MatthewC: I think I had most of your points in mind (at least subconsciously) but thanks anyway for reminding me.

Proteus: I disagree that Kim was ever 'your basic, average girl'. I do agree that this is a risky concept. It'll be hard to pull off, but that's why I'm trying it.

Gargoylesama: At present, Argo doesn't figure into the story (if it exists at all).

Thanks to: mattb3671, lab1152, daywalkr82, sirka, campy, TheFourthman, Wanderer3, Triaxx2, scottgrubb, eckles, Classic Cowboy, firedragonboy, Darkcloud1, Alan Wilkinson, ron-sama.

Middleton, Colorado

Kim Possible made her way along a hallway on the second floor of the Middleton school complex. It was the first day of the new school year, and Kim was excited, as usual. Take what she was doing at the moment: searching for her locker. They hadn't had lockers in elementary school. Lockers were for big kids.

'Well, now I have a locker,' Kim thought smugly. 'I guess that means I'm a big kid now.'

The hallways was crowded with students, seventh and eighth graders engaged in the same activity she was. As she walked Kim caught sight of a familiar face.

"Hey, Ron," she called, waving at him. The blond boy who had been her best friend since pre-kindergarten broke out in a grin when he saw her.

"Hey, Kim!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I found my locker!" he declared, gesturing at the open sheet metal door beside him.

"Nice," Kim allowed. She checked the number on the door and did a little math in her head. Since the lockers seemed to have been assigned in alphabetical order, her own was about forty lockers farther down the hall. Kim returned her attention to Ron and his locker. She saw he'd already decorated it. A picture of his favorite pro wrestler, Steel Toe, culled from a magazine, had been taped to the inside of the door, along with what Kim supposed was the mandatory-for-a-thirteen-year-old-boy picture of girl in a bikini, also taken from magazine. Partly overlapping the latter was a picture of the two of them, taken at a joint Possible/Stoppable family picnic earlier in the summer. There was also a wallet sized print of her sixth grade class portrait. Kim felt a warm smile spread across her face. Ron liked her, but not 'that way'. At least he didn't seem to. He treated much like her brothers Jim and Tim treated each other. Of course, that might change after puberty hit. Kim's own body was starting to develop, and boys were paying more attention to her as a result. When Ron's hormones kicked in their relationship was sure to change, at least somewhat. Kim shook herself. Her mother's words about not borrowing trouble echoed through her mind.

"Found yours yet?" Ron asked, breaking Kim's train of thought.

"No, not yet," she admitted. A glance at one of the many clocks that graced the corridors of the school showed she had less than ten minutes until the school day officially began. "I'd better get busy," she said and turned to go. "See you in math class," she added, grinning at him. Ron grinned back, then busied himself in his locker.

Kim was scanning the numbers on the lockers, looking for the one that matched her orientation form, when a peculiar sensation overtook her. Her ears began to ring faintly, and she felt a tight sensation across the back of her head. The noise of the other students seemed to fade, and she clearly heard a single voice say, "There she is. Cover me."

Kim swallowed. The voice belonged to Bonnie Rockwaller, eighth grade drama queen, captain of the junior high cheerleading team, and no friend of Kim's. Just what Kim had done to draw Bonnie's ire in the first place, she couldn't even guess. Her own theory was that Bonnie just enjoyed being mean to other people.

Time seemed to slow down. Kim heard footsteps coming up behind her. She recognized the particular rhythm of Bonnie's walk. She even thought she recognized the unique scuffing sound the soles of Bonnie's favorite pair of shoes made as they rubbed on the polished concrete floor.

Kim had always had good hearing, but lately it seemed so acute that it was sometimes scary. Like now. She didn't turn around, and there were no reflective surfaces for her to look in, but Kim knew, just from the slightly heavier fall of Bonnie's left foot that she had her left shoulder thrown forward in preparation for ramming Kim into the bank of lockers along the wall.

Kim began to hear a lub-dub sound, like she sometimes did around people. If Kim hadn't known it was impossible, she would have sworn it was Bonnie's heartbeat she was hearing. The sound grew louder. Bonnie was almost on top of her...now!

Kim turned to one side. Not enough to avoid contact entirely: she felt Bonnie's shoulder brush across her back. But enough to send Bonnie, who had expected Kim to absorb most of her momentum, stumbling and struggling to avoid a fall.

The hallway erupted with giggles and laughter, as Bonnie had no doubt hoped. Unfortunately for Bonnie, they were all directed at her.

"Trip over your own feet again, Bonnie?" Kim asked sarcastically.

Bonnie glared daggers at Kim.

"You...you just, just shut up, you little twerp!" Bonnie screeched. "And watch where you stand."

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," Kim jeered. "I didn't realize you hadn't learned to walk around other people yet." More chuckles erupted from the crowd. Bonnie's face went beet red and contorted into an ugly scowl. For a moment Kim thought Bonnie was going to attack her right there, but common sense seemed to take over, and Bonnie's expression shifted to one of haughty indifference.

"Whatever," Bonnie said, sounding bored. "Like I have time for a bunch of seventh grade losers anyway." With that she turned on her heel and stalked away.

Kim watched Bonnie leave, then turned toward the lockers. Ah, there was hers! Kim pushed Bonnie Rockwaller out of her mind and began trying to open her locker's built in combination lock.

Kim took a seat in the cafeteria across from Ron.

"How's your first day of Seventh Grade going, Ron?" she asked.

Ron didn't answer. He was too busy trying to cram the entire contents of his tray into his mouth at one time.

"Ron, manners?" Kim chided. "You have half an hour, you know."

"I'm starving, Kim," Ron protested feebly. "I haven't eaten since breakfast, for Pete's sake."

"At least chew with your mouth shut, please."

"Fine." Ron chewed noisily, then swallowed. "So far so good," he said, getting back to Kim's question. "You?"

"Me too, apart from a run-in with Bonnie."

"I heard about that," Ron grinned. "Nice job dodging the sneak attack."

Some what to Ron's surprise, Kim didn't laugh, or even smile. She wasn't upset, exactly, but she wasn't happy either.

"What's the matter, Kim?" Ron asked, suddenly concerned.

Kim looked around, then leaned close to Ron. "It was the ear thing again," Kim explained. "I heard her coming."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. So you have good hearing. So what?"

Kim looked down at the table. "It's not just that, Ron." She hesitated, then looked up at him again. "You know I'm gonna try out for the cheerleading team, right?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded.

"And how I've been practicing all summer?" That was true. Kim had been taking dance and gymnastics lessons.

"And?" Ron probed.

Kim looked away again. "It's just, well, I don't know." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm just so much better than the other girls in my classes."

Ron gave her a blank look.

"I can run faster, jump higher, and I'm a lot stronger than any other girl my age. I'm even stronger than some of the older students."

Ron shook his head. "Uh, that's called 'being athletic', K.P." Kim frowned at him, so he elaborated. "Look, you just hit...uh..." Ron blushed, then gestured at Kim's chest. "...you know, puberty."

Kim blushed as well.

"Your body is changing," Ron continued. "You know, starting to show it's full potential. Maybe you're just a natural athlete?"

Kim smiled in spite of herself. Whenever she was in a funk, Ron was always ready to crack jokes or make a fool of himself to lighten her mood. And who knew? Maybe he was right.

Kim finished her routine, chest heaving from her exertions. Bonnie, sitting at a table with two other cheerleaders, looked stunned, as did the girls on either side of her. Kim hid a smile. Right before she'd started she'd gotten that peculiar sensation at the back of her head and, even from all the way across the gym had heard Bonnie whisper to her companions, "I gave her a routine no girl can do."

'I showed you, didn't I, Rockwaller?' Kim thought gleefully. The routine had been hard. So hard Kim had been forced to push herself almost to her limits. What the result had been, Kim didn't yet know. Finally the other cheerleaders began to applaud enthusiastically, while Bonnie assumed a glum expression.

"Fine," Bonnie said morosely, "You make the squad...barely."

The feeling of triumph and exaltation Kim felt came out as a, "Yes!", complete with fist pump.

Then the gym doors exploded inward, and Ron came running in.

"Kim! You got a hit on your website!" he exclaimed. "A major hit!"

"Babysitting the Turner twins again?" Kim asked skeptically.

"No, danger major," Ron clarified.

"Danger?"

"Somebody needs your help!"

"Uh, Kim, we're about to start practice here," Bonnie chimed in, clearly irritated.

Kim hesitated, then came to a decision. "I'm sorry!" she apologized, taking Ron's hand and heading for the doors, "I'll never ditch again, I swear!"

Kim took a last look at the web of laser beams that filled the entryway to John Paisley's vault, or strong room, or whatever it was, then turned and walked to the far wall. Turning again she took a deep breath, while Ron looked on apprehensively. The notion that she was about to risk her life for two total strangers barely registered in Kim's mind. She had to get to that remote. Kim put her game face on, then started forward and jumped into the room.

Almost at once she ran into trouble. On her third handspring she found herself sailing right at one of the beams. A test with a handkerchief had confirmed Mr. McHenry's (Mr. Paisley's security consultant, trapped along with his employer) assertion that the beams were lethal. Kim, not looking forward to being burned to charcoal, willed herself down, even if wishing couldn't change the laws of physics.

To her utter surprise Kim felt herself change course. The floor came rushing up, and Kim barely got herself positioned for landing. She stumbled anyway, falling against a wall, one of the deadly beams humming just beside her head. Most people might have frozen in panic after something like that, but Kim Possible wasn't most people. Steeling her nerves, Kim threw herself into motion again, leaping and vaulting and tumbling until...she brought her foot down on the remote and shut off the beams.

"Boo-yah, Kim!" Ron cheered, stepping into the room.

Mr. McHenry regarded Kim with amazement. "A thirteen-year-old?" he asked incredulously.

"She's Kim Possible," Ron gloated "And just like the website says, she can do anything!"

"It was no big," Kim declaimed for the fourth time, after yet another reporter asked if she'd been afraid.

James Possible shut off the television and looked at his wife. Patricia looked back with a concerned expression. James understood it perfectly. He and Patricia had wrestled for years with the problem of how to treat their daughter. They wanted to protect her, to keep her and her secret safe. But at the same time they didn't want to straightjacket her either. Kim was an extrovert, full of energy and a desire to make a difference in the world. It wasn't easy to tell a person like that that it was better for them not to have a high profile, that they ought to blend in. James knew he would never hold back from giving his all. Nor would Patricia. So it would be more than a little hypocritical to tell Kim not to do the best she could. Only...

After years of work James had deciphered enough of the recording Kim's biological parents had sent along with her to pick up hints Jor-'el had dropped that Kim would have abilities far beyond those of humans. Just what those abilities might be wasn't clear, though. So far Kim had seemed like a normal kid, getting sick, getting cuts and scrapes and bruises, getting cavities. If she was going to turn into some kind of super-woman, James had expected to see signs of it. What if it was happening now? What, if anything, should he do about it? Could he do anything about it?

"Do you think we should tell her?" Patricia's voice broke the silence in the living room of the Possible residence.

James grimaced. "I don't know," he admitted after some thought. "Part of me says 'yes' but another part says 'no'." James looked at Patricia. "What do you think, Patty?"

Patricia frowned thoughtfully. "I think, well, you know how puberty is, Jim," she faltered. "Kim is just starting to figure out who she is as a person, to set her own course in life. If we tell her she isn't human..." Patricia shook her head. "Let's wait," she decided. "Let's wait until Kim asks us." Patricia smiled at her husband. "She's a smart girl, after all, even if she can be clueless in some regards. She'll figure it out eventually, and then she'll come to us. We can tell her then."

Elsewhere

"Miss Gogh!"

The bellowed words echoed in the confines of the laboratory. Sheila Gogh, biochemist and self-confessed genius, wondered for the umpteenth time why she put up with Dr. Lipsky and his temper. Sure he was brilliant. Of course he had won the Nobel Prize for his research in genetics. That didn't change the fact that he was loud, rude, and a generally unpleasant person to be around.

"I'm in the same room as you, Drew," Sheila said, voice dripping with contempt. "Use your 'inside' voice."

Sheila watched, fascinated, as Doctor Andrew P. Theodore Lipsky's face went mottled. She sometimes toyed with the idea of seeing if she could goad him into having an aneurysm. Lipsky struggled mightily, and got control of his emotions.

"I don't pay you to sass me, Miss Gogh..." he began.

"Doctor Gogh," Sheila corrected, and the mottling came back briefly. Lipsky paid well (and Sheila knew she'd remember why she stuck around: the money), but twitting him was the best entertainment around, and Sheila found she couldn't resist.

"Dr. Gogh," Lipsky amended, infusing his words with false pleasantry. "I was wondering, learned colleague, if you had finished the latest batch of gene sequencings I asked you to do?"

"Why yes, I have," Sheila replied, pasting a mockingly friendly smile on her face. She held out a thick binder. "Here are the results. And, Drew," she added, batting her eyelashes at him, "If you told me what your stupid plan is, I might be able to help you with it," she finished angrily.

"All in good time, Sheila, all in good time," Lipsky assured her. He chortled, then cackled, then broke into the 'evil laugh' he'd been working on. Sheila turned and headed for the door, hoping to be out of the room before Lipsky started in on his rant.