Note: I'm going from some really old memories and Wikipedia on the tennis stuff, so nobody get mad if I make a few mistakes, okay?


It was the day of the big game. "Big game" was of course a relative matter. As Coach Rakket drove the Upperton team into Middleton, he didn't hear anything about the day's inter-city tennis tournament on the radio. There were no signs advertising the match-up, and though mention had been made in the sports section of the newspaper, it had been on the second page.

Still, the impending confrontation was of importance to some people.

From the driver's seat of the rental van, Rakket looked glanced back over his shoulder. "I'd just like to express my confidence in all of you girls," he said in his usual nasally voice. "Today's match-up is going to wipe away all the shame of Upperton's losing record. All of my shame…"

Rakket tightened his grip on the steering wheel in a momentary rage.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Coach Rakket," said Robin, who was taking shotgun in the seat next to him. The blonde girl had her golden-stringed racquet clutched tightly in her hands, as did all the girls on the team.

"I can drive perfectly fine without your advice," Rakket told Robin.

"Incorrect," said one of the girls behind him. "You are imperfect," said another. "You exist only to aid in our perfection," said a third. The girls of the tennis team seemed to have no trouble coordinating their speaking, one picking up smoothly where another left off.

"Aheh," said Coach Rakket in a forced jocular tone. "Yes, of course you're the perfect tennis team. Working together, you'll crush Middleton!"

"We will complete Phase One," said Robin.

There was a moment of silence in the van as Coach Rakket processed this. Finally, he asked in a weak voice, "Phase one? Is there- Does that mean there will be a phase two?"

"Phase one, win the intercity tennis tournament between Middleton and Upperton," said one girl behind him. "Phase two, use our perfection to conquer the world," continued another.

"Perfection must conquer imperfection," said Robin. "It is only logical," continued the thought in a voice from the back row.

"That was not part of the plan," protested Rakket. "I didn't ask for this! I just wanted something that would push a team to the next level, not-"

"Your plans are irrelevant," said Robin, pushing her racquet under Rakket's chin in a threatening manner. "You will aid in our perfection," said another of the girls. "Or you will be eliminated," added a third.

Rakket swallowed nervously. "Right. Of course. Phase one, then phase two, how silly of me. I'll just keep driving then, shall I?"

A cold silence surrounded him as he gently pushed down harder on the accelerator.


Kim was leading her team in stretching exercises. "One, two, get the legs up," she called out.

Off to the sidelines, Mr. Barkin and Ron were watching. "Aren't those the same warm-up exercises Kim uses for Cheer Squad?" asked Ron.

"Don't mess with what works," replied Barkin gruffly. "Got to admit, Stoppable, your pal really whipped the team into shape this year."

"Yeah, she can be like that," said Ron, not totally approvingly. "I-"

He was interrupted by a commotion from the entrance gate. The first thing audible was the sound of tennis shoes hitting the pavement in perfect unison. Next came the sound of voices repeating the word, "Upp-er-ton, upp-er-ton," over and over. After that, Coach Thomas Rakket came into view, looking like he wished he was somewhere else. Behind him marched the Upperton tennis team, almost as if they were herding him inescapably into the courts.

Unlike the Middleton team, they were wearing matched uniforms and carrying their team racquets. They seemed to move together as a unit, without a single gap or hesitation in their formation.

"Is it just me, or are they kind of scary?" Ron asked Barkin.

Steve Barkin looked as though he were having a bit of trouble taking all of this in. "They're more impressive than last year's team, I have to give them that."

The Middleton team had stopped their warm-up to watch the newcomers. One of the girls on the team complained, "Coach Barkin, why do they get team uniforms and team racquets, and we get nothing?"

"Yeah," piped up another team member.

"Because the city donates the courts, the balls, and a fifty dollar budget for putting up flyers and that's it, that's why," answered Barkin. He rubbed his chin. "I guess somebody over in Upperton is desperate for a win this year."

"Well they're not going to get it, declared Kim in a loud, clear voice. She pointed at the opposing team and said, "Not going to happen."


Mr. Barkin explained the rules of the tournament, using a portable white board to illustrate. It was generally felt that they were on the complicated side.

"…so you see that if player number 22 wins match 3B on a tie-breaker, they will go on to face the winner of game 7B. If it's a blow-out, of course they wait on the sidelines until the previous match is completed," said Barkin, tapping several concentric circles on the white board.

Monique raised her hand. "Coach… I think I can't be the only one a little unclear on how there can be a player 22 when there's only ten of us on each side."

"Good catch, Monique," said Barkin. "In this case, number 22 is only a placeholder to indicate an indeterminate winner of…"

"Do you understand this, Wade?" said Kim quietly as Barkin continued talking. She was holding up her Kimmunicator so that Wade could see the white board.

"Of course I do, Kim. I'm a genius," replied Wade.

"Well can you explain it to me?" asked Kim.

"And maybe to me," said Ron, who was huddled next to Kim.

"Well, I.…" Wade's eyes on the screen looked back and forth between Ron and Kim. "You know, I'm sure the coaches and referees will let you know when to play. Just remember that whichever team has at least two of the top three players will be the overall winner."

Before they could reply, the screen winked out.

"Everything all right, kids?" called a familiar voice from behind them.

They turned to see Kim's mother. She was dressed in a jacket and casual clothing, and she was carrying a small sign with the words 'Go Possible!' on it.

"Everything is fine, Mom. We were just talking with Wade, but not anything mission-related." said Kim.

"Oh, good. I'm really looking forward to watching you play, Kimmie. It's too bad your father can't be here, but you know he had to go with Jim and Tim."

"I know, the twins had their own thing. No big. I'm just surprised that you didn't go with them and send Dad here instead. Since you didn't want me to-" Kim cut herself off in mid-sentence, but it was too late.

Mrs. Dr. Possible was blinking and not looking at her daughter straight-on. It was obvious that what Kim had said had hurt her. "I see. Well, I have a folding chair set up over there. I'll just get out of your way."

She walked off, leaving Kim and Ron standing there. "Kim!" said Ron. He flailed his hands about helplessly, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the words.

Kim looked back at him, ashamed. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I guess I'm not as okay with everything as I thought I was."

"But you'll talk to her later, right?" asked Ron. "I know she's your mom, but she's kind of like a mom to me too. I mean, I have my own mother, so it's more like she's a second mother. Not that I'm saying your mother is second to anybody, but-"

"Ron," Kim interrupted. "I'll talk to her later."

They stood uncomfortably for a while, until the referees called for the teams to line up.

In a few minutes, the first two matches were beginning, and Ron took his place on the sidelines to collect stray balls. Kim and Monique stood next to each other, watching the first games of the matches. The Kimmunicator perched on a small stand beside them facing the courts so that Wade could watch if he felt like it.

"First serve from our side. Let's see what they've- Eeeww," commented Kim.

"That was not pretty," agreed Monique. "Maybe the other- Nope. I have to say, these girls are good!"

"There's something weird about the way they move, though," replied Kim. "It's like they're… choreographed. They already have their moves picked out before they start."

"When your moves are as good as that, I can see why. Just their serves are blowing through our girls. We're not even getting to- nope."

There was silence while they watched things continue. "That's it, first game is over for both matches. I can't believe this, Upperton is going to roll us up!" said Monique.

"Maybe not." Kim narrowed her eyes and watched carefully as the next games of the matches began.

After a moment's consideration, she shouted, her voice carrying across the court. "Margaret, look for it on the upper left! Go low!"

On the court, the Middleton player Margaret managed to return an Upperton serve. However, she completely failed to get to the return volley in time.

"Kim! I know you're not up on tennis etiquette, but calling instructions from the sideline? Frowned upon," said Monique.

"Is it actually against the rules?" Kim said slyly.

Monique considered, brushing her hair back. "Well this is an intercity game, and it's not sanctioned, so I guess the refs won't do anythi-"

"Right high, Lisa, right high," shouted Kim.

"Come on, Kim. You really think you can talk our team through whatever you're seeing that the Upperton girls have got going? Two words. Not likely," said Monique.

"Maybe not. But if I can help draw things out far enough, I might be able to get Upperton to show enough of their moves that I can beat- OH GO BACK LISA, BACK!"

It was on this serve that the second game of that match-up ended. Lisa had gone too far back.

Monique glared at Kim, who shrugged in response. "Well, can't call them all right the first time."

They watched the remaining games of both match-ups play out. Monique slowly began to see what Kim had spotted so quickly. The Upperton players were very good at what they did, but they were also very limited. As fast as they could hit the ball, there were only a few parts of the court they would hit it to, and Monique was starting to think she saw vague 'tells' revealing what they were going to do. Still, they were very fast, especially at making the returns.

Upperton won the required four games out of seven in the first four games of each match, winning both matches. With Kim's guidance, Lisa and Margaret had actually managed to score a few points in their last two games, but that was it. It was now time for the next match-ups to begin. Kim was up, but Monique still waited on the sidelines.

Kim's first serve managed to catch her opponent off guard, scoring the first point of the first game against her Upperton opponent. Watching, Monique took it as a good sign. She observed more of Kim's play, then leaned down to the Kimmunicator and said softly, "Wade, are you watching?"

After a moment, the answer came back. "I'm keeping an eye out. I was actually going to blow this off- tennis not the most fun sport to watch. But then Kim started talking about those weird playing patterns, and when Kim says there's something weird, I listen. I'm getting some strange readings from those Upperton racquets too. I need to get Kim to scan one up close for me later." There followed a sound of soda being slurped through a straw as Wade sucked on his drink a bit too close to the audio pick-up.

"So can you actually see the, uh, choreography that Kim was talking about?" said Monique.

"I've been running the video feed through my computer and I've plotted some of their moves, yeah. Why? Kim seems to have a handle on it." As Wade paused, Kim missed a return volley, allowing her opponent to score a point. "Well, she's getting a handle on it, anyway."

"Because I don't got a handle on it," Monique told Wade. "I mean, I'm starting to see it, but there's no way I can keep track out on the court. I was thinking it you had an earpiece attachment to that thing, I could wear it out on the court and you could help me figure out what I'm doing enough to made a game of it."

There was silence from Wade's end for a moment. "Isn't that cheating?"

Monique started counting on her fingers. "One, advice is not cheating. Two, both you and Kim think something weird is going on, and if both of you think that, you're probably right and we're just balancing the scales. Three, Middleton needs two of the top three players to win the tournament. It doesn't matter if Kim can beat them if I can't. And four-" She stopped.

"Four?" asked Wade after a moment.

"Four, since when have you been Mr. Ethics, Wade? I know you have Ron chipped."

"Got me there." A small metal tendril emerged from the side of the Kimmunicator. It crept up Monique and deposited an earplug snugly into her ear.

"Ooooh, Wade, you have the most supple metal arms," teased Monique.

"Uhhh," was Wade's response in her ear, and Monique knew he was blushing even without seeing his image on screen.

They waited for a while, then Monique got to her feet. "I can do this. I can do this. If Kim can do this, I can do this." Kim was still playing her match, having won one game, lost another, and being in the midst of dominating a third. Meanwhile Tina, the other Middleton player on the field, had just finished losing her game. They were calling for a new pair of players on what had been Tina's court.


After winning her match four games to one, Kim took the opportunity to head over to where her mother was sitting. Ron delegated ball boy duties to Rufus for a few minutes and followed her, trying to act like he wasn't interested in what Kim would say and failing miserably at it.

Just as Kim got there, her mother sprang out of her chair shouting, "Go Monique, go! Win one for Middleton! Woo-hoo!"

The words spilled out of Kim's mouth before she knew she was saying them. "Monique gets a woo-hoo?"

Mrs. Dr. Possible turned to her daughter. "I cheered for you when you were up, Kim. And Monique isn't just on your team, she's your friend. Are you saying you don't want me cheering for her?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying. I just… I don't want you cheering for her louder than you're cheering for me. I don't remember getting a woo-hoo," said Kim.

Mrs. Dr. Possible considered. "I'm not sure whether I woo-hooed you or not, but I definitely will for your next match. It's just that you can see Monique is trying so hard, and she's doing much better than the other girls on your team."

"The other girls on my team other than me who actually won her match, you mean," Kim griped, trying not to sound petty.

"Well of course that's true, but Monique doesn't have Photographic Reflexes like you do, Kimmie, so I can't expect the same out of her as I do you" replied her mother.

"Photo-what?" said Ron. He looked at Kim and she just shrugged her ignorance.

Kim turned to her mother and repeated Ron's question. "Photo-what?"

"Photographic Reflexes." Kim's mother twisted her hands together as though wishing she hadn't used those words, but she continued. "It's just the semi-technical term for your condition, Kim. Not strictly medically accurate, but it gets the idea across in the medical journals."

"Condition!" said Kim in an alarmed voice. "I have a condition now? I mean, what?"

Ron suddenly ran up and clutched Mrs. Dr. Possible's sleeve. "Is Kim sick? If she's sick, you can tell me. I can take it. I'll help her get through it. Bed rest needed? No problem, I'll make her soup every day. You're a great doctor, and we can get Kim through this."

"Ronald, no!" Mrs. Dr. Possible pushed Ron away gently. "It's not that sort of condition. Condition was a bad word to use. Ability might be a better word."

"So I have this condition and you've been keeping it a secret from me?" protested Kim. Her eyes were wide.

"No, no, no. Just calm down and listen to me, Kimmie," insisted Mrs. Dr. Possible. "You know better than I do that you have the ability to learn certain physical skills and become expert in them very quickly, don't you?"

"Well… not bragging, but yes," said Kim, still looking a bit excitable.

"And you understand how you do this, right?"

Kim spoke slowly. "I watch someone do something, and I figure out their moves and how they do it. Then I try a little bit, and I can do the same thing." She was thoughtful for a moment, then added, "Sometimes when I'm trying to figure out something really weird, like how to roller skate along a wall while being pulled along by an overcharged floor polisher slash killer robot, I think about a bunch of little moves that could all be part of what I want to do, and I put them together in my head really quick. And then I do them."

Kim's mother patiently led her daughter along. "You also understand that other people can't do that, correct?"

"Well, not nearly as well as I can. I mean, I've helped the cheer squad to learn things and it always seems to take them a while to pick up on a new move. But after I show them what I want a few times, they eventually start getting closer and closer to the move."

Mrs. Dr. Possible reached out and squeezed her daughter's shoulder briefly. "Not anything like you can. They practice, but they never get it exactly right, do they? They can't imitate you the way you can imitate them."

Kim spoke very quietly. "No, they never get it exactly right."

"I'm a mother and a doctor. When my four year old daughter started doing back-flips and displaying perfect balance without any gymnastic training, I would have been failing both duties not to try to figure out what was happening. You probably don't remember, but I did quite a few tests on you, and I found something wonderful. You had the ability to learn physical skills just by watching someone do it once. We brought in your Uncle Slim and let you watch him handle a lasso, and you were able to duplicate it perfectly. I let you watch an Olympics gymnast tape, and you duplicated her routine.

"I searched and searched to see if there were any precedents, and I didn't find many. A case from forty years ago where a boy was reported to be able to do similar things. A few cases farther back. It was enough to let me put a name to your condition- ability, sorry. As to how you do it… I'm a brain surgeon, but that just means that I know enough to know how little we know about the brain. I know the secret is somewhere in how your mind and memory can talk to the rest of your body, but I can't even guess what the details are."

"Whoa," said Ron. "You know K.P., from now on when you do some amazing stunt and I'm trying just to keep up, I'm not going to feel nearly as bad. I'm just going to say, 'photographic reflexes'. She's got it, I don't, and that's all the excuse I need."

Kim rolled her eyes and punched Ron in the shoulder affectionately. "You have mystical monkey power to fall back on," she said.

She returned her attention to her mother. "So you decided it would be unfair to let me play sports because I had this ability."

Mrs. Dr. Possible gave the impression of someone about to say something she didn't want to say. "Being 'unfair' was part of it, but I had another reason too. I knew that with this ability, you wouldn't have to work at mastering sports. It would just come easily to you. I worried about your development. If you could just spend all your time at hobbies that didn't take any effort for you, you might not develop a good work ethic. So I convinced your father that we needed to keep you out of the usual competitive sports, even though you wanted to do them so badly, so that you wouldn't have your hobbies come too easily."

"Oh." Kim processed for a few moments. "But you let me join cheer squad."

"You were older by that time, and I could see what a fine, determined young woman you were growing into. Also, cheer squad is a team effort. It's not enough to have one cheerleader able to pull off a routine, you all have to work together. And I was a cheerleader once myself. Didn't have the heart to say no."

Mother and daughter considered in silence for a moment.

Ron spoke up again. "But there have been things that Kim couldn't learn to do quickly. Like when she tried making burrito wraps. Or the first time she tried to drive."

"Really? Ronald, I told you I don't fully understand Kim's ability. It's possible that her emotional state or not really wanting to learn something could keep her from doing it properly. Or maybe there are just certain tasks she can't learn the easy way, for some reason I couldn't guess at." Kim's mother looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry that I don't have any answers for you on things like that, Kim."

"That's fine Mom. I'm a little into the drama here, suddenly finding out I'm the freak of the family."

"Kim! You already knew what you could do. I just put a name to it."

"But does this- does this mean you aren't proud of me for what I do? If it's all just some trick in my brain." There was a quaver in Kim's voice.

"Oh Kimmie." Mrs. Dr. Possible reached out and hugged her daughter. "We all have our talents, it's what you do with them that matters. You try to help people, and sometimes your talent helps with that and sometimes it doesn't. I remember how much time you spent putting up those save the manatee posters, and that didn't come from being able to do high-kicks. I know your ability doesn't make schoolwork any easier either, but you still bring home straight A's. You work hard at everything you do, and I am very proud of you."

They held each other for just a moment, then Kim pushed her mother way, suddenly a bit embarrassed at sharing a warm family moment out in front of everyone.

"Booyah!" shouted Ron, jumping up and down.

"Ron!" Kim said, ready to chide him for cheering warm family moments. Then she realized that Ron's attention was somewhere else entirely.

"Did Monique just win?" said Kim.

"Scorekeeper says three games to three. She's got to win the last one to win the match, but the Monique has Upperton's number now. She can do it," said Ron.

"And the way they're all playing alike, if she can beat any one of them, she can probably beat any of the others," said Kim. "This is great. Between the two of us, we can win it for the team!"

There was a squeal at their feet as Rufus came rolling up, wrapped around a ball he was desperately trying to stop. Ron reached down and picked the mole rat and the ball up. "Sorry pal. I'd better get back on duty, but I'll be cheering you, Kim."

Kim nodded. "I think I've got another match coming up soon. Thanks for coming out and cheering me on, Mom."

Mrs. Dr. Possible raised up her 'Go Possible!' flag and raised it as Kim went back to her team.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Coach Thomas Rakket was attempting to place a call on his cell phone. "Come on, come on, pick up!"


Elsewhere, a phone was ringing in the lair of Dr. Drakken.

Drakken was underneath a platform holding some sort of ray gun, fiddling with wires trailing out underneath. When the phone on the workbench next to him started ringing, he groped for it blindly with his hand, not bothering to pull his eyes away from his current task.

Drakken's hand first came down on one side of the phone, then the other, then in front of it, then behind, somehow managing to miss the phone every time as it continued to ring. Finally Shego, who had been lounging nearby, sighed to herself and gently pushed the receiver underneath Drakken's hand.

"This is Dr. Drakken."

Drakken listened to the voice on the other end for a moment.

"How did you get this number? I'm at my secret lair, and I don't remember giving the number out to-"

He stopped, listening to the voice some more.

"Oh, my eBay profile. All right, listen, this is not a customer service line. I sold you the things and that's it. I'm done with it. Caveat emptor."

The voice on the other end said something else. It was sufficient to make Drakken slide out from underneath the death ray and look at Shego unhappily.

Drakken covered the receiver and spoke to Shego. "He says if I don't help him, he's going to give me a bad eBay sales review. I can't avoid another bad sales review, Shego. Not after that business with the exploding action figures."

"You mean the exploding dolls," said Shego.

"Action figures, Shego!" protested Drakken, in the tone of someone picking up an argument.

Shego rolled her eyes. "All right, this I have to hear. I'm putting him on speaker." She took the receiver from Drakken and hit a button on the phone's base. "Yo dimwit, who are you and what's your problem?"

"This is Thomas Rakket. I bought some racquets from you that were supposed to make my tennis team into winners, but they're not working right! The girls all keep talking about winning the tennis tournament and then taking over the world. I just want to win the tennis tournament. But they aren't even doing that! Two of the other team's players are beating them."

"Hold on a minute, sport," said Shego. She hit the mute button waved her hand for Drakken to explain.

Drakken shifted uncomfortably under Shego's gaze. "I've been experimenting with selling evil technology online. Online sales are the future, you know. I wish they'd had it when I was growing-"

"Yeah, yeah," Shego interrupted. "Back to the evil tennis racquets."

"The man wanted to make sure that his tennis team won their tournament. So I threw together some odds and ends I had in the lab. I used some leftover AIs from the Beebe series robots, some visual/tactile interfaces to induce a hypnotic state, and I taped a couple of professional tennis tournaments and fed the moves into their memory. It's just some silly teenaged girls' team, so I figured that would be enough for them to become winners."

"Uh-huh," said Shego. "And them wanting to take over the world?"

"The Beebe series is a little twitchy. Too much ego for an AI. They think they're perfect and better than anyone else, which means that they should logically take over the world. How ridiculous."

"Not like how you want to take over the world," said Shego sarcastically

"Exactly. Totally different," said an oblivious Drakken.

Shego shook her head. "You know what? I'm changing my mind. You handle this. I don't want to hear any more."

She sauntered off, picking up a magazine along the way. Drakken shouted after her, "Fine, I will!"

He hit the mute button again. "Rakket, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"First of all, let's get this straight. I promised an improvement in your team's performance. Im-prove-ment. I didn't say they could beat anyone. Now are they or are they not improved?"

"I… didn't exactly wait to see them play without the racquets, but I suppose they're doing better than they would if-"

"Right!" shouted Drakken at his phone. "Second, I never said it wouldn't make them want to take over the world. You work with evil technology, you have to accept a few simple side effects."

"But-"

"What are you worried about, anyway? It's not like a few teenaged girls have the mojo to take over the world. They're not Kim Possible or something. So they try and fail and get locked up. Anyway, if they're getting beaten in your silly little game, it won't even be a problem. The racquet AIs are programmed to think that they're perfect. Being defeated at tennis will cause a logical fault, since it proves they aren't perfect, and it'll break the hypnotic programming."

Rakket's voice whined out of the speaker. "I still think you owe me a little more help, here."

Drakken's eyes tightened in rage. "I owe you nothing! I gave you everything I promised, and if you dare give me a bad eBay review, I'll find you and I'll make you very, very, sorry."

"Wait, I-" began Rakket.

Drakken slammed the receiver down, cutting the connection. He brushed off his tunic and suddenly smiled, realizing he had just won an argument. It was a very satisfying feeling.


Meanwhile….

Kim pushed off from the ground, meeting the ball in mid-air to slam it to the other side of the court. She was winning, but it wasn't quite effortless. After her and Monique's victories, the Upperton team had had some kind of strange conference, apparently to rethink their strategies.

When Upperton returned to the field, they had mixed up their moves a bit. It had taken a bit of work on Kim's part to figure out the new patterns, but eventually she succeeded after losing only one game. This whole business was definitely a bit strange, but Kim figured she would get Wade to help sort it out later, after Middleton was declared the tournament winner.

Kim read the signals. Her opponent was serving, and it was going to be a fast drive straight to center. She moved out to meet it, arm shaking a bit from the impact of her racquet against the ball. The Upperton team member wasn't able to return the volley, but it hadn't gone quite where Kim had intended to put it, either. Her racquet was feeling a bit strange in her hand, too.

Looking, Kim let out a groan. She'd struck with such force, the strings in her racquet had broken. She'd have to borrow a replacement from someone else. Kim waved her busted racquet at the referee to indicate her dilemma and walked off to the sidelines. To her surprise, one of the Upperton girls moved out to meet her. Kim recognized it as the same girl she had beaten in her first match.

The girl held her golden-stringed racquet out to Kim, seeming a bit dazed. "You beat me. I am- I'm not perfect. Here, this should be yours. You play with it."

There was a bit of hesitation on Kim's part, but only a little. She did need a replacement racquet, after all.

So Kim Possible reached out and took hold of the golden-stringed racquet.


Ron paced the length of the court, ready and alert for any stray balls. As he did, he came up next to Coach Rakket, who was apparently listening to someone on his cell phone.

"I still think you owe me a little more help, here," Rakket said into the phone.

Something he heard on the other end made him wince. "Wait, I just want to…. Drakken, are you still there? Dr. Drakken, are you still there?"

Ron heard these last words quite clearly. They caused him to abandon his post as ball boy for a second time that day, as he headed immediately for the Upperton coach, determined to find out what was behind all the weirdness of the day.

While he did, Kim stared at the golden strings of her wonderful new tennis racquet.


Author's Notes:

Next time, it's the showdown that's been building since the beginning, Monique versus Kim. But the stakes have been raised dramatically, as it seems the only way to save Kim is to defeat her! Just one little problem. How is an ordinary teenager supposed to beat the girl who can do anything? Find out in the final chapter, as Kim and her friends uncover once and for all, the secret of… "The Kimpetitive Edge"!

Heh.

Where this story came from. I was reading a few Kim Possible fanfics, just getting into the fandom, and I was trying to figure out, what does "she can do anything" actually mean? Some fics seem to treat what Kim does as something anybody could do if they really tried and trained, but it seems to me that Kim has some extraordinary talent that can't be so easily duplicated. I think my primary inspiration came after watching the Coach Possible episode and 'A Sitch in Time'. In Coach Possible, Kim goes from knowing nothing at all about soccer to being a smooth ball handler in the next scene. It's true she's just demonstrating against ten year olds, but she still seemed awfully good for someone who never touched a soccer ball before. In, "A Sitch in Time," pre-K Kim starts spontaneously doing flips to defend Ron against her toddler terror enemies. Later, her early teen self easily pulls off a cheerleading routine that Bonnie had declared 'impossible'. Even though Kim sometimes attributes her athletic abilities to things she learned while cheerleading, it seems like the true source of her abilities is instinctual, not something she trained or worked for.

So I hit upon stealing a concept called 'Photographic Reflexes' from some comic books I've read. The idea is simple. If a person with PR sees someone do something, they can immediately pull it off themselves. I think 'photographic reflexes' is a really cool and evocative-sounding name, and it straddled an interesting line between 'superpower' and 'incredible natural talent'. I'm not saying it's the only interpretation of what Kim can do, and it probably contradicts something in the show here or there, but as an easy explanation for what she can and can't do, I kind of like it.

Of course, if I spent all this story time building up Kim's abilities, having her fight some main bad guy at the end of the story wouldn't be very exciting. Obviously, the only logical choice was to make 'unbeatable' Kim into the person who has to be beaten by the good guys. This ought to be fun.

Now let's see, I forgot to individually thank commentators last time. So thanks to lab1152, eckles, Triaxx2, gargoylesama, Cold-Chaos, campy, and Corencio for their comments on chapter 2.

Thanks to Triaxx2, Jezrianna2.0, and Pesterfield for their comments on Chapter 3. Pesterfield, robot-Kim would be an interesting idea, even though it wasn't where I was going with this one. Triazz2, you said you guessed where the story was going. Was this what you guessed?