Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Ron didn't suffer as much as he feared he might. Kim's hours long shopping excursion had involved surprisingly little buying. Ron guessed there were two main reasons for that; first, Kim had a debit card, not a credit card, and so couldn't spend any more than what she had in her account. Second, the prices in the shops and boutiques they visited were a lot higher than they were back home, even for identical items. Kim's purchases at the end of the day amounted to a few tee-shirts, a couple of CD's, a bracelet and a dozen coffee cups. Not exactly a back breaking burden. True, some of the shops they'd spent their time in weren't the most interesting, from Ron's point of view (the jewelry stores being a prime example) but Kim had enjoyed herself immensely, and that made the time spent worthwhile.

Of course, the afternoon hadn't been limited to shopping, any more than the morning had been limited to sightseeing. It seemed every big building in Metropolis had a gift shop, and no tour of a famous landmark like the LexCorp Tower or the Daily Planet, not to mention STAR Labs, the Museum of Modern Art or the Metropolis Historical Society, was complete without the purchase of at least one souvenir.

Lunch had been a treat as well. They'd eaten at Shiffmann's Kosher Deli, not far, it turned out, from the Daily Planet, and had spotted Planet editor-in-chief Perry White among the patrons, along with what seemed to be several of his staffers. Ron had stuffed himself, as usual, but with greater enthusiasm. He was Jewish, of course, but his family were members of a quite liberal Reformed Congregation, and weren't strict observers of the dietary laws. That didn't change the fact that Ron loved kosher food though, and devoured it with an enthusiasm that made his Conservative grandmother weep with joy.

Ron grabbed the edge of the pool and clung to it, gasping for air. When they had returned to the hotel in the afternoon, Kim had suggested they cool off in the pool. Ron had been looking forward to an hour or so of leisurely girl watching, but Kim had other ideas. She'd challenged him to a lap race, and he had rather foolishly taken her up on it.

"Note to self," he panted, fixing Kim with an accusing glare, "Never swim laps against Kim Possible again."

Kim offered him a dimpled smile. "Nobody made you accept, Ron," she teased, pushing away from the wall to tread water. She wasn't even breathing hard.

"Whatever," Ron retorted. "If you're through working me to death, can we start having fun now?"

Kim pouted a bit. "I was having fun," she mocked. "But if you're too tired to go on, I guess you can start ogling bikini girls." Her gaze shifted, and Ron followed it to a girl in a bikini that was far less substantial than the modest two piece Kim was wearing. Ron nodded approvingly, and under ordinary circumstances would have happily stared at the girl for hours. But, there was revenge to be had, so he turned away.

"I appreciate the suggestion, K. P., but there's something more important we need to take care of." Ron's brown eyes locked on Kim's green ones. Ron had a peculiar look on his face.

"And what would that be?" she asked. Ron's lips twitched like he was fighting back a grin, and Kim's eyes started to narrow in suspicion, when a cascade of water hit her in the face.

"Water fight!" Ron cried and dove at her. He quickly dragged her under the water, then swam off. Kim came up sputtering, but laughing too, and tore off after him.

The water war ended in a cease-fire imposed by an irate hotel employee, who threatened expulsion if hostilities weren't ended immediately. Kim and Ron, still giggling like kindergarteners, repaired to the hot tub to soak away the strain of the day's exertions.

It was after seven by the time Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible and the Tweebs got back, got cleaned up, and were ready to go out for dinner. Ron lead the way, having selected a restaurant a fifteen minute walk from the hotel. As they were walking up the street, sirens began wailing. As they approached the next intersection, a police car went tearing through it. A second followed moments later, then an ambulance. More and more sirens added their voices to the growing din. At the corner Kim looked in the direction the police cars had come from. A convoy of fire engines, interspersed with police cars and ambulances, was racing towards them. Without even thinking about it, Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator.

"Wade, what's the sitch?" she demanded.

"Pretty quiet Kim. Had a few hits on the sight, but I forwarded them to Global Justice, just like you asked."

"No, I mean, what's the sitch in Metropolis, right now," Kim clarified, letting Wade see the fire trucks as they hurtled past. Wade blinked, then his fingers flew across his keyboards.

"Ah," he exclaimed. "Big fire at a gasoline refinery on the waterfront. It started maybe five minutes ago, and half the Engine Companies in town have already been called."

Kim nodded once. "Thanks, Wade. Come on, Ron!" She turned and started down the street, only to be brought up short by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Ron shaking his head.

"We're on vacation, K. P., remember?"

"But..."

"Besides, this is Metropolis. Someone else will be handling it," Ron said firmly.

As if on cue, a stiff breeze sprang up, tugging at their hair and clothes. "Look! Up in the sky!" a nearby pedestrian exclaimed. Kim felt an electric thrill run through her. She was going to see HIM in person. As she started to turn to look, someone yelled the second part of the phrase that had become so world famous that it was already a cliché. "It's a bird!"

Jim and Tim must have been caught up in the moment as well, for they cried out, "It's a plane!"

Instead of the expected sight of the awesomely muscular Man of Steel, the crowd gaped as a lithe figure in red, white and blue rocketed down the concrete and glass canyon, vanishing almost as soon as it had appeared.

"It's Supergirl?"

Everyone stared, but at least one local retained sufficient cynicism to shake his head and mutter "Tourists," under his breath.

"What are you waiting for K. P., let's go!" Ron said excitedly. This time, Kim had to hold him back. "Ron, remember what you said to me, like, thirty seconds ago?"

Ron's face fell, and Kim smiled knowingly. "I know how much you'd like to see her again, but you're right. Supergirl can handle this just fine. She doesn't need any help from us."

Ron looked down at his toes, kicked at the sidewalk, and sighed heavily.


Kara Kent collapsed on the couch in Clark's living room. It had taken two thorough scrubbings with soap and hot water to get the smell of gasoline off her, but no amount of washing would get the image of the three men who had burned to death when the fire started out of her mind. She had recovered their corpses so their families would have something to bury, plunging strait into the inferno to do so. That had been a surprisingly difficult thing to do. It was one thing to be invulnerable to ordinary fire, but quite another to act like you were invulnerable. It had taken Kara longer than she expected to work up the nerve to walk into the roaring blaze, even though she knew it wouldn't hurt her.

"Clark is lucky," she said to herself. Lucky to have his whole life to get used to his powers. Unlike her, whose first taste of her new abilities had come when she lashed out in panic, and nearly killed one of the doctors who had brought her out of her cryogenic trance. Fortunately, Clark had been there to teach her to control her powers, and Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha had shown the patience of saints during the first few months she had lived with them, when she destroyed things on a regular basis by misjudging her strength.

The whistle of the tea kettle snapped Kara out of her reverie. In the kitchen she paused and stared at the pot and the stream of steam emerging from it. On a lark, she put her hand into the steam, less than an inch from the vent. A normal person would have been horribly burned in moments. Kara felt only heat, and not terribly much of that. She drew her hand back and looked at it. Nothing. Not even a hint of red. Quite unlike the time she and her sisters Kalya, Kori and Kari had been playing with matches and started a blaze that seared most of the flesh off Kara's left arm. Well, maybe not most of it, Kara reflected with a wry grin. But she had gotten third degree burns on most of it. Argoan medical technology had repaired the physical damage so well that not a trace of it remained. The psychological damage was an other matter. It had taken Kara years to get over her aversion to open flames, and even now she still felt a twinge of unease at the sight of a mere lit candle. So diving headlong into the dock fire had taken a certain amount to bravery, even for her. Kara smiled and gave herself a mental pat on the back.

Pouring herself a cup of tea, Kara returned to the living room an flicked on the TV. The chief of the Metropolis fire department appeared on the screen. "...still pouring water on hot spots, but the fire is essentially out," he said.

"Any idea what caused it?" an unseen reporter asked. The chief shook his head. "Not yet, though our preliminary investigation is leaning toward an accident." Kara switched channels. "...nd all of Metropolis is abuzz over the reappearance of Superman's female sidekick, Supergirl." Kara glared at the newscaster's image. "Again with the sidekick thing!" she muttered, and changed the channel. "Ooo! Seinfeld! He's funny!" she exclaimed to no one in particular, and leaned back to enjoy the show.


Bruno Mannheim was meeting with his top lieutenants when an underling barged into the room. "Mr. Mannheim, sir!"

Mannheim, who had been in the middle of answering a complex question, turned calmly. "Yes, Phillips?"

Duff Killigan wondered silently at Mannheim's restraint. Most men in his position, including himself, Killigan admitted, would have blown up at a mere lackey for interrupting important business. Mannheim never did, instead exhibiting a preternatural calm that more than one of his lieutenants found unnerving.

"Supergirl is back in town," Phillips exclaimed breathlessly.

Mannheim's expression became shrewd. "Really?" he said softly. He turned to one of the men seated at the table. "Tom, start Operation Double Trouble immediately. If the results are positive, go right into Operation Gravy Grabber."

"Yes, sir!" the man named Tom said, rising from his seat and hurrying from the room.

"Mr. Mannheim?"

"Yes, Duff?"

"Pardon my ignorance, but why is having Supergirl in town so significant? I mean, isn't one super powered busy-body as bad as any other?"

Mannheim merely smiled. "Not really," he explained. "We've noticed in the past that when Supergirl is in Metropolis, Superman is usually absent, and while they have similar powers and abilities, Supergirl lacks Superman's experience." Mannheim paused, his expression thoughtful. "Superman has a nose for crime. He's no Batman, but he'd make a fine police detective, which is why he's such an obstacle. He's more likely to notice any new moves we might make, which is why we have to be cautious."

"Whereas Supergirl wouldn't know what she was looking at, even if it happened right in front of her?" Killigan supplied.

Mannheim nodded. "We're going to stage two simultaneous incidents that should draw superhero attention. If Superman fails to show at either of them, we'll move against our rivals to expand our power base. If Superman is out of town, we should have a high probability of success."

Killigan mulled that over. It occurred to him that this was why Intergang was so successful. They were cautious, but also willing to take risks, albeit calculated ones. Since he'd come aboard Killigan had also learned that Intergang planned for as many contingencies as they could, and practiced putting their plans in action. They even had a plan for what they would do in the event of the complete destruction of Intergang, either by the police or a rival criminal cartel, and they never, ever, took things for granted.

'I could learn a lot from these people,' Killigan thought. 'It may even turn out that Kim Possible thwarting my last scheme was the best thing that ever happened to me."