Prologue: Changing of the Guard

A/N: This story is written in response to a challenge made by t-rex989. He wanted to read a story about our favorite duo fighting their future evil selves. Never to back away from a challenge, I eagerly accepted. At the time, I was engrossed in Justice League Fanfiction, specifically about the Justice Lords, so you can guess where my train of thought took me.

If you have Netflix and have no idea what I'm talking about, I suggest that you watch Justice League S2E11&12 to get the idea. While I got the plot idea from the episode (two-parter), the story will have nothing to do with the JL. It will be pure KP Universe, but a few plot ideas from the episode will be pulled to help the story along.

Another very important note: THIS STORY IS NOT COMPLETE!

It really grinds my beans to get lost into an amazing story, only to be cut off from the end. Especially if the last update was posted seven years ago. So, to not sound like a hypocrite, if you don't like reading incomplete stories, stay away from this, it will take some time to finish. Remember, sometimes good things come to those who wait.

Now for the legal BS: I do not own Kim Possible. That right belongs to Disney. I simply write this as a great past time, as well as testing the waters with new FanFiction. Also, if necessary, I do not own JL at all either.

I hope you guys like it. Please leave a review loving it, hating it, or just to say hi. I appreciate any input that you can provide.

Now that that's out of the way, let get to our new Lords and Masters. Hail Darkseid. Wait a sec? LOL.

Peace in Our Time.

By KPRS Splicer

Food for thought: Good and Evil is a matter of perspective.

Prologue: Changing of the Guard

"They're getting through!"

"Hold the line!"

"WE NEED BACKUP NOW!"

Phrases like that ringed through the war torn hallways. The elaborate rooms that used to exude a majestic aura, now only reflect the wasteland the world has become. Paintings that have been collected and maintained throughout time are now torn, dusted, and scorched. The portrait faces, at one time seemed to scrutinize and watch over their master during his tenure, now only seemed to show disappointment at how far the world and its leaders have taken them down. And now, at the peak of the war, if you call mass murder and atomic fire war, have now reached these once proud halls.

Uniformed soldiers intermixed with men in dirty black suits continue to fall back and regroup, trying to protect their charge, but to all others it seems a futile gesture. Every time they fall back, one more of their numbers falls to never rise again, another runs out of ammunition, or anther snaps from the stress of a decade long conflict of death and destruction. The remaining soldiers and agents refuse to give in, holding on to their staunch loyalty and determination to prevail. Despite what their leader has done to the world, they still hold on to their patriotic fervor, upholding their vow to protect this man, even with their lives.

However, even these brave men and women cannot hope to hold on against the small team rushing them, encased in armor that seem to mold and react as if a second skin, not only making the users bullet proof, but providing super strength, the ability to fly, and four stun cannons, stun cannons that were being used for full effect. The battered and retreating figures, whom could undoubtedly hold off a small army and suffer limited casualties, were now being driven and swatted aside by a team of five agents, agents that seem to synchronously work together as if parts of a finely tuned machine.

A machine that was tearing through the last line of defense between them and their target. Their roles continue to interchange between the other. Two would provide a shield of sort, drawing their enemies fire and using their sleek battle armor to absorb punishment, while their comrades flick in-between the imposing and flexible wall, shooting their wrist stun guns at targets in front of them, while their shoulder cannons would take down targets from above or act as stun mortars, their built in heads-up display guiding and coordinating their well placed shots. This dance would last for a few seconds, then the shooters would use their jet packs to leap over their defensive comrades establishing a new regenerated shield wall a few feet forward, thus advancing their position. All the while, the fifth man used his expansive logistical brain to coordinate the squad and his technical readouts viewed in his own HUD to guide his teammates in the right direction.

As a result, the stragglers and remnants of a once great and powerful military organization fell like wheat to a scythe. Since insertion, it took the team only 15 minutes to break through the incredible defensive network that was the White House.

With the last soldier fell, the once immaculate white hallways fell silent. After realizing that no more marines or Secret Service agents stood before them, the team relaxed their various battle stances, assessed their armors' damage, and prepared for the final strike. Once they recharged their batteries on their power armor, they gave each other a final glance, knowing that their mission was about to be completed.

It took them a few seconds to accept the fact. They would never have contemplated how far they were willing to go in the interest of peace and security. But after ten years of pointless war that inevitably escalated into the nuclear stage, they accepted that what they were doing was for the betterment of the world. Only one phase seemed to run through the team as they prepared to cross the final threshold and change the world:

Peace in Our Time.

With that thought in mind, the two leaders of the squad simultaneously kicked down the immaculate white double doors, and entered the oval office.

-KP-RS-

It was so beautiful. Why couldn't they see it?

Every time he came close to achieving his ultimate goal, one of his damn enemies seemed to throw a monkey wrench into his plans, and what did it cause: mass casualties and setbacks. He could handle the deaths. After all, they were expendable to his goals, only pawns in his never ending quest to world domination. No it was the setbacks that plagued him, that caused him to lose sleep at night.

Why do they constantly interfere with my plans? What is so wrong with world conquest?

He thought that once he achieved this office that he finally be able to fulfill his lifelong dream, to use to arsenal of the most powerful nation state to subjugate and conquer the rest. It also would have been poetic justice to have the new Director of Global Justice to help him do it.

Though they claimed themselves as a United Nations organization, answerable only to the Security Council as a unit, Global Justice was totally reliant on his country's goodwill, which meant that he owned them. He could order that sassy director to send her trained agents to destabilize a region, and using the pretension of reestablishing order and defending the people, send in his own national military to occupy and annex the region to his flag, and damn the casualties. The value of life should not hinder progress.

For a while it seemed to work. Central America and the Caribbean fell to his banner, with South America following closely behind. It worked too well. Seeing his success, other villains decided to adopt his strategy. One took over the Red State, using the country's feared and brutal history to suck up Europe, Another seized control of the Land of the Rising Sun, and after a brief rebellion between the military and an obscure village that rumored to house ninjas and magic, used his resurgent military to carve a new Imperial Empire in the East. The PRC, too dependent on its "vanguard" communist council, quickly fell once the council itself was wiped off the face of the earth by tactical strike.

The world and her people could only watch helplessly as the three new superpowers marched closer and closer to war, the only question was where the spark would take place. It turned out that the spark that ignited the end of the world would begin at the cradle of life itself.

Africa.

In a modern version of the scramble of Africa, the three players met at the center of Africa and braced for the final confrontation, each not realizing what would be set in motion. He never thought it would end this way, his plans foiled not by the spunky teenager that plagued his villain life, but by people whom he once considered colleagues.

Every play he set in motion would be thwarted by his opponents, just as he would thwart their own plays, each resulting in numerous casualties. In their quests for supremacy on this world, the factions came across a problem they never considered: manpower. There just weren't enough bodies to fuel their wars. Conscription, long in effect since the first incursion, had exhausted the nations' arsenals.

That just wouldn't do.

So he turned to his strategic arsenal. It was a silent agreement. The silos would stay cold, only to be used in retaliation of a strike of equal proportion. It was an agreement that he could no longer abide. He was the first to strike, at first limiting his strikes, targeting their bases and forts. When his opponents retaliated as such, he escalated, and so did they. As a touch of homage to their previous careers, no detonations occurred in the respective capitals, as if each opponent were treating the cities as a modern lair.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was at his end's rope. Every plan he threw together, every incursion that had a chance to end this war with him on the winning side, was thwarted. He couldn't fathom it. He was an evil genius. How could he have failed?

Before he could answer that question, the double doors that opened his office exploded.

-KP-RS-

"KIM POSSIBLE!?"

Shego would have cracked a remark at the shout out, but was trying to lift the collapsed door off of her body to protect her boss. As head of the presidential detail, she was responsible for his safety, not to mention that if he died, then she would be the only survivor in a war-torn world. When the dust settled, Agent Shego and President Drakken looked stupidly at the intruders in their office and took in the sight of the strike force that took down Secret Service and the attached Marine Division.

Director Kimberly Anne Stoppable, nee Possible, was standing at the forefront, glazed in her Centurion-Powered Battle Armor, a look of cold detachment on her face. Her power armor, scratched and dented by the various projectiles thrown her way, seemed to not only intimate her foes, but made her even more sexually appealing than possible. It was as if someone managed to fuse the generic centurion battle armor with her old battle-suit she used during her senior year of high school. Her armor seemed to act a second skin, the white metal hugging her all of her curves, showing exactly what mastering sixteen styles of kung-fu can do a body that also spent eleven years as a cheerleader. What made her intimidating were the various armor plates that protected the inner wirings of the armor, as well as the critical areas of the human body. It radiated durability and grace that was complimented by her own fluid combat swings. Prior to Drakken's ascendancy to the presidency, she had outshined all other agents and became Director of Global Justice, after her predecessor was killed fighting her twin brother. Restructuring her organization, she dedicated her life and manpower to better the world. That all changed when Drakken took over the land of the free.

To her left, her husband, Ronald Dean Stoppable, Grand Lotus Master of the Yamanuchi Academy, exuded a different aura, an aura of fear and power. His power armor was more like the original, but built with a sleeker design. The bulky gauntlets and boots were shrunk to be more in-tuned with the rest of the power armor, with a healthy paint job of black with grey trimming. In addition, his shoulder cannons were replaced by two sheaths, each holding a katana that vibrated power and ancient magic. His cowl, imbued with magic to shield his exposed face in black, was lowered, so as to not hinder his sight. A layer of shurikens adorned his back in easy reach should a distraction be required. But what most intimidating to his opponents was the distinct blue aura that surrounded his body, and the cobalt blue that engulfed his eyes. Having long since mastered his Mystical Monkey Powers, he had become one of the most powerful men on Earth, but only using these abilities to help protect the weak and innocent. That would soon change.

To Kim's right, stood the man hidden from the world, only to be seen through various screens or other apparatuses: Wade Load. Time and conflict have done a wonder on him. What was once a stunted chubby boy, now stood a six-foot tall, 350 pound man, all of it muscle. Somehow though, his power armor managed to encase him and turn him into a walking tank. That analogy was supported by his own shoulder substitute. Instead of two small stun cannons that complemented his leader, he sported a 30 mm bushmaster cannon on his back, a cannon that was easily supported by his own enhanced strength, courtesy of his power armor. Strength, however, was not his only asset. It was thanks to his 12th level intellect that the upgraded power armor existed, not to mention that because of him, the team was able to penetrate the White House so quickly and effectively. He was truly a combination of brawn and brain.

Finally, that left the two twins at the end: Jim and Tim Possible. If it wasn't for the stray tank shot that grazed Tim's armor, it would have been impossible to tell the two apart. Their stocky frames were encased in power armor that was painted with both their signature red and green. They claimed that it helps to confuse their enemies, but it also frustrates their sister to no end. Utilizing the duality of their power-armor, they are the perfect tag-team duo, either acting as a distracting shield or as ace gunslingers with their wrist blasters. When both are present, victory is all but assured.

Soaking this up, it was no wonder to the black-haired vixen that she was unable to hold Team Possible at bay. With this kind of technical and mystical superiority on their side, nothing short of a nuclear strike could stop them. Still, stubborn pride wouldn't let Shego go down without a fight. She had worked hard to get to this position, the left hand of the most powerful man in the world, to stop now. She was aware Drakken's final solution to win the war, and even though it was completely crazy and inhumane to the world, she didn't like the alternative, an alternative spent behind bars, or worse, a date with Old Sparky.

"Well, well, well. It looks like Kimmie came to play. What's the matter princess, get tired of your desk job?"

Kim ignored her. She was on a mission. "Wade, Jim, Tim. Guard the doors, make sure no-one enters without my express approval." They nodded and exited the room.

"What's this Kimmie? Still the goody two-shoes that we all know and love? Trying to give us a fair fi…"

Shego would've loved to finish that taunt. Unfortunately, she was unable to complete it due to a static shock by the man in black and grey. Five shots to be exact, just to get the point across. "You talk too much." Ron told her.

After confirming that Shego was down, Kim turned to the president. "Drakken, I hope you're happy. Is this what you really wanted? Have you not realized what you have done?"

Drakken sneered. "What are you even doing here, Director?" He drew out that last word. "You answer to me, remember? So be a good little employee and return to your station and await my orders."

Kim frowned. "I will no longer stand by and let you tear this world apart, Drakken. I thought that after seeing the millions of lives lost, the people would realize the error of their ways when they elected you, but I guess it falls down to me."

"The People?! The people are mindless fools that follow the mainstream rather than stand out of place. They would rather ride this trip to hell than stand up and oppose me! Why? Because it's easier. Easier than actually fighting for their beloved peace. The people want peace, but they won't do anything about it, because it is too much work, too much effort. Face it Kim Possible, you so called faith in the people is a sham. People only answer to power. Power that I control. Power that I alone wield. Democracy? Democracy is a lie, an excuse to make the people feel entitled. A mirage that gives them the false sense of a presence in their government. They can't remove me. I'm the only one who can lead them out this war. They are too scared to do it themselves, so they leave it to me."

He would've continued on his ramble, if not for a certain ninja master. "Enough!" Ron shouted. "Drakken, you are charged with war crimes and have intentionally broken several acts of the Geneva Convention. We are here to bring you and your accomplices before a world tribunal. You are to come with us."

Drakken laughed. "War Crimes? A World Tribunal? What fool do you take me for, buffoon? Do you honestly think that they will find me guilty? There are only two other recognized nation states in the world, and I'm chums with both of them. Everything we're doing is perfectly legal."

"Nevertheless, you are coming with us," Ron pressed.

"I think not. No one will stop me from winning the game. I will be victorious." Drakken shouted.

Ron bristled at that claim. "Is that all this is to you? A GAME?!"

Drakken sneers again at the duo, "Of course it's a game, you idiot. The stakes are just higher. All that matters is the victory. In fact, we've made a deal, whoever conquered the world has to be made coco-mo by the losers, and guess what, I intend to win."

Kim stared back in absolute horror. "You killed my parents, Ron's parents, Hana, Monique, Felix, all our friends…Rufus… ALL FOR A BET?!" Kim's eyes flashed nothing but crimson rage. "You truly are insane. A mad dog that needs to be put down. You and your friends."

Drakken tilted his head to the side and widen his eyes, as if confirming her accusation of insanity. "Maybe I am, but this dog has a few tricks left." With that, he placed his hand on the biosensor of the infamous "football" and activated the strategic arsenal yet again. "With one press of a button, I will finally win. You see, I've come to realize another way to win. Wipe off every city, every town, every village, every farm! And when I'm the only one left, I'll win. The coco-moo will be mine!" He placed his thumb, tentatively on the big button marked launch.

Kim's power armor, reacting to her thoughts, quickly read to the situation and displayed various countermeasures to prevent it. She inwardly grimaced. They all involved lethal measures. She would have to cross that threshold, break the rule that she convinced herself that she would never break. Maybe she could talk him out of it.

"There are at least six ways that I can stop you." Kim challenged.

Unfortunately, Drakken saw the moment and hesitation and quickly called her bluff. "But they all involve deadly force, do they not?" After seeing her shocked face again, he wickedly grinned. "I knew it. Face it Kim Possible, you don't have it in you. You may talk a big storm, but when the chips are down, when the world is truly at stake, you fail. From my old Diablo Plot to the Lowardian Invasion, every time crunch time arrived, you stalled, and someone had to bail you out. It made you my most reliable sidekick after all. The best part was that you didn't even know it."

Kim backed a pace. "S-Sidekick?"

Drakken's smile actually found a way to get bigger. "Yes, Kim Possible. Think about it. Every time you foiled one of my plans, you could have killed me, crippled me, make it even look like an accident, but you didn't. Because you loved the attention it got you. The press, the fans, the crushes you attracted, all because of me. Kim Possible was made 'all that' because of I, Dr. Drakken. You would be nothing but an overenthusiastic babysitter if not for me. You needed it. Craved it. Desired it. That's why you never killed me, why you never beat me, why you are always one step behind me."

Drakken sat down in his chair again, a look of triumphant victory plastered on his face. "So go ahead. Arrest me. Take me to the tribunal. Lord my crimes before the world. But I'll beat it. I always do. And then, we'll start the whole game all over again. Although, next time there might not be any fans left to cheer you on. Too bad."

Kim didn't believe it. She couldn't. She saves the world, not for the fame, but for the people. Time and time again, she thwarted Drakken and his friends so that the world could be safe. For them right? Not for her? When Drakken became president, she allowed him space. Why? Because he was acting within the law, supposedly for the people. But did she really believe that? Because of Drakken's brush fire wars, Kim and Ron were called repeatedly to clean and pacify the area. As a result, the people loved them. They saw the duo as saviors, bringing peace, if only temporarily, to a battle-scarred area. There were moments when she sometimes soaked up the attention. Ron was prone to that from time to time. Why not her? But she always thought that it was just a pleasant side-effect in her effort to protect the world.

Now she wasn't sure. Even though Drakken was acting under the fullest letter of the law, she knew it was a mirage. It's easy to follow the law when you're making it, especially if you have a green-tinted crazy women with comet-plasma powers going around intimidating Congress. Kim heard rumors floated around about extortion of various representatives and senators, but she never acted on them. Why? Because she believed it was the people's responsibility to make their voice heard. By the time she convinced herself otherwise, it was too late. Drakken managed to obtain unlimited political power and the people were content, comfortable with their illusion of democracy. Kim, shamefully became one of those people. She was seduced by the fame, the glory, the appreciation. She allowed Drakken to manipulate her, providing her fix in exchange for compliance, letting her save the world for the cheers in exchange for fighting Dementor's Red Guard or Monkey Fist's Imperial Banner Armies.

She was played. She was blinded. She was his sidekick.

No more.

In that split second, she knew what she had to do. To break the vicious cycle, to prevent total Armeggedon, she had to do it. She had to kill Drakken. Kill Drakken, Dementor, Monkey Fist, everyone that threatened the people. For her mom and dad, for her husband's parents and sister.

For Rufus.

"I did love being the heroine. I loved it all, but if this is where it leads, I'm done." With those final words, she raised gauntlets of her power armor, willing her stun cannon to lethal setting and prepared to fire. Before she could discharge her cannon though, two sweeping arcs passed before her eyes. One severed Drakken's hand from the launch button, while the other separated Drakken's head from his body.

The president was dead. It was over.

In shock, Kim turned her head to the owner of the blades, where she saw her beloved husband calmly wiping his blades before returning them to his sheaths. With his aura dissipating and his eyes returning to their brownish glow, he looked to his wife and, graced her with a sad smile. "It's my burden to carry."

Tears in her eyes by the gift he had given her, she quietly whispered. "Are you okay?"

In response, Ron embraced her, providing a comforting shield around her, washing away her troubles, fear, and depression, leaving only peace and content. For a while, she felt that this was all just a bad dream, that she was back in the Sloth flying to the moon with her recently graduated boyfriend kissing her like never before. Gently lifting her chin up so that their eyes met again, they looked into each others' soul, charting, planning, and embracing a new mission. A mission that will change everything. A mission that's worth fighting for. He smiled that confident smile that always made her weak in the knees, confirming that their new cause was just.

"Never better. Now let's go save the world."

A/N: Well, how about that? I guess even heroes have their breaking point. Are they truly going to save the world? Or something more insidious? And where is this parallel universe that Splicer bragged about? Is he a liar?

Stay tuned to find out.

Once again, please leave any messages you want. Love Mail. Hate Mail. Snail Mail. I'll take it all.

Also, I have a request. If any of you Deviant-Art guys wouldn't mind, could you create a nice poster detailing this new Team Possible? You have no idea how much I would appreciate and love you guys for that. I tried to be a detailed as I could, but if you need more description, please send me a message.