Epilogue

- Five Years later -

When I was younger, my dad used to tell me "Kimmie, sometimes life just throws you a curveball". He used that expression to explain that, sometimes, you just have to deal with hard times in your life. What he didn't tell me was that sometimes life throws more than one…sometimes it throws a dozen: fast and hard.

After graduation, I was hit with the first of many. I had made it very clear to everyone that the hero work was over. Without Ron it just couldn't be done. A lot of people (myself included) felt that this was a bad decision though. I mean, without me who would stop the villains? Apparently the government had the same thought.

Two weeks after Ron's funeral, the UN Security Council declared an end to global terror from super villains and launched the largest international military strike since the Allied invasion of France during World War II. Every major villain I had ever fought (Except Shego) was taken down…some much harder than others.

Drakken, Killigan, DNAmy, and the Seniors all went without a struggle. Drakken apparently broke down and started crying like a baby when he saw Susan wearing the badge of a federal law enforcement agency. Turns out the blue-skinned doctor had developed feelings for the woman over the years and saw her as something of a daughter. He hung himself in his jail cell while awaiting transfer to a federal prison. I almost feel sorry for him sometimes…almost. Dr. Dementor and Monkey Fist weren't so eager to give up, and they paid the price.

Dementor threw a Bondo-ball at the CT team that raided his lair and got a gut full of 12-guage buckshot for his efforts. He spent eight months in a Greek prison hospital, six of them hooked up to a colostomy bag.

For those of you unaware of what that is, it's essentially an artificial digestive system that sits on your chest while your real intestines are still too weak to work on their own. Nothing spoils your lunch like watching your breakfast digest before your eyes.

With Ron gone, Monkey Fist reveled in the fact that he was now the supreme monkey ruler. He moved his HQ to an ancient temple in the African jungle and eventually met his end at the hands of a local resistance movement. Kind of ironic really: the master of Monkey Kung-fu, killed by a group of guerrillas…if there is a God, I like his sense of humor. The US government, of course, remained adamant that they had no involvement with the guerilla fighters, even after they began to replace their rusted Kalashnikov's and Uzi's with brand new M4's and HK's…coincidence I guess.

I started my freshman year at Harvard in the fall of 2005 and, not really sure what I wanted to major in, settled on Administration of Justice.

That semester my mom also convinced me to meet with an old college friend of hers who was now a psychologist near the campus. Her name was Dr. Helen Peters: a pleasant woman in her late forties whose main goal became looking after my well-being.

Up until that time, I had come to rely on Sean's letter as something of a 'comfort blanket' as she called it. Her goal was to help me continue my life without the need to have it within arms reach.

At the time I didn't think it would be possible, but she came up with an effective plan of action. In the beginning, she would hold onto it for a few minutes while we talked in-session, then she would give it back for the rest of the meeting. After a while, she began to hold onto it longer: sometimes for the entire hour. A few months went by and suddenly I was able to leave it in my apartment while I attended morning classes, then return to it during lunch and take it with me for the rest of the day.

By the beginning of my spring semester, I was able to make it through the entire day. To celebrate, Dr. Peters had the letter framed so I could hang it up on my wall as a reminder of what I had overcome. She bought a frame with a removable back, just in case I ever needed it for 'special' occasions.

Two weeks later Rufus died; the letter came down. Rufus was in effect, the last living remnants of Ron that I had left, with him gone, I had nothing to remind me of the good old days and no one to comfort me at night. I had my run of relationships, but none of them got any farther than the bedroom door. I just wasn't ready…I still don't think I'm ready.

As usual, the curveballs continued to fly. In the summer of 2006, I was hit with two of them in the same month. In early July, mom informed me that dad had been offered a promotion to head USAMRIID's Viral Research Program at Fort Detrick, Maryland…the Possible family was leaving Middleton.

A few weeks later representatives of the Walt Disney Corporation contacted me and told me that they had a new animated series in the works that was based on Team Possible's 'adventures'. They wanted to know if I would consent to the idea. I told them no…they did it anyway.

In February of 2007, Disney's Kim Possible® came out across the nation. My parents hired a lawyer, but apparently because our exploits were considered 'public image', Disney had every right. The cartoon went on for three seasons before it was canceled by the higher-ups…something about a sixty-five-episode policy, not that I had any complaints.

Because of the unwanted attention my name and looks were getting as a result of the show, I decided to make some minor alterations to my appearance. I began to dress in a more conservative manner, which wasn't out of place for a criminal justice major, and changed my hairstyle. My mom actually joked that I looked like a shorter version of her and offered to buy me a lab coat to wear. I wasn't amused…though after a while, I had to look at old photographs just to remember what I used to look like.

I graduated from Harvard in May of 2009 with a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice. Two phone calls and an interview later, I was on my way to Quantico, Virginia: the FBI Academy. I graduated in December of 2009 on the top echelon of my class. This came as a surprise to all of three people; everyone else was pretty much expecting it. I was hoping to see Sean or Susan at graduation, but they didn't show up.

I'm not sure exactly what happened to Sean in the years following the Iowa incident, only that he took the brunt of the blame and barely managed to keep his badge. I still don't blame him for what happened and was sorry to hear he had fallen, I only hope he didn't fall too far. Last I heard he was working counter-terrorism somewhere on the West Coast…maybe I'll see him when I get to San Francisco.

That's right, I just got word yesterday that I've been assigned to General Crime in the San Francisco Field Office. California here I come…but first, there's someone I need to visit on the way, someone I haven't visited for over five years.

I think I'm going to take the letter off the wall for this…

Middleton, Colorado
January 3, 2010 – 22:05

A light breeze blew through the trees of the Middleton Cemetery, giving the scenery an eerie feel. For the sole living occupant, however, the breeze didn't seem to bother him. The dark haired man stood looking down at the simple granite marker in front of him and read the inscription aloud.

"Ronald Dean Stoppable, April 3, 1987 - June 7, 2005. Loving Son, Best Friend, Hero."

His eyes caught sight of a silver ring lying at the base of the tombstone. Reaching down, he picked it up and examined it in his hand. It bore the insignia of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in its center and had a graduation date of December 7, 2009 printed around its edge.

"Kim…" Behind him, a second figure approached slowly and came to a stop a few steps behind him.

"Adam," The new arrival announced. "I thought we discussed the ramifications of you coming here."

"Larry," The black-haired man responded casually. "You here alone, or did you bring your SWAT team again?"

"It's just me this time." He said, looking past Adam and reading the name printed on the marker. "What would you do if someone caught you here?" Adam chuckled and spun around to face the older gray-haired man.

"Actually Larry, I was thinking I'd just tell them the truth." He gestured toward the tombstone. "I'll just tell 'em I'm here to visit my own grave…that way they'll just dismiss me as a 5150…"

"That's not your grave Adam…" Larry replied calmly. "And if you continue to leave the Reservation without authorization, I'm afraid we'll no longer be able to provide protection for Miss Possible." Adam's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Without another word spoken, Larry gestured toward an idling suburban at the front gate to the cemetery and Adam quietly followed led them down to it. When they arrived at the gate, a man and a woman got out and held the back door open for Adam to enter. Once inside, the three suited individuals took their own places and the SUV drove off into the night…

- There you have it...the end of one story, and the beginning of another. I wanted to try a segment in first-person to see how it would come out, let me know what you thought. I've also decided on a title for the sequel: Eleven Ninety-nine. Look for it in the coming weeks.