AUTHORS NOTES: This is so badly ripped off from Chibi-Zion's Mirror, Mirror it's not even funny. Chibi, if you happen to be reading this, I did try and get in touch to ask permission for borrowing the idea, but you never got back to me, so I'm posting it anyway. You have full permission to bitch at me if you don't like it, and I'll take it down.
BUT!!
It's got my own devious, petrol-fuelled twist to things. So it should be different enough that it's not a complete rip-off and not trying to be competition... Err... I hope.
Either way, it's along the same lines, i.e. Kim's the bad girl, Shego's the hero, Betty's her best friend. But 'I did it my way', thus things are far from just a copypasta with a few things changed. Everyone (Possibly bar Shego, depending on how you view her) is gonna be vastly OOC, so no bitching. Oh, and we're gonna pretend Jim and Tim don't exist. Cuz I really can't be arsed writing in any more characters than those directly involved in the story.
This ain't gonna be a lengthy story either. It's just a bit of fun while I get over a bit of a block I'm having with the other two. Might continue it with a few shorts if people want...
The first chapter's mainly to set the scene and give a bit of background on Kim. The next chapter's gonna be Shego's background and probably how the two first meet.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Kim Possible. International supervillain. Once again, she was all over the news. At 18, she was Public Enemy Number 1. Although looking at her in the current setting, you'd never guess it in a million years. Sitting in front of the TV in her parent's house, curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hands. She almost looked angelic, save for the devious look in her eyes.
"Must you continue on in that occupation of yours, dear? You know how much your father and I worry." Mrs. Possible repeated for the umpteenth time, sighing. She'd just walked in the door from finishing work. She was a racetrack paramedic and it was the height of racing season, so she was being worked hard.
"Hey, mum. Yeah, I do. It's more fun and pays better than a regular job." Kim informed her. Again. "How was work?"
"Tiring. You remember that Valentino Rossi fellow who taught you to ride in Italy? He managed to nearly kill himself during practice." The paramedic answered wearily, slumping on the sofa next to her daughter.
"Oh my god! Is he okay?!" Kim asked, concerned for one of her best friends. She kept in contact with him via email, but he hadn't mentioned he'd be coming to Middleton for the Moto GP yet.
"Oh yes, he's fine. Few cracked ribs, concussion and a sprained wrist. If it wasn't for the protection they wear, he would have been dead, though. His helmet was a real mess! Oh, he says hello, and sorry for not letting you know he'd be in town. He wanted to surprise you." Mrs. Possible reeled off.
"Typical! Bastard never was one to announce his presence!" Kim griped.
A few hours later, Mr. Possible ambled through the door looking weary. "He really did a number on that bike, I can tell you! Only thing that wasn't damaged was the engine!" He ranted. He was a top motorcycle mechanic working for the Yamaha GP team, and had been lumped with the task of overseeing the repairs on the young Italian's damaged machine. "Oh, hello Kimmie-cub. I take it you've heard of your friend's incident."
"Hey, dad. Yeah, mum's already told me." Kim replied.
"Looking forward to moving to Go City next month, then?" He asked jovially, dropping into the armchair.
Kim rolled her eyes. "Not especially. You know how paranoid I am about my bike, which means I'm gonna have to leave it in the van cuz there's nowhere to park it."
"I don't see why you're so worried. The thing weighs a ton! I don't think anyone besides you can even pick it up off the stand, let alone figure out how to ride it! Not to mention, it's ugly as sin." Her mother replied with a smirk. She loved getting a rise out of her daughter over her bike.
"Oi! I will not have people insult my baby like that!" Kim bristled. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest thing on the road, but it was far from ugly. People nowadays just couldn't see the beauty in the engineering.
"Anyway!" Her father changed the subject. "Enrolling in Go University's gonna be a big step for you. It'll give you a chance to get some good qualifications and find a decent job, unlike that whole mercenary business you insist on continuing with." He stated, the disapproval highly evident in his voice.
The redhead sighed. "Dad, we've been over this. I've told you, if I can get a job that pays half as well as this 'whole mercenary business', I'll jack it in and go straight." The trio lapsed into silence, watching yet another 'news review' of Kim's latest act of 'terrorism', and Kim looked back over her life and how exactly she'd got to where she was today...
Kim's Past in a (big) Nutshell:
The redhead, obviously, had been brought up in the pit lanes of racetracks the world over, growing up around bikes and racing, so naturally loved anything with two wheels.
As an aspiring 125 GP champion, the young Mr. Rossi had taken a shine to the inquisitive redhead and, after seeking the permission of her parents, had taught her to ride one of the many monkeybikes people used to get around the pit area. They formed a strong bond as friends and on several occasions the racer had managed to sneak Kim out on the track on one of his spare racebikes. The pair had always been caught and reprimanded for it, but the fun the two had trying to outdo one another round the courses more than made up for it. At a mere 12 years old, she was keeping up with the best.
As her parents had many friends who also rode, Kim made friends with their children, but had a tendency to hang around with the more boisterous ones, and one girl in particular, Tiffany, whose father was into ratbikes and the survivalist style. The redhead often made the short trip across town just to sit and watch her friend's father work on the bikes while Tiff was in school and ask all sorts of questions about them. He didn't mind because it was nice having somebody so young interested in that sort of lifestyle.
As the redhead grew, so did her fascination with ratbikes and survivalism. The 'designed in a pub, built in a shed' look of the bikes enchanted her. Sure, she'd had fun on the plastic fantastic racebikes at the track, but they were too showy. These bikes, the survivalist lifestyle... she didn't know why, but it appealed to her. Having to rely on nobody but yourself, disappearing off to who knows where with a bag on your back and some money in your pocket, not knowing where you were going or how far 'it' was, if you break down, you bodge it with whatever's at hand and carry on.
Independence and freedom. That's what it was!
As soon as she was old enough, she'd set to passing her riding test and getting something to get around on, but had soon become bored with the lack of power in comparison to the racers she was used to throwing round a track. A lot of her parents' friends had cruisers and tourers, and she admired the laid-back seating position and lazy styling, but she needed a serious turn of speed to go with it, and a lazy v-twin just wouldn't cut it.
Racking her brains, she'd come up with nothing until she took another visit to Tiffany's house. Her father was replacing the engine in the family car and had the old one stood to one side, next to the rolling frame of an ancient V-Max that was slowly being lost to the triffids.
It was perfect! She didn't quite know how she'd make it work, but it was perfect! Cruiser styling with superbike speed! Albeit not in the most conventional means...
"Hey, Dave. What're you gonna do with those?" Kim inquired innocently.
"Oh, hi Kim. Engine's goin' down the scrapyard, and I keep meanin' to do somethin' wi' that frame. Chances are it'll be a pile o' rust by the time I do, though. Why?" He asked, curious.
"Erm... can I... would it... be alright if... I had them? I mean I'll pay you for them if you want, it's just... I've... got an idea..."
Dave looked at her, then at the engine and frame, and the light flicked on. "I see what you're plannin' young missy! And for the sheer audacity of it, and just cuz I wanna see you pull it off, you can have 'em for free. Hell, I'll even deliver 'em when I get the car fixed!"
"Dave, you're a star!" Kim beamed, running over and hugging the grease-covered biker.
And that had been the conception of the redhead's bike.
Her and Mr. Possible had worked for over a year building the behemoth. Kim hadn't been able to come up with a suitable bike gearbox that could cope with the power she was planning on extracting from the currently dead Pinto, so had scoured Ford engine tuning forums and found that the 2.0-litre Zetec 6-speed gearbox out of a Focus bolted straight on! All she'd need to do would be weld up the planet gears in the differential, fabricate a free-standing suicide change and modify the shaft drive and she was good to go!
After extensively modifying, lengthening and bracing the frame, they could finally slot the engine and gearbox combination in place. Standing back, they both immediately decided the standard wheels and suspension looked far too weedy, so they built a leading-link front suspension setup using a pair of shocks that had been 'borrowed' from Yamaha's parts bin, and a rear wheel from the same parts bin, modified to accept 2 disks instead of a disk and a sprocket.
For the rear, they had stripped the shaft drive parts from the original wheel and fixed them to an obscenely wide truck wheel, then bought an appropriate 260-section tyre to fit. With another two 'borrowed' shock absorbers in place of the original crusty items and everything widened to accept the wheel, the whole bike finally looked 'right' proportion-wise.
Once they had got the frame and running gear sorted, the pair focused on the engine. Ripping it down to it's constituent parts, they got parts imported from god knows where to make it go faster, and Mr. Possible took the head with him to work to have 'the boys' work their porting magic on it. When it finally went back in the bike, it had been dyno'd at around 220bhp and 200lb-ft of torque with a pair of 50mm twin-choke Webber sidedraughts.
Bodywork-wise, a fatbob-style petrol tank was acquired and fitted instead of the original underseat item, and everything else was either modified to fit, or just thrown away. A coat of matt black later, and it was finished! It looked like something straight out of Mad Max, and Kim and her father stood back and admired their work. It had been a long time coming, but it had all been worth it.
The controls were an odd affair. The right footrest also doubled as the throttle, the left as the rear brake, and the hand controls, save for the throttle, were as normal. It had taken Kim weeks before the controls were second-nature.
The first port of call on her maiden voyage had been Dave's house. She pulled up on his drive and somewhat shakily dismounted, not being used to the sheer size and bulk of the thing, not to mention the feet-forward riding position was more than a little odd.
She rang the doorbell and waited. It wasn't long before her friend Tiffany answered, beaming and throwing her arms round the redhead. "Kimmie! I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?!"
"Hey, Tiff! Yeah, I'm good. Just finished the bike, so I thought I'd come round and show off. You wanna see it?" She asked, arms still wrapped round her friend' waist.
"Oh hell yeah! Hang on, I'll go and get dad. I'm sure he's gonna wanna see what you did with that pile of junk you left with." And with that, she darted back into the house, leaving Kim standing there wondering when being hugged by the girl had ever felt so nice...
The thoughts were pushed aside as Tiff and Dave came walking down the hall towards her. "Come on then, Kim. Let's see what you made from my cast-offs."
The pair had been in awe at the monster on the drive. It looked so sinister and menacing sitting there. It was almost like Kim had managed to steal the Ghost Rider's bike. Tiffany had begged to be the first to be taken out on the back, and Kim promised her she would be as soon as she got used to the controls.
After that, Tiffany practically lived at the Possible residence waiting for Kim to feel comfortable riding the bike. As a result, the pair became almost inseparable, but Kim began growing increasingly uncomfortable and embarrassed (at least those were the closest emotions she could associate with what she was feeling) whenever Tiffany changed with her in the room. Why, she didn't know.
...Then it became apparent.
She walked in on Tiffany, who was rather tall, leggy, and a dirty blonde with a none-too-shabby figure (albeit a bit on the rounder side) while she was getting dressed after a shower. The sharp intake of breath alerted Tiff to the redhead's presence, but it wasn't until she turned round and saw Kim staring at her, bright red, did she get slightly worried. Kim had walked in on her dozens of times before and never had this reaction.
"Kim, what's wrong?" She asked, turning to face her in nothing but her left sock.
The redhead stood there, frozen to the spot. "I... never realized... just how beautiful you were... before now..." She mumbled, her blush deepening.
"Okay... that was random." The blonde replied, a nervous edge to her voice.
"I'm just... gonna leave now." Kim turned to go, but was stopped.
"Kimmie, seriously, what's wrong?" Tiffany had crossed the short distance and put her hand on Kim's shoulder, looking at the redhead with concern.
"...Umm... I think... I might be... you're... turning me gay." The last three words were muttered almost incoherently, but Tiffany's close proximity allowed her to hear them clearly enough.
"...Oh."
"Y-yeah. I'm... I'm gonna go now." And with that, Kim made a beeline for her room and pretty much barricaded herself inside. After the exchange, she couldn't bear to look her friend in the face again.
The redhead was sure Tiffany would have gone home by now, so dared to venture downstairs. She hadn't checked the time before un-barricading herself, so was surprised to see her mother going to make her way up the stairs to her room. "Oh! Perfect timing, Kimmie. Dinner's ready. Tiffany's still downstairs waiting for you. She said you had some things to sort out."
The surprise and confusion showed on the redhead's face. "...R-really? Err... I... said she could go if she wanted." Kim lied.
"Well, she obviously didn't want to. I do believe she's getting rather obsessive over you taking her out on the back of that bike you and your mad father built." Her mother offered, having to suppress a smirk as Kim turned rather red.
Yes, she had an inkling as to what was going down. Mothers are brilliant for that. And while she found it somewhat disheartening she wouldn't be getting any grandchildren from her daughter, the paramedic would rather have Kim happy than have grandchildren.
The two redheads headed downstairs, younger following older somewhat warily. Truth be told, Kim was shitting herself. She had no clue as to what to expect from her friend, and spent the entire meal with her eyes on her plate.
With the pretence of feeling tired, Kim disappeared up to her room again, Tiff making her way up after getting the pleasantries of a lovely meal and all that crap out of the way. The blonde found Kim sitting on her bed hugging her knees and staring into space.
"I spose getting this shit outta the way now's better than dragging it out, eh?" The redhead started in a vague voice.
"...What d'you mean?" Tiff inquired.
Kim turned her eyes towards the taller girl. "Well it's obvious you're only still here so you can tell me to get fucked and you never wanna see me again, without trying to appear rude."
"What gave you that idea?" Tiffany asked, genuinely confused.
Kim raised an eyebrow. "You... wait, you're not...? I'm confused now."
"You and me both." The blonde made her way over to the bed and sat down. "Let's get this straight. Yeah, that was... weird... finding out you've... got the hots for me, but I don't hate you for it. I... Oh god, how do I say this...?"
Kim, deciding she had nothing to lose, offered a few choice options. "Wanna make out? Rip my clothes off and sex me to death? Let me have my way with you?" She suggested, not even half serious.
Tiffany went as red as Kim's hair. "I... wasn't gonna put it as blunt as that, but I... I've always wondered what it would be like... going with a girl."
Kim sat there in shock, staring at the other girl. "You're shitting me! I threw those out there as a joke! I didn't expect you to actually take me seriously!"
"Well, I am. So... are you... do you wanna... umm... do it?" Tiffany asked, turning an even deeper shade of beetroot.
"What, now?" Kim asked, also becoming somewhat flustered.
"No! No, I was thinking... more when everyone else is asleep..." The blonde clarified, the colour in her face draining slightly.
"Oh! ...Yeah. My bad. We'll... have to stay quiet though. You might have to...help me with that." The redhead mumbled, blushing herself.
Tiffany raised an eyebrow before the meaning was realised. She giggled. "You a bit noisy, then?"
"Put it this way, the first time I... 'enjoyed myself', I had my parents try and burst into my room because they thought I was being murdered." Kim replied with a wry smile.
That night, the pair did indeed engage in passionate lesbian antics, although Kim had to break several kisses to bite down on a pillow. For a novice, Tiffany was very talented with her hands, and the redhead always got a little flushed remembering what she could do with her tongue...
Kim had been no slouch either, far from it. Tiffany had to spend a good deal of their 'session' biting pillows when the redhead got into it. Kim was rather more forceful with her ministrations, however, and the blonde had ended up quite sore in the morning, not that she minded in the slightest. She'd been with a few boys (not so many as to label her easy, by any means) but the sex had always been frantic, nervous and over WAYYY too soon.
With the redhead, the pace had been varied, the nervousness was only there for 5 minutes or so, and they had gone at it for hours. And hours. It turned into an erotic game of wills in the end, neither wanting to go on, but neither wanting to leave the other going without while they were on their way to the next orgasm...
Kim eventually became confident enough with the controls and the sheer weight of the bike to let Tiffany climb on the back. She'd wound the spring rate on the shock absorbers up slightly to allow for carrying a passenger, and was surprised to find that, due to it's own bulk, the bike's handling barely changed at all. It dropped into corners a bit quicker and the front end went a bit lighter under acceleration, but nothing major.
As she was now on the road on a bike that wasn't an embarrassment, she started taking up the offers she got to go on rideouts and rallies. At least 1 weekend a month, she was to be found stumbling around a campsite in a drunken daze, booze in one hand and a roll-up in the other (Yes, Kim had taken up the dirty habit of smoking, but at the moment it was only while at rallies.), along with god knows how many other bikers in the same state or worse. Tiffany always went with her, and usually ended up in worse condition, much to the redhead's unending amusement.
On several occasions, the pair had forgotten they were in a tent (most likely due to being completely slaughtered) and everyone within a 300-yard radius were treated to the sounds of one or the other howling in ecstasy as they brought each other off. Poor Dave had taken to drinking himself to unconsciousness before the pair retired to their tent after having to endure their antics one too many times. It was one thing knowing what was going on, but quite another knowing it was your daughter in there...
Kim was soon accepted into 'The RatPack', the group Dave belonged to, as a gang member and started joining in with a lot of the activities they got involved in. Proper English Rugby, drinking, donut and burnout competitions, and got really into watching the 'Fight Club' matches as well. She desperately wanted to join in, but nobody would let her because of her inexperience. That was before one of the oriental club members, well-versed in several martial arts styles and basic brawling, offered to teach her to fight.
She'd jumped at the chance, and within the year, she was taking on two opponents at a time and winning due to the way she turned into something akin to an ADHD kid on a kilo of sherbet when her adrenaline got going. She never came out unscathed, and against some of the more battle-hardened members, she only just made it out of the fight conscious. It had been months since they had been going easy on her, and it always pained her mother to see what injuries the young redhead was coming home with.
After a while, Kim had gotten so good at fighting, people were getting scared of attending the meets, and it wasn't just her Fight Club performances that were getting people worried. She was becoming boisterous and cocky, challenging any decision she didn't like and having a tendency to try and settle things with fists. Seeing her drunk put the fear of death into people sometimes, so the gang as a whole decided something needed to be done to try and calm her down.
The oriental chap, Tap Sum Bong, came to the rescue, feeling he should as he was the one responsible for the redhead's current attitude problem. He offered to get in touch with some of his contacts in Japan and send her off to learn some discipline. The offer was accepted without a second thought, and Kim then spent the next 18 months in Japan.
Unfortunately, nobody had been informed of exactly who they were sending the redhead to, and what exactly she would learn... They were in for a big surprise when the redhead got back, a few months before her 18th birthday.
Turning up at the Japanese underground operation's HQ, she was shown inside and then informed of exactly what she would be there to learn, and what she would be expected to do in return for their services. They made it painfully clear that there was no turning back now that she had entered, and punishments for failures, or disobedience, were beyond harsh. The redhead was scared beyond words, and wondered just what the fuck she had gotten herself into. These were not nice people.
'Ah well. Too late now...' She thought to herself. The redhead would just have to knuckle down and get on with it.
Kim learnt so many new fighting styles, she feared her head might explode from the amount of knowledge being crammed into it every day. This, in turn, helped her learn discipline, but it was the things she had to do as payback that would teach her patience and humility, and reinforce the lessons in discipline.
She was expected to become a mercenary for them. The alternative was being used as a guinea-pig to test out new forms of torture on for an undetermined time, until they felt she had paid them back for their 'generosity'.
Along with the fighting, including the use of weapons, the redhead became versed in Japanese and all manner of other languages. She learnt how to operate all manner of firearms, explosives and gadgets. She learnt how to disarm every security system and pick every type of lock known to man, and how to hack like a redheaded Neo.
She learnt how to knock people unconscious in more ways than she ever thought were possible, kill with a single move and cause more pain without actually doing any physical damage than she previously knew how to when she was causing physical damage. And, most importantly, she learnt the art of stealth. Kim learnt to almost literally disappear in the blink of an eye, and sneak around completely undetected. And she learnt it all while 'on the job', following in the footsteps of one of their other master mercenaries.
Before returning to the US, the Orientals had set Kim up with a new identity, Slim Plausible. Over the time under their tutelage, the redhead had become quite notorious among the various clans and law enforcement agencies alike, and was now their best thief, and one of their best all-round mercenaries. And the world's most wanted woman. It wouldn't do to have their prized operative caught over something as stupid as revealing her name at the airport.
Back home, Kim decided she was going to need a mobile base of operations that could double as sleeping quarters and a workshop should the need arise...
...Or, in her exact words, "A shag-wagon stroke mobile toolbox I can work out of and fit my bike in."
Such a vehicle came into her possession in the form of a used and abused 1985 Chevy long wheelbase Dually with a custom high-top van body and a knackered gearbox. Once again, she enlisted her father's help, and they ripped the whole engine and gearbox out and dropped in a V6 2-stroke diesel and manual gearbox out of an old tractor unit. Of course, they couldn't 'just' drop it straight in, oh no! As with the Pinto, the whole engine was rebuilt, bored out with forged pistons and titanium rods, heads ported and skimmed, inlet manifolds port-matched, stainless exhaust manifolds made up, the whole lot balanced, and THEN put back together.
The gearbox received the same treatment, and then the whole of the running gear was stripped off, checked, all bushes replaced with polyurethane replacements and re-greased before being put back. The brakes were deemed 'appalling' by her father, who went and 'adjusted' some Porsche racing brakes to fit the truck's hubs.
The Goliath van would now damn near stop on a sixpence and lock all four wheels quite efficiently if you stomped on the pedal hard enough. Which was a blessing, because the monster engine meant it topped out at 150 and got there a damn sight quicker than it was ever designed to, while still handling like a barge. But Kim decided she liked it like that.
And the Nutshell Ends.
Deciding to make the most of her few weeks of remaining freedom, the redhead left a note up on the rather well-disguised website she'd set up telling any and all visitors she was not going to be available until further notice, jumped in her van and disappeared. She had enough supplies, clean clothes and other stuff to be able to last a good week just living out of the vehicle. Her bike was already on board and fully fuelled, so there was no worries of getting stranded should the 'Red Shed' break.
It was during this extended road trip that the redhead's van went from being in rather good condition straight to 'mobile shitheap'. Mainly living on fast food, junk food and pub food, the interior had become littered with wrappers, coke cans, beer cans and bottles, and more than a few pairs of used undies from various drunken female conquests.
Her now distinctly more pronounced smoking also led to the inclusion of a fair amount of old lighters, empty Rizla packets and Golden Virginia baccy pouches, fag butts and god knows what else, all mingling with the abundance of loose nuts, bolts, washers and bits of bike and van that were already rolling around the floor. Whenever she drove it, the thing rattled like a tin of nails because of these very things.
After getting back from her tour of the States, the redhead got out of the van and gave it the once-over. It was scratched, dented, rusty and dirty. And it made her smile. 'Just how it should be!' Kim decided.
It was the weekend before Kim had to leave for Go City, and she was doing a good impression of a blue-arsed fly. The redhead was buzzing around the house in a bit of a panic, trying to decide what she'd need to take with her to her new living quarters. She'd pulled a few strings and managed to secure one of the bigger dorms, usually reserved for the senior students.
It was Kim's first day at the university and so far, she wasn't doing a great deal to set a good example. Backing her van right up to the doors of the living quarters, which was a good 200 yards from the nearest road of any description, had been the first sign to any and all that they had a bit of a live wire on their hands. The next had been the amount of foul language that rolled off her tongue...
"Excuse me, Miss Plausible. Could you please move your vehicle to the designated parking area?" One of the male staff had asked.
"...No."
"What do you mean 'no'?! This is against the rules, not to mention dangerous! You could have run someone over!"
Kim sighed, pulled out her tobacco tin and rolled a cigarette as she answered, watching as the actions made the burly man with the buzz cut fume silently. "Well I didn't. So until I'm done unloading my shit, it's not going anywhere. And I doubt there's much you can do about it, Mr..."
"Barkin." He grunted through clenched teeth.
"Well, Barky, how about you run along and annoy someone else, and I'll move my van when I'm done, okay?"
"It's BarkIN, and you will move this vehicle NOW!"
"Oh fuck off." And with that, she lit up, grabbed another box and headed inside.
"...THIS BUILDING IS A NO SMOKING ZONE! GET BACK HERE!"
Kim laughed, blew a huge lungful of smoke into the corridor and carried on.
"I'M KEEPING MY EYE ON YOU, PLAUSIBLE!!"
Kim snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that one."
Barkin disappeared to come back with 'reinforcements', but by the time that happened, Kim was unloaded and the van was gone. The only evidence of it's presence a few oil stains on the floor and 2 scattered piles of rubbish from the doors she'd opened. After that day, the redhead made excellent use of her ninja stealth skills and disappeared every time she saw any sign of Barkin in the vicinity. She really couldn't be arsed with his 'I'm keeping my eye on you, Plausible!' line.
--
She pulled up to university in her, somewhat oversized, van and parked up, opening the door and stepping out into the slight breeze that lazily wafted through Go University's car park. The redhead muttered incoherent curses as she kicked the rubbish that had fallen out with her under the vehicle.
Dressed in ageing army boots, some baggy, faded black jeans and a plain black t-shirt, she looked like your average, slightly emo, uni student. The small amount of make-up she wore added to the slightly depressive, 'Don't talk to me!' look. Metallic dark green eye-shadow and lipstick with some deep purple eye-liner to set it off. Her vibrant red hair was tied back in a long ponytail with a rather sinister-looking spiked leather scrunchie, and a slight scowl graced her pale features as she slammed the door, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Hey, Slim!" A gangly blonde boy ran over to greet her. Kim had decided to use her false identity to enrol into college with, deciding the university really wouldn't be overly keen on knowingly harbouring the notorious Kim Possible on campus. This in mind, she had hacked into all her student records and changed the names on any and all databases to that of her alias. Kim Possible, for all intensive purposes, had disappeared off the face of the earth. Her alias, Slim Plausible was, by all accounts, somewhat of a genius now, having passed all of her chosen subjects with top marks. She had gotten private tutoring at the tracks due to her parents being constantly globe-trotting with the racing crews.
"Hello Ron." She replied in a slightly exasperated tone. On her first week in Go U, she'd pretty much been by herself and, by all accounts, wasn't making a great deal of effort to pick up any friends. Unfortunately, Ron had also arrived sans friends and had latched on, reasoning that they should stick together because they'd probably get singled out by those bent on making other's lives a misery for being loners.
While that may have been true for Ron, Kim was more than capable of dealing with any potential bullying. Her past mercenary training would have put paid to anyone deciding she was an easy target. The redhead put up with him though. He would often spring for lunch at the local Bueno Nacho and was good for a laugh. He had a good heart, but was completely clueless a lot of the time, especially about the fact she really wasn't into guys. But taunting him with her body gave Kim something to do.
FOOTNOTE: First chapter. Kindly tell me what you think, point out mistakes, grammatical/spelling errors and the like, or anything else you think needs pointing out. Reviews very much appreciated. HINT HINT.