AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just to avoid some confusion here. Since The Impossibles' back story was never given in the original cartoon (you know, what their lives were like before they became Secret Fighters for Justice), I'm taking a LOT of creative licensing on that regard. As always, The Impossibles and Big D belong to Hanna-Barbera, everyone else belongs to me.


Once upon a time, there was a Middle Eastern kingdom known as Khakistan. The ruler of this kingdom was called Sultan Khazaiah Sayedso. He was a good ruler, and the people loved him. He was married to a woman named Melorah, and the couple had a daughter named Sandrina. Though the sultan loved his daughter dearly, he had hoped someday for a son. Ten years after Sandrina had been born, Melorah had given birth to a boy. The couple named him Ali. But soon thereafter, tragedy struck. Melorah had died, due to complications from childbirth. Then, a week later, the sultan woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Ali crying. This was nothing new. Ali often woke up at two in the morning crying. The sultan got up to check on his son, and give him the standard two o'clock feeding, when the child's crying ceased. The sultan figured Sandrina woke up, and decided to attend to her brother, so he thought nothing of it and went back to bed.

At sunrise, the sultan went to see his child, but he was not in his cradle. The sultan then went to find Sandrina, figuring Ali was with her. When he approached his daughter and asked her about this, she claimed she had not seen her brother since the night before. Panicked, the sultan ordered his guards to infiltrate the thieves' guilds in the marketplace. He knew someone had snuck into the palace and taken his son. The search went on for years, but Ali was never found.

Sixteen years had passed, thus bringing the story to present day Khakistan. Sultan Khazaiah Sayedso still ruled, but he was growing older. He was sitting on his throne one day, thinking things over.

"I fear the time has come," he said to his advisors. "I'm an old man, and I know how much longer I can go on."

"You shouldn't talk like that, sire," one of his advisors said.

"No, it is time to start thinking of the future of Khakistan," the sultan said. "I had hoped my son Ali would inherit the throne someday. Allah knows what happened to him for sixteen years . . . . because of this, my daughter, Sandrina, will have to inherit the throne and become queen. Bring her here so that I may tell her myself."

"Yes, sire," another advisor said. "I shall fetch the princess at once."

The advisor then left the throne room, and went to find Sandrina. She was sitting at her dresser, putting on her jewels, and admiring herself in her mirror. She had grown into a beautiful woman, but she was also quite vain and shallow.

"Mirror, mirror in my hand," she chanted. "Who's the prettiest princess in the land? I am, of course!"

Sandrina laughed, and began running her hands through her long raven hair. Then she began fastening jeweled hairclips in it.

"There is none more gorgeous than me," she said. "I am the world's most beautiful princess. And I will be the world's most beautiful queen. Since my poor little baby brother vanished, I shall inherit the throne. Stupid law, anyway, having the first born son be the heir to the throne. I am the oldest, after all."

As Sandrina was primping, there was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" she shouted, not bothering to look away from her mirror.

"Good morning, your grace," the sultan's advisor said. "You're looking as lovely as ever this morning."

"But of course," Sandrina said, still gazing in her mirror. "Now then, I'm sure you didn't come here to state the obvious. What is it you want?"

"Your father wishes to see you right away, princess."

"Oh, all right."

Sandrina grudgingly put down her mirror, and followed her father's advisor to the throne room. Then, she smiled, and turned to her father.

"You sent for me, Father?" she asked.

"Yes, my daughter," the sultan said. "I am growing older, and I do not know how much longer I will be on this earth. I want you to be prepared to become queen."

"Sire! Sire!" a servant shouted suddenly, running into the room with a newspaper. "Forgive the interruption sire, but I thought you should see the headline in the entertainment section of today's newspaper!"

"Let me see," the sultan said, taking the paper. "American pop group, the Impossibles, to tour the middle east. Why have you brought me this, Kazim?"

"There's a photo of the band in the paper, sire," Kazim said. "Just look at the boy on the right, the one with the black hair."

Everyone in the room gathered around the sultan, and looked at the photo Kazim was referring to.

"My Allah . . . ." one gasped. "This boy in the photo . . . . he looks almost identical to the sultan when he was a teenager!"

"And didn't everyone say that Prince Ali was the spitting image of the sultan?" another asked.

"It cannot be possible," the sultan said.

"It can, sire," Kazim said. "Prince Ali had been missing for sixteen years. No one said he was dead."

"Praise Allah!" the sultan shouted. "The prince has returned! Find out exactly where in the middle east this band is arriving. Have the guards that boy to me at once!"

"Yes sir!" the advisors shouted, and they ran out of the palace. Once they were gone, the sultan turned to Sandrina.

"Isn't this wonderful, daughter?" he asked. "At last after all these years, my son, your brother, has returned!"

"Oh yeah," Sandrina said, though she didn't sound very enthusiastic. "Wonderful. I'm thrilled, Father. Absolutely tha-rilled."

As all this was going on, the Impossi-Jet flew through the skies. Coiley was driving, Fluey was tuning his guitar, and Multi was keeping a firm hold on his pet puppy (and Impossibles' new mascot), Skittles, so she wouldn't jump out of the jet while it was still airborne.

"Are you guys sure it's a good idea to tour the middle east?" Multi asked. "You know all the stuff that goes on there."

"Don't worry, Multi," Fluey said. "As long as we stay out of Iraq and Iran, we'll be fine."

"Besides, we're only touring the smaller, lesser known countries," Coiley said.

"You know Big D wouldn't let us get involved with anything he doesn't think we can't handle," Fluey pointed out.

"I guess you're right," Multi said. "But it doesn't make me any less nervous."

"He has a point, Fluey," Coiley said. "Something's telling me this trip has more in store for us than just a concert tour."