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 and Ron paused outside the auxiliary launch control center. A quick peek through the still open blast door revealed Monkey Fist, standing with his back to them, surrounded by dozens of monkey ninjas. Fist was watching a large display that showed what seemed to be the flight path of his rocket as it headed north. Sidebars on the screen showed that both the U.S. and Russian militaries had gone to higher levels of alert.
'Not surprising,' Kim thought grimly. 'I hope the hotline between Washington and Moscow still works.'
Monkey Fist was hooting and gibbering, jumping around and waving his arms. He looked for all the world like an excited chimpanzee, and his followers seemed just as ecstatic. Kim glanced at Ron. He met her gaze, and she could see in his expression that he was thinking the exact same thing she was. He nodded once. Kim stepped forward.
"Care to translate that into a civilized language Fiske?" she sneered.
The mad Englishman whirled. "Kim Possible!" he shrieked. "How...?" Even as he spoke, monkey ninjas moved to form a screen between their master and the intruders.
"With a little help from my friends," Kim provided, still sneering.
Fiske composed himself, his face growing cold and still. "No matter. There's nothing you or your tech geek friend can do to stop my rocket, not now, and soon the mind control ray aboard my satellite will make me ruler of the world!"
"True," Kim agreed pleasantly. "There's nothing we can do," she said, gesturing at herself and Ron. "But I'm sure Supergirl can manage it." The words had no sooner left her mouth when the ground trembled and a loud crash echoed through the tunnels. Kim suspected at once that Kara had been listening to them, and chose to time her departure for maximum dramatic effect. "I think that was her leaving," she added, a cloyingly sweet smile on her lips.
Monkey Fist smiled back; a cold, condescending smile. "She'll find I'm well prepared for her interference, thanks to my friends."
"You mean Darkseid? We know all about your little alliance and believe me, mind control ray or no, Supergirl can handle whatever tricks you've got up your sleeve."
"We'll see," Fiske allowed. "In the meantime, I'll correct a previous mistake. No more leaving you alone in a deathtrap; I'll kill you myself, and cut your hearts out to make sure you're dead."
"Bring it on, freak," Kim challenged, waving him forward as she assumed a fighting stance. Before Monkey Fist could accept, Ron stepped up and stuck and arm in front of Kim. "No," he said quietly, "you'll fight me." Ron set his shotgun aside. "Just you and me, Fiske. Mano a monkey."
Monkey Fist bared his teeth in a savage grin. "You do realize that 'mano a mano' doesn't mean 'man to man' but 'hand to hand', don't you?"
"Whatever," Ron growled. "Get over here and fight, you diseased loony."
With a howl of rage Monkey Fist launched himself at Ron, who sprang forward to meet him. Kim watched, awe and worry competing for prominence in her thoughts. The monkey ninjas had drawn back to the perimeter of the chamber and were watching in utter silence. Almost faster than the eye could follow, the combatants kicked, punched, blocked, leapt and dodged. Kim knew Ron had been dabbling in a couple of martial arts, and working out with a Marine hand to hand combat instructor on loan to Global Justice, but she had no idea he'd made so much progress. But as good as he was, Fiske seemed to have the edge. True, Ron had the advantages of height, reach, mass and strength, but Fiske was fast, blindingly fast. The would be monkey master landed three blows for every one of Ron's that connected. As the fight progressed it became clear to Kim that the outcome would depend on whether Ron's ability to take damage would outlast Monkey Fist's ability to inflict it.
Kara broke the sound barrier ten seconds after she crashed through the doors covering the silo. She was already a mile up and gaining velocity with every passing second. When the last vestiges of blue were gone from the sky she was fifty miles up, a hundred miles downrange, and moving over eighty-four hundred miles per hour. Two minutes had elapsed. Kara followed the rocket's exhaust trail with her telescopic vision. The rocket, which had shed its first and second stages, was a thousand miles ahead of her, and one hundred miles higher. It was still accelerating, albeit at a much lower rate, and still climbing. She plucked a breather mask from her belt. She didn't need the mask for the air it provided; she could hold her breath for several hours. Unfortunately, sound didn't carry well in a vacuum, and she needed to use her Justice League communicator.
"Watchtower, this is Supergirl. I have a situation here."
"I'd say you do," the husky voice of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, crackled in her ears. "The Americans and Russians are a bit excited."
"I can imagine," Kara grinned wryly. "Can you patch me through to them?"
"Affirmative, switching now."
There was a hiss of static, then a new voice spoke to her. "Supergirl?"
"Yes."
"I'm General Thomas Greentree, C-in-C NORAD. What's going on?"
She explained quickly. Ahead, Monkey Fist's rocket was passing over Canada's Great Slave Lake.
"Understood," General Greentree said when she finished. "We're going to try to knock it down. The ABM's are launching from Alaska now." Kara glanced to the northwest. From a base near Prudhoe Bay, three refurbished Minuteman I missiles were ascending into the Arctic sky. X-ray vision showed that each of them was carrying an x-ray laser warhead. Doing the math in her head, Kara estimated that the American missiles would intercept Monkey Fist's toy over Banks Island in the Beaufort Sea. The geometry was iffy even then, and the American's wouldn't get a second shot. 'I hope three are enough,' she wished.
For her part Kara was gaining ground. The range had fallen to eight hundred miles. The third stage of the rocket had burned out, released the satellite, and fallen away. The satellite itself was passing over the wrinkled expanse of Admunsen Gulf. Ahead loomed Banks Island. Kara could just make out the town of Sachs Harbor on the southwest coast of the large island. "I hope no-one is looking up," she murmured. Her eyes were stabbed by the harsh white glare of a trio of nuclear explosions. X-ray lasers, generated by the power of the exploding nukes, lashed Monkey Fist's satellite. And did nothing. The satellite disappeared inside a brightly glowing sphere, reemerging as the glow faded. Kara swore. "It's got a force field. The satellite is still intact." Eyes narrowing, she sent a blast of heat vision ahead. The glowing sphere returned, but not as bright as before.
General Greentree shared her sentiments. "We've shot our bolt," he said. "The Russians will have the next crack at it, unless you..."
"Negative. My heat vision is too weak. I'll have to do this the old fashioned way, and we'll be over the pole and heading south by the time I catch up with it."
"Very well. I'll switch you over to Russian Air Defense."
Ron and Monkey Fist were drenched in sweat, and both men showed signs of fatigue, not surprising since they'd been at it nonstop for several minutes. Neither seemed able to gain the upper hand, but then, by luck or skill, Monkey Fist got past Ron's guard. Ron's head snapped sideways and blood sprayed from his nose. Kim started to cry out in dismay, but changed it to a cheer when Ron, turning with the blow, caught Fiske in the chest with a kick that sent him flying. Breathing heavily, Ron turned to face his foe again, pausing only to wipe the sweat from his face.
"This has gone far enough," Monkey Fist growled. He rose from were he had fallen, a sword in his hands.
"Cheater!" Ron cried.
"Villain!" Monkey Fist snapped.
Ron plucked his knife from its sheath and threw it. Monkey Fist swatted it aside and leapt at Ron. Ron's dodge was only partially successful. Fist's blade swung in a glittering arc. Ron yelped in pain as blood spurted from his forearm. He staggered back, and Monkey Fist gathered himself for another leap. He never made it. As he prepared to spring, Kim slammed into him, knocking him off balance. Fist swung blindly. The flat of the blade smacked Kim in the head, stunning her and sending her sprawling. With a triumphant howl Monkey Fist raised the sword over his head. "DDDiiiieee!" he bellowed.
BOOM!
The blast reverberated in the small space. Monkey Fist gaped at the red stain spreading across his chest. The sword slid from his hands. Staggering backwards, his fingers clutched at his chest, as if his twitching digits could turn the mass of shredded goo that had been his heart into a functional organ again. Ron was leaning against the wall, holding his still smoking shotgun. "You first," he said weakly.
Monkey Fist fell backward and lay still. Monkey ninjas, suddenly bereft of leadership, turned toward Ron. "Get out of here" he snapped. As one the monkeys turned and fled. Ron sagged to the floor. Putting down the gun he clamped a hand over the bone deep cut on his arm. He grinned feebly at Kim. "Little help here, K.P?"
Kara caught up with the satellite just north of Severnaya Zemlya, the islands that were Russia's northernmost territory. Ironically, they marked the boundary between the Arctic Ocean and the Kara Sea. Six Russian ABM's were already on their way. Fitted with twenty megaton warheads, they would try to accomplish with brute force what the Americans had failed to manage with finesse. 'And succeed where I failed, too,' she admitted. The shield protecting the satellite had proved stronger than she could defeat. She had pushed it near its limit, perhaps, and might have battered it down with enough time, but there were populated areas ahead, and no time for pride.
Increased heat output from the satellite's generator warned her that it was about to fire. She watched curiously as a fan shaped spray of energy reached down. It looked as if the ray would sweep a path about fifty miles wide and...
Kara's eyes widened. Far below, the beam swept over seabirds, shallow swimming fish, even a few breaching whales. And killed them all. "Death ray!" Trust Darkseid to betray even a willing ally. Kara rolled on her back and dove beneath the killer satellite. She flew into the beam, taking it square in the chest but blocking it entirely.
As a child on Argo, Kara had participated in water fights. Once, she and her friends had gone to a firefighter's picnic where they learned what it was like to be hit by the stream from a big hose. The death ray was worse. It hammered at her relentlessly. She felt like she couldn't breathe, and had to fight rising panic and the urge to gasp for air. She looked ahead. The Russian warheads were close. "Any second now..." Kara squeezed her eyes shut. Even through her invulnerable eyelids the flash was blinding.
