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Wonders: A Story of Miracles
A Kim Possible Story
Act 1: Scene 1

|The Caspian Gale|

38,000 feet high above the Ionian Sea, an innocuous-looking freight airliner carried a not so innocuous cargo: on board was nearly half a billion dollars worth of rare metals and electronics destined for a secret location in western Europe. In addition to its crew of two pilots, a team of Global Justice's best agents stood guard, ready for any possible means of attack. The airliner itself was escorted by four stealth fighters, equipped with advanced sensors and esoteric weapon systems that were still only being considered by other nations.

Aboard the freightliner, Global Justice Special Agent William Du looked out the window at one of the two planes flying close escort. The other two were out of sight–literally, their optical camouflage rendered them invisible to visual acquisition on top of radar. As well-defended the plane was inside and out, the top agent of Global Justice looked on edge. He was linked up with the world renowned Team Impossible, Burn Berman, Crash Cranston, and Dash Damont a team every bit as formidable as the expertly trained fighter pilots lurking outside. They didn't seem to share his obvious trepidation. On the contrary, they were treating this like it was the easiest hazard pay gig in the world.

"Hey, kid, you look like you're about to pass a diamond. Relax, watch the game with us, Barcelona's tied it up with Madrid, it's going into extra time," Burn Berman, a strongly built, square-jawed man who dared you to call him a ginger to his face and knew when you did behind his back, called to Will from the jump seat opposite of his at the back of the three-engined cargo jet's cockpit.

Will, avid a football fan as he was, glanced towards Berman. "I… we shouldn't be so distracted. Someone could come for the plane at any moment, we must be vigilant to the first sign of trouble."

Dash DaMont, another solidly-built man but of African American descent agreed–to a point. "Vigilance is assured, but there's only so much you can control, kid. This is the most we can do, sitting inside this plane, we can only act if there's something that gets past what what we can't do."

Calling him "kid" rankled Will somewhat. After all, he was the superior-ranked agent on this mission. "And if something does? I would rather be on alert than caught watching a pointless exhibition."

"What? It's not some exhibition, they're up against Barcelona. El Clásico, one of the great rivalries," Burn said. "Like the Sox and the Yankees."

"Or Goku and Vegeta," Crash Cranston, the self-proclaimed "pretty one" of the team with slick, spiky brown hair, added.

"Or Kim Possible and Shego," Dash himself suggested, earning chuckles from Crash and Burn.

Will rolled his eyes and looked out the window of the plane. Mentioning her heaped bitterness onto his tension. "We can't afford to be careless for an instant. Anything could happen, anyone could try to move for the cargo, and would if they had even a hint of how valuable it was."

Dash frowned, this kid just was too serious for his own good. "Lighten up, kid. Even if someone knew about this cargo, which I'm hopeful no one does, who would be dumb or crazy enough to come for it now?"

Crash actually considered it. "Maybe one of Team Possible's usual problems?"

Will frowned. "Duff Killigan would certainly try."

Burn dismissed that. "The world's deadliest golfer, huh? Nah, I'm pretty sure he went straight after that 850 mile golf course in Australia unbanned him."

Dash nodded. "He hasn't been seen since he disappeared into the outback, some say a Tasmanian Tiger got him."

Will hummed, that was right. "Professor Dementor would also be so bold."

Dash brushed it off. "No way, he's been hounding Team Possible for that fancy battle suit of Kim's."

Burn spoke up. "Besides that, Dementor's a cost averse villain, he wouldn't pull something so stupid trying to hijack a plane as well-protected as this."

Will rubbed his smooth chin. "The only other person I can think who would want this equipment then is Doctor Drakken. He would-"

All three members of Team Impossible burst into hysterical laughter, and Will stopped abruptly.

"Come on, Drakken? He's pulled some crazy stunts… but after the Diablo thing?" Dash said with a chuckle, before he suddenly became dead serious. "He's never getting out."

Crash was in agreement. "Wonder which Crimes Against Humanity charge he'll get more time for, the robots or changing the Bueno Nacho menu."

Burn shared a laugh with Crash and Dash, before he spoke. "Even if Shego was onboard this plane and in position to burst in and take it over, there's no way that they're getting past us. Besides, even if someone tried to take this plane? GJ would rather all this equipment blown to smithereens or at the bottom of the Med than let any of those maniacs have it."

"With us in it?" Will Du pointed out.

Burn flexed a bit. "What, you don't think we'd survive?"

"We're Team Impossible," Crash added, "Because that's all we do!"

All three quickly joined arms, in their signature pose. "Team Impossible!"

Will folded his arms and leaned back into his jumpseat. "You have a point. Ms. Director herself pulled all of these assets together for the escort mission so everything was to go perfectly smoothly… but why do I feel so ill at-ease?"

At an altitude of 42,000 feet and about eight miles ahead, the air rippled and shimmered before the sky itself began to peel and flake away from the body of a sleek, twin-engine business jet, painted a gunmetal gray with no identifying markers or even running lights. The flakes of metal paint and fabric spread like chaff behind it, but had the opposite effect it normally would, lighting up the night sky as it reflected the moonlight overhead, giving the appearance of two long streak-like arrows pointing at the intruder.

Even twelve miles behind it, the pilots of the freightliner and the two fighters had no problem seeing the display. The First Officer in the freightliner's cockpit looked back. "Hey, an unidentified aircraft just appeared, it's matching course with us, eight miles ahead."

Will looked back at the flight crew, as Team Impossible leaped to their feet, surprised. "Is it one of ours?"

"If it was, it would've said something. Only authorized GJ are allowed anywhere near this plane," Dash said as he got up.

Will quickly got up and rushed to the front of the cockpit. He looked at the two pilots. "Vector our fighters to shoot it down immediately."

Dash stepped, pretty aghast at Will's ruthlessness. "Kid, we gotta hail them first, there's procedures to go through."

Will looked ahead. "No, we should've detected that plane for miles out, this is too outside of anything we have planned for this flight. I am not taking any chances." He picked up the radio and keyed it. "Escorts, you have my authorization to shoot that plane down!"

Team Impossible gathered around the young man and the pilots, surprised at Will Du's quickness to resort to deadly force. Crash tried to intervene. "Whoa, whoa, kid, we don't know what's-"

"In this day and age, we must assume every strange light in the sky is an enemy," Will snapped back at him as he abruptly raised his hand to silence the much larger Crash. "Especially if it's so quick to let us know it's there. To err on the side of caution is an amateur move."

As soon as he finished, streaks of light trailing smoke passed over the freightliner, homing in on the aircraft. As the trails reached across the night, drawn unerring towards the engines, Dash came to a realization.

"Kid, what if shooting it down was the first thing the target wanted us to do?"

The young top agent of Global Justice drew in a sharp breath. Recognizing the look of shock on his face, Burn shook his head. "The problem with professionals, kid, is that we tend to be predictable."

The missiles reached deadly proximity with the plane and exploded, expanding rods propelled by the exploding warhead scything through its fuselage, rupturing fuel lines, puncturing the tanks, and setting the entire craft on fire. The quickly burning plane exploded brightly, the trail of smoke it left consumed by a bright and expanding flash that quickly faded away.

"That was not a normal explosion!" Dash realized.

"An EMP?" Will asked. "No… we'd have been affected!"

Crash pulled out a pair of high powered binoculars, and scanned the sky in front of them. "The wreckage is going down, but…" He trailed off, and stepped forward, nearly leaning over the pilot. "… What the…?!"

The flash illuminated the sky enough for him to catch it, an object hurtling from the explosion and in their direction. It was a humanoid figure, a woman, in a skintight bodysuit that was black at the bottom and quickly transitioned to red at the top. Her arms and her legs from the knees down were obviously prosthetic, bearing the hallmarks of sporting military grade musculature and armor, and her head was encased in a swept back helmet that covered her face with a solid, smooth black surface, with only a pair of red LED lights shining where the eyes would be. As Crash held his Global Justice issued binoculars on it, the computer systems inside analyzed the target and assessing its danger.

The analysis was not good. "It's a cyborg, and it's bad news."

Dash looked to Crash. "Send your data to the fighters, have them shoot it down!"

Crash quickly pressed a few buttons on the sides of the binoculars. "Done. Target is identified as hostile."

Will looked to the pilots. "Evasive maneuvers, get us away from that thing!"

As the freightliner turned into a dive away from the approaching cyborg, the two fighters opened their doors and let fly each a pair of missiles. The leading fighter's missiles shrieked ahead towards the target with the trailing element's close behind, within seconds the missiles began to converge on the target. Like with the plane before they should have exploded in proximity of the approaching cyborg and shredded it to pieces. This time, they didn't.

Pulling her legs together and her arms against her sides, the cyborg spun her body around the first missile and the second, letting the projectiles pass her harmlessly. Spreading out her limbs, she slowed and redirected herself towards the third oncoming missile and set her feet upon it in spite of the converging speed of thousands of miles per hour. In the narrow instant her feet made contact, she leaped off towards the fourth missile.

Opening her right hand, she let a short combat knife slip from her wrist and into her palm. As the blade heated up to the point of glowing, she swung it into the missile as it passed her, and the missile yanked her back in the way she came before taking a sharply angled dive towards the descending Freightliner.

As the negative G-Forces from the hard turn made everything in the cockpit lighter, the pilot could see warnings flashing on the heads up display in front of him. "The missiles didn't hit… one of them is coming around towards us!"

Will turned and looked out the cockpit of the banking freightliner, and for the briefest instant caught a glimpse of the rapidly closing in projectile–as the cyborg let it go, leaving a long glowing red hot line connecting her to the projectile.

"Oh no," he said, before the line–a very fine chain–sliced through the plane just aft of the cockpit, cutting it at such an angle that the cockpit with its occupants inside slid down and fell away under the rest of the plane, which abruptly lurched up. As the cockpit and everyone in it plummeted towards the sea below, the rest of the fuselage began to tumble out of control, quickly exceeding its structural limits and disintegrating violently in several large fiery explosions.

Amidst the burning wreckage, falling headfirst towards the water, the cyborg watched the main fuselage continue to come apart around her. Mission completed, and a resounding success too. The hard–and therefore exciting–part was over. From here on out it would be as easy and boring… overseeing the salvage operation of the equipment from the plane. At least it wouldn't be boring for long.

Global Justice just received the worst black eye in its history; in order to make things right they would no doubt go running for help from the most competent and effective person they knew.

Kim Possible would come, and when she did? Khazri, the violent gale of the Caspian Sea, would pay her back for everything, once and for all.

Spreading her arms again, fanning out broad wings that extended from her waist and spread past her arms, the cyborg pulled from her dive and flew like a harpy off into the night towards the sea below.

A/N: So begins a wild new series. Play guess the Crossover, win the satisfaction of being right.