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.

Kim watched as Ron eased the Team Possible van down the cargo ramp of the Global Justice C-130 and onto the tarmac of the Smallville Airport. He was watching her intently, as she signaled steering instructions to him. There wasn't much chance that he'd drive off the narrow ramp extensions that extended from the plane's lower cargo door to the ground, since they had fairly high edge flanges, but they could still damage the van's tires, and there was no point in risking that. When he was down and clear Kim jogged around the left wing, taking care to avoid the still running engines, until she made eye contact with the pilot. She gave him the thumbs up. He waved back, then revved the plane's engines and changed the propeller pitch from 'feather' to maximum. At least she assumed it was max, judging from the force of the wind the props started generating. The loadmaster had already secured the cargo door, Kim saw, and Ron was carefully keeping the van end on to the Hercules as it started to taxi. Kim waited until it was well away before she opened the passenger side door and climbed in. The van was a new toy, also courtesy of Global Justice, tricked out with so many extras that Ron still drooled when he thought of them. Kim smiled at the memory of Ron's first encounter with the van. A man who normally didn't read much, Ron had spent hours poring over the 'owners manual' as he'd termed it.

"What are you grinning about?" Ron teased, shaking Kim out of her reverie.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "Shall we?" she asked, waving in the general direction of the town.

"Certainly," Ron agreed, putting the van in gear.

The police station was in the heart of Smallville's downtown. Kim was a bit surprised at how vital the place was. Most of the small towns around Middleton were drying up, business-wise, unable to compete with the big city. 'Of course,' she thought, 'Smallville is the largest town for miles in any direction. Out here, it is the big city.' Which explained the Super Wal-Mart and the equally huge Mills Fleet Farm (what ever that was) they had passed on their way into town. But even with those mega-stores, the downtown shops and businesses appeared to be thriving.

"Nice town," Ron observed, looking around as they climbed out of the van. "Very nice," he added as a pretty girl in shorts and a halter top strolled by. Kim smiled and shook her head. "Focus on the mission, Ron," she chided, wagging a finger at him. "Yes ma'am," Ron replied meekly.


Chief Gordon proved to be a short, stout fellow in his mid-fifties with a permanent grin. It wasn't a very sincere grin, Kim decided, more for show than anything else. Gordon ogled her shamelessly as well, causing Ron to scowl a bit, but Kim soothed him with a light touch on his arm.

"I want to thank you for coming so quickly Ms. Possible," Gordon said after they shook hands and took seats. His skin was as oily as his voice, and Kim fought an urge to wipe her hand on her pants.

"It's our pleasure," Kim replied, forcing a smile and a pleasant tone of voice.

"Mine as well," Gordon said, his eyes dropping briefly, "Mine as well."

"Wade said you had more information for us?" Kim said, wanting to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible.

"It's not much," Gordon admitted. "I take it you're familiar with the events of the mid-eighties?"

"We know there were some incidents, people who acquired various super powers from long term exposure to kryptonite."

"Yes," Gordon confirmed, "And the 'incidents' kept happening until we figured out what was causing them and cleaned up as much of the Kryptonite as we could."

"I thought Superman and the Justice League did that," Ron broke in.

"They finished what we started," Gordon clarified. "Did a thorough job too. The mutations petered out after that, and we hadn't had any since then."

"Until recently," Kim deduced. Gordon nodded again. "We have at least one, maybe two. The one we're sure about is Jimmy Traskill. We found him in his pickup, frozen solid, the whole cab iced over with frost. I've kept the details as quiet as I can, not wanting to alarm people unnecessarily, but the autopsy showed high levels of kryptonite in his blood and tissues."

"Any idea how it got there?" Kim asked. Gordon shook his head. "I thought maybe from his drinking water, since he had a private well, but we checked that and it was clean."

"Is there any other way he could have been exposed?" Ron interjected.

"We went over every inch of his house and outbuildings with a fine toothed comb, even used a Geiger counter. Nothing."

"Well," Kim mused, "If it wasn't environmental, he must have been exposed deliberately."

"That's what I was thinking," Gordon agreed, "But why? Jimmy wouldn't have done it himself, least I don't think so, but if he didn't do it, then who did?"

"Monkey Fist," Kim and Ron said in unison.

"The weirdo Englishman?"

"That's right," Kim confirmed. "We think the tracks you found are his."

Gordon mulled that over. He was an odd fellow, Kim decided. An insincere lecherous pervert, but with a keen, insightful intellect and an apparent genuine interest in the welfare of his fellow citizens. "It makes sense," he said finally, which means I made the right decision when I called you in." The phony grin was back in force, and he leered at her. She smiled thinly. "You mentioned a second case?"

"Ah, yes," Gordon nodded. "We aren't sure about it. That is, we know the person was exposed to kryptonite, but we don't know if that's what caused the incident."

"What kind of incident?" Kim asked.

"House fire. Apparently started in her bed while she was asleep. The state Fire Marshall hasn't determined a cause yet, but we know it wasn't any of the most usual suspects, like smoking in bed or a malfunctioning electrical appliance."

"That does sound suspicious," Kim agreed. "I know you must be anxious to get this resolved, so we'll get started right away," she said, rising. "We'll just need to see what information you've collected so far."

"You'll need to go to the high school then," Gordon said mysteriously.

"The high school?" Kim asked.

"I couldn't have my regular officers investigate this," Gordon explained. "They'd talk, and I don't want that. So I brought in an expert on these sort of things. Her name's Chloe Sullivan, teaches journalism. She was into the mutations in a big way back in the eighties, when she ran the school newspaper. Had files on all of them. Still does, in fact. Knows how to keep her mouth shut too."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Kim agreed.


"Interesting fellow, that Chief Gordon," Kim opined as Ron drove the van down a broad, tree lined avenue. "I noticed he had trouble maintaining eye contact," Ron offered by way of reply.

"He wasn't very subtle was he?" Kim agreed, staring out the window at passing houses.

"Nope. Of course, you can't fault the man for looking."

Kim turned toward Ron, a quizzical look on her face.

"Face it K.P., you've got a great rack. Guys are gonna look." Kim blushed brightly and Ron chortled. She had made him blush enough today that he seemed to have decided that payback was in order. "Especially since they filled out," he added.

"I can't argue with you on that," she admitted, glancing down at her breasts. "I thought they'd be pointy forever."

"Anyway," Ron said, changing the subject. "Chloe Sullivan: I think I've heard of her."

" You should have," Kim said, "since we had to read one of her books for Government class."

"Oh yeah," Ron nodded, remembering. "Something about...ethics? Wasn't it?"

"'Ethics in Journalism: Case Studies'," Kim reminded him.

"Sweet!" Ron exclaimed. "I'm gonna meet a published author!"

Smallville High was mostly in an old building that dated back to the thirties, and it had a certain charm and atmosphere that Middleton High lacked. The walls of the main lobby were covered in photographs of prominent graduates, some dating back to the 1860's. In the section devoted to the class of 1986, Kim and Ron found five pictures, including one that was familiar. "Clark Kent," Kim read, touching the brass plaque beneath the frame. "Reporter for the Daily Planet, winner of two Pulitzer Prizes." She smiled. Clark Kent had interviewed her and Ron after a mission involving Duff Killigan in Metropolis last year. A nice man.

"Lana Lang," Ron read, "Fashion designer."

"I love her clothes," Kim confessed.

"Whitney Fordman, pro football player, quarterback for the Kansas City Chiefs, Superbowl champion," Ron went on. "Peter Ross, U.S. Congressman. Chloe Sullivan, reporter for the Metropolis (Kansas) Times, author."

"Quite an accomplishment for a class of 347 people, isn't it?" a female voice asked from behind them. They turned to find a blonde in her mid-thirties looking at them with an amused smile on her face. "I'm Chloe Sullivan," she introduced herself, extending her hand. "And you two must be Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable. Chief Gordon called and told me you were on your way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Sullivan," Kim said, shaking her hand.

"Chloe, please," Ms. Sullivan implored. Kim smiled.

"All right, Chloe." Chloe grinned back. "Let's go up to my 'office' and I'll fill you in on what's been going on."

Chloe lead them to a classroom on the third floor. The room had the usual tables adorned with computers, and the walls were covered with reproductions of famous headlines. One wall, however, was plastered with more unusual items. Kim walked over and gazed at them. "The famous Wall of Weird," she said.

Chloe came up next to her. "Yup," she confirmed. "It's such a part of me that I take it everywhere. And it's a useful teaching tool as well."

"I thought you lived in Metropolis," Kim said, giving Chloe a questioning look. "I do, but I found out I have a soft spot for Smallville, so I come back for the fall semester to teach journalism." Chloe sat down at her desk and motioned for Kim and Ron to take seats.

"So," Kim began, "About these incidents..."

"I wouldn't call what happened to Jimmy Traskill an 'incident'," Chloe said darkly.

"What would you call it?" Kim asked.

"Murder," Chloe answered, her voice flat.

"Murder?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think that?"

"Jimmy had massive amounts of kryptonite in his system, consistent with years of constant exposure."

"But?" Kim pressed.

"Jimmy also had a comprehensive physical six months ago," Chloe said, "and he was clean then."

"How do you think it happened then?" Kim inquired.

"I think your friend Monkey Fist used Jimmy as a guinea pig, to see what Kryptonite would do to a person before he tried it on himself." Kim and Ron gaped. "How did you know Monkey Fist was involved?" Ron sputtered.

Chloe smiled. "I'm a reporter, remember? I saw the tracks myself, and I can put two and two together. Besides, we don't know Monkey Fist is involved, we just suspect it."

Kim conceded the point, but said, "I'd be surprised if he wasn't though."

"I agree," Chloe said, "I'm just trying to maintain my journalist's objectivity."

"Well," Kim said, turning to Ron, "I guess we start looking for his lair. He must have one around here somewhere." Ron nodded.

"Any monkey themed places around here?" he asked. Chloe shook her head. "So much for it being easy," Ron groused. "How about abandoned warehouses, old factories, that sort of thing?"

"Chief Gordon told me to keep this to myself, and I have," Chloe said, "But I've made some discreet inquiries. So far I haven't found anything."

A bell rang. Chloe looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 2:20 p.m. "Sixth period just ended," she said. "I have a class in five minutes. Let's meet after school at the Talon: that's a coffee house on Second Avenue, you shouldn't have any trouble finding it. We can talk more there."

"Ok," Kim agreed. "What time?"

"How about four?" Chloe suggested. "I have a little after class paperwork to do, and that'll give me time to take care of it without rushing." The sounds students walking, talking and opening and closing lockers began rumbling through the halls. The classroom door opened and students began to stream in. Chloe walked Kim and Ron to the door. "We'll see you at four then," Kim said, and she and Ron turned to leave. And froze in their tracks. Standing right in front of them, looking just as stunned as they were, was a girl in cut-off jean shorts and a green tee-shirt, a book bag cradled in her arms. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing wire-rimmed glasses, but Kim felt a blaze of recognition surge through her.

"Kara!" she and Ron exclaimed as one.

"Ron? Kim? What are you two doing here?" Kara demanded, her voice high with shock. Before Kim or Ron could utter a sound Chloe jumped in. "Kara Kent," she scolded, and Kim thought she stressed the last name, "You never told me you knew Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable." Kara grinned weakly. "Well, uh, I," she floundered, "I, uh, don't really, Ms. Sullivan, I met them in, in Metropolis! Last year! When cousin Clark interviewed them," she finished in a rush.

Kim had no idea what was going on, but Kara was obviously working undercover here, and Kim had no intention of spilling any beans. "That's right," she agreed, "We met in Metropolis." She held out her hand. "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah," Ron echoed, following Kim's lead. Other students were gathering around, gawking at Kim and Ron and plying them and Kara with questions.

Chloe cut them off, going into full teacher mode. "That's enough of that," she said firmly. "Please take your seats," she said, addressing her students. "As for you two, I have a class to teach," and with that she bustled Kim and Ron out the door and shut it behind them.


They drove around town for a while, both to familiarize themselves with its layout and find the Talon. At a quarter after three Kim's Kimmunicator beeped.

"Change of plans," Chloe's voice announced. "We'll meet at 11547 Bluebird Avenue at 3:45, ok?" Since they had little choice, Kim agreed, and she and Ron went looking for the new location. They found it several miles out of town, a tidy looking farmstead. The mailbox bore the name Kent, and a sign by the driveway read 'Kent Farms. Organically grown meats and vegetables.' An older gentleman who was working on a tractor looked up when they turned into the lane, and strolled over to meet them.

"Howdy," he called as they got out of the van. "Can I help you folks?"

"Hello, sir," Kim smiled. "Sorry to disturb you but we're supposed to meet someone here." The man gave them a curious look. "Her name's Chloe Sullivan," Kim explained. "She gave us this address."

The man relaxed and smiled back. "Chloe's a good friend," he said. He held out his hand. "Jonathan Kent, pleased to meet you."

"Kim Possible," Kim said as they shook hands. "This is my friend Ron Stoppable."

"I've heard of both of you," Mr. Kent said, nodding. "Though why Chloe would send you here..." he mused thoughtfully. A car turned into the driveway, closely followed by a pick-up. Chloe got out of the car. Kara parked the truck, jumped out, and stalked over to Kim and Ron, looking a bit peeved, "Ok, spill," she demanded. "What are you two doing in Smallville? Chloe wouldn't tell me anything."

"What's going on Kara?" Mr. Kent asked, sounding worried. "It's all right Uncle Jonathan," she reassured him, "They know," she added, one finger tracing an 's' on her chest. "They do now, anyway," she went on, coldly. "Is that why you're here? To figure out my secret identity?"

"No!" Kim exclaimed. "I didn't even know you had one! We're here because..."

"They're here because of what happened to Jimmy Traskill," Chloe cut in. Kara blinked. "That man who's gone missing?" she asked. "He's not missing, he's dead," Chloe corrected. Kara and Mr. Kent looked shocked, and Chloe went on. "We," she said, indicating Ron and Kim, "think Monkey Fist gave him a megadose of Kryptonite to see what it would do to him."

"You're here on a mission?" Kara asked, incredulous. Kim and Ron nodded. "Boy, I feel stupid," Kara confessed. "Sorry about blowing up at you," she apologized, her face red with embarrassment. "I'm sometimes a little too protective of my secret."

"Apology accepted," Ron said with a magnanimous smile. Kim nodded. "Me too."

"Well I'm flummoxed," Mr. Kent said. "Why don't we go inside so you all can explain just what the heck is going on here."