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.
"Kill them!" Monkey Fist bellowed as his monkey ninjas surged forward. Kim plucked a flash/bang from her vest, pulled the pin and tossed it toward the onrushing monkeys in one smooth motion. Ron had done the same, she saw. She shut her eyes and ducked her head just in time for the grenades to go off. Even through closed eyelids Kim saw the dazzle of burning magnesium and its accompanying thunderclap. She didn't actually hear Ron's grenade go off, but she did hear shrieks of surprise and the sounds of ricochets. Ron had thrown a sting ball instead of a flash/bang. Monkey Fist and his ninjas paused, some blinded, some deafened and disoriented, others merely hesitant. Kim grabbed Ron's wrist. "Let's get out here!" she exclaimed, and started toward the small tunnel. Ron followed hard on her heels.
"Stop them!" Monkey Fist cried. "Ron Stoppable must not escape!"
Not bothering to look back, Ron dropped a flash/bang and another sting ball as he Kim sprinted across the lab floor. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw dozens of monkey ninjas surging past them on either side, racing ahead to block their escape. Kim saw them also, tossed grenades of her own to discourage them, then drew her truncheon. The grenades Ron had dropped cooked off with undetermined results; neither he nor Kim bothered to look back. Instead they focused on the handful of monkey ninjas that had come through Kim's grenade attack to block the tunnel entrance. Ron's own truncheon came whistling from its belt loop, even as a pair of ninjas leapt at him. The shaft of the weapon connected with the head of the nearest monkey. There was a sickening crunch, and the monkey flew past, limp as an old rag, unconscious or dead. The next monkey landed on him, clawing at his head with its paws and feet. Ron's free hand closed around the creature's neck. A strong tug pulled the crazed beast away, and a quick jerk snapped its neck. Ron threw the corpse at a monkey that was attacking Kim, and then hammered another monkey to the floor as it jumped for her.
They practically drove down the stairs into the tunnel. Kim dropped another pair of grenades while Ron shut the door behind them. They ran. The grenades went off, and in the narrow confines of the tunnel the concussion hammered at them, even through the thick steel door. They crashed through Healey's offices without slowing down and charged into the main shop. Monkey ninjas came boiling out of the offices behind them.
"There," Ron cried, pointing at the rear wall of the shop. Large windows cut through the wall, and Ron hurled a sting ball at one of them. It exploded just short of the glass, shattering the entire pane. "Go!" Ron commanded. Kim sprinted for the opening, dove through it, tucked into a somersault and was on her feet and running for the van without ever slowing down.
Ron paused long enough to toss another sting ball at the advancing monkeys, then jumped through the window himself. He dropped two more grenades inside the building, falling to the ground to avoid the blast.
Kim jumped into the van and touched the ignition switch. The engine roared to life. Her fingers stabbed other buttons. The van shivered as the roof panels slid aside and the weapons pedestal reared up. The windshield flickered as the heads up targeting display came to life, and a joystick unfolded itself from a hidden compartment in the armrest. Grabbing it, Kim toggled through the weapon selection menu until she came to the minigun. She squeezed the trigger to its first detent. The van twisted as the six-barreled minigun spun up to its full speed of one thousand revolutions per minute. Ron jumped to his feet and started running for the van. Monkey ninjas began to pour through the broken window. Windows to either side broke as well, and small furry shapes began leaping through the jagged openings.
"Get down Ron," Kim said urgently.
Ron heard the gun spin up. Even as he began to throw himself flat, a memory flashed through his mind, of the first time he had fired the gun, at the Global Justice training facility at Twenty-nine Palms. He had been utterly enamored of the weapon, and to Kim's amusement had given it a nickname: The Dragon.
Ron fell flat, and Kim pressed the trigger to its second detent.
The Dragon roared.
Monkey ninjas blew apart as a hurricane of alloy jacketed lead tore into them. Ron cringed as a wave of hot gun gas washed over him, and his ears were assaulted by the drawn out blast of each burst.
Monkey Fist gaped in disbelief as the front ranks of his ninjas disintegrated. The ninjas were fanatically loyal to him, and feared nothing, not even death, but Fist realized instantly that this battle was over. To continue the attack would be a pointless waste.
"To me, my ninjas," he commanded. Those that could do so rejoined their master. Even as he activated the Boom Tube Fist threw a thought toward his foes. 'We will meet again,' he promised them.
Kim sat quietly on the front bumper of the van, taking in the scene around her. Ron sat cross legged on the ground next to her, his head dropped forward. A cacophony of shrieks moans and wails rose from wounded monkey ninjas. A pair of local veterinarians were making their way through the wreckage, putting down those too wounded to save, sedating those that might make a decent recovery. Ron, tender hearted animal lover that he was, flinched at each cry of pain, even more so as they came less often. Kim could almost feel the raw burn of his emotions, but the only comfort she could offer was a hand laid gently on his shoulder. Her own feelings were roiling as well. The sickening smell of blood and viscera mingled with the odor of hot brass and burnt cordite. Memories of the Eisenhower Tunnel bubbled up in her mind, including one of a charred corpse whose shriveled eyes seemed to stare at her accusingly. Red and blue light flashed from the dozen or so emergency vehicles that had swarmed to the Healey compound after the shooting stopped, bathing the area in an eerie glow.
Nearby, Trevor Healey, dressed in sweat pants and an old bathrobe, was having a heated argument with Chief Gordon.
"God damn it Gordon!" he raged. "These punks break into my buildings, intent on stealing who knows what, set off a bunch of fireworks, then riddle my shop with machinegun fire, and you aren't going to do anything! I DEMAND that you arrest them!"
"Calm down, Healey," Gordon replied, his own voice angry. "Ms. Possible has already explained to me that she and her partner believed Monkey Fist was in your building. That constitutes probable cause in my book, and even you can see that their suspicions were correct." Gordon gestured at the corpse strewn area beneath the windows.
Kim felt a flash of anger herself. How dare Healey pass himself off as the wronged party, as an innocent victim? She stood up and stalked over to him.
"And just what was Monkey Fist doing in you lab anyway, Healey?" she asked, acidly.
Healey glowered at her balefully. "And what were you doing in my lab, little missy?" he asked, his tone patronizing.
Kim ground her teeth. "You're in cahoots with Monkey Fist aren't you, rocket builder boy?"
Healey smiled coldly. "You may have had 'probable cause' to break into my lab," he said pleasantly, "but I can't see any probable cause for you to hack my computers. At least," he added contemptuously, "none that will stand up in court...Little Missy!"
Kim felt herself start to lose it. Her weight shifted in preparation for the lunge she was going to make at Healey when Chief Gordon's arm interposed itself.
"At ease, Possible," he commanded, his voice quiet but cracking like a whip. Then, for her ears alone: "He's baiting you. Don't take it."
Kim offered Healey a last, hateful glare, then return to her place at the van. Gordon took Healey's wrist and said, "Now Trevor, why don't you take me on a little tour of your facilities, so we can compile a list of the damages?" The words were polite enough, but they were an order, not a question.
A crowd of onlookers had been gathering almost from the beginning, and there were now several TV vans on the scene, as well as newspaper and radio reporters. The police were keeping them at bay, thankfully, but Kim knew she'd have to speak to them eventually, and she dreaded the notion. She was in no mood to speak to the press. There was a commotion in the ranks outside the police line, then Kara burst through, followed closely by Jonathan and Martha. Kara took little notice of the bloody aftermath of Kim and Ron's confrontation with Monkey Fist. No doubt she'd already seen everything. Jonathan and Martha hadn't. Martha shuddered and looked away from the mess, then made a beeline for Kim and Ron. Jonathan flinched slightly, but carefully swept the area with his eyes before following his wife.
Martha had apparently decided to get Kim and Ron away from the glare and confusion, and back to the security of the Kent farmstead, for she began bundling them toward the family car. Kara stood nearby, silent, her hands clenching and unclenching. Several times she made as if to speak, but stopped. Kim smiled in bitter amusement. Kara was probably the most powerful woman on Earth, and here she was, rendered helpless by that all too human failing: not knowing what to say. Jonathan told Kara to drive the Team Possible van back to the farm. She nodded silently. Jonathan spoke briefly with the deputy chief of police, who nodded and ordered his men to clear a path. Then, thank God, they were in the Kent's car and heading away from that dreadful place.
In the kitchen of the only place he had ever called home, Jonathan Kent sat down facing Kim and Ron. He had bustled Kara and Martha out of the room, so he could have a frank talk with the two friends. They hadn't said a word since leaving the lab, and Jonathan knew exactly why.
"I know how you feel," he said, simply.
"Like hell you do," Kim snapped. She cringed instantly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kent," she apologized, "I didn't mean that."
Jonathan only smiled. "Of course you did, Kim." Jonathan fixed the two with a steady gaze. "The day after I graduated from high school I took the bus to Wichita and enlisted in the army," he said quietly. "The Korean War was still going on, and I volunteered to go to over there, because I wanted to be able to say that I'd been in combat. I was eighteen years old and had never been outside of Kansas, and there I was, halfway 'round the world, wading through rice paddies with a rifle in my hands."
"I remember the first time I killed a man," he went on in that same, quiet voice. "My platoon was on patrol, and I was on flank. He probably was too. I don't know if he was North Korean or Chinese, but I think he was about my age. I saw him, he saw me. He rushed his shot and missed. I took my time...and didn't miss. He got this surprised look on his face. Then he sort of sat down, swayed a bit, then lay down like he was going to sleep." Jonathan's voice broke slightly as he said the last, and Kim looked up to see his eyes glistening. "I can see it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget that kid. And I hope I never do." He looked at them solemnly. "Pray that killing never becomes easy for you. I knew guys who could. Some of them even had the grace to be frightened by their own callousness." Words failed him at that point, so he simply reached out, took one of their hands in his own, and squeezed.
Neither Kim or Ron slept much that night, and if his appearance was any indicator, neither did Jonathan. 'Bad memories,' Kim assumed when she saw him at the breakfast table. He put on a cheerful air though, and supported Kara when she asked for a complete recount of what had happened. Kim and Ron took turns telling the tale. When they came to Monkey Fist's unexpected arrival Kara flinched at the phrase 'boom tube', so much so that her glass of orange juice exploded as her fingers crushed it effortlessly. She demanded an description of the effect. Ron provided one.
"Damn!" Kara swore vehemently. "Monkey Fist has himself an ally all right. Darkseid. Rao help us all."
