? he asked.

Not right off the top of my head. Jean-Pierre lied.

Of course you do, dear. Isabelle replied.

Who is he? Ron asked,

Rene Chevalier, he is Jean-Pierres assistant. Isabelle replied.

I thought so . . . so you were the one that ordered a tail on me. Ron replied, now staring holes into Jean-Pierres stomach.

I do not know what youre talking about. Jean-Pierre replied.

I think you do. Ron replied.

Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom. Jean-Pierre replied, and he stood up, turning out of the dining room, and toward the bathroom, where he closed the door behind him, and reached under the sink. He pulled from under the sink, a .40 caliber Smith and Wesson pistol, and tucked it under his belt, hidden out of sight, and then, he returned to the dining room, where Ron was in full flow with Isabelle.

So, Jean-Pierre . . . why did you order the tail on me? Ron asked again.

I did not order someone to tail you, Ronald. Jean-Pierre replied.

I dont believe you, Jean-Pierre, Ron replied, now glaring at his old friend, Now, question two, do you know a Patrick McCloud?

No. Jean-Pierre lied, the veneer that covered his life, and lies beginning to erode before his eyes.

Once again, I think youre lying . . . why dont you tell me the truth, Jean-Pierre . . . about how you received an unaccounted sum of about half a million Euros last month for nothing, about the hundred thousand you got two days before I got here, and the two million before that, and how you ended up being the sole survivor of your former company? Ron asked, now leaning in.

Jean-Pierre had heard enough, it was obvious that Ron had done his homework, and he wasnt going to take any chances of being discovered that he was being paid off by a known drug smuggler.

Stand up, it is time for you to leave. I am taking you to the airport. Jean-Pierre stated, pulling his weapon on Ron, who seemed to be maddingly calm.

No, Im not done yet. Ron replied, now standing as well, his right hand cupped, as if in a half fist.

Yes, you are. Jean-Pierre replied.

What about Kim? Ron asked.

You shouldve thought about that before you made my life difficult. Jean-Pierre replied, now pulling the trigger of his weapon, only to hear the ominous sound of the click of an empty chamber.

Jean-Pierre looked at Ron, who dropped three bullets on the table, he pulled the trigger again, and again, as Ron dumped three more bullets on the table, before throwing the rest in his old friends face.

Thats what happens when you sit behind a desk, you forget things, Ron said, his voice dangerously calm, like the weight in the hand of a gun thats loaded and one thats not.

Before Jean-Pierre could move, Ron pulled his own weapon, aimed it at Isabelle, and pulled the trigger. An ear-splitting BANG went off, as Isabelle hit the floor, crying, and whimpering.

ISABELLE!! YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!! Jean-Pierre bellowed, looking at his injured wife.

Its a flesh wound! Ron exclaimed, his voice rising slightly, Now, youre either gonna tell me what I want to know, or the last thing you see before I make your children orphans, is the bullet I put between her eyes . . . WHERES PATRICK McCLOUD!!

Ron moved the gun from Jean-Pierres forehead, to the writhing Isabelle, still crying on the floor.

Your call, Jean-Pierre, do you care about the life of your wife more than your own? Time to choose. Ron stated, as he began whistling the theme from the game show Jeopardy!.

Meanwhile, back at the boat:

Kim felt a pair of rough hands grab her by the upper arm, and lead her off the boat she was on, and onto solid ground, she was led like some kind of performing animal into a small, dark room, in what could only be described as a townhouse of some kind. Kims mind traveled to Pam, and what kinds of hell the people that kidnaped them could be doing to her right now.

Lock them in . . . its still a couple of hours before we can get started. said someone close to her right side. She tried to get her hands to pull the veil back, so she could see who was standing beside her, but once again, she felt like a prisoner, trapped inside her own body, unable to make her arms, or legs do what she wanted them to do.

At the home of Jean-Pierre LaMond:

Ron was standing behind his old friend, who was sitting in front of a computer, on it was a police file on Patrick McCloud, which listed his name, address, and current location.

You know, this all wouldve went a lot easier if you helped me, rather than worried about your Goddamned desk. Ron stated, as he memorized the address.

You have no idea how much trouble you are getting me into. Jean-Pierre replied, looking at Ron with a scowl on his face.

You shouldve thought of that before you threw an old friend to the wolves, Ron replied, give Isabelle my apologies.

Jean-Pierre whirled around, as if he was about to come out of his chair, and grab Ron by the throat, but he never got the chance, as Ron brought the gun he held in his hand across his jaw, knocking the French policeman out cold with one hit.

At the townhouse where Kim was being held:

A man with slicked back black hair walked up to a man who was holding a gun, and stopped.

Hows the merchandise look this time? he asked.

Quite nice, Mr. McCloud, the guard replied, theres this redhead in this batch, talk about smoking hot.

Mind on your work, and not the merchandise, get them ready to be moved downstairs. Patrick McCloud replied, as he walked into a large room, and began greeting guests, that were blissfully unaware of what lay beneath their feet, or the fact that there were other people one floor below them, who were participating in an illegal auction at this very moment.

Inside the room, Kim was still attempting to regain control of her body, when she began to smell something noxious being pumped into the room.

Knockout gas . . . hold your breath, Kim, hold your breath. her mind screamed out, but again, her body was not listening to her. The last thing she saw, before she blacked out, was a man standing above her, holding a syringe in his hand.

Just outside of the townhouse address of Patrick McCloud:

A young man with unruly blonde hair stepped out of the taxi that had brought him here, he paid the driver, and sent him on his way. Parked outside of the townhouse, were very expensive cars, Rolls Royce, Lincoln, Mercedes-Benz, Cadillac, and several stretch limousines were parked in neat rows in a small parking lot to the side.

Thats why Jean-Pierre didnt want me to come here . . . the mans loaded. Ron thought to himself, as he snuck up behind the closest chauffeur, and caught him across the back of the head with a chop that sent the man crumpling to the ground, out like a lightbulb. Ron didnt want to kill the man, just borrow his clothes.

Ron walked in through the front door, this time, with a fake police identification card he had lifted from Jean-Pierre, and had affixed his own picture to, he showed it to the person at the front door, who let him pass.

This is just too easy, the guy at the door fell for the fake ID trick? Thats so old, they were doing it when my father was going to high school. Ron thought to himself, as he snuck on the elevator directly in front of him, and proceeded to the lower floor, when he stepped out, he saw a large oak door, trimmed in red velvet. He walked through the door, and directly behind a middle eastern looking man.

Whats going on here? Ron asked himself, as he saw a young woman in what appeared to be a glass cage of some kind, and everyone seated around the cage were making bids.

Okay, looks like I just hit the jackpot. Ron thought to himself, as he smiled widely, and pretended to be the waiter, and poured his man a glass of champagne.

This one is the best of the lot today, as always, we save the best for last. came a womans voice over a P.A. system.

Ron turned, and saw someone leading in a young woman, with a black veil over her head, the man pulled the veil off, and it revealed a beautiful woman with long red hair, and a pair of green eyes that Ron would be able to recognize anywhere.

Kim. Ron whispered, as Kim turned around, and looked directly at where Ron was standing, completely dazed, and confused.

Bid. Ron demanded, as he placed his gun to the back of the man in front of him.

We will start the bidding at 100,000. the woman said, in her businesslike voice.

I said bid. Ron demanded, poking the man hard in the back with the barrel of the gun, and he pushed a button to his right.

110,000. came the crisp voice of the woman, and Ron suddenly knew what he needed to do.

The bidding continued constantly, until the price hit 400,000 Euro, then, for some reason, the man in front of him stopped.

Bid, God dammit. Ron spat out, but the man refused to budge, so, Ron slammed his own palm onto the registering device to his right.

500,000, the bid stands at 500,000. came the womans voice.

500,000 going once . . . 500,000 going twice . . . sold, for 500,000. came the cool reply of the woman, as Kim was led out of the glass, Ron felt that he had finally done it, he had finally got Kim back.

Lets go and pick up our winnings. Ron stated, as he led his captive out at gunpoint.

Once outside of the door, Ron felt something heavy hit him in the back of the head, and the last thing he saw, before blacking out, was Kim, being led out of the area, by the person he had used as his dupe.

Take him to the basement. came a gruff voice that rang into Rons ears, before he finally lost consciousness.

What happened? his mind screamed out, as he finally went completely out.

What happened indeed, looks like Ron was figured out, folks.

Stay tuned, folks, its going to definitely get exciting now, as there is two more chapters left, then, we can call it a story.

As I said at the beginning of this one, it was going to definitely be shorter than anything I have written before on my own, so, I will bring this one to an end with the next two chapters, then, there will be an epilogue that will round this one out.

As always, keep the reviews coming,

Doug

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