It's Spring and only a couple of months until graduation for Kim, Ron and the senior class. Then, SHE returns and throws our heroes into a spin. "Her Mission" starts. Tho I was a Disney drone for 10 years, I do not own any of the Kim Possible characters. I borrow them, from time to time, for no recompense. I merely amuse myself, and I hope you, by spinning these tales.

Chapter One: Return

She walks in the front doors and stops to enjoy the air conditioning. It's only early spring, but mid-afternoon and quite hot outdoors The A/C is welcomed. She moves towards the front office, remembering she must sign in as a visitor. She had graduated last fall but wanted to chat with a few old friends who still walk the halls of Middleton High School. That, and she had a very special mission while in town, too.

As she struts, (she'd gotten the walk from her job and habits are hard to break,) towards the door marked "Office" she glances around. All of the boys are standing, slack-jawed and bug-eyed. The girls are huddled in small groups, pointing fingers, pulling out the latest fashion magazines and whispering. "That's really her!" What's SHE doing here?" "She hit it BIG after she graduated last year." Snippets of conversation wafted through the near silent hall as she entered the office.

Mr. Barkin was talking to the secretary and turned to see who entered his domain. "Good Morning, Miss Modendorfer. To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?" he said with a sneer that morphed into a cheesy grin.

"Please, Mr. Barkin, you can call me Amelia, or Ame. Everyone does. After all, I'm out of school and an adult. I just want to chat with a few friends and look around," Ame (pronounced just like Amy) flashed her beautiful smile. "Yes, habits are hard to break. I don't need to smooth over Mr.B with a smile... yet," she thought.

"I'll call you Amelia, only if you call me Steve." Mr. B. puffed up and adjusted his tie. He ran his hand through his bristly marine-cut hair. "And how is the fashion industry treating it's newest Super Model?" he inquired.

"Well, Steve," her voice dripped with honey, "not too bad. I just got in from doing shows in Paris, Milan and China. But, I don't have anything booked for a couple of weeks. Then I'm off for a photo shoot in Fiji. So, I thought I'd spend some time with the folks and look up some friends. You know, e-mails and phone calls are so impersonal."

"Of course, Amelia. Is there anyone you'd like me to pull from class. It would be no problem." His voice started to crack a little. Slightly flustered he reached for a file folder and starts to rifle through the pages of students and their class schedules.

"NO," she panics and screams. Recovering, she replies, "I mean... no reason to pull them from class. I was hoping to see a couple of the girls in the hall, but if not, then I'd catch them after school." Her voice goes back to honey sweet as she strokes his tie, "Thanks for the offer though, Steve."

Mr. Barkin puts the folder down and brushes and straightens his suit coat. "Well then... Amelia, the secretary will give you a hall pass and you can have the run of the school. You need anything else, you just find me and ask. Anything for this schools most illustrious alumni."

"Well, Stevie, if it wouldn't be too much of a bother, could I look at that folder and check the schedule for a few people?" She pours on the honey, flashing her, by now, famous smile, and throws in the always effective eye flutter. Mr. B., mesmerized, reaches slowly down to the desk and picks up the folder. He's starting to sweat heavily. He passes the folder to Amelia and stutters, "Anything for you, Amelia." She takes the folder and, holding it up so he couldn't see, looks at three or four pages and hands it back to him. She strokes her finger under his chin and practically sings, "Thank you Stevie, you've been a dear." She turns to the secretary, grabs the hall pass, and turns back to Mr .B. He's practically melting, staring at her with a dreamy, love struck look. "We must get together some time and ... talk, Steeeevie." She wheels and, with an extra swing to her hips, saunters to the door. As she opens the door, for extra measure, she blows Mr. B. an air kiss, then out the door. Mr. Barkin floats into his office and slowly closes the door. The secretary stares in disbelief. She can see through the opaque glass that he's leaning against the inside of the door. "What the HELL was that all about," the secretary huff. She shrugs and returns to her computer work.

A/N: Yeah, I know what you're saying. But even the toughest leather neck can melt under the spell of a woman who weaves it well. And yes, boys do know fashion models (fantasies and hormones in flight,) especially if they had gone to the same school as you.