Disclaimers: I neither own, nor intend to profit from, any of the characters or situations used in this work that have been derived from the Disney original series "Kim Possible."
Spoiler Warning: None as such in this chapter, beyond some vague references to the villain Monkey Fist's history.
Author's Note: This is an alternate universe story : at some point in the show's continuity, something different happened, and events and situations progressed differently from that point forward. Over the course of the story it will become obvious what the difference is in this case. In addition, since this generates an entire alternate history, scenes and references from various episodes will appear out of sequence, and in different situations, or with different outcomes, in service to the new timeline.
Author's Note 2: Slightly revised version; tweaked a few sentences, made a few references more direct. More importantly, I think I've finally got the HTML in a format that won't remove.
The trilling beeps of the Kimmunicator's connection tones brought Kim Possible to an abrupt halt in the crowded hallway of Middleton High. Ignoring the mass of her fellow students as it swirled and eddied around her as they hurried to their next class, the teen hero drew the blue-green device from the side pocket of her cargo pants and pressed a small button on the front of the hand-held unit.
A hint of static appeared on the small view screen attached to the device, as a real-time connection was established, then cleared as rapidly as it had developed. With its disappearance, a child's smiling face grinned back from the glowing display.
"What's the sitch, Wade?" Kim asked, her expression tightening into a serious demeanor.
"It's Monkey Fist, Kim," the heavyset youth replied, his voice clearly audible despite the noise in the crowded corridors. After pausing to take a sip of soda from the straw poking from the top of a disposable cup, he added, "He's been spotted in the Misty Mountains."
The teen cheerleader tried to remember her geography, but found herself unable to place the geological feature. "Georgia?" she guessed.
"South-eastern Tennessee, actually," Wade smiled.
Kim shrugged. "I was close. So what's his interest in Tennessee? I don't think monkeys are native to the area, and I think I'd remember hearing about a monkey temple in the US."
Wade's grin broadened. "It's not a monkey he's after, exactly, but local legend says there's a half-man half-ape living in the woods there." His fingers danced on the keyboard and a half dozen images of newspaper articles flashed on the screen, the banner headlines variations on the common theme of "Monkey-Man Sighted Near Reservoir" or "Monkey-Man Robs Convenience Store."
Kim blinked in confusion while her expression gradually shifted to outright disbelief as she contemplated Wade's comments and slide show. "Monkey Fist is chasing Bigfoot?"
"Some kind of Monkey-Foot, actually," Wade smirked. "According to the papers, anyway."
"That certainly explains his interest," Kim mumbled. "Who would have thought there could be someone in the world that makes Doctor Drakken look normal?"
"Don't discount the stories entirely, Kim," Wade cautioned. "I've read the articles, and accessed the state police records dealing with the investigations they've done into the incidents mentioned in the newspapers. Believe it or not, Monkey Fist may actually be on to something... There's definitely something or someone in those woods, even if it's not Bigfoot."
"Right..." Kim trailed off, not hiding her skepticism at all. The bell announcing the start of the next period rang, but both youths ignored it.
"Admit it," Wade prodded, as the silence in the wake of the bell's clanging lengthened. "You're curious about this thing too. Need a ride?" Wade asked.
"I suppose I am curious. A little. Even if it's only to see what's got Fiske so interested in such a farfetched local ghost story. So, yes, I need a ride, please and thank you," Kim responded.
"Should I call Monique, too?" Wade asked, even as his fingers began to blur on the keyboard in front of him, accessing information on previous missions to find a suitable favor to call in.
"No, I'll go this one solo - it's only Monkey Fist." Reversing her course to return to her locker in order to collect her mission gear, she explained, "Even if he brings along those monkey ninjas again, I shouldn't have any problem dealing with the situation. Besides, Mon said her parents have been complaining about her missing so much school for the missions, even if the absences are excused. Best to let her sit some out until we really need her."
"Gotcha. I'll still let her and Mr. Barkin know what's up though, just in case you need backup." Wade flashed a thumbs up before the display screen on the Kimmunicator flickered for an instant with static, then powered down as he broke the connection.
"Thanks for the ride!" Kim called as she leaped out of the cab of the tractor trailer truck.
"No problem, little lady," the driver replied with a jaunty salute before leaning across the seat to pull the passenger door shut. "It's the least I could do after you set my broken arm and changed the flat tires on ol' Betsy here."
Kim waved off the thanks as she hitched her backpack of mission gear more securely onto her shoulder. "It was no big. Anyone would have done the same."
"Right back at ya, missy - I'm glad to help. All I know is, if you hadn't helped, I'd have never gotten that load of cookies to Tulsa in time. Y'all take care now!" With a brief basso roar of his air horn as a final farewell, the driver pulled back onto the highway, leaving Kim standing on the quiet roadside shoulder.
After watching the brightly colored Granny Crockett logo on the back of the truck recede into the distance, Kim turned and carefully walked down the steep slope that edged the shoulder of the highway. "Welcome to picturesque Bear Hollow," Kim murmured to herself as she read the brightly colored sign that demarcated the town limits. "Population... 34."
"Miss Possible?"
Kim turned at the quiet voice. Standing outside a small, square grey building with a painted window declaring it to be the "General Store" was a short man with a receding hairline and a brightly colored tartan flannel shirt. "Yes?"
"I'm Joe. Joe Dobbs, miss. Your friend - Wade was it? - called, and asked me to meet you."
Smiling, Kim shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I understand that Monty Fiske is around. Can you show me where he is?"
"The funny looking guy with the weird accent?"
"That would be the one," Kim smiled at the description.
"He a friend of yours? He was a nice enough fella, but he had this funky kind of air to him, if you know what I mean." Joe waited for Kim's nod to ensure they were both thinking of the same person, then continued, "Anyway, I hate to disappoint you after you've come all this way, but I'm afraid he's already been here, and gone. I found out after that youngster called, or I'd have told him and saved you folks the trouble of coming out here, and I didn't get his number to call him back and let him know."
"Hmm," Kim scowled in sudden disappointment at the news. "I guess Fiske's given up on this wild monkey chase already. Somehow I thought he'd take longer to throw in the towel than this."
"Well, no, he didn't," Joe commented, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. "I mean, he didn't give up, that is. He caught the thing - trapped it and got it put in a cage neat as you please. Hairy son of a gun."
Kim blinked in surprise. "You mean there really was a monkey man? Besides Fiske, I mean?"
"I don't rightly know about a 'monkey' man," Joe explained carefully. "I didn't get a good look at the critter to describe it that well. There sure enough was something that he caught though. I can tell you one thing, too; I surely don't mind seeing the back of that thing. Six months ago it broke into my store, made a right mess. Worse than a whole family of raccoons, and that's no lie."
"Hmm," Kim pondered that for a moment, then returned to the most important question. "I don't suppose you know where Fiske is now, do you?" Kim asked, a moment of hope rising at the possibility she could still catch up with the criminal.
"Well..." Joe began, pausing as his expression twisted in concentration. "Old man Baker, up Choctaw way? He said that Fiske flew into the airfield there in a private plane. The airport's only about an hour away, and Mr. Fiske left here three, four hours ago. My guess is he's long gone."
Kim frowned, unable to hide her disappointment. "That's too bad. Sorry to have wasted your time, but you've been a big help."
"No problem at all, little lady. It was my pleasure. You just let me know if you need anything else while you're visiting," Joe smiled. "We haven't had a celebrity here in Bear Hollow before."
"Oh, I'm not a celebrity," Kim demurred. "I'm just an ordinary teenager."
"If you say so, Miss Possible. All I know is you're the closest thing to a celebrity we've seen in these parts since my father's cousin Cleotus came back from basic training to visit. So, you just take care now," Joe concluded, pausing to shake her hand again before returning to his store.
Pulling out her Kimmunicator, Kim shook her head in disappointment as she pushed the button to page Wade. When his face appeared on screen, she sadly commented, "I struck out, Wade."
"What happened, Kim?" Wade asked before sipping from a disposable soda cup.
"Game, set, and match to Monkey Fist - to mix sports metaphors. He captured whoever or whatever was behind those stories, and left before I even got here."
"That's too bad," Wade sighed, as disappointed in the poor showing as she was. "I knew I should have rerouted that flight from Albuquerque; I won't make that mistake again. Sorry, Kim."
"It's alright, Wade. We'll get him next time. For all Monkey Fist's other faults, having a lack of monkey-themed but hare-brained schemes is not one of them."
"Too true," Wade agreed before cracking his knuckles and beginning to type on one of his keyboards. "A ride will be coming to pick you up and bring you home shortly. Stream your homework while you wait?"
"Yes, please," Kim sighed as she walked towards a small bench outside Joe's store.
Breathing deeply the crisp, unpolluted air of the rural town, she sat and quietly scrolled through the list of Latin verb conjugations that glowed on the Kimmunicator's screen, mouthing the syllables quietly to herself to fix the pronunciation in her mind while she waited for her ride to arrive.
Despite Kim's feelings of discontent, and her sense of having been defeated by default, Monkey Fist was feeling no more triumphant than she. In a warehouse on the outskirts of Miami, waiting for the boarding call for the international flight that would return his minions and himself to his ancestral home, Fiske's rage was simmering merrily, well on its way to a full boil.
"Defend yourself, curse you," Monty Fiske snarled, clenching one mutated hand tightly into a threatening fist. "Show me your power!" The monkey kung fu master drew himself up to his full height and loomed menacingly over the small figure huddled piteously before him. "Show me the full might of wild Tai Shing Pek Kwar, uncorrupted by foul human influences!" he barked, shaking his fist in front of the creature's eyes.
A faint sound like a choking sob came from the huddled figure, but it didn't move to avoid the threatened attack, or to respond in kind. Even after Fiske lashed out and struck the cowering figure with a powerful blow, it did nothing but huddle in a near-fetal position on the dirty warehouse floor.
Scowling in such a way as to reveal some of the unnaturally lengthened teeth that graced his dentition, the mutated English lord forced himself to calm down as he watched the huddled creature shake with fear before his might - which was, after all, only as it should be, despite how annoying he presently found it to be. "A pity. You're still too much of a human to be a natural master of the mystical monkey power, after all. I had such hopes, but it seems you've nothing to teach me..."
Turning his back on the shaking figure, he continued, "Still, I can find other uses for you, my proto-simian friend. But you're unworthy of receiving my personal tutelage... yet." Looking up into the rafters, he bellowed, "Chippy!"
With a faint rustle of fabric as the only sound to betray the monkey ninja's arrival, a black-clad monkey melted from the shadows. Moving almost completely silently, the monkey ninja jumped down, landing gracefully in front of Fiske before bowing obediently.
"Ah, there you are," Monkey Fist smiled with satisfaction at his student's skill and dutifulness. "Chippy, this weak creature needs instruction in the rudiments. I shall leave his instruction in your care. I have plans for him, but I have neither the time nor the inclination to prepare him personally. Do you understand me?"
The monkey ninja nodded in understanding and acceptance.
"Excellent," Fiske turned and grinned mirthlessly at the golden furred creature he had gone to so much trouble to acquire, and that had then disappointed him so badly. "Unless I call for you personally, his training shall be your only task." When Chippy seemed inclined to wait for further instructions, he barked, "What are you waiting for? Get him out of here and get to work! The sight of him offends me," he sneered, stretching his pronunciation of the word "offends" for added emphasis.
After a series of back flips, Chippy landed beside the huddled figure and latched onto one ear with a powerful hand. "Ook," the monkey ninja commanded, pulling strongly on the trapped appendage.
"Ack," screamed the creature at the pain in his ear. As the monkey ninja moved to the warehouse door, the creature was forced to scuttle to keep pace with the smaller figure of the monkey ninja, and to keep the grip on his ear from hurting even more.
Monkey Fist laughed uproariously at the sight, then launched into a kata using his mutated hands and feet interchangeably. "Oh yes," he murmured, kicking powerfully into the air. "I have many plans..."
As he continued to cycle through the rhythmic, martial movements of the Monkey Kung Fu forms, he was joined first by one, then by another monkey ninja. By the time he had completed the kata and stood poised on one prehensile foot in a variant of a crane stance, he was surrounded by a small horde of his furry minions, all of whom echoed his pose. "Excellent," he praised, before snorting briefly at a distant screech that was a testament to Chippy's labors on his behalf. "Now, repeat it from the beginning, faster..." he ordered, and his minions obediently followed his lead.
Without breaking the flow of his movements, Monkey Fist's flat grey eyes narrowed in concentration as he thought fiercely, "I am the Monkey Master."