A/N: Dear lord I was reading over this and I'm wondering if I should bother posting the rest. Maybe it's just me but this part seems so tedious to me. Thing is it gets better once I'm past all the damn back story and setting up. Let me know what you think. Please, no review is too harsh or too nice. I just want to know if I should keep posting this or keep it to myself.
Forgotten446: There is humor in the full story, but it's hidden alot. It's also my own twisted brand of social commentary. Brr highschools. And you'll find out who the guy in the cave is in one or two more chapters, depending on how I break them up.
Chapter 3: The pieces are all falling into place
In a place far away from Middleton a large black man sat at a desk. His name was Cobra Bubbles and he
was currently on a secure phone line talking to the president of the Galactic Alliance. It seemed her
intelligence had confirmed his organization's fears. Hamsterville had escaped and was back on earth.
What was worse was that the demented alien rodent was not alone. Glancing at the files before him Cobra
selected two. The names on the labels were Shego and Doctor Drakken. Scanning through the rather dense
files he began to recite the information to the president. She had shared her notes on both Hamsterville and
Gantu, once the pair had been deemed a global threat. In other words five minutes ago.
"Let's see. Dr. Drakken, formally Drew Lipsky is an evil scientist bent on taking over the world. His plans
tend to be overly complex and he is often defeated by a teenager. Her name is Kim Possible."
He could hear the Grand Council Woman's chuckles over the poor connection.
"He hardly seems to be a threat Agent Bubbles."
"I wouldn't underestimate him Madam President. He has been known to show surprising bursts of both
ingenuity and capability. More worrisome is his assistant, Shego. Formerly of the Go team, a band of
heroes, Shego disappeared shortly before the group collapsed after their defeat by an unknown assailant."
"Unknown?" Her voice sounded skeptical. Frankly Cobra couldn't believe it either. Most self-styled
supervillans loved to brag about their powers. Apparently this one liked to keep to himself, let his actions
speak for him. He said as much.
"Even worse is that her fighting style is one that is practically unknown. We haven't actually managed to
discover its origin but we do realize that it utilizes Shego's natural, strength, agility, and other abilities to
their fullest potential, making her a dangerous foe. Her seemingly natural ability to summon and discharge a
greenish plasma makes it worse. The only fighter able to hold her own against Shego is the teenager I
mentioned. Her name is Kim Possible. Her fighting style closely resembles Shego's. We think they may have
the same origin. I believe that Ms. Possible, along with her assistants should be enough to deal with both
Drakken and Hamsterville. Just in case I will contact two of our Hawaiian agents and have them ready to help
Ms. Possible in any way they can."
"Splendid. As you know we regrettably have our hands full the moment, otherwise I would send down a
retrieval squad myself. I hope all goes well on your end. The galactic alliance will do its best to end the threat
we face now, once and for all. Good day Agent Bubbles."
With that the line dropped dead, leaving Cobra alone. The truth was all this was bullshit. But still, Earth now
served as the planet of exile for one of the galactic alliance's most dangerous outcasts. It was both his pleasure
and his vexation to work with the family that had adopted the creature. He'd once been CIA, had saved the
planet once. Up until now he'd been happily retired, working in Child Services. Things had changed drastically.
Suddenly he was being tapped by the EDA once more. Because it was a secret, shady government organization,
the EDA considered him merely inactive, instead of retired. He couldn't argue, he really was the best person for
this job. All it really entailed was recruiting the correct agents, and pulling some strings. After that all he'd have
to do was wait. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get Kim Possible to Hawaii. At this point the direct
approach seemed best.
Rain fell onto a small island. It was different from all other islands. There were similarities of course. Like the
other islands that made up the state of Hawaii, there were verdant patches, filled with lucius trees. These verdant
patches were fed by regular rainstorms, like its brethren. This island's indigenous animal population was no
different than that of the other islands of Hawaii. What separated it from all other islands the world over was the
inhabitants of the small town. Yes there were the normal humans that you can find the world over, but this small
island also had a rather odd extended family that graced its shores. These cousins came in all shapes, in all sizes.
Each had a specific place in life, more so than most people. These cousins aided the people who made their homes
there; serving as sushi chefs, hair stylists, and aiding the local businesses as only they could. These disconfigered
dogs, aided the populace of this small island, but it wasn't always that way. Each of these cousins had once been
the definition of evil, terrorizing the populace without remorse. One could hardly blame them. They had been
carefully crafted to fulfill such objectives. They were truly works of evil genius. One in particular had terrorized the
galaxy. His name was experiment 626. His appetite for destruction and invulnerable exterior made him an
unstoppable terror. That was before Lilo. The little girl had done the impossible, had tamed the wild experiment,
caused it to desire good. She caused experiment number 626 to become Stitch. Since the discovery of Stitch's cousins,
other creatures programmed for destruction, both Lilo and Stitch have searched for them, to give them the same chance
Stitch had. They continually raced to find the first six hundred and twenty-five experiments created by the formerly evil
genius Jumba.
Unfortunately they were not alone in searching for the experiments. Jumba's old partner, the still evil doctor Jacq Vaun
Hamsterville, also pursued Stitch's cousins. Their potential for destruction causing the evil hamster like alien to enlist
aid in the capture of the experiments. It was his aid that crashed through one of the island's pristine jungles even now.
The being known as Gantu, a large alien resembling a cross between a whale and an eight foot tall man, was once the
leader of the Galactic Alliance's fleet. Now, because of his recklessness during the campaign to recover the escaped
Stitch, he was merely a stooge of Jacq Vaun Hamsterville. An experiment was slung over his shoulder in one of the
special containers that could hold even the strongest of the creatures. The little pink siren, experiment 624, had the
ability to corrupt those who were good with the sound of her voice. He had found her first. Had sought to use her against
the girl and the little blue trog, his favorite swear word when dealing with Jumba's creations. That plan had backfired.
She'd betrayed him, her affection for the blue pest overriding her own vile nature. But he had the last laugh, he'd snatched
experiment 624 away at the last second, leaving the little trog heartbroken. He never saw the blue ball explode from out of
the trees.
It slammed into him, a mass of fur and muscle. The blow sent the giant fish like alien teetering to the ground. The experiment
capsule rolled away, jarred free from its resting place by the impact. Stitch uncurled, snarling a he did so. A harsh stream of
syllables leapt from his mouth.
"Mega nala quista!"
Once more the fluffy blue alien launched itself at Gantu, knocking the giant back before he could fully recover. Stitch
pressed the attack. All of its rage apparent in the full usage of its tremendous power. Gantu flew backwards as the little
creature, capable of lifting three thousand times its own weight, unloaded on him. His head crashed into the ground. Stitch
watched silently waiting for him to stir. The seconds ticked by and only the gentle rise and fall of Gantu's chest indicated
that he still lived. Without another thought Stitch raced after the pod containing his boojiboo.
Sometime later Gantu awoke. Beaten and sore he headed back towards the damaged spaceship he called home. He, like
Stitch, had failed to notice the little yellow pod that lay on the ground. It had been nestled safely under the protection of an
old tree; hidden away from the regular rainstorms. The dehydrated capsule had remained safe until it had been dislodged
during the battle. Away from its protection the little yellow orb was struck by drop after drop. Soon the pod began to glow
and swell, expanding. A yellow light filled the clearing as the numbers 518 faded.
Latin class sucks. This is true no matter where you go, who you are. It is impossible to find an interesting, exciting,
fascinating class about a language that died before for the invention of the sandwich. No matter how well one does this is
true. Ronald Stoppable was proof of it. Latin was the only real class were his grades where even near Kim level, but he
couldn't find anything interesting in the class at all. So instead of paying attention he merely let his mind, and eyes wander.
Throughout most of the known universe a comet mysteriously smashing into a planet is immediately a bad thing; especially
if there is a single living creature on board. Generally speaking the creature means no good, other wise why would it go
hurtling through space stuck in a giant ball of rock and ice? And because of the dangers and physiological consequences of
traveling through space and crashing through a planet's atmosphere in nothing more than a rapidly deteriorating shell of frozen
particles, most beings to arrive on a planet in this manner tend to be impossibly strong. And evil. In fact there is only one planet
where this is not the case. It's name is Kimrock 4 and all of the other planets look down on it and don't invite it to parties. Earth
is not Kimrock 4 and the being to emerge from the comet certainly wasn't good. Sliver hair streaked from his scalp. Muscles
bulged underneath the tight metal armor adorning his entire six foot frame. His eyes were filled with the very essence of malice.
If left to his own devices he would most likely have gathered power, wiped out most of Earth's population, enslaved the rest, and
mercilessly hunted down the small resistence faction that arose to defeat him. He may have even won. He was never given the
chance. A mere thirty seconds had passed before the sound of metal slicing through flesh could be heard. The lower half of the
silver mane of hair fell freely to the ground, as the creature's head rolled from its shoulders. The would be conqueror never had a
chance to speak. A week later researchers would find the headless corpse, none the worse for wear then when it was murdered.
Upon it they would find a single note, the only clue as to what happened. There were only two words, barely decipherable among
the blood stains defiling the note. They were: Stupid Bitchie.