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.
continental-line, eckles, Triaxx2, gargoylesama: Thanks for the reviews, glad you all liked it.
Ron regarded his opponent carefully. He'd come up to the Watchtower to spar with Kara, only to find that she'd been called away on a mission to help a stricken cargo ship in the South Atlantic. Now he stood under the bright lights of one the Justice League's training rooms, facing one of the best martial artists in the world. Or so Green Arrow had claimed. It was possible that Arrow had been exaggerating, which wouldn't have been a surprise, given his bias. However, the easy grace with which the woman opposite Ron moved suggested that Arrow had been telling the truth this time. She was half again his age, with blue eyes that sparkled merrily, and hair that fell in golden waves to the middle of her back. She was breathtakingly beautiful, in a wholesome, girl next door sort of way, and Ron felt a twinge of attraction. He gave himself a mental shake, then pushed that notion out of his mind. 'Green Arrow would use me for target practice,' Ron thought with a grin.
The blue eyed blonde Ron was facing smiled as well, steepling her fingers and bowing over her hands. "Are you ready, Ronald-san?" she asked formally.
Ron mimicked the gestures and replied, "I am ready, Canary-san."
"Begin," she commanded, and Ron attacked. He had all the usual advantages of a man fighting a woman: he was taller, heavier and stronger, and Ron assumed that Black Canary would enjoy the usual female advantage of greater endurance. At the moment she didn't seem to need it. She blocked or deflected every punch and kick Ron threw at her. And he really was trying to hit her. Not hard, mind. Just enough to let them both know he'd gotten through her defenses. 'If I can get through them,' Ron muttered to himself. As the minutes ticked by Ron felt himself becoming desperate. 'You have to land at least one blow,' he told himself after fifteen futile minutes. 'Even Monkey Fist wasn't this good.' Ron toyed with the idea of calling on the mystical monkey power, but decided against it. 'That would be cheating,' he thought. 'Besides, you haven't tried all of your moves yet.' Sweat was beading on Ron's brow and the warm glow of a hard workout was spreading through his body. Canary was sweating as well, though not as much. Ron threw a punch at her head. As Canary spun away from the blow, her gi opened slightly. Ron caught a glimpse of the upper curve of a breast, and the dark fabric of the sports bra she was wearing. An idea popped into Ron's head, and it wasn't even a sexual one. One of the Marines he occasional sparred with at Twentynine Palms had a move she called The Brassiere. Why she'd given it that name, Ron didn't know. He did know that the move was a variation on one of the rarer Tae-Kwon-Do combinations, with a healthy dose of Savate thrown in to give it a unique and hopefully unexpected twist. Ron was unable to suppress a grin. Canary grinned back. Ron chose to assume that she'd let her guard down slightly, and launched The Brassiere. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air to land with a heavy thud on the padded floor. He lay there for a moment, trying to blink away the stars that swirled in his field of vision.
"I told you she was good," a male voice chuckled. Ron turned his head to see Green Arrow, whose bow and quiver were absent for the moment, push away from the wall he'd been leaning against and stroll over to offer him a hand up.
Ron took the hand. "Thanks," he murmured as he was pulled to his feet. Turning to Canary he said, "How did you block that? I was sure it would get through."
Canary favored him with a dimpled smile. "I've seen the basic move before," she explained. "That was a neat little twist you gave it," she added. Her expression became apologetic. "I have really fast reflexes, though." Ron just grinned.
"No big," he declaimed. "What was that throw you used? My whole left arm is numb," he added, shaking the limb in question. It was as if it had gone to sleep instantly, though life was returning to it. Canary's smile broadened. "Nothing fancy, just a standard throw with a little twist of my own. Want me to show you?"
"Sure!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically. Canary gestured for him to come to her, but before he could the intercom crackled.
"Ron Stoppable, report to Briefing Room Six, please. Repeat, Ron Stoppable to Briefing Room Six." Ron didn't recognize the voice, but Canary and Arrow apparently did.
"Looks like I'll have to give you a rain check," Canary said.
"I'll take you up on that," Ron grinned. "Thanks for the workout." He turned and headed for the door.
"Anytime," Canary called after him.
Ron walked into Briefing Room Six and nearly tripped over his own feet. Kim was there, which he had expected, but Wade was also there, which threw him for a loop.
"Wade?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Hey Ron," Wade acknowledged with a nonchalant wave. Ron blinked, then shook himself. "Holographic simulation, right?" he asked, winking at Kim. Wade just grinned, then raised his hand and slapped the top of the table that dominated the center of the room. Ron started at the sound.
"Nope," Wade said, shaking his head, "I'm really here."
"Y - yo - you - you left your room," Ron stammered.
"Had to sometime," Wade shrugged. "Besides, who in their right mind would turn down an invitation to the Watchtower?"
Ron blinked a few more times, then slowly took a seat. The table, he noticed, was strewn with documents and folders, as well as the odd computer disk. As Ron settled into his chair Kim leaned over and whispered in his ear, loud enough for Wade to hear, "Actually, I think it had more to do with meeting Wonder Woman in the flesh than anything else."
Ron blinked again as Wade's face darkened. Ron knew that since Wade had started to take an interest in girls he'd developed something of a crush on the Amazon warrior.
"Score one for the primal urges," Ron murmured. Wade's blush intensified.
"Aww! Come on guys, don't..." he started to protest, but Kim cut him off.
"So you think she's hot? So what?" Kim asked. "That's how things are supposed to work after all, so it's nothing to be ashamed of."
Wade squirmed in his chair. "Can we change the subject, please?" he demanded in a plaintive voice.
"If you insist," Kim said, demurely lowering her eyes. Her voice and expression turned serious. "What have you got for us?"
With obvious relief Wade slid folders to Ron and Kim. "Four more thefts in the last three days, three confirmed and one probable," he said.
Ron quirked an eyebrow at Wade. "How do you have a 'probable' robbery?" Ron asked skeptically.
Wade just shrugged and spread his hands.
Kim opened her folder and flipped through the pages inside. "Aviarius hits the Guggenheim in New York and steals six paintings that used to belong to Monkey Fist. In Las Vegas a man playing in a high stakes poker game uses a gold bracelet with the same pedigree to call his opponent's bet, only to find out later that he was up against Rebecca 'Hazard' Sharpe, who uses her ability to alter probability to cheat at games of chance, among other things. Duff Killigan breaks into the British Golf Museum (no surprise there) in St. Andrews, Scotland, and steals a set of clubs that once belonged to Bobby Jones (whoever he was, famous golfer I'd assume) and that Monkey Fiske had acquired and donated to the museum years earlier."
Kim frowned thoughtfully as she turned to the last case. None of this made any sense. Of everything that had been stolen so far, only the idol Catwoman had made off with had anything to with monkeys. The only things the rest of the stuff had in common with the statue and each other was that Monkey Fist had once possessed them. Kim looked down at the picture in her folder.
"A tablet of black basalt, ten by fourteen inches, inscribed with an as yet untranslated text in what appears to be an early form of Sanskrit." She glanced at the text that accompanied the photo. The tablet had been stolen from a museum in Berlin, Germany, where it had been protected by merely average security, since it had no real value apart from its interest to linguists. It had turned up missing during the daily inventory of items on display. Initially assuming that the tablet had simply been misplaced, a thorough search was made of the museum, without results. Subsequent investigation had come up empty handed. On top of all that, the tablet's connection to Monkey Fist was tenuous at best. It had been loaned to the museum by Monkey Fist's great-grandfather. Monkey Fist had never really 'possessed' it, even though he had been its legal owner through inheritance. All he had done was transfer ownership. As far as Wade had been able to find out, Monkey Fist had never so much as set eyes on the thing.
"It just disappeared," Kim mused aloud. "Vanished into thin air without leaving one shred of evidence as to who took it, or how they got it out of its case without disturbing the seals on the locks."
It's weird," Ron allowed, "but aside from the Monkey Fist thing, I don't see how this tablet thingy is connected to the other stuff. It isn't even worth anything."
"Money isn't the only way to measure value, Mr. Stoppable," a familiar, cold voice said. Ron, and to a lesser degree Kim and Wade, started. Ron spun his chair around and glared at Batman. "How do you sneak up on people like that?" he demanded.
"Practice," Batman replied in that same cold monotone.
"Something we can do for you, Batman?" Kim asked politely. The Dark Knight moved to the table and picked up the picture of the tablet.
"You can think about this case, and what makes it different from the others."
Kim's brow furrowed. "Well, all the other items can be sold to collectors for significant amounts of money," she offered hesitantly.
"And?"
Kim scratched her head. "The others were stolen by supervillains in high profile robberies?"
"What does that tell you?"
Kim thought for a while, then shook her head. "I'm not a detective, Batman. I can't see where you're going with this."
Batman turned the photograph so Kim could see the tablet.
"Would you have heard of this theft if the others hadn't happened first?"
"Probably not," Kim admitted diffidently.
"I'd say it's a good guess then that someone wanted to be sure you'd notice, so they staged some flashy crimes, picking what was taken to encourage you to cast a wide net instead of focusing on monkeys."
"So we noticed the theft," Ron interjected. "If that's what they wanted, why not leave any clues for us to follow?"
"Just because there aren't any obvious clues doesn't mean there aren't any clues, Mr. Stoppable," Batman said, switching his gaze to Ron and then back to Kim.
"Go to Berlin and check out that museum, Ms. Possible. You may find something the police overlooked." Kim glanced at Ron, who shrugged. The two teens stood up.
"Have it your way," Kim said. There was a communications panel in the center of the table. Batman pressed one of the buttons and said, "Who's the duty magician today?"
The voice that had called Ron earlier spoke again. "Zatanna."
"Tell her to meet Team Possible in the transporter room."
Kim threw him a questioning look. "You may find her talents useful," was all Batman said.
It was a cold, windy, rainy day in Berlin when Kim, Ron and Zatanna materialized on the front steps of the building that was their destination. As they hurried inside Ron exclaimed, "I love that thing!" Kim had to agree. The transporter left her with a warm glow, and always seemed to improve her mood, no matter what kind of funk she was in. Odd.
Inside they were met by a heavy set man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache.
"Hello! I am Doctor Hans Bergstahl, director of the National Language Institute. Welcome!" His English was fluent, Kim noted, and he had a distinct American accent. Bergstahl eyed them curiously, especially Zatanna, though that was probably due to her outfit, Kim reasoned. She held out her hand.
"Thank you, Herr Doctor," she said, smiling as Bergstahl took it and they shook.
"It's always a pleasure to meet super heroes," Bergstahl said. "My grandchildren are great fans of yours, Ms. Possible." Turning to Zatanna he added. "I saw your father when he performed in Stuttgart, many years ago, and though I haven't yet had the pleasure of seeing you on stage, I hope to someday soon." Zatanna smiled warmly. "Though," Bergstahl added, "I have to admit that I'm a bit puzzled as to why our missing tablet should draw the attention of the Justice League."
"We think what happened here is connected to a series of other thefts," Kim explained, "but we aren't sure. We'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Bergstahl nodded. "Please, follow me." As Bergstahl led them deeper into the building, it became apparent to Kim that the Institute wasn't a museum in the usual sense of the word. It was much more a library that happened to have a few items on display, all of which were related to writing and language.
"We study languages from all over the world," Bergstahl told them, "both ancient and modern. Non-linguists tend to find our work dry and uninteresting, but it is really quite fascinating." Kim nodded politely but said nothing. A number of people passed the in the halls, but few of them did more than give the group a curious look. Bergstahl led them through an atrium, down a hallway, then hung a left into a wide room with permanent bookshelves and display cases lining its walls. A number of tables occupied the middle of the room.
"One of our reading rooms," Bergstahl explained, leading them to one of the display cases. It was like the others in the room. It went from the floor to the ceiling. The bottom three feet or so was closed off by a wooden panel. The rest was fronted by a glass door that was hinged on the inside, but opened out, and was secured by two locks. The case held a number of tablets of various sizes, some of stone, some of clay, and a few that could have been twins of the one that was missing. The stand it had occupied was still in the case, sitting on the bottom shelf. Examining the case, Kim noted that the key holes of the locks were covered with stick-on seals.
"May I?" she asked, pointing at a seal. Bergstahl nodded. Kim tried to peel the seal off intact, and found that impossible to manage. The glue was strong and the paper was weak. The seal tore immediately.
"How is it that these cases aren't wired, and there are no cameras in the room?" Kim asked pointedly. Bergstahl looked down, then raised his eyes to Kim's.
"Nothing we have here is worth that kind of expense," he said. "Oh, some of our more unique pieces might fetch a few hundred Euros, but to be frank, what security there is was put in to prevent excessive handling, not theft." Kim gave him a perplexed look, and he added, "We had a few incidents of rough handling, where irreplaceable objects were damaged by people who had no business picking them up in the first place."
As Kim and Bergstahl conversed Ron studied the room. It was clearly old. Everything in it said so, from the dark patina on the wood paneling, to the intricate pattern embossed in the plaster of the ceiling, to the floor itself and the tables and chairs. There were no windows, and only one door. Modern fixtures, designed to look like antiques, threw out plenty of bright light. As a result there were very few shadows. And yet, something about the place bothered him. What it was, he couldn't say. But the hair on the back of his neck was standing up.
Meanwhile, Zatanna had taken a turn around the room herself, looking at the other cases. Then she edged past Kim and Doctor Bergstahl and stooped to examine the case that had held the missing tablet. After a few moments she spoke.
"Doctor, how old is this building?"
"It was built in the eighteen nineties," Bergstahl provided.
"And has your Institute been the only tenant in that time?"
"Yes."
Zatanna looked up at Kim and Bergstahl. "I think institutional memory loss is our culprit here."
"What?" Bergstahl asked, frowning in confusion. Zatanna nodded her head. "See that photograph over there?" Kim followed the magician's eyes to a frame that hung at the junction of two book cases.
"What about it?" Kim asked.
"Look at the display cases," Zatanna prompted. Kim's eyes narrowed, then widened. In the photo, the cases had shelves all the way to the floor! Seeing Kim's reaction Zatanna said, "That picture is dated 1895. Now look at the one to the left of it." Kim did so. In that photo the lower shelves had been covered. "That one's dated 1903," Zatanna supplied. "Which means no one working here these days remembers this!" With a flourish Zatanna took hold of the piece of trim that ran along the top edge of the panel and lifted. The whole panel slid up and out of the rails that were the only things holding it in place, as a stunned Doctor Bergstahl looked on. Kim stared in amazement. The compartment was dusty, but the old shelves were still there!
"Mein Gott!" Bergstahl croaked.
Zatanna took hold of the second shelf, which, Kim noted, had fresh fingerprints in the dust that covered it, and pulled. The shelf slid out easily. Zatanna took a quick look and smiled grimly. "No back rail, only side rails," she said, apparently to herself. She reached in with both hands. Kim watched as the 'bottom' shelf of the case raised up, tilted slightly then sank from view, only to reappear a moment later as Zatanna drew it out from the opening where the panel had been. Turning slowly the raven haired magician stood up, holding the shelf out to a white faced Bergstahl.
"Ta da!" Zatanna smirked. "This is how the thief got the tablet out." She set the shelf on one of the tables.
"Unglaublich! Es ist fantastiche!" Bergstahl mumbled.
"Are all the panels like that?" Kim asked.
"Yep," Zatanna confirmed.
"They look so solid, though," Kim said, eyeing the other cases. Zatanna smiled. "Hidden panels are a stage magician's best friends, Kim. Work with them long enough and you develop a knack for noticing them."
Kim smiled and chuckled. "Batman was right, your talents were useful." Zatanna laughed as well.
Ron had observed the whole affair with great interest. Now he approached the shelf, his eyes fixed on the stand that had held the tablet. He shuddered.
"Ohhh!"
"Ron, are you all right?" Kim asked, noticing the odd expression on Ron's face. Ron gave her a serious look. "Kim, I've been on edge ever since we came into this room, and that thing," his eyes flicked to the stand, "is a major creepfest!"
Kim stared at him, then picked up the stand and turned it over in her hands. It was nothing more than a few dowels, drilled and glued together. It was light, sturdy, and utterly ordinary looking. Kim started to say something to that effect when she noticed the look on Zatanna's face.
"Batman and his hunches," Zatanna muttered. She waved her hands. "Stand back everyone." When the others had complied Zatanna made an odd gesture with her fingers.
"Elbisiv emoceb cigam laudiser!"
Three gasps filled Zatanna's ears as the room blazed with reddish light. The stand blazed like it was on fire. Streamers of red-gold energy stretched away from the stand in a dozen different directions, and the interior of the display case shimmered with the same colors.
"Damn," Zatanna swore softly. She passed a hand through one of the streamers. It rippled slightly. Kim cautiously tried the same thing. Nothing happened. There was no sensation of any kind, and even though there seemed to be a current in the ribbon of light, it passed through her hand like it didn't exist.
"Was ist los?" Bergstahl said faintly.
"Your tablet is a magical artifact, Doctor," Zatanna said levelly. "It's a focus for negative energy, and strong enough that it's tainted everything around it." She glanced at the stand. "How long was it sitting on that stand?"
"Ich weisse nichts," then, remembering his manners. "I don't know. Eighty years or so."
Zatanna nodded. "Long enough to turn the stand into a weaker version of itself."
Ron had retreated to the farthest corner of the room and was cowering on the floor. Kim sympathized. The weird light emanating from the stand frightened her in a way she'd never thought was possible.
"Zatanna, when you say 'negative energy'..." Kim began.
"...I mean 'evil'," Zatanna finished. On the left breast of her tuxedo jacket Zatanna wore a brooch that also served as her JL communicator. She touched it. "Watchtower, this is Zatanna."
"Go ahead."
"Contact Doctor Fate. I need him at this location as soon as possible."