All-Purpose Disclaimer

Kim Possible is a registered trademark of Disney, Inc., part of the governmental plan to eradicate independent thought and free will through the use of obscure and hairless mammalian species and fiery redheads. If you play 'Emotion Sickness' backward, Kim's angry shouting is actually a message. It says, "Drink more Ovaltine."

Yeah, I hate that movie too. But Kim Possible is still groovy, subliminal programming and all.


Kim Possible
The Power of Trust

by Cyberwraith Nine


"You do not possess the nerve," Yori stated in a dead calm.

Kim Possible stood over the prone body of one Yori Akamatsu in the echoing expanse of an abandoned Tokyo warehouse. The tip of her grapnel gun wavered mere inches from the young ninja's throat. Both girls wore expressions of deadly seriousness, though their garb ranged from ninja chic to passé Kim-wear long since abandoned by fashion critics as the raving lunacy of a trend-backward teenage hero.

"Try me," growled Kim. Her grapnel tackled beneath Yori's chin, drawing the girl's face up. There was no trace of idle threat about her. The trigger creaked under her index finger as evidence of that. "Who is Simia? Why did she kidnap Ron?"

"I do not know."

The gun didn't move as Kim reached down and slapped Yori hard across the face. "Wrong answer," Kim spat. "Who is Simia? Why did she kidnap Ron?"

Clouds of rage gathered in Yori's eyes. "I do not know," she repeated.

This time, a backhand snapped Yori's head to one side. Blood welled up in the corner of her mouth. "Next time, it's my boot," warned Kim. "Now, who is Simia? Why did she kidnap Ron?" The grapnel's point dimpled Yori's perfect skin above her clavicle.

Rufus squealed at Kim's feet, watching the tense exchange, his whiskers flickering. "No," he wailed, torn between which of Ron's loves to aid. "No fight, no fight!"

The taste of her own blood infuriated Yori. "You seek your lost toy, Kimberly?" She sneered with disgust, unfazed by the improvised weapon poised to evacuate her skull. "You are pathetic. You care nothing for Ron-kun."

"He's my best friend!" Kim shouted.

"You know nothing of him!" Yori shouted back. "You mourn the loss of your sidekick? Such insincere platitudes are too late, and nothing compared to my loss." Tears threatened the edges of her almond eyes, watering down her contempt blazing at Kim's face. "I have lost a Champion, a friend, and a fiancé, all in the space of a moment." She took a deep breath, and sent a wad of bloody spittle onto Kim's cheek. "Kill me," she challenged. "I will never betray my honor. You can burn in hell." Yori closed her eyes and adopted a look of final peace, wondering in the back of her terrified, sorrowful mind if her ancestors would greet her with proud cheers or disappointed scolding upon her arrival.

Kim let the dishonoring blow trickle down her cheek unopposed. Another micron of pressure would send her climbing spike into Yori's jaw and out the top of Yori's head. Since the moment they met, this Japanese upstart had been nothing but trouble, a walking headache in sexy, skintight spandex. Kim's worst nightmare made real; the girl who would come along and steal the best part of her away. This two-faced bitch had turned her own best friend against her, and now refused to answer basic questions that could be the difference between Ron living and dying. One more micron of pressure. There were no witnesses, save for the two, saucer-sized eyes of a sad, naked mole rat.

The pressure vanished from beneath Yori's chin. She opened her eyes, half expecting to see her grandfather waiting with open arms to welcome her into the next chapter of her existence. Instead, it was Kim's hand waiting, ready to help Yori from the floor. The redhead's eyes were mere slits of emerald fury, but her grapnel gun waited by her side, pointed harmlessly at the floor. "You aren't worth it," she growled.

Yori took the hand with a smug smile of triumph. "She can do anything," she mocked the heroine. Kim turned away, but Yori kept pushing her luck. "Ron-san was wrong about you. You-"

Kim's heel hooked across Yori's jaw in a vicious reverse kick. Yori rolled reflexively with the blow, which hurt nonetheless. Spinning, she returned with the exact same kick. Kim's reflexes were not as quick to react, and her head reeled sideways in an explosion of pain. Kim tasted copper as her vision tried setting the interior of the warehouse back in order.

Adrenaline charged every fiber of Yori's being, quickening her breath. Her bosom heaved with excitement and surprise. "Perhaps there is some fight in you after all."

Kim felt something hard rolling around in her mouth. She brought the object to her lips and spit. Her tooth, pink with blood, bounced against the concrete, forgotten. "I won't kill you," Kim told her. "I'm better than that. So I'll just wail on you until you start telling me what I need to know."

"You? Fight me?" Yori laughed. "And here I believed Ron-kun to be the funny one."

"I hear the talk," taunted Kim, "Now walk the walk."

Both girls yowled and flew at each other. Years of training and countless hours of conditioning were tossed aside like so much refuse as they smashed together in midair and fell to the floor. A living tangle of lithe limbs tore at itself, scratching, pulling hair, punching, biting, and screaming. Kim yelped when Yori's clenched fist came away with a fluttering ribbon of red, but drew the same noise from Yori when her foot plowed into the ninja's ample chest.

The pulled away and stood, glaring and circling one another. Yori rubbed at her right breast and snarled, "You are a selfish, contemptible wretch. You do not deserve him."

"Stole the words right out of my mouth," retorted Kim. Blood leftover from Simia's shiruken still smeared her cheek. Still more of the stuff trickled from her lips. The back of her hand cleaned away some of it in a callous sweep from her chin as she considered the formidable opponent in front of her. Still not totally convinced that Yori wasn't part of the whole 'Monkey Magic' scheme, Kim could no longer remember any of it. Hatred had wiped clean her mind, leaving only violent rage, and one very unlucky recipient to take it out on. "Let's end this," she barked.

"That suits me perfectly," Yori returned.

Nose to nose, it seemed they were doomed to go back to blows, until Rufus leapt between them. A foreclaw and a hind claw planted themselves each on both girls' faces before Rufus stretched his body outward, forcing them apart. "No fight," he squeaked, "No fight! Gotta run!"

Only then did Kim notice the flashing colors filtering through the broken windows of the warehouse. She looked to Yori, who held a similar fearful recognition in her features. The still, metallic body lying facedown on the dusty floor, next to the shattered remains of a priceless relic, on top of the true villain's absence, painted a picture even Kim's world-renowned reputation couldn't combat. "Time to go," she said.

"Agreed." Yori started for the door, then stopped as she heard muted mutters and quiet footsteps through the aluminum siding. Though adequately stealthy to slip past most everyone's notice, the Tokyo policemen didn't have what it took to fool Yori. "The door," she hissed. "Where can we-?"

Kim had already recollected her grapnel gun. Her mind ran through complex calculations, taking into account the warehouse's dimensions, both inside and out. It would be tricky, but doable. "How much do you weigh?" she asked Yori.

"I don't see what-"

"How much?"

An impatient breath quelled Yori's irritation. "About forty-six kilos," she replied.

"Fine." Kim took several steps back and shifted to the right, judging the angle and speed they would need. An empty window high above and far behind Yori's head loomed in Kim's eyes, though she did hear the rattling of a doorknob that hastened their need to escape. "Get ready to grab my legs, and don't let go, whatever happens," Kim told her. She waited until Yori nodded, then reached down toward her tiny friend. "Rufus, climb on."

Once Rufus had tucked himself in her cargo pocket, Kim allowed herself no hesitation. The grapnel gun kicked in her grip, sending its climbing spike hurtling toward the ceiling. It sunk through the thin metal, extending its claws after and securing itself as the line grew taut once more. Kim reset the gun's trigger to begin winching the line at full power on her command, said a brief prayer, and then sprinted at Yori with every ounce of speed she possessed.

Kim's clever plan at last became clear to Yori. She did not panic when she saw her reviled rival charging at her, but instead braced herself for the impact. A mere meter before she bowled Yori over, Kim squeezed the trigger again, then held on for dear life as her gun yanked her skyward. The ninja felt a massive impact in her shoulders as Kim's legs swung into her. Yori wrapped her arms around the olive green limbs and flew backward, completely blind to their path.

The gun's tiny motor whined in protest of the taxing task of zip-lining the two girls up at an angle. She squeezed the trigger again, signaling for the gun to cease winching the line in. Though the line grew slack, the momentum they had accumulated continued them up and toward Kim's target, the dagger-edged broken window. For a moment, Kim feared their velocity would be too slow, and that they would slam into the wall, only to be discovered by the police moments later as two massive lumps of fleshy broken bones. But Wade's engineering, as it always did, pulled through in a pinch. With inches to spare, Kim and Yori sailed through the glass teeth of the window and out into free air.

Kim mashed her tensed finger down onto the trigger a third time, instructing the gun to begin releasing the line. As they sailed up and out, the nylon rope caught on the window's top edge, drawing their path in a loop back the way they had come. Horizontal and flipping upside down, Kim realized too late she had miscalculated; the line wouldn't release fast enough to carry them over to the roof. Already, the rusted aluminum siding dominated her view, soon to be the last thin she saw before blacking out as she fell to her death.

The impact rattled her teeth, but wasn't as painful as she had imagined it would be, courtesy of gravity's deceleration. Still upside down, she looked down and wondered with a sliver of morbid curiosity stuck in her overwhelming terror what it would look and feel like to crash face first into the pavement below. That morbid curiosity became predominant when she didn't feel the stomach-churning sensation of freefall. She twisted around, trying to see what had saved them.

"Do not move." Yori's voice sounded strained. Her arms still held Kim's legs in a viselike grip. Her own legs were hooked over the edge of the building, held there through a combination of powerful muscles, indomitable willpower, and stupid luck. Every time Kim jiggled, Yori's legs slipped another centimeter. "I will swing you up to the ledge. Do you understand?" Kim cut her grapple line and shouted an affirmative.

The muscles in Yori's legs screamed as she began rocking at the hips, sending Kim back and forth like a pendulum. Kim swung higher each time, straining her arms at each apex to grab hold of the building's ledge. Yori felt her legs slipping with each turn. To continue would mean her death, and probably Kim's. She didn't even like Kim, and certainly didn't like the idea of dying for her. Yet the thought of dropping her never crossed Yori's mind.

Kim strained, stretched, and snagged the lip of the roof, pulling and twisting to hook her heel as well. Just as she got a solid grip, Yori's sleek, skintight attire betrayed her, sliding her precious hold straight off the edge. 'I have done all I can, ancestors,' She spoke silently. 'Watch over him for me in my absence, and-' But that was all the time she had for prayer before Kim's hand clamped onto her ankle and jerked her back up.

Still hanging halfway off the ledge, Kim grunted against the weight. Her cut cheek pressed into the icy metal, burning, but she wasn't going to let Yori drop. "Same plan," Kim called, "Other way around. Ready?" Yori echoed back, and so Kim began swinging her to and fro. Within moments, Yori reached the roof as well, hooking an arm and a leg just like Kim. Once secure, both girls rolled the rest of the way onto the roof.

For a moment, they just lay there, taking breaths of cold air in great, gulping heaves. Kim felt Rufus root his way out of her pocket and flop out, squeaking a relieved sigh. Then, charged with adrenaline, they began to laugh in gasps, coming off of the high that only a life-and-death situation could bring. They looked to each other with wide smiles, laughing together for the first time.

Kim pulled her Kimmunicator out and thumbed the contact switch. Its screen hissed with static before Wade's image and voice broke through. "-im, can you hear me? The police are on their way, and-"

"New plan, Wade," sighed Kim. "Call us a quick extraction. We still have a favor coming from the CIA?" Before he could answer, she continued, "We need a ride. I want to be out of here in twenty minutes."

Wade jolted back, spitting up a mouthful of Purple Flurp that washed over his digital camera and bathed his image in violet. "I can't just order the CIA around!"

She scoffed. "Then remind them who recovered their code module before Dementor had a chance to auction it off." The line clicked shut before he could argue any more. Kim rolled to her feet and looked back. Yori was already up and about, and looking over the edge. "Did they spot us?"

"I do not believe so," replied Yori. She guided Kim's gaze with an upturned finger. A patrol car sat between the warehouses, its lights flashing away and its innards emptied of police. Doubtless they were inside, discovering Fiske's broken body, Simia's broken idol, and a grapnel line hanging from the middle of the ceiling for no apparent reason. "We are safe," Yori sighed.

Stars exploded behind Yori's eyes as something pounded into her jaw. She spun back to the rippled aluminum roof, bouncing once more and then falling still. The world blackened before she could feel the rough steel toe of a boot flipping her onto her back.

Kim rubbed at her knuckles. Blood and mucus still swam in her mouth. Though tempting, she spit the offending taste well away from Yori. "Good," she sneered.


Somehow, from some unknown corner of existence, the world began to filter back in through the swirling black void, accompanied by a throbbing that threatened to split Yori's skull in twain. Her eyes fluttered open, spying a twitching field of pink that chattered excitedly in her face. Prickling whiskers tickled her nose, and a set of paws danced on her head. "Uhh…" moaned Yori. The attempt at speech only made the pink more excited. "Rufus-san?"

"Get off of her, Rufus," an irritated voice snapped. Rufus' face vanished, replaced by the tacky, dim interior of Apartment Twenty-Six. The dull, beige walls hurt her sensitive eyes, which longed to return to blissful black. An aching pain in her entire body agreed.

Something walked up in front of her and grasped her head roughly, pulling at her eyelid and forcing it open. The searing light silhouetted the something's slender frame. "Your pupils look fine. You'll live." The something tossed her head aside and walked away.

Yori wanted to go after the something as it circled some kind of counter (the kitchen? Nothing seemed to be coming clearly to her), but her arms and legs refused to move. As her senses grew sharper, she became aware of the tight feeling in her chest, the hard lines of a chair pressed into her back, and the thick cuffs of metal clenched at her wrists. She shifted to either side, feeling her chair tilt with her. "What…?"

The something knelt down, disappearing behind the row of cabinets so that only its ginger mane remained in view. "Try not to move around too much," warned the something. "I doped you up with some muscle relaxants. Got them after a skiing accident in the Alps. Ron and I were saving…" It paused, rising p to glare at Yori with glimmering green eyes. "Never mind. The point is, I figure they'll help you stay put. Assuming that the cuffs on your hands and feet, and the ten yards of climbing rope I trussed you up in, aren't enough to discourage you."

"But why?" Yori asked with a tongue too big for her mouth.

A snort erupted from its vile, cute little nose. "You don't want to talk," it snapped, "Fine. But I'm not about to let you go ninjaing around. Until you start coughing up some honesty with me, you're staying put."

The something began to come into focus. "Kim," moaned Yori. "How did we get back to Upperton?"

"I don't like flying government jets over Dreidleton," Kim muttered, hunting through the shelves in their kitchen. "It spooks the neighbors. Didn't have much choice this time. Where is it?" she hissed to herself. Dishes flew out and cracked against the floor in her hastened search, unnoticed in Kim's furious search. Then she snapped her fingers. "Bedroom."

The ropes held tight against Yori's struggle to follow Kim around the room and through her bedroom door. "Kimberly," she slurred, "You must release me. Only together do we stand a chance-"

Kim was well beyond Yori's pitiful plea. Now her closet suffered her impatience, belching up outfit after outfit into heaps upon the floor as she plumbed its depths. At last, with an outburst of success, she withdrew a long, metallic bandoleer, attached to which were four gleaming spheres. The silvery surface of each sphere broke only for an activation switch seated on a band of color 'round their midsections. Kim recalled the day Wade had presented her with this weapons project of his, and her own disgusted protests, saying how she would never use them. "Funny how soon 'never' sneaks up on you," she noted humorlessly.

The cool grenades bobbed on their breakaway attachment rings as she touched each one, recalling their functions out of a long-forgotten conversation. 'Blue is for knockout gas,' she thought, mouthing the words as they passed through her mind. 'Yellow is an adhesive compound. Green is a concussion blast. Red…' She paused, running her finger along the crimson band of the last grenade. The incendiary. It would barbecue anything within sprinting distance, or so Wade had told her. She loathed weapons, preferring to put her faith in her own hands and her own skills. Only now, without backup, those trustworthy tools might not be enough.

She tossed the bandoleer onto her bed. Next came her filthy mission togs, which she peeled away from her sticky, sweaty, bloodied skin. Her fingers brushed against the bruises covering her naked body, turned black and blue since that morning, and she was struck at once with her own exhaustion. The allure of her bed became too much, and she fell onto its downy comforter, staring up at the ceiling and promising herself to rest only a moment.

A two-toned childhood friend caught her attention at the edge of her vision, tangled in the red hair splayed above her atop the bed. Reaching up, she snagged the distraction and held it above her face, examining it a moment. The beaded eyes of her Pandaroo stared back at her with a mischievous glint, grinning its threaded smile and offering its arms out for a stubby embrace, just as it always did. Kim accepted, and hugged the plush to her chest, burying her nose between its floppy ears. Something cold pressed into her skin, sending her hurtling back into her own past.

"Happy birthday, KP," a nervous five-year-old Ron Stoppable said to his feet, which could not seem to stop their nervous shuffling. The eyes of every Possible in the room shone at him, much to his dismay.

Kim beamed. It was her first birthday party, and the first time she had ever brought a friend over. Her parents had offered to let any number of her friends come to help her celebrate her fifth birthday. Still shy around others, Kim had only one friend close enough to even consider inviting over for such an important day. Well, two, if you counted Ron's imaginary friend, Rufus, which Kim didn't. Eager to the point of bursting, Kim took the festively-adorned box from his hands. "Thanks, Ronnie," she said.

"Oh," cooed Mrs. Possible, "Isn't that just darling?" The room exploded with light as Kim's father snapped an album's worth of pictures. Still cradling her infant twins in her arms, she said, "Go on and open it, Kimmie."

The wrapping paper could not defend the box's contents from Kim's glee, and yielded in strips and scraps. Faced with a plain cardboard box, Kim delved further, popping its lid with clumsy fingers. The contents inside elicited a delighted shriek, and flew into her hands, a black and white blur of pure ecstasy. "It's a Cuddle Buddy!"

"A Pandaroo," Ron provided needlessly to the expert on the subject. "I 'member you saying how much you wanted one."

Cool metal pressed into her cheek as she squeezed the mish-mashed animal. She pulled it away to discover a small, flattened silvery heart dangling from Pandaroo's waist via a thin red ribbon that disappeared into its pouch. "Pretty," she whispered as the nickel's worth of metal spun before her astonished eyes. She tucked the heart back into Pandaroo's pouch for safekeeping, then rediscovered her exuberance and threw her arms around Ron's shoulders. "Oh, thank you, Ron, thank you!"

"Ack!" squirmed the little boy. "Cooties!"

Kim poked at the swinging heart now, pulling herself away from happier times and back into the present. "I won't let you down, Ron," she confided to the doll. "Not now. Not ever."

Still exhausted, Kim couldn't bear to lie still for another minute. She got up and dressed quickly into a fresh set of mission clothes, hesitating only a moment before ducking underneath the metal bandoleer and settling its weight onto her shoulder. The Pandaroo returned to its roost among the crisp lines of her bed. Best to leave the past behind; where she would go, there could be no attention afforded to memory, happy or otherwise. When her bedroom door opened again, it was Kim Possible, world adventurer and doer of anything who stepped out, leaving her moping teenage look-alike in her wake.

The Kimmunicator hummed to life, bringing with it Wade's haggard image. "What up, Kim?" he managed.

Kim stalked across the room, ignoring Yori's drunken protest and Rufus' chattering. "Wade, set me up with the fastest ride you've got. Call in every favor if you have to, I don't care what it takes."

"Where to?"

"You tell me," she answered, reaching their coat closet. She pulled a knapsack out and began loading it up with fresh equipment, including a new grapnel gun. "Put a trace on Ron's tracking chip."

Wade sighed. "Kim, you know I removed that thing years ago. Ron's a human being, not a migrating yak. Ethics demanded that I take it out-"

"Wade!"

The bitter snarl led him to finish seamlessly, "-and replace it with an even better one." Even through his sheepishness, Wade's technical pride shone through. "Accurate to within-"

"Fine." She terminated the signal in the middle of his self adulation and shouldered her backpack. "Rufus." The naked mole rat snapped to attention at her feet. Kim knelt down, bringing her face as close to his as she could. "I know I can count on you, Rufus."

Rufus nodded and saluted. "Uh huh, uh huh!"

Her eyes shot sideways at the metal folding chair laden with her rival. "But I also know you and Yori have a history together."

At this, Rufus melted into a puddle. His face floated at the top, blinking large, sad eyes. "Uhhhnnnnn…"

Kim reached out and collected the putty rodent, helping him reassume his natural shape. "So I won't ask you to pick sides. Rufus, I want you to sit this one out."

"Uhn? No!" squawked Rufus.

She set him gently on the counter and gave his head a pat. "Wait for me here," she asked of him, "And I'll be back with our Ron in no time."

"Your Ron?" Yori scoffed thickly from across the room. A contemptuous laugh hounded Kim even at her approach. The imposing teen dynamo inspired no fear in Yori. Whether it was because Yori honestly didn't dread the look of baleful rage simmering in Kim's face, or because she was drugged up to the nines, neither of them knew. "You still treat him like an object. Your only thoughts are for yourself. That is why you will fail," she lamented, this time in a mournful tone and without any accusation. "And we will all die. My beloved Ron-kun will doom the world to a new Dark Age."

Kim trembled, willing away the urge to shut Yori's smart mouth. "You listen, and you listen good." Every word brought their faces closer to one another, and cut through the cotton haze of Yori's tranquilizers. "Ron loves you."

That got Yori's attention. "I was expecting…not that," she admitted.

"I get that," continued Kim, heedless of Yori's words. "I also get that there's nothing I can do about it. So I'll get you your beloved back. But before I do," she added, "I'm going to get back the boy who used to drive my dad nuts when he'd eat all our leftovers. I'm going to save the boy whose knees I'd band-aid when he learned to ride his bike." The choked words brought no tears to Kim's eyes, only determination. "I want the boy whose cast I signed, and who I stuck by the whole summer when he thought he could fly off of his roof." Nose to nose, Kim growled at Yori, "Christmas is in four days. I haven't spent a Christmas without him since I was six, and I'm not starting now."

As Kim pulled away, Yori could not help but consider her in a new light. "I sometimes forget that you two have spent your entire lives together," she admitted.

Kim stopped at the door and looked back. "Ron's stronger than any of us realize. He's stronger than I'll ever be, and aside from the occasional rescue, he doesn't need me." Bitter laughter played a pair of tears down her cheeks. Her resolve flickered even as she spoke, so she hastened her words. "But you're right," she choked, "I am only thinking of myself. Because I'm the one that needs him."

"You cannot do this alone," Yori insisted. "Release me. Together, we have a chance."

Her tears gave way to shame, and she wiped the treacherous emotion from her face. "Tell me why they took him. What's all this 'Chosen One' business?" Yori looked away, restoring the stone around Kim's heart. "Fine. See you later."

The door thundered close, leaving Yori with what she knew would be her last memory of Kim Possible. "Goodbye, Kimberly-san," she called.

To Be Continued