Disclaimer: Kim and friends belong to Disney. I get the extras and the bad guys. Woo Hoo (Extra Hoo). Make sure the taxman knows I'm not making a nickel on this.

Chapter 2

TAKEN DOWN

Don Marco DeCosta was seated behind his desk wondering how the red headed witch had pulled it off. He listened as Rocco described the events at the upstate safe house. "Boss, Frankie was the only guy left. And I never seen nobody so scared. He says he only saw one guy. Some guy in a ninja suit with some old sword and eyes he said glowed blue. And this guy says, 'Tell your master he has threatened those protected by the Chosen One and now must pay the price." Then the guy just vanishes with the kids leavin' Frankie handcuffed to a pipe. And he left that flower." Don Marco looked at the lotus blossom in his hand.

Finding the three girls had been easy. The kidnappers hadn't counted on the Wade factor, a tiny chip on the neck of each Stoppable child. Once they stopped moving, he gave Ron the location. Within an hour, safety of the children was no longer an issue. Then he started digging. It didn't take long to break the poorly constructed cover and find out who really owned the farmhouse where they were held. It took a few more minutes to start uncovering his businesses so they could take him down. Ron and his ninjas had just left the farmhouse when Wade sent the first targets.

The Global Justice strike force was waiting in a hotel conference room. The phone rang and Kim answered. "Thank God," she said, hanging up the phone, then she turned to her commanders and said "Let's get this show on the road." Barely six hours after the rescue from the safe house, the attack on Don Marco's empire began. The reports were all the same. Security penetrated, but nothing on the cameras. Money gone. People unconscious. Equipment destroyed. All the records neatly organized and left in plain sight for the Global Justice team that appeared from nowhere. And at each location, a lotus flower.

After nightfall on the third day of the operation, a private jet flew west across the Pacific, carrying a lone passenger. As it approached the end of its trip, a single parachute descended into the jungle near an ancient temple.

Deep in the jungles of Thailand, a warlord looked out over his empire. He and his partner Don Marco DeCosta had gotten very rich from the drug trade since they met after the Vietnam War. Now he was looking at a sizable increase in his fortune when the current crop was harvested and processed. But today he was worried. He could feel it. Something wasn't right. Then he heard a commotion in the part of the compound where the lab and warehouses were located; gunfire and what sounded like the shrieks of maddened animals. When he could get no response on the radio, he found his weapon and went looking for answers. What he saw terrified him. Monkeys in ninja garb were battling with his security forces, while others went through his lab on what appeared to be a purposeful mission of destruction. A lone ninja stood at the edge of the fray, an ancient sword in his hand, surrounded by a pale blue glow, which deflected the bullets fired by his men. "Tell your people to leave this place, now," the ninja said in a voice tempered with steel.

"Just who the Hell do you think you are?" asked the warlord. "And why should I listen to you."

"Your partner has threatened those protected by The Chosen One. Now you and he must pay the price," came the reply.

He had heard of The Chosen One; some kind of super ninja with a strange power over monkeys. Local legend held that a few years before The Chosen One had rescued that red haired Global Justice witch from an ancient monkey temple a few miles to the north. He had never believed the stories until today. As he looked at the masked warrior, obviously the commander of a legion of monkeys, he realized there was little hope. Perhaps he could stop the destruction today, but there would be tomorrow, and then another tomorrow. He spoke, in a weak voice, "T-t-t-he Chosen One? We will leave." He ordered his people to evacuate the compound. As they left, he looked back and saw his empire ablaze. What if the witch and the ninja were in league against Don Marco? He shuddered at the thought. At least he had his other business. Not as profitable, but there was a strong demand for young Asian girls.

In a rundown tenement on the west side, one of Don Marco's minions was counting last night's take, when her world fell apart. It didn't require much muscle to keep her girls in line, so there was little opposition to the intruders. They made quick work of her protectors and began searching the rooms. She sat in her secret counting room, hoping against hope they would not find her. She saw several figures clad in white uniforms that hid all but their eyes. One of the intruders rounded up her girls and spoke with them in an Oriental language. She watched as the girls were led away. The one who questioned the girls turned to another who held an ancient sword. She struggled to contain the rage in her voice, saying, "Sensei, the girls…. Their families were poor… Men came to their villages and promised them scholarships in an American school."

The eyes of the one called Sensei glowed blue through the mask. "Another stone on Don Marco's grave." The girls bowed to the one called Sensei then were escorted from the building. When they were gone he looked directly through the peephole in the wall of the madam's hidden retreat, telling her in an icy voice, "You may go. Take nothing with you. I have spared you to carry a message to your master. Tell Don Marco there is nowhere he can hide from the wrath of The Chosen One."

Will Du had no idea how she was doing it. As soon as the team deployed, she seemed to go into a trance. For the first three days of the operation, she sent them from target to target, never leaving the van except to sleep. On the fourth day they stood down, and she slept until nightfall, then spent several hours with an attractive Asian woman she introduced as an old school friend.

Today they were back on the street, sitting silently in a Global Justice operations van awaiting the next mission. Nothing about this operation was normal. There were no computers, no radios, and no electronic surveillance gear. His boss sat at a desk, seemingly back in her trance; staring off into space, pausing occasionally to make a few notes. As he had seen many times before, she nodded her head, and made an entry in her log. This time it read '0942 – received anonymous tip on location of brothel. 913 W 59th Street. Prostitutes are slaves.' She looked up and said, "Will, 913 West 59th street, brothel on the second floor, now." Will nodded. They would go in with the video crew recording every step. They would find the same thing as all the previous targets. Open doors, unlocked rooms, unconscious hoods, and evidence in plain view. No warrants needed. Maybe what the criminals and terrorists said was true. Maybe she was a witch.

Today Wade Load was a busy man. It had taken most of two days to locate all the hidden assets of Don Marco and his associates. Now came the real mission. He chuckled to him self as he began. 'Robin Hood Load. Takes from the rich, gives to the poor.' Then he began typing. First he emptied all their accounts, and then sent the money around the world a few times until it arrived, clean and untraceable, in several Swiss bank accounts. From there, it was a simple matter to arrange cash deliveries to each of the charities and religious organizations on his list.

At the synagogue in Middleton, Colorado, Rabbi Katz watched as an armored car stopped outside. 'Our collection should be so large as to need one of those,' he thought to himself as he watched two of the guards carry a package up the steps to his office. He signed for the package and opened it. Inside he found bundles of hundred dollar bills, all the forms necessary for large cash deposits, and a note saying simply, "For the poor."

He looked at the guard, who asked "Would you like us to wait while you prepare your deposit? Then we will take the money to your bank."

The call came from Thailand reporting the destruction of his drug operation. The underling making the call reported Don Marco's partner had disappeared, and passed on the ninja's message.

"Who the f does this guy think he is? He's gotta be Yazuka. I'm gonna put a stop to this right now." Picking up the phone, Don Marco dialed an overseas associate. When the call was answered, he said, "Norita-san, Marco de Costa. I need a favor."

"As always, Don Marco, it shall be my honor to assist you," came the reply.

"Good. Here's what I need. I seem to have offended one of your brothers and now he's taking a great interest in my business. I wish you to arrange a sit down so we can work out our differences."

"Of course, Don Marco. Who is he?"

"He calls himself The Chosen One."

After a silence followed by a deep sigh, the reply came, "We have done business for many years, Don Marco. A long and most profitable association. From today forward there can be no more business between us. If asked, I must say I do not know you. Do not call here again." The Don was visibly shaken as he returned the phone to its cradle.

Don Marco looked at his consigliere. "I dunno what the f is goin' down here, but get all the cash you can together and find us someplace to go 'til things cool down."