Yes, yes, yes! I am back, baby! After a loooonnnggg summer, I am ready to begin writing once more! BOOYAH! You know, the moment I finished my one-shot, Immoral, I swear, I caught a stupid cold two days later, when I started really getting into writing this!

So, now that I'm feeling way better, I able to write decently for once in a while.

So, enough about me, more about the story!

Yes, a PoTC/KP fusion, of sorts, I made a couple changes, but nothing effects the plot line too much. What was I supposed to do? After seeing Dead Man's Chest (which rocks equally as hard as the first movie) and watching Curse of The Black Pearl twice, and seeing all the Pirates inspired KP artwork on DA, I just had to do it. I'm surprised there hasn't been one done yet, a fusion of this kind, that is. Then again, it's cool to have been one of the first! Anyway, this is only the prologue, the official Chapter 1 will be along shortly; still have to finish it though. Still feeling cold-ish, so I might wait 'till I'm well again.

Read on!

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Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible or Pirates of The Caribbean or the song Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life For Me), Disney owns all of those. All historical references and figures are really not 'owned' by anyone, by I don't own them, so I'll disclaim that too. Anything else I don't own...hmm, well there is the Mercedes in my garage, but, hey, I borrowed that, the guy wasn't even using it...

Just kidding!

Now, read on!

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Prologue: Pirate Weather.

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The year was 1685, the world was changing, and in so many different ways. In the past hundred years, wars had come and gone, many different people had come from other continents to America, in search for a new, better life, and not a day had gone by without hearing about some new fangled invention, trend or idea. This was a time of great change for Earth, and with so many changes, even those born into the new world, were surprised to hear some, but not many, still kept to their old ways, as sea savvy and as black hearted as they were. But it never shocked Lady Kimberly Possible, for, as long as she could remember, for the twenty years of her life, there had been pirates, and there always would be…

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The winds blew and died from the east over the hour, allowing the fog to roll in. An eerie, hallow fog that remained even when the winds picked up once more. The waters, near stillness, the world, quiet, save for hushed chatter from the crew. They feared this mysterious fog, their minds clouded by superstition, thick and strong. The morning air was salty and unclear, almost still as stone. The sun, barely visible. It was rather haunting and ghostly for a fine morning such as that.

Young Kimberly Anne Possible ventured from under deck, her long white dress flowing elegantly over wooden planks. Her red hair was tied in a large white bow. She looked very grown up, although she was only just nearing her twelfth year tomorrow.

The ship, the H.M.S Dauntless, was a member of His Highness, the king of England's, royal fleet, accompanying them was Commodore Señor Senior Sr. of the Caribbean isles, inching his way to becoming commander of The British Royal Navy, and he, being a good friend to her father, Governor James Possible, was able to pulling a couple strings and had offered them passage aboard a close friend's ship to sail from England to The Caribbean. Her home. She was ready to get back after her father's business trip he had dragged she, her mother, and her two younger brothers on, all the way to jolly old England. Weeks at sea, several more on land, and then the trip back. Kimberly was ready to feel the Caribbean ground beneath her feet once more…

Yet her heart remained with the water. She loved the ocean, since she was a baby, she loved it. The very idea of sailing off to uncharted places appealed to her, with the sea so untamed and the obstacles unknown, she felt as though she belonged in the middle of an adventure, filled with evil monsters and wild storms and, most importantly, blood thirsty pirates.

The redheaded girl navigated her way through a maze of towering sailors, her eyes glistening with excitement until they met with her surroundings. It was so foggy, so quiet, so dark, although the morning sun had risen long ago. It gave the eleven-year-old a sense of foreboding, but a thrill at the same time. She dodged a man, sprinting to the side and causing her red hair to swish forward, then broke into a run and moved for the bow of the ship.

That feeling of belonging, the notion of being sea worthy. It brought joy. She placed a hand on the bow and smiled. This was truly her rightful place in the world; she knew it even at that age. After running her fingers over the carved wood, she grasped it, leaning her body, waist up, over the edge, catching a glimpse of the water below. The grin thrived as she straightened up. She'd suddenly remembered a song learned at the docks in England, among the few profanities used by the boatmen there, but best not say those as to not get Father's attention. How did it go again?

"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me 'earties yo ho!" she sang innocently, the salty smell filling her nostrils further. Such a feeling it was. "We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me 'earties yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho a pirate's life for me. We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up-" a sudden hand to her shoulder and she stopped, surprised. She looked to the right to see Mr. Gibbs, a crewmember, boatswain, and very sea savvy man. Kimberly always thought him a little scruffy-looking, but trust worthy nonetheless; even through he acted very strange when it came to sea superstition, the worst of the lot of them when it came to it too.

"Quiet missy!" he said in an urgent tone. Here he goes again. "Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don't want to bring them down on us, now, do ya?"

"Mr. Gibbs that will do!" came an elder, Hispanic voice. Both were surprised to see Commodore Senior standing some ways behind them, dressed in his Royal Navy coat, dark blue like the ocean, with a matching tricorne hat, feather and frill adorned, and all the trappings that went with it. Gibbs removed his hand from Kimberly's shoulder and stood, steadfast to his theory, in front of his commanding officer. Adjusting his own hat, he spoke.

"She was singing about pirates!" he shouted, slightly taking the Commodore by surprise, Kimberly listened, her hand propped against the bow. "Bad luck to be singing about pirates with us mired in this unnatural fog. Mark my words," he said, wagging a finger at the Commodore's face.

Senior was not impressed, he pushed Gibbs' hand down, brushed his own shoulder mockingly, and said: "Consider them marked. On your way." Gibbs sneered lightly at the Commodore, unmoving at first. Senior narrowed his eyes warningly. Gibbs got the message.

"Aye, Commodore," he said, walking off. As he did so, he grumbled to himself, his tone most disconcerted as he pulled his flask of rum from around his neck and placed it to his lips. "It's bad luck to have a woman on board, too... even a miniature one." he mumbled, taking a long swig.

The Commodore shook his head slightly, rubbed his temple, then looked out to the ocean as Kimberly had done. There was something vacant in his restless, old eyes, filled with his innermost thoughts.

He was not a young man any longer, and his age was beginning to catch up with him, and he knew it. One day, he would die, whether it be at sea or in his own bed, and he felt as though that day was ever closer. There were goals in life he had yet to accomplish, things he had yet to do, but wanted to, and it was almost over. He thought it rather strange, really; people have so many years to live out their lives, yet at the end, sometimes, there are still things left to do, people left to see, places left to sail to. To see the world in its entirety was too big for one lifetime of a man, maybe even two lifetimes.

But The Commodore felt no regret for the life he had lived, it had been to its fullest and he was thankful. He had a son he would leave, whom would inherit everything The Commodore owned and of whom was training to become a member of the Royal Navy, like his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before even him. It was a family tradition.

Senior's eyes were distant, overlooking the ocean, as Kimberly watched him. Seeing that the man would not be leaving anytime soon, she began to speak her mind about Gibbs' words.

"I think it'd be rather exciting to meet a pirate." The Commodore drifted back at this, caught off guard by her words. Her looked down at the child with a scowl.

"Think again, Miss Possible," he said, his eyes darting back to sea. "Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves-" he paused as Kimberly leaned closer, her hand still at the bow, and her olive eyes twice their normal size. He looked down at her again, this time with a most unpleasant smile, "a short drop and a sudden stop."

Kimberly stepped back a ways, wondering what he meant. Her hand at her chin, a sudden movement at the right caught her eye. She turned to see Gibbs as he grabbed his neckerchief, yanked it to the upper left, tilted his head on his shoulder, and stuck out his tongue on the side of his mouth, his eyes somewhat crossed, looking like a dead man, a hanged man. She came very close to gasping, but not quite.

Governor Possible seemed to emerge from nowhere, his powdered wig hidden under a hat matching to the style of Commodore Senior's, along with a dark, navy blue overcoat and long, black boots. His eyes were a blue, almost gray shaded, fixed into a face very pleasant and happy. A look of uncertainty and nervousness (and strained happiness) filled his usually cheer filled eyes that day.

"Commodore Senior, I appreciate your fervor, but I'm, uh, I'm concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my daughter." his voice harmonized with his expression, nervous but trying to be polite as possible. Kimberly looked up at her father exhaustively. He could be so over protective at times. The Commodore bowed respectively.

"My apologies, Governor Possible." he spoke swiftly before striding off across the deck. Governor Possible looked down at his daughter softly; she only doubled her expression into a tiresome glare.

"Actually, I find it all fascinating," Kimberly protested. Her father's soft tone turned cold.

"Yes. That's what concerns me," was his final word to her before he darted off somewhere. Kimberly didn't care where. Why couldn't he just understand and let her be? An adventure, that was all she wanted, and that was just what she was about get.

Watching her father vanish into a crowd of sailors, Kimberly turned around with a sigh, and leaned over bow again, watching the water longingly, thirsting for the freedom the ocean, to do what she pleased and go where she wanted and say what she thought without judgment. That kind of freedom sounded wondrous. Perfect even.

Her daydreams were interrupted by something quite strange, a parasol, pure white, floating upside down in the water, the waves beating it against the ship. She craned her neck, a fascinated smile crossing her face. The waves ceased and the parasol came loose, and floated around the ship. Kimberly moved, following it with interest, her hands smoothing the wood sides as she went. The waves picked up again, causing the parasol to float farther and out to sea, away from Kimberly. She watched it, disappointed and bored, she'd been hoping to catch it as a souvenir of sorts. She then looked to the other side, and something even stranger caught her attention.

A man, nay, a boy! Floating in the water, laying on a wooden piece of wreckage, eyes closed, soaking wet! Well, it made sense he would be wet, but for a boy to be in the middle on the ocean, on a piece of what looked like a ship, eyes closed, probably dead, was most alarming to Kimberly. Her breathing most heavy, she quickly tried to get someone's attention, never taking her eyes off the youth.

"Look! A boy!" she cried, causing her father, Commodore Senior, Mr. Gibbs, and half the crew to stop what they were doing and look her way, Governor Possible broke into a run. "There's a boy in the water!"

As her father came to her side, Kimberly watched frantically as Senior looked over the side of the ship, along with rest of the crew, before he began barking orders at them.

"Man overboard! Man the ropes. Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard." Kimberly's mind was in a rush, filled with so many worries and fears, hopes that the boy was not dead. A numb feeling over-powered her, her father's hand reached for her shoulder and she barely felt it. The boy and his well-being. That was all that mattered, and it didn't make sense to her. Why was she so scared for this boy she didn't even know? Seemed a little awkward and strange. Little did she know that this boy, whose name she'd later learn, was a key part to her future and the events within it.

Kimberly held her breath and kept her distance as they pulled the young boy onto the ship, her father still holding her shoulders. Senior placed a finger over the boy's nose, was silent, then removed it with the same dry expression. Everyone feared the worst.

"He's still breathing." There was a strike of relief in the young girl's body. Hard to believe, but he was okay!

"Mary, Mother of God!" came Gibbs' voice. Kimberly, taken aback by the outburst, looked at him. He was surprised, shocked even, pointing out to sea. She turned around, her mouth fell open.

The burning remains of a ship sat in the middle of the ocean, a pile of scorched wood and a fallen mast, nothing was left but the sinking wreckage of a once sea wonder. Kimberly placed a hand to her mouth. No one on that ship would've survived, it had been demolished! Blown apart no doubt. It would be a miracle if- Kimberly looked back at the boy. A miracle, indeed.

The fire raged on as The Dauntless floated past it. Governor Possible let go of Kimberly.

"What happened here?" he asked, watching the wreckage with wide eyes. Commodore Senior cleared his throat.

"It's most likely the powder magazine. Merchant vessels run heavily armed." he spoke. Gibbs didn't like or wouldn't buy the answer.

"A lot of good it did them." Mr. Gibbs said. "Everyone's thinking it. I'm just saying it. Pirates." There was a certain tensity amongst the crew. Governor Possible shook his head.

"There's no proof of that. It was probably an accident."

Commodore Senior turned to the crew, and began barking orders once again.

"Rouse the Captain immediately! Heave to and take in sail. Launch the boats!"

"Heave to!" cried one sailor, and, with that, they scattered, completing Senior's orders. Two went for Captain Boullion, while some launched boats into the water, others were within these boats, sent to search for any other survivors.

Amidst the ruckus, Kimberly and her father stood side by side, watching with grim expressions. Governor Possible turned to his daughter with a most solemn, serious look.

"Kimberly, I want you to accompany the boy. He'll be in your charge. Take care of him."

The young redhead nodded to her father before he walked off, most likely to help the captain or some other. Kimberly immediately turned around and walked toward the unconscious youth, laying on the wooden wreckage, body bent into a uncomfortable-looking position.

No more then her age. Short blonde hair, plastered to his forehead with water. Six freckles, three on each side of his face. His clothes were typical sailor type, slightly unbuttoned white shirt, black vest, matching pants. He looked very weak, but, from what Kimberly could see, he was uninjured. "That's odd," she thought, "How does a boy manage to escape a burning ship unscathed? Must've been awful for him!" She reached out a hand and softly stroked his wet forehead.

The boy's eyes suddenly opened, revealing his chocolate irises. He gasped a sharp breath of life. His hand shot up and grabbed Kimberly by the wrist. It surprised her at first, but she then relaxed and smiled at him, as her mother would smile when trying to comfort her brothers or herself when they were frightened.

"It's ok. My name's Kimberly Possible." she said. The boy seemed to acknowledge her, despite the apparent fact that he was scared, confused, and possibly in pain. He was shaking. His chocolate eyes turned to tired slits, but he didn't let go of Kimberly.

"R-R-R-Ron Stoppable." he stuttered weakly. Kimberly's warm smile strengthened and she gripped his hand.

"I'm watching over you, Ron." was the last thing the boy heard before fainting, his hand going limp in Kimberly's, she carefully placed it to his side. Afterward, she stepped back and looked him over thoroughly, and noticed something she hadn't before. She had to tilt her head to see it, but hidden in the folds of his shirt, was a faded gold chain, just barely visible. She knew she shouldn't, but curiosity overtook the child. With the utmost silence and precision, she slipped her arm inside his shirt and pulled the chain into her hand. But she came to something much bigger. Hanging on the chain, cupped in Kimberly's hand when she pulled it out, was a beautiful golden medallion, coin shaped, with a skull carved right in the middle. Kimberly stood there gasping. She couldn't believe it!

"You're a p-pirate!" she whispered, remembering to keep her voice down so as to not attract attention to the boy or herself. This was not good! You heard what The Commodore said; he would have any pirate who crossed his path hanged! Her father would think the boy dangerous and agree. And Gibbs would go into a "I told you so," mode and never let anyone who sailed The Dauntless that day forget it. No she couldn't, wouldn't, let them hurt him. Why, they'd have to hang her first if they wanted to see Ron Stoppable dead!

"Listen to me!" she thought, "I'm thinking of risking my life for a boy I just met, a pirate no less! What would Mother say?"

She didn't care what her mother would have to say, this was her decision, and it was final! Now, to clear Ron of any incriminating evidence. Firstly, the medallion. She carefully lifted his head, reached behind his neck, and with a silent swish, removed the gold chain completely. Clamping the gold in her palm, she looked at it closely, ultimately mesmerized.

"Has he said anything?" a sharp voice and Kimberly wheeled around, hiding the medallion behind her back. The Commodore stood, hands behind his back, looking at Kimberly with his blankest, darkest stare. She hated the way he looked at her, all through the trip, with the same arrogant sneer. She gazed into his vacant eyes with her best natural 'nothing is wrong' expression. The old man would not get a word from her about the young buccaneer's secret.

"His name is Ronald Stoppable. That's all I found out." The Commodore's quiet glare turned suspicious, he leaned to the side, seeing her hands behind her back, knowing she was hiding something from him. Kimberly fearfully continued with her innocent look until Senior spoke, eyes darting to several close sailors.

"Take him below."

As they lifted young Ron's sleeping body and hauled him below deck, Kimberly watched, rubbing the medallion's smooth, rounded sides between her fingers, until the freckled boy vanished, as well as Senior, who gave her a final glare, then walked away to join the Captain. When she was sure it was safe, she pulled out the pirate medallion and lifted it to her face. Such a wondrous trinket it was, and it made her think just how he had come to own it. "Maybe he stole it from another pirate, like Henry Morgan, or Jack Sparrow! But no... He's far too young to have faced the likes of them. But maybe his father was a pirate, yes, that makes much more sense... Maybe he comes from a whole family of pirates!" She entertained that thought, and hoped. Maybe when he awoke, if no one was there, she could ask him about it, about his life, and where he came from! She looked out to sea. She wondered if-

Her heart stopped dead right then. A sight to behold. She clutched the medallion ever tighter. There, sailing away from the wrecked ship, was another ship, but very different from any one she had seen in her life, except for the ones in books. It was black as pitch, everything about it, even its sails and flag. A black flag, with skull and crossed swords stamped in the middle, a most wicked sign! It looked old, and, above everything, ghostly, as it sailed off into the mysterious fog. She couldn't quite get a good look at it, but one thing remained in her mind. That was a pirate ship.

"Maybe Gibbs was right, maybe it was bad luck to sing about pirates on a day such as this."

But it wasn't bad luck that drove the band of cutthroats on board the black ship to sink another, no, it was something far more valuable, the one thing that had kept young Stoppable alive, and she was holding it.

As she closed her eyes, she thought it the strangest thing that happened that day...

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They say, the sea is an untamed, wild, reckless wonder at times, like a savanna lion or a giant white shark or The Kraken that hunts in its depths, and when it becomes reckless, it causes sailors to fall from their boats and pay its bottom a visit, from which they never come back from. The sea was, and has been, as long as boatmen could remember, an unpredictable creature, and so was the weather that surrounded it.

So, as you can imagine, when a storm blew in on the crew of the Black Pearl, they did they're best, but the truth was, were not prepared as they should have been.

Rain battered against the wooden deck as several frightened pirates rolled across it. They lay flat on their stomachs, the three men did, groaning in pain and shaking their enormously soaked hair. The taller one stood up, one gloved hand placed to his knee for support. The lightening flashed, illuminating his sun-tanned face, midnight hair, and dark blue eyes. He ran his hand over his long chin as his shorter shipmate braced himself against a barrel. As I said, he was a short man, with a red beard that lengthened up around his ear, making up for the loss of hair on his head. Instead of pants, he wore a kilt and white shirt. The third man, a rather big, roguish looking fellow, sat on his knees, mopping his long blond hair from his face. He stood up, carefully fixing his mustache before looking over the side of the ship. A wave lashed high, sending the young man's hair down across his face once again.

"Mateys," he said, whipping his hair into shape, "this storm's a killer, seriously."

The black haired man adjusted his gloves and looked at the fellow with a blank expression, then nodded.

"Indeed, the Captain was a fool to believe we could sail through this." he replied in his dignified, British accent.

The short man reached into the barrel and pulled out a green beret; he wrung it out before placing it on his balded head. Smiling, he joined his shipmates.

"Aye," he said, his Scottish ascent was apparent. He turned his head to the ship's wheel, a young man with black hair and greenish skin, eighteen or so, was holding the ship steady, a look of determination in his dark eyes.

"Gill!" he shouted over a clap of thunder, the young man looked down at him. "Don't you think it's time we drop anchor?" The green boy shook his head, causing raindrops to loosen from his hair.

"No sir, Mr. Killigan," he shouted back. "Captain's orders, we don't stop 'till we reach Port Middleton, sir!" the boy turned his attention back to the raging sea. The red bearded man looked at the black haired man with much fear and anger on his face. Lightening struck the skies above him. The black haired man continued to pull at the cuff of his glove nervously.

"He's a madman," said Mr. Killigan, "if he thinks she can take much more of this." by 'she', he meant the ship, of course.

Two small, hairy hands reached down from the rigging, and grabbed for Killigan's head, snatching up his green beret and vanishing into the higher point of the ship. The Scottish man gasped, grapping upward before his beret disappeared into the ropes and rain.

"My hat! Give it back you daft animal! Monty, do something! That's your monkey!" the hat and its handler swung around the rigging, an irritating chattering sounded. Every time Killigan located the source, it moved, cackling mockingly to him. The creature continued to move from rope to rope until it reached the crow's nest, landing on the head of a young Japanese man, waving the hat tauntingly in the air. The black haired man suddenly raised his hand, and called to the animal.

"Chippy! Come here!" he called after the primate, who continued to ignore him and wave the hat in the air. It was not until lightening flashed uncomfortably close that the monkey finally listened. He screeched, scurried down from the crow's nest, down the rigging, and onto his master's shoulder, then placed Killigan's beret onto Monty's head.

The blond haired man smiled goofily and reached over to pet the monkey.

"Aww, hey, Chippy, how ya- ouch!" cried the hulking sailor as the monkey sank his teeth into his hand. He recoiled and massaged his injured fingers.

Monty rolled his eyes, then looked back at the sea. "Well, if the captain is willing to risk his ship and crew through a hurricane," he paused, "he must be after something, and something important." he thought aloud, a look of seriousness on his face. Lightening and thunder clacked behind them.

Mr. Killigan looked at him with perplexed expression for a second before asking him; "Can I have my hat back?"

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The captain's quarters were quiet, brightened by several well-melted candles; each was carefully situated around a large table.

In the center was a yellowed map that nearly covered the table's size; black lines ran across the darkened paper, swerving and circling and wiggling, some hitting corners, jerking downward and creating boarder lines that boxed in the map's contents. A vast ocean, filled with black and white sea monsters and mermaids. Ports were etched several places, lining the land's boundary with ways to go where human legs and horses could never take you. Large, snow capped mountains to the north, beaches to the south. A map of the world, it was, showing every place a man could dream about, even the places a little closer to civilization. Names were scribbled on certain pieces of land in fancy cursive, marking them as accorded. And just around Tortuga and Go Royal, squished between St. Lowerton and Upper Town, was Port Middleton.

A small town you wouldn't think about unless you had to hide from The Royal Navy and sell fish, Port Middleton was famous for its business centers and piracy problems, nothing more, nothing less. The waters of Port Middleton were perfectly clear and clean, open to the ocean so all manner of strange sea creature found their way into the port, weather there was sunny and wonderful all year 'round (it's in The Caribbean). Heaven's perfection in fishing conditions. But a large pirate sanctum, next to Tortuga, one of the biggest, that's all the town was.

But as the captain ran his compass across the aged parchment, his mind was on something other then sanctuary. In his free hand, he held a pirate medallion, a piece of Aztec gold. One of many he owned. But not the entire set. One remained. He moved to compass onto Port Middleton and smiled in greasy way. There. That's where the final piece was. In the position of one child, before that, it was owned by one of his crewmembers, one swab who turned to cowardly theft. And now, his own flesh and blood would pay for it.

"Nowhere left to run, Stoppable,"

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Interested yet? Forgive me if anything sounds a little odd, too quickly written, or under-described, as I mentioned, not feeling well, so I might have made a mistake or two and not caught it in the proofread. If so, please point it out, spelling, grammar, you know the drill. Because I want this story to be perfect! Anyway, anyone know who the captain of the Dauntless was? Or that Japanese guy on the Black Pearl? Come on, they're Kim Possible characters..

Port Royal and Tortuga, real places in fact. Look it up, see for yourself. Port Middleton, St. Lowerton, Upper Town, and Go Royal, not so much.

I almost considered using Drakken in place of Barbossa, but decided against it, worked better and seemed a bit more fun in my mind.

Kim's middle name, I've seen it spelled Anne and Ann; I used the first, fits better with the time.

Next Chapter: The Dress and The Sword.

Review!