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Chapter 3: A Time for Goodbyes

"So how'd it go?"

The deep voice called from the shadows of the hotel as Superboy entered. The teen of steel fell onto the nearest couch before he answered.

"Great, if you count getting pulled from action great. I'm officially benched until Luthor decides he wants to let me back in the game. Oh and if I disobey ol' baldy then he shuts down Cadmus and brings me up on federal charges. Whoopee. Only good thing about the damn meeting is we get to keep Guardian. And no army of clones."

"And you're not going to jail," piped in Wonder Girl, who'd entered in time to hear the boy's rant.

Kon-el merely huffed before turning to the place where the boy wonder had spoken from.

"And how was your meeting?"

"They'll allow us to continue operating on one condition. They want us to have team training sessions."

"Don't we do that already?" Wonder Girl called out.

"Ah Cass but our sessions aren't up to the Bat's quality," Superboy answered.

"Funny you should say that Kon." And that was all Robin needed to say to cause the boy of steel's bravado to fade.

The next few days passed by in a blur for Kim Possible. Impulse was released hours after he'd woken. The doctor had been astonished at the brown haired superhero's metabolism. The masked youth had thanked him and sped off, leaving Kim with Ron. Ron had spoken to Kim, a painful conversation that they'd managed to stumble through.

She couldn't believe what he'd told her. She respected his decision, had to, but it still hurt. He was going to live with his Uncle Slade. Apparently he and Ron's father had never really gotten along, which was why she'd never heard of him.

She vehemently wished Ron would reconsider, but he'd claimed he needed to be with family, if only for a while. So she was going to be understanding, even though it meant Ron would be moving across the country. Worst of all was she wouldn't even see him for missions.

He needed the time off, she knew that, but their adventures were the only way she could really conceive of regularly seeing him. It was devastating, but only temporary. In the meantime she'd just have to do the best she could on her own.

Before she knew it the day had come and Ron was leaving to meet his uncle.

They were standing in the hospital parking lot, the dim light from the overhead fixtures the only thing keeping the darkness of the subterranean garage at bay. Shadows crept along the border of the weak circle of light. A car rested just outside the circle's circumference. Its deep red exterior reflected the stray beams of light that struck it, drawing the elder Possibles' attention. Mr. Dr. Possible stared hard at the car, as if the metallic vehicle hid some deep personal significance. Kim's mom, however, just gave it a glance before turning her attention back to Ron.

Her daughter was currently draped over him, tears staining his red shirt, the one he seemed to wear everyday. Ron's chocolate eyes were free of liquid, a fact that worried her. She chased away the fears, after all Ron was just overwhelmed at the moment. And he probably wanted to be strong in front of her daughter; after all he was hugging Kim tightly. Yes that was all it was. It couldn't be the fact that the death of his parents and his girlfriend by the hand of one of his best friend's foes, who was hunting him in order to get at her daughter the teenage hero, had unhinged him to the point were he was beyond feeling the emotions coursing through his system. At least, that's what she told herself.

Slade stood, dressed in casual clothes, loose fitting so he could hide his armor underneath them, waiting for the two teenagers to separate. The goodbye was taking far too long. There had been hugging and crying, all done by the girl, followed by promises of phone calls, followed by more hugging and crying, this time the girl's brothers, followed by statements of how much they'd miss the blond boy, followed by more hugging and crying, this time the girl's mother, followed by the woman telling his new charge that there would always be a place for him at their home, followed by a brief handshake and decelerations by the girl's father, Slade had more than stopped paying attention at that point, and now they were back to hugging and crying, once again with the girl draped all over his soon to be protégée.

To the boy's credit he hadn't cried once. Emotional control was something he'd have to learn anyway, best if he started now. Or, at least that was Slade's rather... interesting view on the entire thing. But he wasn't going to interrupt. It was the last time Ronald would be seeing this family for a long time. The training regime would see to that. Well that and Kim would be nosy if she thought anything was out of place. Best to let her cling and cry rather than realize how fishy the whole thing was.

Not his best operation, if truth be told. In fact at the very best, it was sloppy, risky and had as much chance as the titanic in a room full of landmine laden icebergs. But it was the only one he had. The entire thing was happening too fast. He'd only come to Middleton as part of a routine check up on the boy's family. He hadn't expected anything to happen. And he didn't really care if anything had. He only went to keep his promise. When he got there he caught the tail end of a climatic fight, the kid in question fainting just after a boom-tube whisked little miss glowing claws away.

He'd made all of the arrangements after visiting the boy in the hospital. So what if they were a little sloppy? Even he had his limits.

And with the kind of timing that can only be achieved inside a narrative work, Kim broke away from Ron just as Slade returned from his reverie into the recent past. Tears clung to her face as she gripped her best friend around his shoulders. Leaning forward she kissed him again, her lips seeking out his cheek. Pulling away she wiped away the tears as Ron gave her a forced smile, earning him another point in Slade's book. The old man wasn't cruel. He'd just heard too much about Ron to even hope that the boy had control of his emotions. It was probably shock.

In a far away land there is a pit. Inside it crackles the deadly flames that are feared throughout a galaxy. Inside it these flames leap and dance, covering all space except for a small section of island. The island is really more a pillar of rock, but either way it serves its purpose. Bolted into it are thick chains made of a deep black metal that will not melt, not even in the intense heat of the pit. They do get hot however. Proof of this lay in the smell of charring flesh currently filling the nostrils of a massive elderly lady. She wasn't tall, but she was broad. Her white hair stood out in a Halo surrounding her skull. Her stocky legs were resting upon a strange disc that hovered above the pit of flames. Her steely eyes were staring at the naked figure whose flesh the chains were charring. Her forearm was bobbing up and down, pushing a rod in and out of the imprisoned dark haired woman.

A scream was ripped from her lips. The smell of her own burning flesh penetrated the numbing fog of pain that surrounded her mind. The white haired lady cackled

"Now, now Dearie, fair's fair. You did it to the little ninja didn't you? Come on now take it like a woman. You'll never be ready in time if you keep screaming like that."

Normally she used machines for this, to punish her naughty children, to whip them into the shape needed to serve lord Darkseid, but the girly in front of her was different. This pup was to fulfill a special mission for her lord, to punish one who'd defied him. So she was going to make sure this pup became a warrior, like the rest of her furies.

She shoved the rod even deeper, maintaining this new pressure until her captive was too hoarse to scream any more.

The burning rod slipped from the former hero's body as the white haired lady leaned closer.

"That wasn't so bad was it? I told you it wouldn't be. You'd do well to listen child. After all, Granny knows best."

A harsh chuckle resounded once more as the rod was reinserted. Granny Goodness leaned back, satisfied. The screams weren't so loud now. Soon the girl would be ready and her lord would have his revenge.

Doctor Drakken sat inside one of his many Lairs. It was state of the art, filled with whozzits and whatsits galore. From here he'd planned to launch his master plan, one that would definitely work. Shego should be standing there right now, growing more irritated as she attempted to puzzle out his foolproof scheme. But she wasn't there, and he wasn't silently gloating. He was currently hunched into a small ball. Shego hadn't showed up for work. She'd been missing for the better part of a week. He'd heard about the battle in Middleton, heard how she hadn't been captured, his other henchmen had kept him informed. But still, she wasn't here, where he was. The only explanation was that something had her trapped; some government organization was simply keeping her capture quiet. That had to be it. It was the only reasonable option. It even made sense. Well he wouldn't let them keep her. He'd save her. It would just take time. It would take operation terror. And that would take a month. He hoped she'd be okay, and that gave the world a little more time to come to its senses.

His eyes traveled over the schematics for the thermonuclear device he'd be using. Some would call his plan insane. He wouldn't. After all, He needed Her. They had been together since the start of both of their villainous careers. They were more than just co-workers. They were friends. And you always went the extra mile for friends.

In short, he'd gone nuts.

Access once again found himself beyond space, beyond time, looking upon the world he'd created. A familiar voice called out to him.

"How goes the vigil?"

Access spun suddenly to take in the view of the little blue man suddenly standing behind him. Gathnet didn't wait for an answer. Instead the last remaining guardian leaned past Access, looking once more upon the earth.

The cosmic hall monitor sighed a little.

"They're acting weird. It's like watching a bad soap opera, you know about those right?"

"Hmm? Oh yes. I quite enjoy passions, but I think I see what you mean. You shouldn't worry. It's fallout from the changes you made."

"You keep saying stuff like that. I didn't understand last time and I don't get it now!"

That was two exclamation marks, not that the added volume or intensity caused the blue man to do anything but stare at the human in front of him.

"I shall try to explain this. There is a natural order to life. If this order is disrupted life itself will attempt to set things straight. There are many forces that exist inside this, I believe you call them realms. Each of them has an impact of the way things turn out."

Access looked as clueless as ever.

"Perhaps I should explain it like this. Think of the planet below as a living entity. The changes you made are like wounds. The planet is attempting to... This explanation isn't working is it?"

The boy nodded.

"Very well. Imagine this realm is a giant comic book. You are a guest writer who has shown up and inserted new characters into the cannon, characters whose very nature conflicts with the rules of the story. You then leave, and the regular writers return. They see what's happened and understand why it happened and they cannot undo it without the entire thing falling apart. So they attempt to quickly and discreetly fix the small inconsistencies. During this time period the normal rules are suspended and the narrative takes over. The characters, or people that exist in this realm, become nothing more than pawns without free will. They accept the improbable and impossible because they have no means to question it. They accept events that would normally make their blood boil because deep down a part of them is telling them it's all too unreal anyway. And so the narrative continues.

"When the story is at a place where it can once again function without the interference of the writers, the character's personalities will reassert themselves. And because we are discussing actual people and not fictional representations of human beings, there will be much confusion, guilt, and many will just chalk it up to shock from the events that occurred around them. Do you understand now?"

"Yes. No. Yes. It doesn't matter. How long will it last?"

"The last time I witnessed it was only for a few days, perhaps a week. This is a much larger change though. Just be patient." And then the Guardian faded, leaving Access alone with another.

A soft voice, almost hauntingly so, called out from the darkness.

"I am worried about young Stoppable. Despite the phenomena that Gathnet has mentioned he is acting strangely out of character."

The hidden accusation didn't go unnoticed by Access. Crimson color crept onto his face as feelings of shame washed over him. Technically the boy's reactions were his fault. His rapid changing of both time lines and realities alike had, had more repercussions than most would have tolerated.

"Well, there's more. In the original universe, other things happened. He's probably experiencing the echoes." The voice didn't ask for clarification, but for some reason Access still felt the need to give it. "Umm, they're what happen after a radical shift in the time line of a realm alters events either in the past or future in such a way as that they never existed. The person forgets the event, but retains strong emotions regarding a person or place."

The voice remained silent for several heartbeats, mercilessly leaving Access to stew in his own confusion and worry. When it once again slid through the air it allayed neither of the two emotions pulling at Access.

"Why did you not simply stop all of the events from occurring?

"I couldn't actually affect the bet. It doesn't make sense, but I think at least one of the people involved must have been immune to my powers. Though, I haven't felt his presence since. It's possible that Impulse's intervention changed everything."

No sound greeted the man's explanation. After the silence had drawn on for longer than the one he had just endured Access began to search for the blue clad stranger. Access found nothing. He was once more alone.

A car sped along a dusty road. Cliche yes, but out here in the southwest, also a reality. The red sports car sped through the arid wilderness. Its old, one eyed driver pushed the car to its limits. The red line of the speedometer was pushed far past the ninety mark, bouncing every now and then. The motor roared as the old car sped by cactuses and wide eyed iguanas. The silver haired man's passenger sat, staring out into space. The blonde teenager in the passenger's seat hadn't said much since they'd left Middleton; all he'd done was sleep. The driver had woken him when they'd reached Arizona's borders and now the youth simply stared out the window. A pink rodent snoozed happily in his pocket.

Without warning the driver yanked the steering wheel, pulling the car off the old highway and into the sandy desert. The vehicle tore through the dunes, sending sand up in sprays. Animals scattered as the car sped forward, unmindful of the damage it did to the fragile ecosystem it was in. Several burrows caved in, crushing their inhabitants, as the monstrous machine ripped a path along the forgotten sands.

The house didn't have time to loom. The car moved with such alacrity that almost as soon as Ron saw the tiny wooden shack, they were there. A shingle fell off as Slade punched the car's brakes, sending up a fountain of sand all around them. The driver clicked a button on his key chain. The sand rippled, parting as the ground underneath the shake shook. Metal gears hummed and whirled as they pushed upward, raising the shack and the land beneath it, revealing a glittering tunnel.

Slade once again stepped upon the accelerator urging the car forward. It descended down into his lair. When they reached the end of the ramp Slade stopped the car. Before he exited the vehicle he gave a glance to his new ward. The awe he'd felt at Stoppable's calm reaction to his speeding faded when he saw the boy's face. It was an ashen color, the same as his fists, which were latched firmly upon whatever solid, affixed, objects were closest. Sighing Slade spoke:

"Let's see. We have a lot to do but first... How'd you like to be faster, stronger, and more aware then you've ever been."

The color slowly returned to Ron's cheeks, even as his hands moved across his chest, gingerly patting, as if to make sure he was all still there. Rufus yawned.

"Sounds bondiggity," Ron said, his voice a emerging as a high pitched squeak. Slade's eye rolled back inside his skull. An angry sigh found itself expressed. Then Slade spoke:

"I'll pretend I heard a yes. Come this way, and we'll give you the serum."

Far away, on the same planet where Shego was being reshaped and remolded, a figure sat. It wasn't a man, though it most likely considered itself male. It had all the right pieces, but with self proclaimed gods it was often hard to tell. Then again, if at all possible you don't argue with this figure, so he, he shall be.

He was sitting on a massive throne, his glowing eyes staring aimlessly out onto his planet, his perfect planet. If only the rest of the world was like this, ordered, efficient there would be no problems. Some would say he was a dictator who ruled with an iron fist and had crushed the very spirit from his people. He didn't see anything wrong with that.

And Apocalypse was his home, his planet. And if the name wasn't bad enough, the reality was worse, much, much worse. The people of this barren planet were little better than worms. They were tolerated when it suited their lord and master, squished when he felt like it. To keep a metaphor running, they also preformed functions vital for Apocalypse's ecosystem. They were broken and brainwashed to serve as their lord's loyal soldiers, willing to give up the semblance of life they had achieved at any time. Those that were not lucky enough to be crushed in this way were made to serve, performing menial labor and jobs that made the harshest Earth conditions seem heavenly.

His elite were nigh invulnerable like him, and as sadistic as possible. Each of his officers served a different purpose. He had assassins, warriors, tacticians, interrogators, demented geniuses, spies, and Granny Goodness. She ran his orphanages, training his special elites. It was her job to shape the lowies, give them a new purpose in serving him. He was quite pleased with her work. It was why she was still alive. Right now he basked in the screams of his newest pet. When Granny was finished Shego would be more than capable of carrying out his wishes. And then Kim Possible would pay for postponing his vision of universal order. He'd had it in his finger tips, in the form of wager. But that was of no consequences, not now. All that matter is that those who failed Darkseid pay. And now Kim and Shego both would suffer.

He'd made a bet. And though he hadn't won he still aimed to collect.