The Black Mastiff

by Sircot

After being dumped by Kim- explained in the story- Ron hides in Japan. Five years later, he's back in America with an interesting job and some frightening new powers. However, is he still the same boy who left? Rated M for severe violence and language.

1. Enter the Mastiff

A/N: Sorry guys this is the real Chapter 1. I had some problems with WordPad to Word/laptop to desktop movement. I always type on my laptop, but the driver for the wireless connection isn't working anymore. I think I fixed all of this, so please read it. Yay for random stupidity. Chap 6 is in the editing revising phase but I have an English paper to write so I'm not sure when I'll get that out. Also, thank god for snowdays.

Thank you for bearing with me through this. I know how tough that can be. Personally I find it hard to read incomplete stories. This Chap is basically character development. We see a new darker Ron. A bit of farfetched stuff here, but hey, peotic license.

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He woke up alone and screaming, his harsh voice a brittle barrier against the pain and suffering of his dreams. Not for the first time Ron Stoppable cursed his "Mystical Monkey Power," the 'gift' that even now, prevented him from blissful oblivion. He was exhausted.

Ron had no intention of trying to return to sleep. He needed to get up in the morning, and a dose of sleeping pills adequate to down him and leave him incapable of motion for at least three hours after he would need to get up and that was out of the question. Sighing, he got out of bed and started to train.

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At nine in the morning a disgruntled and obviously testy Ron walked through the doors to the coffee place down the street from his house. He promptly ordered an 'antifreeze bucket,' a nonexistent drink if ever he'd heard of one. He then went into the small employee meeting room, without waiting for an answer, and sat at the one chair that would send him tunneling into the newest headquarters for the team.

He growled at the thought. Team? More like me, and maybe the saps that volunteered or were told to help me dispense my form of the U.N.'s Justice. GJ has nothing on the five of them, but I can only hope that someday, someone has the balls and the talent to put a bullet in between my eyes. If only I'd never made that god-damned promise.

He sat at his desk with a sigh and reluctantly queried, "Assignment?"

Almost immediately a small yet imposing black box appeared on his desk. It, he knew, would contain the details of the filth he was to… cleanse. He liked that euphemism. He knew that he had the blood of innocents on his hands as well, but if he was killing the people that had torn apart his world, all was right. All was not good, but all could still be useful. He still had purpose, and with purpose, he could survive.

He amended in his proclamation to himself slightly. He could never kill all the people who'd destroyed his world, ruined his life. He could never even hurt Kim, let alone kill her. Anything he did, he did under an assumed name, in disguise, and in a way that no one could track it back to him for the simple reason that if she knew half of the things he had done she'd probably never recover. He would never hurt her. Never again. Not after the last time.

He still held her as one of his friends, and more importantly to him, as the one and only woman he would ever love. He still managed to keep in touch, even if they hadn't seen each other in at least a year. And even if she was employed by the single largest organization to ever hunt him. He could never hold that against her. He loved that GJ had finally had the chance to recruit Kim. It had and did make her happy.

The biggest reason that he hated GJ at the moment was that it had managed to appoint Kim as head of the Black Mastiff investigation. The Black Mastiff investigation, the investigation that GJ had initiated as a counter-measure to his success. They knew that he was effective, and that, more than anything he had ever done, including some very graphic assassinations and one CD left on Betty Director's bed while she showered after an extremely embarrassing attempt, initiated by them, to take his life (He'd placed the personnel files, as well as pictures taken through the scope of his rifle of each and every operative that had gone on the operation. This disk also had a document that listed every password and code that the organization had ever used and a threat, written directly to her, saying that if she ever made him take the life of a GJ operative, she'd be found guilty of high treason in every country in which she was registered as a citizen under a false name. He'd also left her with the assurance that none of them would be able to do anything to properly punish her after he was done with her), was what scared them. Well, that and the fact that he'd broken into at least 5 GJ compounds without leaving any trace other than his calling card, a porcelain model of a dog, specifically the Grimm, with very wild and untamable features.

He doubted that the unimaginative fools at GJ had pieced together the Harry Potter reference yet. He knew for a fact that Kim wouldn't. He'd had to drag her to the first two movies, and she absolutely refused to let him take her to any more of them. He laughed. For the first time ever, she would be better off in one of her 'missions' if she'd paid attention to what Ron said or did. His laugh choked off violently as he remembered that she didn't see him as even worth considering. He'd hacked into the investigation recently to check up on them and had seen a suggestion that he be hired as a consultant to his own case. The part that hurt was that she had replied with the assurance that Ron couldn't help them. She'd said that he was too clueless to provide help. Her dismissal itself was painful, but the flippant and off-hand manner of the memo was like a knife through his heart.

Startled from his ruminations by a voice from the observation deck telling him to report to the ops center after he had his target, Ron opened his new assignment. He hit the sequence that would disarm every bomb inside the box, then hit the depression on the top of it, re-arming them all and opening the holo-file. Michael Yamikovich, a Russian who could have made Stalin wince with his mere appearance, was a horrible excuse for a human, one that funded and on occasion participated in the rape of girls he'd had kidnapped from their homes, the streets, or anywhere else that someone could use chloroform inconspicuously. Ron held no sympathy in his mind for this filth, this rapist. He would kill the man and call the tips line at GJ to let them know about the girls. He walked to the blue scooter that at one point would have trouble doing ten miles per hour, and after carefully leaving his 'garage' brought it up to speed. He was doing 750 mph and was airborne before he'd cleared the street he lived on.

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Two and a half hours later, Ron jumped off of his scooter into the crisp and cool air of a morning several hundred miles above an Atlantic oil rig. He used his MMP to stop one foot off of the ground, as well as to stop any electronic device to pick him up. Killing any guard he saw was satisfying, even if it did make him wonder how bad his skills were getting. He should have been able to kill most if not all of them without them being able to see him and without being able to see them. He hadn't ricocheted a single throwing knife yet. He let out a sigh as he realized that he was in front of his target's office and that his 'fun' was almost over. He kicked to door off of its hinges and allowed it to land just short of the target. He walked into the room, seemingly calm and at ease, and sat at the desk of this monster. He said simply, "Do you have any reason that I should not kill you here today? Can you explain your actions?" As soon as he heard the expected, "Yes- Ron killed the target with a well placed foot to the bridge of his nose. He stated simply, "Wrong answer," before walking back into the hallway he'd only recently vacated.

Ron knew something was wrong the moment he set foot upon the deck of the rig. He tensed as the voice he knew, her voice, rang out soft and clear, commanding, "Stand down. You are under arrest for crimes against the world. If you do not fight we will not hurt you." He silently thanked any and all observing deities that he'd slipped into his full body 'ninja suit.' It wasn't truly traditional and had none of the correct folds and overlaps, but he found that his inspired even more fear than the traditional garb, not to mention that it didn't expose any skin.

"Ah, yes, the great Kim Possible. Or should I say: Agent Possible. As beautiful as I'd imagined, but then, the pictures I have of you probably helped. You do realize though that if any one in your group can even stand a chance against me, it is you. The rest of your group can only get themselves killed fighting me and I know that you will go to almost any length to prevent death. Let us have a one-on-one match then. If you win a bought by the rules of tournament fighting, I will go willingly with you, though I do know your promise not to hurt me is unrealistic. However, should I best you, I shall go on my merry way without having to worry whether or not I seriously injured one of your comrades. You I trust, will stay away from true harm during our fight?"

Ron felt his mouth turn up slightly at the corners as he watched grudging respect fight its way into her eyes. His smile only grew as she growled lowly and said, "Fine." One of her officers started to protest and so I threw knives at each and every one of them laughing as each stopped at the throat of its target. One I noticed had not found a throat. Kim had caught the dagger meant to warn her. "See what he is capable of? Only I have a chance to beat that thing, that man. You would just get in the way."

"A sentiment I share, Kim. How could you fight for this kind of filth? How can you hate me for killing these, the most despicable of all criminals? Are you afraid of me? Why should you be? Do you rape, murder, or do anything else immoral? Of course not! You're the great Kim Possible!" He hoped she didn't notice that he'd copied the argument from a letter from Shego, where she had tried to convince Kim to go to greater lengths to capture criminals.

"How dare you spy on me! What gives you the right? Can't I have a personal life? Please, just leave them out of this. I stopped them from foghting so they would be able to live in peace." He knew from the look in her eyes how angry she was, how hurt she was, and that she was telling the truth. He understood that she wasn't only talking about Drew and Sheila, but of him. He also knew from the pain in his heart that if he continued to talk that he would reveal his identity if they talked for much longer. He couldn't resist the comforting look and the simple statement, "He knows, if that's any consolation. He knows why you did what you did. And he doesn't blame you."

If anything, this hated enemy talking to her in this soft tone only served to infuriate her more. Later, as she looked back on the battle, she determined that she'd been played.

She ran forward, fist ready to deliver a blow and foot ready to be the distraction. She never expected that both blows would hit. She expected even less that he wouldn't even flinch. She'd never even entertained the thought that she would connect with both hits, he wouldn't flinch, and he would counter only by jumping fifteen feet into the air and landing on top of a pole on top of the rig. She gaped. He'd taken two of her best hits without so much as batting an eye and had then performed an impossible leap to an impossible landing. She was barely standing with the shock coursing through her, and his only response was, "If that is the best you can do, we are done here. Forgive me for wasting your time. I thought that I had finally found a match of my skill. I was wrong. Goodbye."

Before Kim even contemplated movement, he was gone. Somehow, he'd managed to float directly up. The task force sent to retrieve him didn't even see Sasha as he landed on her. He knew that he shouldn't talk to Kim for a bit. That he should let her suspicions die before he brought himself back into a major role in her life. But he wondered. If she was remorseful for that, could he have been wrong? Could he have been doing these things for no reason?

Shaking his head violently he jumped. Sasha caught him before his powers even activated, but the air still helped him to think. He'd have to tell the kids to make her wait before catching him. He needed the diving practice.

As his mind drifted painfully back to her words, he wondered. If she was telling the truth… No! She couldn't be. He couldn't have been that successfully deceived by anyone. He couldn't have been living a lie. It wasn't possible.

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Ron flew at near the speed of sound through the air, stopping only at his own personal place. The spot in the air where he had found a weakness between this world and the fabric of time. While there he could see into three places, though their time would not progress, he could practice and hone his abilities, and he could think. He was currently engaged in this third activity.

He missed Kim more than he would admit. She had been the center of his world for the first 19 and a half years of his life. How could he forget her barely 5 years later? How could she have forgotten him? Regardless, after she cut him from her love life and missions all those years ago, he'd become a different person. The only thing he'd ever truly hated her for was when she'd cut her ties to him. She was brutal. She transferred out of every class they shared (Though the number of shared classes had dropped steadily before hand) and told him they couldn't see each other anymore before he'd been discharged from the hospital. Exactly 23 minutes after she'd left, Kim Possible's ex-sidekick had been found unconscious and nearly dead in his hospital room. He'd tried to commit suicide. No one ever found out how, but he had managed to punch through the wall, grab several rusted nails out of the framework, and pound them through his arm. Exactly 38 minutes after crushing his soul, Kim was once again in the building. She had to wait while they fixed up the arm, then "evaluated him psychologically." Once he was allowed to have visitors she went into the room and chewed him out. She'd all but forced him to promise: "I will never again do anything consciously to kill myself or cause myself to be killed." As soon as he'd said that phrase, she'd hugged him and told him that he was never to scare her like that again. She'd left again soon. He'd left the country the next day. God, it hurt to remember.

He summoned the Lotus Blade out of its scabbard and turned it into himself. Soon, the battle was joined.

Ron jumped as the blade did a leg sweep, then got caught by a foot to his chest. He landed on his feet and punched the blade in its 'face.' They traded blows, each capable of breaking a brick, and continued to take beatings from each other until it was hard for Ron to stand. Signaling the blade that the bout was over, he bowed. He caught the caught the blade's foot mid kick and reverted it into its true form.

He looked in on the three places his little training area gave him sight into and realized his phone was ringing in real time. He jumped out of his 'home away from home' and quickly sped downward and to the north. After he landed he picked up the phone, slightly disappointed that it was not ringing anymore, and pressed *69, or redial. His phone would not show up on any caller ID, ever. He'd explained it away as a perk of knowing Wade. He'd said that he was testing out some functions for Wade. It was kind of true, in a way. Wade was one of the saps working for him, as well as his second in command. He would even lie to Kim if he had to. He would lie to Kim if he was asked to. Hell, if he thought it would help Ron, he'd lie to Kim extensively. Ron reminded himself to talk to him about his fanaticism. They didn't really need another Ron. "Damn it," he cursed. He'd realized that the other two volunteers acted almost exactly like Wade did. He'd have to do something to compromise them so that they couldn't get themselves hurt, but realized yet again that he'd need to keep Wade. He'd couldn't get his revenge without Wade. The voice on the other end of the phone startled him out of his ruminations.

"Hello?" He inhaled deeply at her voice. "Hello? If this is a joke it's not funny. I'm serious! If you don't talk right now, I'll-"

"Sorry, KP. Guess I was just daydreaming. You know how I am."

"Ron?" He shuddered as her voice sounded timid, almost afraid. "I tried calling you earlier… I just wanted to talk… You know, like old times."

"I should have known," he said to himself. To her he said, "I kinda figured you called me KP. I mean gees. You shoulda known that with all the tech Wade set up that I'd call you back as soon as I could. Have a little faith Kim. You thought I wouldn't?"

"No! No, I was just rambling. It's been a tough day, y'know? I was just kinda wondering, uh, do you, uh, wanna like, go out and do something?" This last was said faster than an eye could blink, which his did, several times.

"Um, yeah, sure. Lemme just get dressed. I'll be at your place in say 15?" He had been surprised by her tone. That tone had been heard often enough before. That tone had a name. He and the Doctors Possible had named it shortly after it had first reared its ugly little head. It was impossible. She couldn't be crushing on him, could she? Was he about to enter the halls Mankey and Eric had pioneered and make Kim into a gibbering idiot? "Oh, God, I hope not," he thought. Sighing he called Mrs. Dr. P. prepared to ask for her help. How could he deal with this?

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He appeared outside of Kim's door thirteen minutes later, latest release in hand. He knew she'd been wanting to see it, but that she hadn't had the time to go to the theaters. He already had a copy of it. Being a culinary genius and inventor of several food items for fast food places had really lined his pockets.

She opened the door, and smiled at him. She looked, well, nervous. "So, I brought a movie in case we wanna stay home, or we could go somewhere. Up to you."

He watched her mock consideration with a wide grin. He already knew that she'd jump at the first offer. She did as expected and invited him inside. After a quick tour, they arrived at a kitchen. It seemed that no one had ever been into that room. He even noticed that she seemed to have a fear of entrance. He laughed. "Afraid of your kitchen, KP?"

She scowled. "Don't make fun of me. Or do I need to bring up 'Ronny's Big Day?'"

"No, Mam, you don't. Would you consider an apology if I promised to make dinner?"

"Seven layer's of Heaven?"

"Seven layer's of Heaven." He loved this verbal jousting. She truly was a worthy opponent.

"Apology accepted, get to cooking." He chuckled. She never could resist his 'seven layers of Heaven'.

She knew she was being brusque but honestly, she couldn't help it. She loved his seven layers of heaven. The only thing she'd ever wanted more was completely unattainable. His heart. "Ron? Why aren't you cooking yet?"

Ron chuckled again. "I am sorry, Mistress, but I haven't found the ingredients, yet." Kim growled in frustration.

"What do you need?"

His answer, given only after she'd entered the one place in her house that she feared to tread, was, "Oh, I've got everything I need." He ducked the punch Kim threw his way then caught her wrist. "Well now, kill the cook. Not quite the saying but I do say never be normal."

Kim laughed. However, when she tried to pull her arm away she felt as if she was trying to snap concrete in one hand. She pouted. "Since when can you maintain a grip like that?" she groused.

"For about five years. I took a trip to Japan and ended up training with a local dojo. Not that you'd be expected to remember." To Kim, Ron's tone was like a knife and his cold indifference a flame both sent spearing through her heart. She collapsed, crying. He let go of her wrist and went back to cooking, not even deeming her worth a second glance.

When the cake was done, Kim was still crying on the floor of her kitchen, and Ron was still pointedly ignoring her. He set the cake on her table and went to lay on her couch. He knew he wouldn't sleep (damned powers,) but he would not be talking to her for the rest of the night so pretending to sleep seemed the best option. He calmed down when he heard the crying peter out, and, against all prior experience, he fell asleep.

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Ron woke up, surprised to see that he was in Kim's house. He couldn't have taken that many pills here, could he have? Slowly, he crept to the bathroom and relieved himself. He then searched the house. He was surprised when he found that no sleeping pills were anywhere he would have hidden them. Puzzled, he searched the entire house. He skipped over Kim's room, not wanting to disturb her. Finally, only the kitchen was left to his scouring eye. Though he heard faint noises from within, he opened the door, not overly concerned with Kim's privacy if she had indeed drugged him. His mind evaporated at the sight of the scared girl lying on the floor in front of him. Her shoulders were still heaving, and she was lying in a small puddle of her own tears. His heart nearly broke at the broken sound of one of her more audible sobs, and he felt himself reaching down to comfort her. He stopped himself as he remembered the previous night. He realized that he had broken his promise. He'd hurt the woman he loved. Quickly and quietly, he set up a breakfast and left, holding back his own sobs with sheer force of will.

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Kim awoke from her slumber sat up. She quickly thanked God for making sure Ron didn't see her like that, weak and vulnerable, and cleaned up. After the entire kitchen was clean she happened to go through her dining room. Her heart stopped as she saw the seven layer's in a cake box and the gourmet breakfast. She ran through her house, cursing herself for its size. Finally, after proving to her mind that he was not there, Kim broke down, once again, crying into her sheets.

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Ron called and gave his 'boys' the day off. He said he had some unfinished business to take care of. He did.

Half an hour later, Ron arrived at a nice and large villa in Washington D.C. He, dressed as an upper crust gent named Louie Manettoui, rang the bell. His hands hung calmly in the air by his waist as he waited. When the door finally opened, Ron was ready. He calmly followed the butler, requesting an audience with 'His Lordship," As expected it was granted.

Kim slept till almost noon, her tears soaking her bed as they had soaked the floor. "Why?" she thought at herself, "Why did I have to bring that up? Now Ron hates me even more. He'll probably never talk to me again." Kim slowly shook, tears flowing forth from her bloodshot eyes. Soon she started repeating one word to herself, over and over: "Why?"

15 miles away from Kim, Ron was busy plugging in a fiber optic wire into a camera in the hallway. Soon, the footage showed a meeting between the house's master and Louie. He'd recycled the footage but he doubted anyone would notice. Soon, the butler was gone and he could start with his revenge.

A/N: Sorry about the problems with this chapter. Done with chap 5 and only just got this posted. *sigh. I just wanted to say that I think this chap was a good one, not just because of the time I spent on it, but because it really hits a heartstring with me. Ron in this chapter, (the beginning,) really reminded me of my uncle. He died a little over two years ago from liver failure. The characters were just so similar in how they act though, that this is going to be dedicated to him. I hope you're having fun Tom.

Thank you again to CajunBear73 for help in this matter, as well as your suggestions. I do have to say that this writing style (interspersed scenes only mildly divided,) while not in any way usual for my writing, is an extremely fun project. I usually work using a narrative, with thoughts intermixed. This is better, though, I think for the story.

Longest chap so far. They seem to be in descending length.