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.
Triaxx2: Minor characters can be a lot of fun.
Later that day
"Why would the Riddler steal stuff that used to belong to Monkey Fist?" Ron wondered aloud. He and Kim were in their dorm apartment, engaged in a conference call with Wade and Kara.
"That's a good question," Kim allowed. "But a better one is, why, out of the hundreds of items on display in that gallery, did Riddler take the only five things that once belonged to Monkey Fist?"
"It could be a coincidence, Kim," Wade interjected, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. Kim looked at the flickering image of her long time tech guru and hid a smile. Wade was a few months past his thirteenth birthday, and puberty was starting to kick in. He'd gained a couple of inches in height, and his cheeks and chin were starting to sprout whiskers. The pitch of his voice was plummeting as well, giving every sign of heading for a deep, rumbling bass.
"Sure it could, Wade, but what are the odds of that?" Kim asked seriously. She smiled as Wade's brow furrowed and he did the math in his head.
"Three thousand, three hundred and fifty to one," he answered a moment later.
"I don't like those odds," Kim said, shaking her head. "There's got to be more to it than mere chance."
"Like what, K.P?" Ron demanded.
Kim shrugged. "I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about it, that's all."
"Well," Kara cut in, her voice crackling over the speaker phone, "As far as motivation goes, Batgirl said that there was a rumor going around Gotham that someone had offered a quarter of a million bucks to anyone who could get a hold of the stuff Riddler stole. Since he was supposed to be short of cash, it makes sense that he'd take a crack at the job."
"What sort of person would shell out a quarter of a million dollars for some trinkets?" Ron asked.
"Who knows? There are a lot of people who collect art, and not all of them care if the stuff they're buying is 'hot' or not," Kara replied.
"Wade, how did this stuff end up in Gotham City anyway?" Kim asked. Wade's fingers flew over his keyboards. There was a pause as he read whatever information he'd managed to find, then he turned toward the camera.
"When Fiske was arrested after your first encounter with him, he had to sell off part of his private art collection to finance his legal defense," Wade explained. "After he was convicted, the British government confiscated the rest of it, along with his estate. Some of it was given to various museums in Britain, and some of it was sold at auction to cover Fiske's fines."
Kim gazed at the ceiling as she absorbed that. "Did anyone take an unusual interest in the sale? I mean, was there one person who bought a lot of what was put up for sale?"
Wade shook his head. "I can't say for sure without doing a little digging. There's nothing in the news articles about one big buyer, though."
"Okay, Wade. Here's what I want. I want a list of everyone who bought something at the initial auction, along with what they bought and how much they paid. I also want you to look for subsequent sales, if there have been any, as well as thefts," Kim ordered.
"Can do, Kim," Wade promised. "It may be a day or two, if that's all right?" Kim nodded.
"Batgirl is going to keep nosing around to see if she can find out who this mysterious buyer is," Kara added. "I'll pass along anything she finds out."
"Sounds good, Kara," Kim acknowledged. "Well, it seems we've pursued this as far as we can for now." She glanced at her watch. "I have a class in fifteen minutes, so I'll talk to you guys later."
"Later, Kim," Kara's voice said.
"I'll get started on that search right away," Wade threw in. As Kim rose and left the room he said, "Ron, Kara, I have to get busy, so I'll see you later." After acknowledging their responses Wade disconnected. Ron eyed the speaker phone.
"So, Kara," he said after the briefest of pauses.
"Yes, Ron?" she asked in an innocent, breathy voice.
"You doing anything tonight?" There was a pause, and Ron could practically see her pout in disappointment.
"I'm afraid so, Ron. Superman asked me to keep an eye on things in Metropolis for the next few days while he takes care of some out of town business."
Ron's face fell. "Oh. Well, no big, maybe some other time."
"Sure. Maybe we can do something this weekend, if we're free," Kara suggested.
"Sounds good. Shall I call you, or do you want to call me?" Ron inquired.
"How about you call me?"
"I'll do that. I just hope our schedules can mesh," Ron said fervently.
"I doubt that's all you hope will mesh," Kara said with a wicked giggle. Ron was glad there was no one around to see him blush.
"Tease," he mumbled accusingly.
"Only because I know you love it," Kara rejoined, still giggling.
Elsewhere
Monkey Fist sat in front of a computer in the 'office' part of the suite of rooms Felix Faust had set aside for his use. If asked, Monkey Fist would be the first to admit that he was no more than a dabbler when it came to the internet. He was, however, well acquainted with a number of people who were excellent hackers and who had no qualms about breaking into other peoples computers, provided the price was right. Posing as Bates to keep his return from the great beyond a secret, he'd hired one of those hackers to keep an eye on the e-mail traffic of various museums and auction houses. He'd also made contact with his favorite unscrupulous art dealer and arranged the theft at the Gotham City Art Museum.
Monkey Fist had been surprised and more than a little worried when word got back to him that the Riddler had pulled the heist, and that Batgirl and Supergirl had both showed up at the scene, but on reflection he'd decided that the Riddler's involvement was actually a boon to their plans. They did want the Justice League to eventually take an interest in their planned crime spree, and while the Riddler wasn't one of the League's regular enemies, he'd do when it came to attracting the attention of costumed do-gooders. The notion that Batman himself might get involved at this stage had sent chills down Monkey Fist's spine, but Faust had seemed unperturbed. Batman had an almost supernatural knack for unraveling mysteries on the basis of very few clues. Fortunately though, he seemed not to be getting involved.
Monkey Fist moved his mouse and clicked on the icon of his e-mail program. When it opened his face lit up. There was a message from his hacker-for-hire.
"Bates," it began bluntly, "So far..." Monkey Fist quickly skimmed through it, then went back and read it carefully. It seemed that Kim Possible's tech expert had been in contact not only with museums and auction houses, but Scotland Yard as well. Monkey Fist smiled. He hadn't thought to mention the Yard. Apparently his hacker friend had initiative.
"So," he said softly when he finished reading the electronic message. "They're nibbling at the bait. Good. Now to jiggle it a bit and see if we can get them to bite." He composed a quick message to the shady art dealer and sent it on its way.
Go City
The mayor of Go City, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo with a bright red bow tie, approached the podium set up in the main hall of his hosts' estate. The large crowd of expensively attired men and women ceased their chatter, looking on expectantly. The mayor tapped the podium's microphone.
"Is this on?" he joked, and a wave of laugher ran through the assembly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Go City is famous for a number of reasons, one of which is our outstanding history museum. Not only does its collection rival any museum in America, it is world renowned as a center for research and education. The museums prominence in recent years is due in large part to the work of two people, our hosts, Harold and Jennifer Krathmeyer." The mayor paused as the crowd applauded politely. "You all know that this little soirée is being held to raise money for the museum. What you may not know is what those funds are earmarked for. To give you the inside dope, as it were, allow me to turn the microphone over to the Chairman of the museum's board of directors, Mister Harold Krathmeyer!" The mayor stepped aside as a storm of applause erupted, and a distinguished looking older man approached the podium. The mayor joined in the applause and nodded graciously while plastering a sincere looking smile on his face. Personally he despised Krathmeyer, both Krathmeyers in fact, but they were too influential in Go City politics for him to alienate. Instead, while Krathmeyer dug for his notes, the mayor assumed a pose of interested attention.
"Thank you, Mister Mayor, for that wonderful introduction," Krathmeyer began. "As the mayor indicated, the funds we're raising tonight have a specific purpose in mind. The National Museum of India has put together a traveling collection that details the origins and development of the Hindu religion, and its influence on Indian culture, and we'd like to have the collection come here. We have to raise two and a half million dollars, though, to cover the costs of shipping and insurance, before we can finalize the deal. To give you an added incentive to dig deep, the National Museum sent us a few items to give us a taste of what we'd be getting if we manage to meet our fundraising goal." Krathmeyer gestured as his wife drew back a red curtain that had screened off part of the hall to reveal an intricately carved stand with six small statues adorning it. The crowd pressed forward, eager to get a better view
"These statues represent some of the multitude of Hindu deities," Krathmeyer continued. "To tell you a little about each of them, they are, from left to right: Surya, the sun god, carved from an elephant tusk about seven hundred years ago; Agni, the god of fire and lightning, fashioned from jet and pearl; Hanuman, the monkey god of..." A loud boom interrupted Krathmeyer's speech, as the double doors at the end of the hall burst inward in a hail of splinters.
Five garishly clad people, three men and two women, strode through the ruined doors.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" the man in the lead declared grandly. "Everyone stay calm and no one will get hurt!"
"The Royal Flush Gang!" someone in the crowd exclaimed.
"Quite right," the man dressed as King confirmed, bowing from the waist. Turning to the others he gestured to the crowd and said, "Jack, Ten, get their valuables." To Queen he said, "My dear, the statues, if you please?"
The mayor stepped into Queen's path. "Look you, you can't just barge in here and..." He didn't finish. King, who was carrying a golden scepter, touched the end of it to the mayor's chest. There was a flash of white, and the mayor went flying backwards to collapse in a heap on the floor.
"Anyone else feel like interfering?" King asked, his voice suddenly ice cold. The crowd shrank back.
"We feel like interfering, 'King'," a new voice interjected calmly. King whirled.
"The Go Team! " King yelped. Hego, his immense bulk filling the doorway, smiled as Mego and the Wego's spread out behind him.
"That's right, King. Did you really think you could pull a job in our town without us trying to stop you?"
King snarled. "Oh, I figured you'd try to stop us. That's why I planned ahead, as it were. Ace!" King snapped. "Deal with the blue buffoon! Jack! Help me with these other idiots!"
Ace's face, whitened like all the other members of the Gang, remained totally impassive as he turned to face Hego. Without a word the man, who was even more muscular than Hego, charged.
Leaving Ten to continue her work, the man called Jack drew his own scepter and joined King. The Wego's duplicated themselves until there were ten of them, then started evacuating the crowd and going after Ten, Jack and Queen. Mego squared off against King, and battle was joined. It didn't last very long. The Royal Flush Gang were soon lying in a heap on the floor, with the exception of Ace. Hego had been shocked and horrified when he twisted Ace's arm and it came off in his hand, until he saw the wires and cables protruding from the wreckage of Ace's shoulder. That, along with Ace's complete lack of a pain response, led Hego to the obvious conclusion.
"A robot, eh? That makes my job a lot easier," Hego had declared smugly, before proceeding to pound Ace into scrap.
"Not much of a fight," Mego said, watching as paramedics helped the mayor into a waiting ambulance.
"They were easier -"
"- than I expected," the Wego's agreed. Mego rolled his eyes. "Do you have to finish each others sentences all the time?" he demanded. The Wego's just laughed.
"I can see why the Justice League don't think much of them," Hego observed. "They aren't very good."
"The way I understand it," Mego replied, "The original Gang were a real handful. These guys just appropriate the name and the look."
"And thanks to us, that's all they appropriated tonight," Hego said theatrically. Mego rolled his eyes again.
"Not quite, I'm afraid," a familiar voice said from behind them. The Go Team turned to see the Chief of Police approaching.
"What do you mean, Chief?" Hego asked.
"We recovered all of the personal valuables," the Chief said, "But one of the statues is missing. We just reviewed the security tape. It shows one of the guests, a woman, making off with it during the confusion."
"Well, if that's the case she should be easy to identify," Hego reasoned. "The party was invitation only, so her name will be on the guest list. Which statue was taken?"
"The one carved from obsidian, that looked like a monkey," the Chief answered.
"Uh, Chief?" the voice belonged to a uniformed officer, who was walking up with a thin, white-bound book in his hands.
"What is it?" the Chief asked.
"I was just looking over the guest book, Chief. Unless someone was playing a joke, we may have trouble getting that statue back." The officer flipped the book around and pointed to one of the signatures. The Chief read the name and address aloud.
"Selina Kyle, Gotham City."
Behind him the Go Team chorused as one, "Catwoman!"
Selina Kyle laughed with delight as she accelerated onto the interstate. The engine of her rented sports car droned as she steered with one hand and idly stroked her prize with the other. Hiring the Royal Flush Gang and using them as a diversion had been an act of pure genius on her part. Sure, she could have snuck in after the party was over and made off with the statue (and anything else she wanted) with nobody the wiser until she was long gone, but this had been so much more fun! Making cops and superheroes look like fools was almost as entertaining as swiping stuff right out from under their noses. Even the apparently needless risk of signing her own name in the guest book had a purpose. No doubt the authorities were taking steps to intercept her on her way back to Gotham. Unfortunately for them, she wasn't going to Gotham. Her employer had requested that she deliver the statue to him in New Orleans, a request Selina had been happy grant, having never been to the Big Easy despite a long standing desire to visit.
"So, handsome," she said, addressing the statue, "after I turn you over to your new owner and collect my finders fee, I think I'll take a little vacation. I've never had real Cajun cooking, and I hear the food in the French Quarter is fantastic."
Selina gave the statue a flirtatious glance. "Nothing to say?" she purred. "Or are you just the silent type?" With another laugh she turned her attention to the road, setting the cruise control as she did so. She had a two day drive ahead of her, and the last thing she wanted was to get pulled over for something as mundane as speeding.