Hello, everybody. I'm back with my third KP fic. This one is multi-chapter and was a challenge from t-rex989. He asked that I write a story in which Kim must go undercover in a beauty pageant. I gotta say, I had never considered that plotline before, but as soon as t-rex989 suggested it, ideas were exploding in my head. So, without further ado, I present to you...Chapter 1.

I do not own Kim Possible, Disney does. And I do not own Disney.

FAIREST OF THEM ALL

"If only we had the gift to see ourselves as others see us."

- Scrooge McDuck. "Blue Collar Scrooge." DuckTales.

Chapter 1 - Set the Stage

The night was anything but quiet outside of a squat two-story office building located in the middle of one of the trendiest sections of the city of Los Angeles. The traffic - both vehicular and pedestrian - was thick on the streets and taking full advantage of the city night life. Neon signs for restaurants and night clubs flashed brightly to catch the attention of even the most unobservant potential customer. Bold letters on overhead marquees screamed out the latest movies while larger than life posters granted sneak peeks of the latest summer blockbusters. Upscale restaurants proudly displayed elegant dining in elaborately decorated outdoor seating areas.

Compared to all this pomp and circumstance, the little office building didn't look nearly as impressive. However, there wasn't an eye on the street that it failed to capture. You see, this was the American headquarters of the famous fashion designer, Marcus Dubois. Women in every major city in the U.S. and Europe dreamed of owning one of his dresses. The display windows in his salon were showing off his new fall line. Every lady that passed by had their gaze glued to the fabric while the men with them gawked at the outrageous price tags.

Either way, everyone's attention was centered on the building's first floor. No one thought to look up at the roof where two figures kept to the shadows.

One figure was of average height with slightly rounded shoulders and a slim, but well-toned build. In one hand, he held an ornate wooden cane with a small clear jewel on the top. The other figure was a head taller and more muscular in the chest and arms. Both wore black ski masks and jumpsuits.

The figures crept slowly and silently across the roof towards a skylight centered within a circle of air ducts. The shorter of the two bent down and peered through the darkened glass into the hallway below. Two points of light appeared from either end of the corridor. The figure withdrew a bit when he saw two burly security guards making their rounds. A pair of flashlights waved over every inch of the hallway looking for possible threats. The guards passed by each other, nodded, and continued in opposite directions.

When the corridor below was dark once again, the prowling figure removed a small electronic devise from his pocket and placed it on the skylight. A tiny light on the gadget blinked red several times before finally turning green. All alarm systems on the skylight had been deactivated.

The shorter figure motioned to the taller who immediately stepped forward and opened the skylight hatch. After securing a rope around one of the air ducts, the shorter figure nimbly shimmied his way down into the hallway. Looking once, then twice, in both directions, he determined that the area was clear and signaled his partner that it was safe to come down.

THUD!

The shorter figure looked back and saw that his much less graceful partner had lost his grip on the rope and fallen to the floor.

"Ow!" the fallen figure said in a thick Spanish accent. "Why must they make these floors so hard?"

"SHH!" hissed the other intruder in a similar, though deeper, accent. "We will be discovered."

"But, Father, I oomph." The rest of his complaint was cut short as the older of the two clamped a hand over the younger's mouth. Once he was sure his son would not speak again, the older man let go and lead the way down the hall.

Months of observation had made the old thief very familiar with the guards' patrol routes. As such, he knew they had only a few precious minutes before their entrance was discovered. With cat-like movements, the older man slinked down the hall. Each footstep aimed for one of the many rugs spread across the floor to minimize sound. In no time, he'd reached a set of double doors just a few dozen feet from the skylight.

The older figure looked back to check on his son's progress and immediately wished he hadn't. The younger of the two was stumbling his way forward, tripping over the floor rugs, falling at least three more times and bumping into the pedestals that lined the edges of the corridor and held very expensive and highly breakable treasures. It was only the quick reflexes of the older thief that prevented the guards from hearing a series of loud crashes.

"Junior," the thief said sternly as he replaced a porcelain vase on its stand. "Try to be a little more careful."

"It is not my fault, Father," said Junior. "This hallway should not be so cluttered."

The senior thief sighed in a long suffering way and let the matter drop. Moving back over to the set of doors, he twisted the knob and ever so slowly pushed the door open. The room inside was dark, but a few emergency lights on the walls provided enough light to see a beautifully decorated office with paintings that stretched across entire walls, thick Persian rugs on the floor and the finest leather furniture. Several mannequins stood frozen within the room, wrapped in the finest silks and sequins: the newest ideas and experiments from Mr. Dubois. But the thing that really caught the thief's eye was a podium in the center of the room on which sat a tiara on a plush velvet pillow.

The older man practically drooled when he saw it. The tiara was made of very fine golden thread, woven into thick bands. Even in the scant lighting, the jewels that lined the bottom twinkled like stars. A diamond as big as a man's thumb was prominently displayed in front.

"Alright, Junior, you stay here while I go in."

"Why did you drag me with you if you were just going to leave me behind?" the younger man whined.

"I need you to keep a look out for the guards," the elder thief replied.

"We already saw the guards," the younger said, pointing down the corridor in either direction. "They went that way...and that way."

The older man muttered under his breath and held his head with both hands, as if to ward off a chronic headache. "Yes, I know that," he said very slowly, "but, I need you to stay here and tell me when they come back."

"Fine, whatever," said Junior, folding his arms in a huff.

"Good and remember - keep quiet." The older man reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small aerosol canister. With a sweep of his arm, he sprayed the room with a fine mist that revealed dozens of infrared laser beams, no doubt connected to an alarm or trap. The thief observed the stationary beams carefully, bent his legs and sprang into the air. Showing a level of agility and flexibly a person half his age would envy, the man flipped over and rolled under all the beams and reached the glass case that held the tiara.

"Hello, my lovely prize." The thief held his cane out to the electronic lock on the case. Several lights began blinking within the jewel on the cane's top and soon the electronic lock responded by unlocking itself. The old man opened the case and was just about to grab the tiara when he heard a noise from behind him.

Toing!

Spotlights flooded the room and the old thief had to shield his eyes against the sudden brightness. When his sight had adjusted, he saw his son, inside the office, hanging upside down from the ceiling in a net.

"Junior, what are you doing?" the man asked angrily. "Did I not tell you to stay outside and watch for guards?"

"That is why I came in here," explained the young man. "The guards are coming!"

Not a full second later, the two security guards appeared within the door frame with two stun guns trained at the pair of burglars.

"Freeze!" one of the guards shouted. "You two aren't going anywhere."

"I am sorry," said the older man, "but I must disagree." Reaching into his pocket a third time, he threw out a handful of smoke pellets that quickly filled the room with a dull grey mist. While the guards were coughing, the older man pulled out a short blade hidden in his cane and cut the net holding his son who fell, yet again, on the floor.

"Quickly, Junior." The pair ran for the window and before the guards could stop them, jumped through the glass. With a press of a button on their belts, the would-be thieves activated rocket jets hidden in their footwear and flew off into the night.

Having returned to the safety of their own private and uncharted island, the thieves - Señor Senior Senior and Señor Senior Junior - recuperated after their epic failure. Senior had changed into his usual red jacket and slacks. The billionaire's face was taunt, frozen in an angry mask. He walked up and down the side of a huge in-ground pool, his strides long and quick against the concrete. Every so often he would lash out with his cane, striking the ground or the metal ladder of the pool or swinging it through the air like a sword.

Junior was lounging on a deck chair in a Speedo, a contented smile on his face. Every time he paced past his son, Senior would shoot the young man a dirty look which was completely ignored.

"Father, would you mind doing your walking somewhere else?" asked Junior as he adjusted the tanning mirror angled against his bare chest. "The click-clack of your shoes is breaking my tanning concentration."

The older man paid no heed to his son's request and simply kept on pacing. "Months of observation and detailed planning wasted," Senior raged at his son. "All because you could not follow the simplest of instructions."

"I said I was sorry, Father," said Junior in a tone that suggested that he was no such thing.

"To add insult to injury, we did not even get the honor of being defeated by our archenemy, Kim Possible. We were foiled by mere...security guards," spat Senior.

"I'm sure we will get another chance to fight Kim Possible, Father," said Junior in an indulgent way. "We will break into the fashion studio again and she will come after us."

"The security at the studio will be increased now that they know someone tried to break in," Senior said impatiently. "And besides, tomorrow the tiara is being moved to a stage in San Francisco where it will be displayed as the first place prize in the Ms. Fabulous Beauty Pageant. There will be even more guards around it then."

"Oh, well, I'm sure there are other expensive trinkets we can steal," said Junior carelessly. "Just as well that we won't be going back to Dubois' studio. I have always found his designs to be a bit on the dull side."

A resounding crash echoed through the air as Señor Senior's cane knocked the tanning mirror out of Junior's hands and sent it skidding across the concrete apron of the pool, flinging broken shards of glass in its wake. Junior looked up in shock to see his father's angry face bearing down on him.

"I don't want another trinket!" the billionaire shouted. "I want that tiara!"

It took Junior a moment to find his voice. He was used to being reprimanded by his father for failing in the villainous arts, but never to this degree. "What is so special about that tiara? Surely it cannot be worth that much."

"It's not about what it's worth by itself, Junior," said Senior as he resumed his pacing. "That tiara is the key to an entire kingdom of riches. We must get it and I only need a little quiet so that I can think of another plan to obtain it."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"Junior, I said quiet!"

"It was not me, Father."

Both men turned towards their mansion where a young woman of about 18 years burst through the front doors. She had tanned skin to match her long brown hair and a pair of blue-green eyes that rarely held any kind of warmth. A light purple dress that cost more than most people's cars snuggly fit her thin body. She marched across the front lawn towards Senior and Junior with a scowl to match that of the older man's.

"I just cannot believe this," exclaimed Bonnie. She was carrying a rolled up magazine in her hand and gestured to it as she talked. "It's a travesty, is what it is. An absolute social catastrophe."

"What is it now, Bonnie?" asked Señor Senior, making no effort to hide his impatience at this latest personal crisis. It seemed as if Bonnie had three or four of them a day. When his son started to date the young girl, Senior made the unfortunate, but inevitable discovery that Bonnie Rockwaller was very demanding, ready to complain about anything and everything that didn't conform to what she thought the world should be. Now that she had access to vast amounts of money, Bonnie was more than willing to spend every penny making sure the world revolved around her.

"Look at this." The snarky teen shoved the magazine under Señor Senior's nose. The cover showed Kim Possible standing in front of a building that had burned to the ground. Firemen could be seen in the background putting out the last of the flames. Kim's mission outfit was torn and dirtied, her face covered with soot and her hair was completely frizzed, but she was smiling widely as she squatted down among a ring of children all trying to hug her at once.

"Teen Hero Saves Orphan Children From Blaze," read Senior, nodding in approval. Junior got up from his lounge chair to look over his father's shoulder. "A job well done; I'd expect nothing less."

"Yeah, whatever," said Bonnie, rolling her eyes. "Just look at her outfit. It's nothing but rags. Not that it was any better before the fire. And she's filthy. I mean, it's bad enough that Kim is on the cover of a magazine and I'm not, but the least she could do is clean herself up first. This brings down the good name of cheerleaders everywhere; it's so typically selfish of her."

Knowing it was pointless to argue, Señor Senior just handed the magazine back to Bonnie and resumed his pacing once again. Junior, however, gently put his hands on Bonnie's shoulders and sought to reassure his girlfriend. "Do not worry. If it will make you happy, I will buy you this magazine company and order them to not print anymore pictures of Kim Possible ever again."

Bonnie put her hands on Junior's chest and flashed a wicked grin. "Oh Junior, you'd do that for me? That would show little Miss I-can-do-anything, wouldn't it?"

"Then, once you own the magazine, you can put your own picture on the cover of every issue."

Now Bonnie was practically wriggling with excitement. "You are so brilliant, baby. I'd look much better on the cover, wouldn't I?"

"But of course. You are so much the prettier one." Junior turned to Senior and asked, "Father, do you not think my Bonnie is better looking than Kim Possible?"

"Yes, yes, she is beautiful," agreed Senior distractedly as he tried to concentrate on figuring out how to get the tiara. Abruptly, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened as the perfect plan suddenly occurred to him. "In fact," he said with the smile of a used car salesman, "you are quite possibly the most beautiful young woman I have ever laid eyes on."

"Well, thank you very much," said Bonnie with a very satisfied smile.

"Miss Rockwaller," continued Senior, "Have you ever considered participating in a beauty pageant?"

"Actually," said Bonnie, "I did win several pageants when I was younger, but I haven't entered in a while."

"Why not, my sweet?" asked Junior. "Surely there is no one who could compare to you."

"Of course not," Bonnie said. "But the pageant commission forced me to retire my crown."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," sniffed Bonnie. "Something about a scandal and legal action or some other lame excuse like that."

"Well, my dear," said Senior as he put an arm around Bonnie's shoulders, "I do believe it's time for you to come out of retirement."

So, there it is. What do you think so far? In the next chapter, Kim and Ron are called in to protect the tiara and to figure out who tried to steal it. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.