March 2006 Kim Possible Short Fanfiction Contest

[drakkenlover]

Man, i can't wait for the voting!!!

[Ashley Benlove]

We still have a few days before the contest ends

[drakkenlover]

This is nerve-racking.

Well, i'll take this time to wish everyone who participated, good luck!!!

[Ashley Benlove]

Amen, man. Good luck.

[drakkenlover]

You also, your fic was very good.

[Ashley Benlove]

Thanks. I highly doubt I'd even place though. Because there was a ton of great fics.

[zaratan]

Finally, something I can tie in to my regular series. It’s not the topic I wanted, but it will do. Part of the Bonnie’s Curse Universe, taking place between chapters 8 and 9 of Recovery.

A Day in Recovery
by Zaratan

Rated: T

---

Kim awoke with a groan, and she reached over quickly, slapping the alarm clock off. It had seemed like a good idea to ask her mother to bring it, to get back into a rhythm and routine, but right now, she just wanted to sleep for another hour or two. She shut her eyes again, trying to find the blissful dream that had been interrupted by the annoying contraption, only to open her eyes again when the door to her room opened.

“I thought you wanted to get up Kim? That’s why we scheduled these tests for now.”

Kim rolled her eyes, looking up at the older nurse who was smiling down at her. “I know, I know, I asked for it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The nurse sat down by the edge of Kim’s bedside, pulling the blood pressure cuff off the wall. “So what have you got planned for today?”

Kim stuck out her arm, and the nurse quickly set to work. “Morning stretches before breakfast, and then tackle my history work after I eat. Then Amy has a few torture devices she wants to test on me. Lunch, more torture, and then back to tackling the schoolwork.”

“And when is that young, handsome boyfriend of yours dropping by for a visit?”

Kim could see the mischievous glint in the nurse’s eye, as she smirked while removing the cuff. “He’ll be dropping by to join me for dinner, if nothing comes up.”

The nurse placed the cuff back up on the wall, smiling broadly. “Well then, I’ll make sure the nurse on duty doesn’t take your blood pressure right after his visit. Wouldn’t want your mother getting any wrong ideas, now do we?”

Kim just blushed, refusing to look the woman in the eye. “We don’t… I mean…”

“I’m just playing with you dear. Besides, the way I here you keep pushing yourself, I’d be surprised if you had any energy left for that kind of thing anyways.”

Kim’s blush brightened, but she didn’t say anything further. To say it wasn’t something she had thought about would be lying, but they had talked about it months ago, and they knew they weren’t ready for that just yet. Of course, she didn’t need anyone else to know what she was thinking in that regard, especially some of the fantasies she’d had. The one with her in her cheerleading outfit and Ron in his Zorpox outfit was definitely one she had no plans of sharing, maybe not even with Ron when they got to that point in their relationship. Well… maybe then.

“I’ll leave you to your work then Kim, and remember… don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll remember that, thanks Janet.”

When the nurse had shut the door quietly, Kim set to work. Lifting her leg high, and grabbing it with her hands, she started stretching out her muscles for the day’s events ahead. She winced as the muscles in her leg twinged and complained, but Kim kept up the pressure. Back before the fight with Monkey Fist and the coma, these morning exercises would have taken only a couple minutes, never giving her the least concern. Now, after six months of inactivity, even the simplest task seemed incredibly hard. Less than a week from waking up, and she still could hardly stand on her own, let alone move around all that much. But Kim would not take the situation lying down, not for a moment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on Kim, you can do this! It’s only set to eighty pounds, you’ve got to push!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Kim could feel her legs twitching under the strain, as she pushed against the weight with all her might. Slowly, laboriously, the weight shifted, and with a final cry, she straightened her legs, holding her legs locked as she breathed a sigh of relief. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she slowly lowered the weight back down, resting her head back on the leg press bench when the strain was gone.

“Well done Kim, you are making great progress.”

“It sure doesn’t feel like it. I used to be able to max out a machine like this and not even break a sweat. Now, I’m working at the bare minimum!”

Amy handed Kim a bottle of water, pulling up a seat next to the young teen. “Your body is still adjusting, it will take a while. You’re already well ahead of where I thought you would be at this point. How’s the school work coming.”

Kim took a long pull on the water bottle before setting it beside the bench. “It’s getting there, but there seems to be so much of it. When I first saw it all there, I didn’t even know where to start. History, English, Math, Physics… it just all seems so endless right now. I’m just trying to take it one day at a time, see what I can finish up, and go from there.”

Amy just smiled, rising to her feet. “That’s a really good way to look at it. And don’t let it all overwhelm you, you’ll do fine. You have a good head on your shoulders, and you have your friends and family to help you out. Remember, it doesn’t hurt to ask others for help every so often. Now, shall we get back to this, so you can get back to all that work ahead of you?”

Kim just grinned, laying back down on the bench. “Let’s up it to one hundred, and see how that goes.”

Amy chuckled softly. “Walk before you run grasshopper. Let’s see you do twenty reps at eighty first.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kim groaned as the screen went blurry on her, the letters seeming to blend together into a gobbeldy gook of shapes and patterns. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced over at the clock, noting the afternoon was quickly slipping away. A knock at the door startled her, and she sat up quickly.

“Come in.”

Kim’s mother stuck her head in the door, smiling brightly. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Kim grinned broadly. “I was just going to take a break. The screen was starting to go fuzzy on me.”

Andrea Possible strode quickly into the room, seating herself at the foot of the bed. “So how’s everything going? Amy gives me reports of course, but I’d like to hear how your thoughts are on everything.”

Kim just shrugged. “It’s going pretty good. I mean, I wish it was going faster, I don’t think I’ve been stuck in bed this long ever, but it’s going all right. Amy thinks I should be free walking soon enough. And I’m starting to make a dent in the schoolwork, but it’s an awful lot to take at once, you know?”

“I know how that is, but don’t let it get to you.”

Kim closed up her computer, placing it onto the table beside her. “Mom… there’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. Everyone else seems reluctant to talk about what happened, but I just… when everyone looks at me, I can see it. I mean, the Tweebs haven’t made a single joke around me, or even gotten on my nerves. All they do is hug me and run. How… how did everyone take… you know… me, being hurt.”

Andrea sighed, her face falling as she did, looking over at her daughter. “I won’t lie to you, it was pretty rough. Your father took a week off from work to sit by you here. It took all I could to get him to go back to work, that you’d still be here when he got off work. I don’t think he ever really appreciated just how badly you could be hurt by what you were doing, at least not consciously. He kept going on and on about how you would not be going back out there once you woke up and were all better.”

Kim looked a bit shocked. “He won’t let me go on missions anymore?”

“He didn’t want to, even brought it up again a couple days ago, and you have to understand why he feels that way. When you first started, you started slowly, building up to it. You never got hurt, at least not badly. Not enough for your father to notice. And you were so good at it, he was so proud of you. But after this, he was scared. He loves you so much, and he didn’t want you to get hurt again like that.”

“But I still want to do the missions Mom! I like helping people and…”

“And he knows that dear. And while he doesn’t like it, he understands if that’s what you want to do. He’ll always love you, and he’ll always be proud of what you do, but after this… it will also scare him just a bit.”

“And… what about you?”

Andrea took a moment, before smiling. “It was hard for me too dear, but I think I was more… prepared… for something like this to happen. To be honest, I expected something to happen before now, but I trusted you, and I still trust you. I know that things like this are part of the package, and I just have to have faith that nothing like this will happen again. As for your brothers… they were scared, definitely, but I wouldn’t worry about them. They’ll be back to bugging you in no time, and you’ll wish you had the peace and quiet you’re enjoying now.”

Kim laughed, wiping the small tear from her face that was trailing down her cheek. “Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t ask for the little monsters back, huh?”

Andrea rose to her feet, smiling. “Just try to remember the few quiet moments with them this week when they are firing rockets your way again. Now, there was a reason I came in here, besides just to visit. The hospital counselor has an opening in about an hour, and he wants to meet with you. Originally, we were trying to get something booked for you earlier, but it’s been a bit busy lately.”

“A counselor? I don’t really think…”

“I’m afraid it’s not optional. Everyone has to speak to a counselor after an event like this, and I think it would be a good idea.”

“What does he want to talk to me about?”

“Just anything that comes to mind. He’s not there to pry, just to help you out with some things you might not be comfortable talking about with anyone else, if that’s what you want.”

Kim frowned slightly, releasing a sigh. “I guess if I have to…”

Andrea just patted Kim’s leg. “It won’t be so bad. You talk for a bit, and that’s all there is to it. Anyways, do you want to crack out a board game until your appointment, I brought a few over from home, and I have a bit of time until I’m needed.”

Kim grinned. “Sure, sounds like fun.”

Andrea quickly moved to grab the game, and Kim’s smile fell slightly. She didn’t really want to talk to the counselor, she was fine… other than the dreams, and she really didn’t want to talk about those. Not yet anyways. Kim put her smile back on when her mother came back to the bed, but she worried about what she was going to have to talk about when the time came for her appointment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So you are planning to go back to doing missions once you’re better?”

Kim’s eyes kept traveling around the office, taking everything in. “Yeah, I do. I really enjoy helping people, and it’s actually pretty fun, for the most part.”

“Are you worried you might get hurt again? From what I’ve seen, it’s pretty dangerous work you’re involved in, especially for someone so young.”

Kim just shrugged. “Sure, it can be dangerous, but I can’t see not doing what I do. What I do helps so many people, they need it.”

The counselor nodded. “I understand that. But what about a career? I’m sure there aren’t that many jobs out there that you can just drop quickly to go out and save the world.”

Kim looked away, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “I haven’t exactly decided what I want to do yet, not really anyways. Can we talk about something else?”

The counselor smiled and nodded. “We can talk about anything you want. This is to help you after all.”

Kim sat there silently, just looking at her hands as her fingers flexed in and out. After a couple of minutes just sitting there, Kim finally spoke up. “Could we… do this another time? I’m kinda tired right now.”

The counselor nodded slowly. “That’s not a problem. But I hope you’ll allow yourself to open up, it’s not good to bottle anything in that might be bothering you.”

Kim nodded herself. “I know that, I just… it’s not easy to do, you know?”

“I understand. Maybe next time.”

The counselor signaled for the nurse, and she wheeled Kim back to her room, leaving him to ponder a few things. There is definitely something wrong…

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey KP, I brought dinner!”

Kim opened her eyes, smiling brightly when Ron walked into the room. “What did you bring me?”

Ron carried the tray in his hands, two bowls, covered, sat upon it, the faintest wisp of steam emanating from them. “The soup de jour is a nice chicken noodle, with a fine selection of orange and apple juice. I’m told the 2006 was a very fine year for both.”

Kim giggled, as Ron set the tray down on the table. He scooted Kim over, so he could sit in the bed with her. With a flair, he lifted the lids on the bowls, smiling broadly. “Your dinner is served madam.”

Kim dug in quickly, and with relish. She wished she could eat something other than soups and jello and such, but her body had to adjust still, and couldn’t take any solid foods after months without. “This is great Ron, this is definitely not hospital food.”

“Nope, this is my mother’s recipe, she whipped up a batch last night for us.”

“You’ll have to thank her for me.”

“I will at that.”

Kim polished her bowl off quickly, even faster than Ron did, and she sat back, sighing contently. Ron put his arm around her, pushing the hospital table away with his free hand. Closing her eyes, Kim leaned over, tucking her head onto Ron’s shoulder, finding it quite comfortable to rest there in the crook of his neck.

“You’re not going to sleep on me already, are you KP?”

Kim just smiled, her eyes staying shut. “I’m just resting my eyes, it’s been a long day. Rehab and schoolwork and all that… just running low… gas, you know… tired…”

Ron leaned his head against hers, listening to her breathing as it slowly deepened, until he was sure she was asleep. Carefully, he craned his head slightly, gently kissing her on the forehead. “You sleep, I’ll still be here.”

Kim snuggled closer, and Ron pulled the blanket over the two of them. Ron kissed her again, and she sighed. “I love you KP.”

Kim seemed to wiggle slightly against him, and he noticed her smile broadened, even as he made out her whispered response. “I love you too Ron.”

[Ezbok58a]

Nice add zaratan.

This is going to be a good voting one!

I say we all have a last man standing match to decide a winner, weapons are grenades!


Paint grenades that is If they were real there wouldn't be anyone left to enter the contest.

[Artificial Moose]

Tango Mutatis
by Artificial Moose

Rated: T

---

To the eyes of her three builders, she was the second most beautiful thing they had ever seen. As to the primary builder, one Doctor James Timothy Possible, it can be easily surmised just exactly who topped his 'most beautiful' list. For the other two builders, his twin sons Jim and Tim Possible, now aged fifteen, the beautiful ones in question were a pair of lovely young ladies in their fourth period math class. First crushes, and all of that.

Not that they had the guts to admit it yet, but such things come with time.

The second most beautiful thing that they had ever seen was a vehicle, not a person. Even so, according to tradition, she was referred to and thought of in the feminine.

Her name was Juliet Tango.

She was an airplane, a Van's Aircraft RV-10 Kit Plane to be exact, FAA registry number JT-0487. She was colored white, with blue and silver detail work and highlights.

James had purchased the kit back in the fall of 2006, shortly after Kim had left for college in Overton. He figured that assembling the plane would be a good Father-Sons bonding project. However, did not expect the level of enthusiasm that the tweebs would bring to the project, nor did he expect just how much their enthusiasm would bring out his own.

By the time they were done, several parts of the kit were no longer spec, namely the control surfaces and the manufacturer-recommended Lycoming engine. In the case of the engine, they had stripped it down to its individual parts and then rebuilt it from the ground up; this rebuild gained them an extra 50 hp in output, as well as a 20 percent increase in overall efficiency.

As for the control surfaces, James simply worked out a few changes that he could make to the ailerons, rudder, elevators, and flaps, which would force a few extra percentage points of performance out of them.

The really fun part, of course, had been the avionics package. Rather than go the bare-bones route, or purchase an off-the-shelf integrated suite, the Possible boys had taken the unconventional step of contacting Wade Load and asking him to design for them a customized, full-function, avionics and fly-by-wire suite.

In the meantime, James made sure that he and the boys were Visual Flight Rules (VFR) and Instrument Flight Rules (IFR) qualified.

At last, though, all was ready. The avionics package, which had everything a pilot could ever ask for, including a full autopilot box, arrived and was installed. All the connections were made, and everything was ground tested. Even the first test flights, which consisted of little more than fifty man-hours worth of circling around Middleton Airport, went without a hitch.

Then, in the first few months of 2008, it came time for the first cross-country test. The initial plan was for the Drs. P. and the tweebs to fly to Overton, surprise Kim and Ron, spend the night, and then top off the gas tank and fly back to Middleton the next morning.

Then came the hitch.

---

“I'm really sorry I can't come, dear,” Mrs. Dr. P. said over his cell phone. “But Dr. Roam called in sick, and they really need someone to cover that hypothalamus operation.”

“I know, dear,” James replied. “The boys and I can postpone the flight, if you want-”

“You'll do no such thing. The three of you have worked real hard for this, and you deserve to make the flight on schedule. Say hi to Kimmie and Ron for me?”

“Will do. See you when we get back.”

“I'll be waiting. Have a good flight, dear.”

“Thanks, honey. I love you.”

“Aww, love you too, James. Take care.”

“Bye.”

James turned off the cell phone and made his was over to the Tango. They were in his rented hangar at the airport, and Jim and Tim were well into performing the pre-flight checks. The boys turned towards their father.

“Is Mom coming?” Jim asked.

“Sorry, boys,” James replied. “Something's come up at the hospital.”

“Aww man-” Tim began.

“That tanks.” Jim finished.

“Now boys, I know that we were looking forward to showing off the plane to your mother,” James began, “but it looks like that's going to have to wait a bit. For, now though...”

His face took on a manic gleam, the look of a true engineering nerd who was about to do something.

“For now, let's see what this baby can do.”

---

They did not take the direct route to Overton: that would have simply required them to lock onto the airport's VOR beacon and ride the radial straight in. Instead, they took a slightly more circuitous route, one which would stretch the travel time by a good three hours. The idea, of course, was to put the engine and avionics through their paces on an endurance-testing flight plan.

All went well for the first three major course corrections. James made the first, while Tim (who was in the copilot's seat, since he beat his brother at a game of rock/paper/scissors) made the second. The third turn was made by the autopilot computer. It made the turn so well, in fact, that the Possible boys decided to leave it on until the fourth turn.

That fourth turn was the second hitch.

They couldn't turn the autopilot off. A quick investigation also discovered that they couldn't input any new instructions, and that the autopilot was stuck on its last known course and speed.

At least they would maintain straight and level flight.

---

“Okay, boys,” James asked an hour and a half later, “what do we have?”

“Well, we're stuck on autopilot-” Jim began.

“And we're nearly three hundred miles off course-”

“We've got enough fuel for a while, but if we can't control the Tango-”

“Then we'll run out of fuel and crash,” Tim finished glumly.

“Now boys, what have I said about thinking positive?” James scolded with a light grin. “Is there any way we can work around the autopilot, or maybe just cut power to it?”

The tweebs shared a look.

“That might not be the best idea, Dad,” Tim replied.

“Yeah,” Jim added, “Wade said that just cutting power to the autopilot box could be bad.”

“How bad?”

“Dead bad.”

“And that changes things how, exactly?”

The tweebs shared another look.

“Hicka-bicka-boo?” Tim asked uncertainly.

“Hoo-sha,” Jim replied resignedly, then he pulled out a small multi-tool. Tim nodded and turned back around.

“Dad, get a good grip on the controls,” he said. “Jim is going to try to cut the power to the autopilot, and when he does, it's gonna get real bumpy.”

“Right,” James said, as he and Tim grabbed their respective control yokes. “Just remember, boys-”

“Anything is possible for a Possible!” they said in unison.

Then Jim reached down and fiddled with something under his seat. His face screwed up in concentration, and a few moments later they heard a small popping sound.

Then all hades broke loose. Everything but the compass and artificial horizon went haywire, and the Tango herself began to juke from one side to another. James and Tim fought to get the plane under control, while Jim fiddled some more with the connections under his seat. Several minutes later the plane was under control, and the gages and instruments were behaving normally.

Except for the fuel gage.

It wasn't spinning wildly, but it was moving considerably faster that what it should. Jim reached for the mirror controls on the door, and angled one of the side mirrors so he could see the fuel valve.

He turned as white as a sheet.

“Hickabickaboo!” he cried, his voice panicked.

“Hoosha...” Tim replied, his eyes wide. “The autopilot must have triggered a fuel dump, or something.”

James looked at the fuel gage, and at their airspeed, and ran a few quick numbers through his head. He did not like the result he came up with.

“Boys, pull out the maps. We've got working compass and GPS, so try and find me an airport that we can reach within the next, oh, thirty minutes or so.”

“Does it have to be an airport?”

“Well, I'll take flat land if that's what you can find, but do you really want to have your sister use up a ride to come and pick us up?”

The tweebs went right to work.

---

They cut it close, but the nearest airport turned out to be only twenty minutes away. It was a single-runway General Aviation airport located outside the small mining town of Tinyton. It wasn't much, but the map indicated that it had refueling facilities, so it would do.

Oddly enough, no one answered when they hailed the airport to request an emergency landing.

The engine was sputtering as James landed the plane, and he felt quite glad that the boys had insisted on getting that extra bit of efficiency out of the engine. They brought the plane to a stop, engaged the parking brake, and then Tim left to go find someone to bring over the fuel truck. Jim secured the plane, and James pulled out his cell phone and called Mrs. Dr. Possible.

“Hi, honey. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not really, I'm in between procedures right now. Didn't expect you to call this early.”

James briefly explained what had happened on the flight, and their emergency landing in Tinyton.

“Oh my... are you and the boys alright?”

“We're fine, just a little bit shaken. Tim's trying to find us some fuel, then we can get back in the air and head- huh. There's a giant bear-thing running at me...”

Mrs. Dr. P. started yelling at that point, asking what exactly he was talking about, but James had already dropped the phone in his sudden flight from the bear thing.

It wasn't a bear, not exactly. Although it had certain features in common with a standard grizzly bear, its torso and legs were proportioned all wrong: it was clearly humanoid, and bipedal. That odd anatomical juxtaposition, however, was not what caused James and Jim to turn and run. No, what caused that was the hungry, homicidal look in the bear-thing's eyes.

Whatever it was, or had been, it was clearly a carnivore now, and had no qualms about eating men.

It gave chase, roaring all the way.

They ran into Tim as they ducked around an out building. He didn't require much convincing, as he could hear the hungry roars of the bear-thing, and therefore he readily joined in with the fleeing.

They ran from the airport all the way into Tinyton itself.

The town was full of similar chimaeras: wolf-things, and mule-things, and coyote-things, along with a couple of duck-things and every possible thing in between, according to the restrictions of geography.

Several of the creatures took notice of the Possible boys, and the more predatorial of those creatures took to the hunt.

There were no humans in sight.

The bear-thing, along with the other hunters, was coming up behind them. As best they could they avoided the creatures, and took refuge in a large building, located in the center of town.

---

It looked to a town hall of sorts, or a large community center. A foyer lead into a short hallway, which itself lead into a large, single room, which had a kitchen at one end, along with several bathrooms and a few supply closets.

What occupied their attention, though, was the odd-looking device located at the far end of the building. It had the appearance of a modified Van de Graaff generator, or at least one that was ten feet tall, had two side towers and a control console attached to the central tower, and whose sphere was abnormally large and spiked.

“What do you think?” Jim asked his twin. “Genetic Destabilizer?”

“Gotta be,” Tim confirmed. “See the part on top?”

He pointed to the sphere, which looked like the bastard offspring of a disco ball and a porcupine.

“Oh yeah... the Mutagenic Transducer.”

“Yup. Classic giveaway.”

“What are we dealing with, boys?” James asked as he rooted around in one of the supply closets. He was trying to find something, anything, that he could use as a weapon in case one of the creatures got into the building.

His hands closed around a sturdy-looking broom handle.

“Legacy Tech,” the tweebs responded. It was obvious to them.

James froze. Legacy Tech meant Drakken's Legacy. The device at the end of the room had been spawned in the same fevered spate of evil invention that had created the death ray which had nearly killed Ronald... and he wasn't even going to think about the effects of the SORPREN device.

Then another thought came to mind.

“Think those creatures are the townspeople?”

Tim nodded.

“Best bet is that they found this in the mines-”

“Then brought it back here and turned it on,” Jim finished.

James thought for a moment.

“Can you reverse it? Make it so it turns the people back?”

The tweebs traded devilish grins.

“Hicka bicka boo?” Tim asked.

“Hoosha,” Jim replied smugly.

“Boys,” James said in a warning tone, “the idea is to turn the people back human. And don't turn me into anything while your at it.”

“Aww, Dad,” Jim whined, “can't we at least give you lion teeth?”

“No.”

The crashing of the door ended any further discussion. Jim and Tim immediately went to work, while James brandished the broom like a staff. He felt that he looked a little bit ridiculous.

The bear-thing entered the building, with several of the other predators filing in behind it. Oddly enough, they seemed almost subservient to the bear-thing, regardless of species, as if the bear-thing was the recognized head of a hunting pack.

The smaller predators began to spread out, as the pack entered the main room, and the whole group began to encircle James. Several of them took notice of Jim and Tim, as they worked on the Genetic Destabilizer, but James quickly whacked those creatures on the nose, which caused them to growl and focus on him exclusively.

He spun the broom around, attempting to sport an intimidating facial expression, like the ones that he'd seen Kim use on occasion.

It didn't have much effect.

'Either those don't work on mutants,' James thought, 'or I'm just not as intimidating as my daughter is...'

Two of the animals tensed, as if they were about to pounce on him, but a quick growl from the bear-thing sent them slinking back.

'I guess he claimed me as his prey back at the airport. So it's me versus a bear mutant, eh? Heh, Dad never had to go through this back when I was in high school...'

The bear-thing roared in challenge, and then it charged at James. He barely managed to dodge the claw swipe that was aimed at his midsection, yet he responded to the attack by whacking the bear-thing on the backside after it had charged past him.

Then he put as much distance between himself and the bear-thing as he could. Which wasn't much, thanks to the snarling ring of barely controlled chimaeras.

The bear-thing, now clearly annoyed, turned back to face him. It let out a low, angry, toothy growl.

James smiled.

He knew there was a little bit of Scot warrior-blood in his family history, including a line of Possibles who had served in the Knights Templar all the way from their foundation to their betrayal and dissolution. The way of old warriors, then, was his family legacy.

That legacy was mostly to be found in his daughter, but just a little bit of it would come out in him, from time to time.

So he looked out at his opponent, a bear-thing that thirsted for his blood, and he smiled.

'Anything is possible, for a Possible.'

James raised the broom above his head, and held it there like an ancient claymore.

“Goddard!” he cried, and then he charged the bear-thing. The creature was so surprised that it simply stood in place, and James swung the handle down, and broke it in half upon the bear-thing's head.

That had not been in his original plan.

The bear-thing stumbled backwards, momentarily stunned... but then it recovered, and swatted James with a backhanded blow. The rocket scientist fell to the ground, and the remains of the broom flew from his grasp.

Then there came a whirring sound, like a generator starting up. This was following by a long clonging sound, and then a pair of clanks, and finally something like an out-of-tune electric guitar attempting to play an A-chord in Antarctica.

Then a translucent energy wave spread out from the Genetic Destabilizer. It filled the inside of the building, and then it moved beyond the walls and covered the whole of the town.

And then James Timothy Possible was surrounded by a bunch of semi-conscious naked people.

---

The bear thing turned out to be a fellow named Mr. York, who just so happened to be the Mayor of Tinyton. After Mayor York woke up, James apologized profusely for hitting him over the head with a broom.

He said to think nothing of it, that he would have done the same thing in James' situation, and then he invited the Possible boys to join them for dinner. Later that night they were gathered, along with the rest of the town, back in the community center, and they all sat down before a sumptuous feast.

“How did they prepare all this food so quickly?” Jim whispered soto voice.

Tim glanced away from the mass of teenage girls that were making googly eyes at them.

“Don't knock it, bro,” he advised, then he flashed the girls what he considered to be a roguish grin.

They giggled at him, and then returned to making the googly eyes.

James, for his part, was getting the whole story from Mayor York. It turned out that several of the local children were playing in an old mine shaft when they came across the Genetic Destabilizer. Demonstrating a sense of judgment not normally found in those who play in old mineshafts, the kids had gone to get their parents and had them come and take a look at the strange device. The parents had promptly hauled it out of the mineshaft and into town. They brought it to the community center, and the town gathered to try and figure out what to do with the thing.

One of the town councilors was attempting to make a rhetorical point via gesticulation, when his right hand hit what they quickly discovered to be the 'ON' switch. He was very embarrassed.

That was three days prior, and by some miracle, no one had died after the town was mutated.

James just remarked that he was just glad they were able to help, though he did grin a bit when he noticed his boys obviously enjoying the googly eyes that were being made in their general direction.

He was in the process of arranging refueling for the Juliet Tango when his daughter, battle-suit clad, kicked in the front door.

“Okay,” Kim Possible cried as she barged in. “Where's my- Daddy?”

“Oh, hey Kimmie-cub!” James said brightly. Kim just gaped at him.

“Dad? Jim? Tim? You guys are all right?” she asked uncertainly.

They nodded.

Kim pulled out her kimmunicator.

“Come in, Ron.”

“Hey, KP,” Ron replied enthusiastically. “Time for the big entrance yet?”

“Um, actually no,” Kim said, as she finally started to grin. “Dad and the tweebs are okay, so I guess we can abort the mission.”

“What? Wait, I mean... that's great, KP... but man, I was looking forward to showing my my mad entry fu.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You can show the mad fu by walking in the front door like a normal person,” she replied patiently. “At least, if there was a front door...”

Ron said he would, and signed off. Kim, with a curious look on her face, walked over towards where her father and brothers were seated.

“You had me and Mom both worried sick,” she admonished her father when she reached the table. “What in the world happened? Mom said that you were saying something about a bear-”

“That was me,” Mayor York said.

“You were talking about a bear?” Kim asked, confused.

“I was the bear.”

The look that Kim gave him was one that would have been wholly appropriate if a pair of azaleas had spontaneously sprouted from his ears.

As briefly as they could, James and the boys explained to her everything that had happened, from the crash of the autopilot system to the reprogramming of the Genetic Destabilizer.

“You two reprogrammed one of Drakken's little presents?” she said to her brothers, once the tale was finished. “I can't believe I'm saying this... but I'm impressed.”

“Eh, it was no big,” Tim replied with a wink.

“Yeah,” Jim echoed. “The only hard part was working around Drakken's sloppy wiring job.”

Kim grinned and gave them both a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek. They made sounds of annoyance, but stopped when their apparent 'fan club' giggled and got even more googly eyed.

If that was even possible.

Kim chuckled, stepped away, and then turned back to her father. First she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a really big hug. The she stepped back, drew the kimmunicator, and thrust it at him.

“You call Mom right now, butster,” she ordered. James grinned sheepishly and took the kimmunicator from her. He quickly dialed home.

“Honey? This is... yes dear. Yes dear, we're all right. It's a long story, actually, I'll tell you when we get home... well, you see, we've been kinda busy... yes, I know I should have called... yes dear... yes dear. Eh, it should be sometime tomorrow... yes dear.

“I love you too.”

THE END

[Artificial Moose]

If anyone is curious, details of the RV-10 Kit Plane can be found here: www.vansaircraft.com/public/rv-10int.htm

[Ashley Benlove]

Cute stories. I don't think I could handle reading Bonnie's Curse Universe though.

[zaratan]

No, but you would probably enjoy The Twists and Turns of Love, the prequel I wrote.

www.fanfiction.net/s/2559155/1/

It's pretty light-hearted and fun, with just a touch of smuff and a fair bit of humour.

[cheeseyfudge]

Here's one I just finished. I've got some stuff on fanfiction.net. if y'all wanna check them out. this is my first attempt at a kim/ron fic. also my first contest fic. hope y'all like this one.
A night in the middle of nowhere.
author cheeseyfudge
raiting. K+

Disclaimer: Disney owns Ron, Kim, and my soul. Oh wait no the soul part belongs to my wife. Either wise Disney owns all the characters in this fic. This is my reply to a contest on Ron stoppable dot net.

A night in the middle of nowhere.


Kim decided on rather than relying on a ride this time, she was going to drive home. Ron found it odd that Kim scored a car that fast. But anything is possible for a Possible. “Hey KP what's up? We've been driving for hours and all you've said is something rather rude to the guy that cut us off.”
“Sorry Ron. I'm just preoccupied with what I have to do at school tomorrow. I mean, I have to come up with a routine that'll get us top prize in the regionals. And I've got to figure out where to hold the dance this year. Because the gym is so last year.” Said Kim as she slammed on the accelerator. Moving faster down the highway. Ron spoke up.
“Umm KP. I know that you're a good driver and all. But I know what's it like to jump to light speed and I have a feeling that this isn't the Millennium Falcon. Oh and what's wrong with the gym? I have rather fond memories of that gym.” Said Ron as he put his hands in front of his face.
“Memories?” Said Kim as she slowed down to 70.
“Our first kiss. Man and I thought it was the girl who was supposed to remember that.”Said Ron with a slight pout.
At that point Kim felt really bad. “Ron, I didn't know you put so much value into that. I'm really sorry. It slipped my mind.” Said Kim as she looked down at the gas gage. And as fate would have it. It read empty. The car slowly started to come to a stop. Kim just had enough time to pull it to the median.
“Oh well, I guess we hoof it to the next town.” Said Kim as she grabbed her bag out of the back.
“Kim it's nearly midnight. I say we go and camp out in the woods. We'll have a really good excuse why we're late to school in the morning.” Said Ron. Kim thought about it and said.
“Sure why not.”
“You know KP. I swear but it seems like some of my Ronness is rubbing off on you. This time last year you would have told me that school comes first and foremost.” Said Ron mildly taken aback.
Kim smiled. “Once in a while we have to just throw caution to the wind.”
They made their way to a nice clearing in the woods. After setting up the sleeping bags. Kim made a small fire using her laser lipstick. They decided to zip both the bags together for extra warmth. Also Kim wanted a bit of snuggle time. The night slowly melted into day as the two teens in love just stared at the stars.

[Ashley Benlove]

Cute.

[cheeseyfudge]

thanks

[cloudmonet]

I've been dealing with horrible side effects of weather, like mudslides and slumps, and not writing my gasoline story— but I finally got a usuable inspiration a few days ago. For what began as a claustrophobic vignette, I came so close to busting the character limit that I'm posting my blah-blah-blah separately. You're not only getting "running out of gas," but "trouble with telepathy," and even "alternate worlds," all in one story! Taechunsa, it's dangerous throwing out proposals like these with a sci/fi author lurking around.

This one belongs in my "sophomore year of college" stories, I think, but it doesn't come right after the last one of these I wrote. There are intermediate tales that don't exist yet. Just so you know.

In some ways it's a sequel to "How Darkness Comes."
I got an interesting anonymous review of that story at fanfiction.net:

From: Non of your buisness
-------------------

Central Asian Jihad
F___ you for dishonoring them
-------------------

Not sure whether the review was for straight or not, but I don't think "Non of your buisness" will like this one either.

[cloudmonet]

Dress Rehearsal

by Cloudmonet
rated PG-13 for adult situations and violence

Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Rufus, Wade Load, and Felix Renton are characters from the Kim Possible show, created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, owned and copyright © by the Walt Disney Company. The story probably takes place in May of Kim and Ron’s sophomore year of college, three years after “So the Drama,” and after my earlier stories about their wedding and honeymoon. This story © 2006 by cloudmonet.

————————


“Ron, we’re running out of gas,” said Kim.

“But it was full when we left—”

The motor made chugging noises. The tricked-out black Toyota hybrid quickly lost speed, falling below a hundred miles an hour. The distant cloud of dust in the rearview looked a bit closer. “It’s not just the gauge, Ron. I’ll switch to electric.”

With a whine and a whistle the electric motor took over.

“They’re gaining,” said Ron.

“I can’t make it go faster than seventy five,” Kim complained. “I mean fifty. Whoa! The battery’s nearly dead.”

“They sabotaged our car,” said Ron.

“There’s no cover!” said Kim.

For several miles on each side of the road, there was nothing but flat, barren ground.

Dot dot dadot! beeped the kimmunicator.

An explosive fireball engulfed the little car, and consciousness flamed into blackness.



“I hate it when we die,” said Ron’s voice in the dark.

“It’s okay, baby, we’re not dead,” Kim replied. “We can change this.”

“How old are we?”

“What am I wearing?”

“Regular mission clothes, black turtleneck croptop—”



“Look at me carefully,” said Kim, driving the tricked-out black Toyota hybrid at marginally insane speed down a two-lane desert road.

“I think we’re getting away from them,” said Ron.

“Does my tummy have stretch marks? Do my eyes have wrinkles? Can you guess how old I am?”

“We just remembered this mission on telepathy, like, last week!” said Ron. “We’re gonna die. I can’t remember how we fixed it. Do you?”

“We run out of gas, the battery goes dead, the kimmunicator beeps, and the car explodes,” said Kim.

“There’s a bomb in the car,” said Ron.

Kim stomped on the brakes, laying a long patch of rubber on the road before grinding to a halt. The distant cloud of dust in the rearview mirror was gaining fast. “Run to the rocks.”

Kim and Ron got out and leaped a barbed-wire fence and ran toward the rocks. On impulse, Kim tackled Ron and they went down behind some sagebrush.

The car exploded.

“We’d better keep moving,” Kim whispered. “They may have seen us get out.”

Kim and Ron ran at a crouch toward the outcrop, which was bigger and farther from the road than it looked.

Dot dot dadot! beeped the kimmunicator in Kim’s pocket.

This time they heard a whoosh of wind, and saw a five foot long finned missile land a few feet away before the deadly explosion shredded their bodies with scraps of metal.



Kim and Ron floated in the darkness.

“That was horrible,” said Ron.

“It doesn’t have to happen,” said Kim. “Stay focused, baby. We’ll find a way. They’re using the kimmunicator signal somehow.”

“Okay, run down what we know.”

“We’re in the desert, running away from someone. Which desert? Who? Do you remember?”

“I’m kind of remembering being in a glitzy hotel,” said Ron.



“Ah, senor, y bella senora, welcome to the Hotel Tropica,” said the smiling portly man behind the front counter in the spacious lobby. “I am Miguel Gomez. You are American, yes? Do you have reservations?”

“Ron and Kim Stoppable, Wednesday through Saturday night,” said Ron.

“Regretfully I must ask to see your identification, you know, with the world the way it has become--”

“No problem,” said Ron, getting out his driver’s license.



“That happened on our honeymoon, remember? Similar sitch, though. The drug lord’s guys chased us down the camino with assault rifles, and even the cop tried to kill us.”

“We’re married?”

“Sweetheart, are you drifting again?” asked Kim, her voice gradually becoming more like a little girl’s voice. “Try to focus, cause you’re my best friend in the whole world and I wanna be your friend forever, ’kay?”

Kim and Ron were about six, walking down Pepperidge Street hand in hand, taking turns licking a single vanilla ice cream cone.

“You always come here when you get really scared,” said Kim. “But I know how to bring you back. Go on, finish the ice cream.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ron asked, biting the bottom of the cone.

“I’m gonna hug you,” said Kim, putting her arms around the boy and feeling him get bigger and stronger as her breasts swelled and her hips widened, “and kiss you,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his cheek to his mouth and gently licking his lips. She wiggled her hips against his developing interest. “I’ll be glad to do that too,” she said, “after we figure out how to survive that assassination you’re remembering next week.”

“Don’t you remember it, too?”

“Come on over, let’s look.”



“Where are we?” asked Ron.

“Heading toward the border,” said Kim. “Listen to me. Mohammed Abdullah’s guys messed with the car, which wasn’t as anonymous as I’d hoped. We’re losing gasoline, and I think the wires that charge the battery for the electric motor got detached.”

“Shouldn’t we pull over and fix this?” asked Ron.

“They’re gonna be on our tail. They’ve got short range missiles keyed to the kimmunicator, and maybe a bomb in the car as well.”

“Why didn’t we do something about this back in town?”

“It’s got Central Asian Jihad guys all over. There’s nowhere to hide.”

“Better speed up, KS, I think I see them coming.”

“It’s already too late to call for backup.” She handed Ron the kimmunicator. “I can’t do this and drive at the same time.”

She told him which buttons to press. The kimmunicator’s face plate opened up to a keyboard. She had him type some Unix gibberish. The kimmunicator folded its keyboard and sprouted two propellers.

“Roll down the window and throw it,” said Kim.

Ron did so, and the kimmunicator buzzed away.

“There’s the rocks,” Kim said, and stomped on the brakes, laying a long patch of rubber on the road before grinding to a halt. The distant cloud of dust in the rearview mirror was gaining fast. “Run to the rocks.”

Kim and Ron got out and leaped a barbed-wire fence and ran toward the rocks. On impulse, Kim tackled Ron and they went down behind some sagebrush.

The car exploded.

“We’d better keep moving,” Kim whispered. “They may have seen us get out.”

Kim and Ron ran at a crouch toward the rock outcrop, which was bigger and farther from the road than it looked.

The kimmunicator buzzed toward them, and beeped, Dot dot dadot!

With a whoosh of wind, a five foot long finned missile landed a few feet away and exploded, shredding their bodies with scraps of metal.



Silence in the darkness.

“I’m sorry, babe,” said Kim’s voice. “I really thought I had it solved. Wade must’ve taken control of the kimmunicator and steered it to us.”

“You know, the pain of being shredded by shrapnel doesn’t last that long, but it’s intense. How many times have we tried to change this?”

“I’ll have to take the battery out of the kimmunicator,” said Kim.

“How about avoiding the whole sitch? What are we doing at that hotel, anyway?”

“We’re looking for Mohammed Abdullah, who’s been spotted by one of Wade’s sources.”

“And he’s—?”

“Central Asian Jihad operative, pilot of the death plane, shot down and imprisoned by General Chao. He’s either already escaped from Jao Dung Prison but we haven’t heard about it yet, or he will escape soon.”

“Okay, so we end the telepathy session, call General Chao to find out the score, and maybe the escape won’t even happen.”

“No good, Ron. I think that’s how we got into this. That’s right. Mohammed Abdullah has already escaped.”

“Oh, tricky,” said Ron. “How about if we wore disguises?”

“I am not wearing one of those blue burkas!”

“KS, it’s a fashion with possibilities. Think of the weapons you could be packing.”

Kim gasped. “Ron, I think that’s what we did.” Her voice sounded weak and disturbed. “Ron, I blew him away.”

“You killed him?”

“With a small caliber handgun supplied by our CIA contact. After all, Abdullah tried to blow up a quarter of the United States with the Chixulub bomb. Yeah, it was plotted by Zafir the Scorpion or Strong Horse himself, but Abdullah’s the man who almost pulled it off despite all the trouble we gave him.”



Kim followed Ron into a hotel in central Petajar, a northern city where many people had Central Asian Jihad connections. Ron’s face had a week’s worth of stubble dyed black with Grecian Formula, his blond hair was covered by his black turban, and his skin was darkened. Kim wore a black wig under her turquoise blue burka.

I’m not nervous, Kim thought to herself. I can do this. He deserves to die.

The man in front of Ron wore a black suit with his black turban, and carried an automatic rifle.

“Mohammed Abdullah, it is good to see you again, my friend,” said another man with a black beard and black turban. How they recognized each other through all that facial fuzz was a mystery to Ron.

“Forget that name, friend Nasar. I have come here to disappear.”

“And how many men named Mohammed Abdullah live in this town?” asked the man. “Many, many. The Chinese never come here.”

“The Americans have a price on my head.”

“Hm, hmm. There were some journalists here awhile ago. Kidnapped and beheaded, I believe. Pakistani police have so many questions, but I don’t know anything. Did any Americans come here to ask questions? No, they did not. No worries, my friend, no worries.”

With her right arm hidden behind Ron, Kim reached through the burka into her pocket, pulled out the tiny handgun, and shot a bullet into the back of Mohammed Abdullah’s head. Ron grabbed Abdullah’s automatic rifle and they fled the room quickly.

“Don’t use our car,” said Ron. “It’s been sabotaged. Skeleton key. Just steal a car.”

“Uh, okay,” said Kim, sticking her cybertronic skeleton key into the door of a new looking gray car. After a nervous moment while the key adapted to the lock, she got in, started the engine, opened the other door for Ron, and pulled off her burka.

“How’s the fuel?” he asked.

“Three quarters full,” she said, trying to maneuver the maze of side streets without hitting any children, chickens, or goats. Finally they were on the highway, nominally paved, but the tires kicked up a cloud of dust. After awhile, another cloud of dust appeared in the distance behind them.

Ron pulled the kimmunicator from Kim’s pocket and took out the batteries. “When it beeps, a missile comes and hits us,” he explained.

“Forty miles to the border, and we’re home free,” said Kim. “Good idea you had, stealing a car. I don’t get it though. If they knew who we are and sabotaged our car, why didn’t they do something to us in the hotel?”

“Okay, I’m going conspiracy theory now, but maybe they wanted Mohammed Abdullah killed, and wanted us killed too.”

“Why would they want Abdullah dead?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they think he betrayed them while he was in jail in China. Maybe he’s an unworthy loser because his scheme failed. Maybe they used him to lure us to get revenge.”

“You’re starting to make sense,” Kim said, gradually flooring the accelerator. “This thing isn’t as fast as they are. They’re gaining.”

“Uh-oh, I just saw a flash of light.”

Kim swerved to the other side of the road. A five foot long missile flew past them and exploded about a quarter mile ahead.

In a few seconds, they ran over the shrapnel and their tires started going flat.

“We’re doomed,” said Ron.

He was right. There was another flash of light. This time when Kim swerved, she lost control of the car, which left the road and tumbled sideways a couple of times before coming to rest on its crushed roof.

“I think I’m all right,” said Ron. “Good thing I thought to snag this,” he added, grabbing Abdullah’s automatic rifle. KS, you all right?”

He managed to turn his head to look at her side of the car. Her neck was broken, her eyes open, blood running down one side of her pretty face.

Then the car exploded in a fireball.



Again, silence and darkness.

“KS, you there?”

“I’m thinking.”

“The only thing worse than getting killed is seeing you die first.”

“I want to get us both through this mission alive. You’re right. It’s gotta be some kind of trap. How do they know we’re bad news? Somebody must see us talking to that CIA guy who talked me into assassinating Mohammed Abdullah.”

“Or maybe the CIA guy is a double agent. Remember Chinatown Charlie?”

“So we leave him out of the mission. Let’s see if we can put a marker— one of Wade’s microchips, on Mohammed Abdullah, so Baby Bear can track him. I’ve got a blowgun instead of a real gun, whoot! The microdart goes into his neck. He thinks he’s been bitten by a mosquito. We walk away, muttering that the hotel’s too expensive, drive back across the border, no problems.”

“If the trap’s not happening, will Abdullah even be there?”

“If he doesn’t know about the plot, why not? Let’s find out.”



Kim followed Ron into the hotel. His face had a week’s worth of stubble dyed black with Grecian Formula, his blond hair was covered by his black turban, and his skin was darkened. Kim wore a black wig under her turquoise blue burka.

I’m not nervous, Kim thought to herself. I can do this.

The man in front of Ron wore a black suit with his black turban, and carried an automatic rifle.

“Old friend, it is good to see you again,” said another man with a black beard and black turban.

“I must disappear for awhile.”

“I know, my friend. You are always welcome here.”

“I thank you for that.”

With her right arm hidden behind Ron, Kim reached through the burka into her pocket, pulled out the tiny blowgun, and the microdart hit the back of Mohammed Abdullah’s right ear, injecting the microchip.

It took him a moment to react, to swat at his ear. He saw a little bit of blood on his finger.

“Too expensive,” Ron muttered. “Let’s go.”

They walked out of the hotel to their white Hyundai. “I’m driving,” whispered Ron, unlocking the passenger door for Kim.

He started the car and rolled down the main street toward the edge of town, slowing down for children and chickens.

“Keep the burka on, woman,” Ron said. “Stay in character. This town is a total vipers’ nest.”

“I think it’s working this way,” said Kim. “No name dropping, probably no trap.”

Ron drove past the sagebrush and rock outcrops, the barren ground with no cover, and climbed toward the mountain pass. They reached the border without incident.



The lights came on and Dr. Avrum Hurlbetter, a psychology professor at Northwestern State University, walked into the room where Kim sat on a reclining chair with the telepathy helmet on her head. She pulled her kimmunicator out of her pocket, pressed a few buttons, and began typing on the keyboard that unfolded.

“What are you doing?” asked Dr. Hurlbetter.

“Shush. I’ll talk to you in a moment. This is life and death, and classified. Let me note what’s important before I forget.”

“But—”

Kim gave him the Kim glare. There was no arguing with the Kim glare.

When she finally stopped typing, he asked, “Can you tell me anything about your experience?”

“Memories of our future again, a mission that hasn’t happened yet,” Kim replied. “We got killed. We kept changing things till we found a way to do it without getting killed. At least, I think so. We made it to the border with nobody following us.”

“So the future you remember can be changed?”

“It’s like running a simulation.”

“Nobody else has any experiences like that,” said Dr. Hurlbetter.

Ron popped into the room, with Belinda Brockmeyer behind him.

“That’s because other people have barriers,” Belinda said. “Kim and Ron are comfortable with total intimacy, and they’re bold in the face of danger.”

“Um, guys, Kim and I gotta talk in private, debrief this mission, make sure we remember every detail. You got a great machine here.”

“What does this say about the nature of time?” Dr. Hurlbetter asked Belinda as they walked out of the room. “What is it about looking into each other’s minds that takes their consciousness out of linear time?”



Dot dot dadot!

Kim picked up the kimmunicator and turned it on. Ron sat in the padded swivel chair reading a history book and taking notes while she lounged on the bed. They were in their room on the third floor of Mathom House at Northwestern State University. Ron had a couple day’s growth of blond stubble on his face.

“Wade, run the security updater to change the protocol on my kimmunicator. We’ve got a bad security breach. Don’t try to trace the hack. These are serious geeks.”

“Uh, okay,” said Wade, and his face was replaced by a series of random color flashes and moving progress bars.

“That’s a good idea,” said Ron, giving Kim a smile before turning back to his book.

After a couple of minutes, Wade’s face reappeared.

“I’m guessing you want to talk about Mohammed Abdullah escaping from Jao Dung prison,” said Kim.

“You know about that?” Wade asked. “I have an update from a CIA operative in Islamabad, code named Jingles. Abdullah is staying in Petajar.”

“A viper’s nest of terrorists,” said Kim. “It’s a trap. This Jingles is either a double agent or he’s being watched and used. I don’t want to meet with him, and don’t want him to know I’m coming after Abdullah at all. I’m not sure whether the Jihad geeks can decode the kimmunicator signal, but they’re going to try to use it to guide a missile to my car. We’ll be in disguise. They’re planning to let me kill Abdullah. They’ll sabotage my getaway car and hit me with missiles when I run out of gas.”

“I told Jingles you’re no assassin, but he seemed to think otherwise.”

“Those guys kill themselves to make hits,” said Kim. “They don’t understand me at all.”

“What are you planning?”

“I can’t go into Petajar with a big enough force to capture Abdullah. The most I can do is mark him with a microchip, and hope he doesn’t deactivate it.”

“My microchips aren’t that easy to deactivate,” said Wade.

“How many did Drakken deactivate?” asked Kim.

Wade chuckled. “Point conceded. But Drakken’s a nanoengineer. I’ve improved the shielding some since then. The easiest delivery system is probably a little blowgun about the size and shape of an eyedropper that fires a microdart.”

“That’s exactly what I have in mind.”

“You’ll have to be pretty close to him.”

“11:30, Saturday morning, I’ll be about six feet behind him.”

“That’ll work. You’ve really got this planned. How did you learn all this?”

“I’ll tell you when Abdullah’s back in custody.”



“The more I think about this, the weirder it is,” Kim told Ron. “We learned about this plot against us from a man we’re never met, and experiences we’re not going to have.”

“It’s just like a video game,” said Ron. “If you get killed, you reload your saved game and try again, knowing what doesn’t work.”

“Yeah, a simulation, but doesn’t that violate causality somehow?”

“You can’t outrun the speed of light, Kim. How do you know where to put your mirror to bounce the laser? How do you know when bullets are gonna fly through the door? This isn’t so different, just less immediate.”

“It’s all real. The CIA guy’s code name is Jingles. I remember what he looks like. We’ve never met. I hope we never do meet. He could actually talk me into an assassination.”

“Mohammed Abdullah wanted to blow a hole in the eastern United States so big that the side effects could have killed billions all over the world,” said Ron. “If you can be talked into killing anyone at all—”

“It’s a karma thing,” said Kim. “If the only way I can stop him from taking all those lives is to kill him, I’m okay with that. But that’s not what’s happening now.”

“Yeah, I understand that.”

“If we’re using the mental powers of prophets or shamans, enhanced to total accuracy—”

“We’ve gotta be, like, extremely moral.” Ron said, looking into Kim’s eyes.

“Yeah.”



Kim followed Ron into the hotel. His face had a week’s worth of stubble dyed black with Grecian Formula, his blond hair was covered by his black turban, and his skin was darkened. Kim wore a black wig under her turquoise blue burka.

I’m not nervous, Kim thought to herself. I know exactly what to do.

The man in front of Ron wore a black suit with his black turban, and carried an automatic rifle.

“Old friend, it is good to see you again,” said another man with a black beard and black turban.

“I must disappear for awhile.”

“I know, my friend. You are always welcome here.”

“I thank you for that.”

With her right arm hidden behind Ron, Kim reached through the burka into her pocket, pulled out the tiny blowgun, and the microdart hit the back of Mohammed Abdullah’s right ear, injecting the microchip.

It took him a moment to react, to swat at his ear. He saw a little bit of blood on his finger.

“Too expensive,” Ron muttered. “Let’s go.”

They walked out of the hotel to their white Hyundai. Ron unlocked the passenger door for Kim. He started the car and rolled down the main street toward the edge of town, slowing down for children and chickens. “We did it,” he said.

“Smooth as silk,” said Kim, making no move to take off her burka. “I like being able to rehearse.”

Ron drove past the sagebrush and rock outcrops, the barren ground with no cover, and climbed toward the mountain pass. They reached the border without incident.

The American soldiers maintaining a checkpoint took them into custody. Soon they were in the back of the troop carrier, removing their disguises. “I think I got pictures,” said Ron, looking dubiously at his turban clip.



Kim and Ron sat in General “Baby Bear” Branson’s office. Kim looked normal. Ron’s skin was paler but still tanned, despite repeated scrubbing. His face was clean shaven.

“Just checked with Dog Chow,” Branson said. “Showed him your pix. He’s pretty sure you tagged the right guy. We got him tracked.”

“Don’t trust Jingles, or the Petajar cops,” said Kim. “They’ll just tell Abdullah he’s been chipped and he’ll get it deactivated.”

“What do you know about Jingles?”

“At best, he’s been compromised. The black hats are at least watching and using him, and he could actually be one of them.”

“What makes you think this?”

Kim shook her head. “I can’t explain that. It’s—”

“Mystical kung-fu simulation,” said Ron.

“Like the Ghost?” asked Baby Bear, referring to Yori.

“Yes, exactly,” said Kim.

“I hate to say it, but the CIA bungles more often than they succeed. They’ll stubbornly cling to a lame operative and pull a good one. But they can do stuff on that side of the border and I can’t. So you’re saying, unless Jingles gets pulled from the loop, just wait till Abdullah goes somewhere else. I suppose I could pick him off with a mini-cruise, but the locals hate that and I’ll catch hell.”



A small black jet with “KP” monogrammed on the tail flew over the Pacific Ocean toward America. Felix Renton’s cyber-robotic wheelchair was locked in place at the controls. Kim and Ron were unfolding the bed in the back of the plane.

“Do you think we accomplished anything?” Ron asked.

“We tagged him and got away alive,” Kim replied. “Wade will know where he is at all times, and if he manages to deactivate the chip, then we’ll know their guys can find and deactivate a microchip. To actually snatch Abdullah from a city like Petajar—”

“What? It would take a wide aerial spray of antiexplosive foam, a big squad. It’d be—”

“Politically impossible,” Kim said. “Petajar’s too close to the provincial and national capitals. Even on a moonless night— I can’t see it.”

“Everything would have to go exactly right,” said Felix. “I, uh, understand you rehearsed this mission on the telepathy machine.”

“Belinda’s been talking to you about that?” Kim asked with an edge in her voice.

“I’m on your team, right? I’m your pilot. She wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

“We haven’t even told Wade yet,” said Kim.

“Do you know how many times we got killed trying to find a way to accomplish anything and survive?” asked Ron. “It hurts. It does something to me, makes me want to kill them back, and I don’t want to go there.”

“Yeah, I want to use the next telepathy session to just comfort and heal each other,” said Kim. “But meanwhile—” She closed the curtain between the cockpit and the bed. “It’s time for our debriefing.”

“So called because you remove your briefs,” Felix said.

“Hey, who told you that?” asked Ron.

“Pay no attention to the couple behind the curtain,” said Kim, and started playing a concert CD of the Death Angel Rangers really loud, filling the jet with throbbing bass and interminable guitar solos.

[drakkenlover]

Wow, nice.

[pbow320]

I'm new in this site and have a story to submit. Where do I stick it? Ah... I don't see how to post.
Some help please and thank you.

[Ashley Benlove]

Bravo. It's... whoo. I just have to remember that it's a fanfiction and it's not "real" in the actual canon of the show.