I do not own the characters or situations within this story that directly tie to Disney's Kim Possible products including televisual presentations, movies or comic books.
In a similar vein, I do not own the characters or personalities of the 1971 Alexandria Virginia Titans football team who are lovingly reproduced in a style more fitting with the plot and other characters based on the film Remember the Titans. Certainly no offence is meant by any of the characterisations as this is one of my favourite movies.
I draw no profit from their use and use them under the tribute/parody sections of Copyright law.
The characters of Immortal, Arahat, Dreamer, Saint, Prophet, Watcher, Pagan, Shaman and the Spirit Britannic, along with the Lost Paragon are characters from my Living Saint stories and I hold ownership of such.
The light from the transition fades slowly around me, revealing the intense glory that is my crouching naked form to the world. Nah, I'm just messing with you. I look as wiry and scarred as ever, clutching myself together in a crouch on one knee, arms closed in to protect my genitals from the bitter cold winds that accompany temporal shifts.
I haven't decided whether I think that the winds are a natural part of time shifting or whether they are there because Wade's designs were made to take them into account. He's seen so many movies where a time travel experience is accompanied by violent winds that I'm sure it seems like the most natural assumption in the world.
Well, my testicles don't want to know about any natural assumptions right now.
The wind has dies down and the warm summer air is beginning to nurse a little life back into the old boys. Slowly and with more clicks than I'd prefer, I rise to standing and look around me.
True to terminator form, I've materialised between two structures; in this case big wooden buildings with storage inside, and annihilated everything that was within the nine foot sphere that I was the centre of. Peering into the unlit rooms on either side, I can see where shelves have slipped out of reality because of the personal shift matrix. Large semicircles are missing from these racks and much of their contents went with them. Half obliterated cans of beans and oil allow their viscous fillings to cascade out onto the floor, pouring in slow motion unlike the water which dropped the instant the field dissipated.
Continuing looking around, I try and find some evidence of where I am. The upper left corner of one of these wooden prefabricated shacks has the words 'BLACK – 156' printed on it in big stencilled letters that you'd have to be an idiot not to recognise.
I'm just about to call for Wade when I hear a voice behind me.
"Holy Fck! Commie's we've got a Fcking naked commie in the stores!"
I wheel around to catch sight of a shocked looking man in loose olive fatigues and a forage cap looking off to the side with a look of desperation and imploring gestures.
Another soldier runs into view, throwing an M16A1 assault rifle into the hands of the first and bringing a second up to his own shoulder, checking the load.
"Freeze you Fcking Commie Fck!" the first screams rather louder than absolutely necessary, training his rifle on me. I begin to raise my hands as my ears catch the horrible sound of the firing pin catching the edge of the casing.
Reflexively my psychic egg establishes itself and the first smattering of bullets begin to hammer against it, the force being translated into mental impacts that shock me a little each time they bear down, like a tiny brain freeze with each blow.
"Wade!" I bellow, as if that would make the trans-temporal communication work any faster. Within moments, Wade materialises wearing the same rediculous white suit he always wears when he uses the neural projector.
"What's the matter Ron?" he asks, momentarily oblivious to the bullets passing through his form.
"Wade, what's the exact time, date and location that I'm occupying at the moment?"
He pauses for a second to tap at Ziggy before replying.
"August nineteenth, nineteen sixty four, three oh seven AM. You're in the middle of Paxton Air-force base, the storage section."
"Why exactly am I in the middle of a military base?"
"We thought that you could steal a uniform and pretend to be a GI returning from Vietnam."
"Wade, that is so much use given that you didn't tell me. I thought I was going to be in a lay-by about fifty miles form civilisation and mug someone at a roadhouse."
"Oh, well, I thought Damien told you," he replies, apparently having an argument with someone that's not inside the projector.
"Ok Wade, no time to start trying to place blame," I say, struggling under the weight of fire. Knowing that I've got to get this back under my control before my egg collapses, I begin to unspool the Lotus from its subcutaneous hiding place and throwing numerous of the rods out to catch some of the bullets. Now, rather than scattering off me like they were hitting steel, the bullets are stopping as if they were hitting water, each one ballooning against the tiny point pressure that the rod imparts on it.
"I just need to know if there's any cover up material relating to anything around this date. Alien conspiracy, Communist supermen, that sort of thing."
I curse briefly as I hear the unmistakable sound of a tank rolling across concrete and chance glancing away from the ever increasing number of troopers firing M16s at me to see an Abrams tank rolling into view. Why can't this stuff ever be easy? Why?
"Well Ron, there is a lot of record in the military about some kind of incursion by a prototype Soviet weapon of some type. You don't think? Oh hell."
"Yeah Wade, I'm a little busy trying to not die and not kill anyone and mess up the timeline so give me a figure on property damage and I'll try and keep the casualties to a minimum, though I guess that they're already accounted for in the timeline."
Before he can reply, a heavy report that goes beyond sound its wavelength is so great hammers out from the tank and there's a shell heading for me. The tank commander's an idiot. Even if he kills me he's likely to harm just as many of his own or more likely, far more.
I fling my hands up, cupping the shell with my gesture. Instantly a grey mist of steel congeals from the air, wrapping the deadly explosive projectile in a sphere of steel. I lock the atoms of the shell in place, effectively reducing the sphere to absolute zero and feel the violence of the detonation through my connection to the Lotus. Blinding white light shines through the seemingly opaque casing as the energy of the detonation contacts utterly immovable resistance and transforms into the only state that it can in order to escape.
The shooting stops for the briefest of moments as the soldiers shield their eyes or stand mesmerised by the intensity.
"Gonna clue me in or stand looking at the shiny?" I demand of the befuddled Wade as I leap out of my emergence crater and start whipping the Lotus around, knocking men down and shredding weapons.
"There were thirty five casualties and nine AFVs were destroyed in the fighting. There was quite a lot of property damage as well."
"So I get to have some fun?"
"I guess so. Try not to hurt too many people but you've got to make this conveniently Communist. The government historically used this as a reason to develop their own super soldiers."
"You mean that I'm the reason that the Middleton enhancement project began?" I ask, suddenly feeling a little sick to my stomach.
"Yep. Sorry dude, you're the reason you were a sidekick so long."
"This just gets better and better," I mumble, kicking a tall man gently in the head. He flies across the parade ground, striking a machinegun team and sending them sprawling. I punctuate the point by dismantling the weapon itself with Lotus darts.
"You'll never get to the lab you Commie mutant freak!" howls a heroic voice from behind me as a bayonet shatters against my egg and another thrusts a little to my left. I shrug my shoulders with enough explosive force to pitch the two men from their feet and proceed into a trio of arching spin kicks, testicles flying.
"Wade, I need to know what would be in this lab and if history wants me to make sure that US research is set back a great many years. Actually, more to the point, is it anything that we could use?"
"Hang on Ron, I'm checking," he replies as I whip a man round, dislocate his arm and turn my face up to the newly starting rain to cry "Medic!"
"RON! Believe it or not, this is the prototype for the Middleton enhancement project. According to the schedule, they're due to begin the abductions within a few weeks."
"So I have to kick the crap out of this supersoldier lab then," I reply, joining the dots.
"If you want them to delay until Lynn is in the second trimester, yes."
"Joy," I say, rising from the ground on a mild gust of wind and sending a pair of great metaphorical slashes sailing through the crowded soldiers, scattering them like ragdolls.
A cordon of tanks has formed around one of the buildings. Could they make it any more obvious which building has the dangerous research in it?
Sending gusts of grey mist forward, I let my eyes glow with the intensity that I've come to expect from this sort of shizzle and I scoop up the two nearest tanks with great arms of telekinetically controlled metal. In a simple sweeping gesture with both of these arms, I smash the tanks together to flatten them and crack the surface.
The rods begin to infiltrate the flattened panels, cutting and distorting them into great fists of iron and then like a titan of old, I claw and tear through the fabric of the great concrete bunker, hurling shards and great lumps aside like a child trying to find the missing toy in the sandbox.
Men around me scream as the building parts and I bury the other tanks or use them to crack the building like an otter uses a rock to break a seashell. I shake a quintet of hairs loose and chant the incantation of multiplication. Five copies of me spring into existence, each a small fragment of my personality made flesh.
"Burn everything but make sure most of the scientists escape. If we completely sink this project then Kim Possible will just be a regular girl and not the eidetic reflex packing mutant she was in our timeline. You," I say, turning to Passion, "no collateral pregnancies and no sadism. Se need to make this look like it was done by professional Soviet agents. Alright boys, Russian accents on!"
I turn back to the oncoming hoard of troops, pausing only to throw the shattered wreck of one of the tanks at the incoming gunship helicopter.
I dash down the first corridor, issuing orders for the others to spread out down specific corridors until I'm dancing along ceilings alone, dodging bullets and happily causing the majority of tonight's casualties. Three guards are bisected by a swift blow from the Lotus and I smash my way through the door with a variation on the Quivering Palm. It's nice to be able to live up to idiots' ideas of what the quivering palm should be like, causing the heavy steel door to explode into a fine cloud of splinters.
"Who are you? What do you want?" asks the brave but obviously terrified female scientist at the front of the cowering pack.
"I'm here to close you down for Mother Russia," I reply with a happy gusto and then proceed to start making gestures with the correct angle and force to cause combustion where the blows touch. I turn to leave once a few vials of flammable liquid have exploded.
"You'll never get away with this, base security will not let you escape!" she calls after me.
"I'd be more worried about whether you can get away that about me," I reply and then begin to bound off down the corridor with the odd feeling of having my genitals flapping. I need to steal some pants.
Luckily, I find one of the guards I split in half and draw the blood out with a gesture. Not quite my size but at least they have a belt.
The duplicates are returning when I hear a howl in the distance.
"Wade?" I ask with fear creeping into my voice. That's an odd sensation, I can tell you; fear for myself in combat.
"The records are a little sketchy on this point, but I think they've deployed whatever super soldiers they've managed to brew up here thus far."
"I'm guessing that these things aren't friendly all American shield flingers?" I say trying to massage a little Captain America humour out of the situation. I fail, suffice to say.
"More like Wolverine with a nasty psychic aftertaste that makes you afraid, very afraid."
"Wonderful, though that does explain the morbid dread."
Within a few more minutes, they're upon me, each the size of a pro-wrestler, muscled like a badly drawn cartoon character or me in a muscle enhancer and mean looking. Each one has a horrible admixture of canine and feline attributes and a feral look that says quite clearly that they are here to eat, not keep the peace.
"Great," I mutter under my breath as the first leaps and I shift my stance to bring the Jian formed from the Lotus to bear. The thing's weight drives it home onto the blade, cleanly through where its right ventricle sits.
It's still moving. In fact, it's struggling rather more than I like my dead things to do so. Releasing the blade, I command it to draw its handle and points into the centre of the blade's length, forming a serrated uneven razor edged disc.
Still the beast struggles, much to my annoyance as I'm driven back by savage claw swipes from the second and lunges from the third. Last time I checked, even hugely resilient things can't live without a head. The Lotus forms into its gaseous form and surges up to its head where it bursts forth, bringing most of the thing's brain casing with it. Still the damn thing takes a dozen seconds to admit defeat.
The second slams into me as I make the gesture to draw the Lotus back to my hand; I knew I should have spent the time needed to refine that to be instinctive but no, I had to play Star Wars!
I spin across the floor and sprawl. I think I even lost consciousness for a second there. This is worrying, really worrying. I haven't fought anything like this before; these things are terrifyingly powerful. Or am I just weaker here?
Pulling my head out of the dry August soil, I feel blood and grit in equal mixture and reflexively reach to wipe it away as a huge furry beast descends on top of me. A scream of rage and desperation burns and boils its way up my throat as I shove an open palm towards it with all of my hurt and aggression channelled behind it.
There is a brief moment of stillness as the blow connects and then a crackling boom as the beast is hurled away into the sky, diminishing until it becomes nothing. I half expect to see a little wink of light but even if the thing made it into orbit that wouldn't actually happen.
The final beast hesitates for a moment at the sight of the second of its brethren being destroyed. I use that moment to call the Lotus and make a quick chopping gesture. The few remaining Lotus staves in the air congeal into a fine wire and sever the thing's head.
I shouldn't be here any more. I've got to get out of here. Gathering my remaining energies up, I hurl myself into the sky. They shouldn't be able to track me as I fly but, well, that isn't an issue as I crash to the ground only a mile or so outside the base perimeter.
I make a break across country, hoping that I won't get spotted before I can find something to wear other than a pair of ill fitting army greens and my tattoos.
Author's Note: For anyone who was hoping to see another update worth of What Ron's May Come, this is not a sign that i'm abandoning the project, just that i'm not really in the right mindset for being creative on that level with the imagery and what not. If anyone has any suggestions, as i said originally, please hand them over.