A/N: Thank you all that follow, favorite, view, and review these chapters. It really inspires me to keep writing. Without further ado.

Chapter 21

I.

The morning mist rose from the steep canyon's river below and settled over the botanical gardens of Yamanuchi School. Sunlight burned through the fog, warming the elder man's cheek as he meditated atop a rock.

It had been months since Ron Stoppable followed Dementor into the portal in Middleton and slightly less than that when Kim Possible, Yori, Wade, and Rufus the Naked Mole Rat followed a similar path after them in hopes they could bring the former back.

Unbeknown to the director of Global Justice, the Russian Federation, the United States and any other government, and Kim Possible and her team, was that bringing Ron back was a lie.

A war raged in the cosmos, far from home.

A war that would affect all of humanity and beyond.

Sensei meant to send Ron, and only Ron knew that.

At least, Ron was the last one he told.

There were others that knew why he urged Ron to go.

The Volkov brothers and their father were one group that Sensei sent back during the waning days of the Cold War. They were told of who would come after them.

During those days, Sensei believed with the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the collapse of communism all but nigh, that evil finally withdrew itself from an ever brightening light.

Yet, it was all a trick. And the prophecy he'd prayed never came to see the light of day, began to unfold.

"Quickly now! We don't want to be caught with our pants down! Hurry and get those cables connected! These boys leave in fifteen minutes!"

Sensei, much younger then, stepped up to the shouting soldier and bowed. "Thank you, Captain Load. We are indebted to you and your men."

The broad-shouldered, dark-skinned American smirked, his arms crossed. "I never thought I would work with the commies. You threw me through a loop the last couple of years, Sensei."

"Nice to know that you've changed your mind about us, eh?"

Sensei and Captain Load turned to find Major Volkov, a smaller framed but square-shouldered Soviet Spetsnaz commander, his blue beret spilling over his head.

Captain Load laughed. "No hard feelings. Always good to make peace instead of war."

The Spetsnaz Major replied with a hearty laugh. "Hopefully one day, our nations will be friends and we can work together like this more often."

"That was the hope of all this," Captain Load replied. "Maybe in the far-off future, when you come back. We'll be able to live next to each other." Captain Load reached out his hand grasped Major Volkov's. They'd worked together for the last two years.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, my friend." Major Volkov said in his thick Russian accent grasping his former enemy's hand.

Sensei stepped forward. "Take your time now to say your goodbyes. Our enemies will soon be arriving. The young Professor Demens says that they gained the location which you will be dropping."

The two men nodded at Sensei.

"How are the boys?" Both asked at the same time.

Sensei sighed. "I wish I could train them more. However, I failed to anticipate the enemy to act so fast. I did not think they had the strength and influence they have now."

"It's alright Sensei. All our men will give whatever bastards enter this camp hell. They've never met a united force like this," Captain Load replied.

Sensei raised his head to the sky. "I hope so."

At that moment, gunfire chattered in the far-off distance. All the men turned to the north.

Just then, an American soldier ran up to them. "Sir. We have contact a click n'half north of here. The outer perimeter guard has engaged."

"I'm going to talk to my sons then about our mission," Major Volkov said. He stared Captain Load straight in his eyes before letting go of his arm. "Then maybe in another life, comrade, we can be neighbors. I wish you the best of luck."

Major Volkov turned and ran off.

Sensei turned back to Captain Load, whose ear paid close attention to the soldier now whispering in his ear.

"What?"

The soldier only nodded in return.

"What is wrong, Load-san?"

Captain Load glanced in Sensei's direction. "Get that order out to them at the front. Make sure you deliver personally. We need to buy them some time."

"What is wrong?" Sensei asked.

Captain Load's face fell. "Someone must have spooked the higher-ups. They're pulling us out. I'm guessing whoever doesn't want your little project going forward is the one behind it."

"I feared as much. Is your team still joining Major Volkov?"

Captain Load shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Our detachment was at the staging area, so they got the word first."

Sensei let out a long breath. "So, this is how it is."

"Don't worry about those kids, Sensei. That man is their father. He and his team aren't going to let anything happen to them."

"I agree. It is why I chose him."

Captain Load glanced back at the soldiers and then back at Sensei. "Get to those kids. See them off. I'll do my best to delay our departure and maybe give whoever those guys are a taste of lead. I'm sure they can hold out long enough to see the operation through."

"Goodbye, Load-san. My old friend."

"Goodbye, Sensei."

Sensei watched the Captain turn heel and trot toward other soldiers, who seemed confused at what was happening around them.

He remembered there being no more time to wait, as he turned on his heel and rushed in the direction of Major Volkov and his two sons.

Sensei found the two boys and Major Volkov standing near the gateway that had been hastily constructed. Volkov kneeled beside his two sons, the ones that Sensei trained vigorously to be prepared for what was to come. Only Sensei hadn't planned on this all happening so soon.

Sensei opened his eyes, awaking from memories long gone and past. The sun glared down upon him; the mists burned away. Around him, the garden stood quiet. Not a bird nor any other animal stirred.

Sensei was the last person who remained at the abandoned school. He sent the members away, including all the students, back home.

He turned to the entrance of the garden.

"My guest has finally arrived." Sensei stood up and hid his arms in his cuffs, walking out of the garden and into the main courtyard.

In the main courtyard at the entrance stood a man clothed in white and teal robes. A mop of snowy hair with a stripe of familiar auburn ran down his head to his shoulders. His stance was firm, his eyes cold and calculating, as if Sensei were but the air to him.

His hands remained at his side, relaxed, but ready to strike the hilt of a samurai sword at his waist where his robes tied together.

Sensei knew the young man all too well.

"Surprised to see me, Sensei? Or since I've surpassed you by now, how about we skip the formalities, Koshiro Shima."

Sensei stopped, giving a berth of ten meters between the two of them. Enough space for Sensei to predict an attack.

"Gregory Volkov. I take it then you have renounced your duties as a gatekeeper. I was expecting Monkey Fist or his lackeys. Not you."

"If you mean I shed off the indoctrination that you, my father, and the false ideologies of this world, then yes, I have. The choice was simple. As for Lord Fist, he no longer has a vested interest in you or your school. He's left it up to me to solve."

Sensei's shoulders fell ever so slightly. "Then I can only hope your brother found the Jedi. For young Stoppable and Possible's sake." Sensei whispered the last part, careful that Gregory did not hear him.

"The Jedi?"

The flat, unimpressive tone that Gregory Volkov used chained Sensei's hopes.

"Maybe, to your surprise, we never actually got to meet the 'esteemed' Jedi. Until the war broke out, most of them stayed cooped up on their pedestal of Coruscant. Times in the older realm have certainly changed from the legends you grew up on. No. We met a fallen Jedi by the name of Dooku. An apprentice to the Sith that you so fear."

"And you believed this, Dooku?" Sensei asked.

Gregory snickered. "Wouldn't you like to know? What happened to myself and Mikhail… It's too late. Even prophecies fail sometimes, and you know this yourself, don't you? I mean, you created myself and Mikhail out of thin air."

"The interpretation of the proph —"

"Listen, Koshiro Shima. I don't care about the prophecy and my place in it. I choose my own path. No prophecy will decide my fate, nor am I here to debate that with you," Gregory interrupted. "However, I am curious. If you have such great faith in the prophecy? Then why have you made arrangements to force the prophecy to come true? Do you fear that darkness will win?"

Sensei took a calm step forward. "I do not fear the darkness, Gregory."

"Then why try to correct the prophecy when you can't? You know, when I found out that the Han succumbed to the darkness, I knew I was right. However, you think you can change the will of the realms?"

"Only the Force has the will to change destiny," Sensei answered.

"Then why blasphemy the prophecy and create your own will?" Gregory smirked devilishly. "If the Force is so powerful to bend our will, bend my knee, then why doubt it? Koshiro, you're no different than I am. The Sith want to hold power and reign supreme over the Force for the good of all, just like you."

"All the Sith want is unadulterated power. That's all they know."

Sensei wrapped his fingers around the hilt he'd been handed down by the former master of Yamanuchi before him. The time to use the weapon passed down for generations drew closer. He never imagined it would be against a former student of his, one part of the prophecy, no less.

Gregory Volkov was one of two sent before Ron Stoppable and Kim Possible years and years ago. Major Volkov's first twin son. In those days, the darkness in the Force fogged Sensei's vision of the future, which, according to Toshimiru's prophecy and fables passed down, was a sign of the prophecy's beginning.

Now, darkness, the dark side of the Force, clouded everything. Sensei could no longer help anyone but to make a last stand against a former student.

Gregory frowned. "Don't make this difficult, Koshiro. Where are you hiding the girl? The one you named Hana."

Sensei relaxed his body. "You have lost your way, Gregory. I shall return you to it."

"Don't play coy with me, Koshiro." Gregory narrowed his eyes. "Don't test me with your baseless morals. I am far more powerful than you. I won't show mercy and I'll find the girl whether or not you give her up."

Sensei drew out his hand from the cuff of his robes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gregory's voice grew dark. "Then be difficult, old man. I'll show you the true power of the darkness you fear."

"You've grown unwise, my old student."

"And you're an ancient hypocrisy."

"We shall see, my old student. We shall see which tree is mightier."

Gregory reached into his waist, where a tsuka held what Sensei presumed was a samurai sword. "Tell me, old man. Do you have" — he pulled out a curved tsuka, with no sword, until a crimson blade emanated outward — "one of these."

Sensei focused on the blade intently. Just as he suspected, Gregory revealed a weapon of the old realm.

Sensei tightened his grip on the hilt in his cuffs, an ancient weapon that Toshimiru once wielded and handed down to the first Sensei of Yamanuchi, ordering to keep it hidden until it was needed.

Now was that time.

Gregory whirled the tsuka hilt skillfully and without flaw in his hand, whipping it parallel to his side. "Your parables don't shake me, old man. If you do not reveal the location of the girl, then I will cut you down where you stand, and your roots will rot in the shadow of this ill-begotten school."

Sensei pulled out the short-handled weapon handed down to him by the previous generation, artfully twirling the hilt in his hand, an emerald blade emanating from the golden laced hilt.

"A tree that grows too fast is weak and brittle compared to one that grows slow and steady. I will teach you that exalting one's self will only lead to ruin."

II.

Ron stood between Cecily and Alex, overlooking the grassy knolls that surrounded the quaint city of Pesktda. Ron imagined a more robust center for being a capital. The defenses surrounding the city were unnecessary.

The clone army hugged the outskirts. Ron surmised that this prevented most, if not all, risks to the citizens hunkering down in their homes and businesses. It brought Ron relief that when he gave the word, only enemy combatants risked their skin.

Behind Ron waited his vanguard of battle droids, which numbered slightly above twelve-hundred droids and a mixture of two dozen repulsor and hailfire tanks. Ron doubted using the droids, unsure if practicing simulations on the Asura with Cecily helped.

If Dementor was here, he would know what to do with droids. He's a villain after all. But Ron needed… wanted to use the droids for good. But how could he commit when he harbored doubts of the clones' place as villains?

"We can't do anything with them that close to the city. If we try an artillery barrage, we risk causing collateral damage. If we attack them all out with everything we have, they're gonna dig in at the edge of the city and slaughter the droids," Alex said.

"Really?" Ron asked. "I thought you said we outnumber them?"

"These aren't Dementor's bad-ass battle droids, so don't expect much," Alex said.

"She's right. We have to figure out another way to get their garrison away from the city," Cecily replied.

"Flanking them won't work. They'll hear the droids coming from a kilometer away," Alex said. "I don't see why we can't just bombard them. If those natives are smart, they'll seek shelter or flee if they haven't already." It frustrated Alex that they couldn't play out the battle 'her way.'

"These orders not only come from Master Naltos and Xzelas, but from above them as well, may I remind you." Cecily shot Alex a glare. "The simple fact is that we have to draw them away from the city."

"We could attack with a small force. Distract them into thinking they can beat us and then bring in the rest of the droids to finish them off. By that time, it'll be too late for them to retreat," Ron suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "Just a thought." He turned to face Cecily.

Cecily giggled before smiling. "I just can't take it. I wish you could ditch the helmet." Cecily remarked, wishing she could see his face more often. She offered a smile. "That just might work, Ron."

"Really? Because that's probably the dumbest thing I've heard him say during the time I've known him." Alex crossed her arms, furrowing her brow.

"You're just mad that you didn't come up with the idea yourself, Alex." Cecily put her hands to her hips and looked back at Ron. "So what should this advanced task-force consist of?"

"A few tanks. A mix of battle droids," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. "Really, it doesn't matter what we bring."

"You do know that other than your commando droids, those metalheads aren't gonna last more than ten minutes in a battle with those clones," Alex shot at Ron.

"We won't need ten minutes. And we won't need the rest of the droids, at least not until the last minute," Ron replied. He turned back, facing the droid army, crossing his arms. "What about the hailfire droid tanks?"

"You mean the IG-227s?" Alex asked.

Ron nodded.

"We have a dozen of them. Why do you ask?"

"Do they need a line a' sight to target the enemy?" Ron asked.

Alex crossed her arms. "Yes. They need to see the target in order to lock their missiles."

"So the missiles aren't independent. What if we had droids target the enemy for the hailfire droid? Could they relay that target information to them?" Ron asked.

Cecily put her finger to her chin. "That might work. But the clones would figure that out and take out those droids."

"Use the repulsor tanks to distract the clones. Then they won't notice spotters."

"Right. They'll see the AATs and focus their firepower on them. That way, the hailfire tanks can use the hill as protection."

"Don't get it twisted. Those repulsor tanks will only provide a few minutes for the spotters. You and your advanced teams better get the clones' attention fast enough. If not, you'll lose your precise artillery and any chance of reducing civilian casualties."

"We can flank from the western sector," Sokol One stepped up. "We can take speeder bikes and take out smaller emplacements and cause chaos while Commanders Rammel and Xzelas attack from the east."

"That'll work," Cecily said.

"We'll start the attack once you both reach these vectors. If we attack too soon, then our repulsor tanks will be taken out before you get there. Attack too late, and the clones will focus their firepower on you."

"So even when we get there, we'll only have a few minutes," Ron said.

Alex crossed her arms. "You need to focus on two things. The first, find and take out whoever the clone commander is. Once you take them out, you'll need to focus on taking out any pillboxes or repeater nests. After that, we can order the droids to march."

"We're not getting any air cover, are we?" Cecily asked.

"No. Vultures were giving us air-support, but Republic reinforcements arrived from Muunilinst about an hour ago. They'll be needed in space," Alex answered.

Ron clapped his hands together. "I think we got all the kinks worked out. All we need to do is carry it out."

"Remember to keep your communicators at the ready. And steer clear of the missiles. They're no joke. I won't stop bombarding until you tell me too, or I run out of missiles. Got it?" Alex pointed at Ron and Cecily.

Ron gulped. "Understood."

III.

"Did you gain an audience with my Master, Fink?" asked a shrouded young man.

"No. His assistant informed me to help you carry out and accomplish your mission." Fink turned around, pocketing his transceiver.

They stood behind the durasteel barricades on the edge of Pesktda. In front of them, over one thousand clone troopers and over thirty AT-TEs. Having seen the incompetent Confederate droids in combat, it dumbfounded Fink why they hadn't made a counter-attack yet. Holofeeds of combat between battle droids and clone troopers spanned his mind. Thin stalked droids caving to bright blue bolts of electrified plasma of skilled and competent clones.

It made no sense why they would wait.

"As I told you. You are here to see the beginning of a downfall. This is a battle that will set in motion the future for our lord's revenge." The cloaked man's gravely whisper chilled Fink's skin.

"So, is this battle where the war will end? Or is this where you regain your former glory?" Fink asked. Sarcastic remarks built the cornerstones of Finks vocabulary, his way of coping with stress whether that be on the battlefield or dealing with an overzealous boss, like the one he spoke to now. "If so, why don't you attack?"

"Fool. The fate of these two clashing armies, these useless ideologies matter not. This war is nothing but a means to an end. It is the person leading them on the other side… that is my mission."

"So you're here to end a life," Fink replied. He took a seat, taking his time to check over his weapons. He pulled back the charging handle on his rifle and aimed down the sights, imagining his target on the other side. "So, who is it you want me to eliminate?"

"I understand you are an assassin. But you will not need your weapons. Instead," — the shrouded man pulled a small cube from under his dark cloak — "you will record the target."

Fink lowered his rifle, taking the small device in hand, and looked up, dumbfounded. "Record the target?"

"That's right," the shrouded man replied in a snarly tone. "Not shoot. Not kill. Don't blow the target's head away or sever it. Record."

Recalled from the fringes of the galaxy to this almost forgotten agricultural world, Fink began to question what he got himself into. Assignments handed out by his guild usually focused on targeting spice runners or rogue pirates. The Clone Wars hardly concerned the guild's usual jobs, but now he began to think twice about why he took this oddball job.

"You want me to record… the target?" Fink asked to make sure he understood the request firmly.

"Yes. You are to record the target during the battle and after. I've already given you images and a holodisc containing all the information you'll need, including who to deliver the disc to. Now go… the battle is about to begin," the man turned around as a younger child, about ten walked in, flanked by clone troopers.

"Master! The droid tanks have started to fire at our positions!"

Fink guessed him to be a young Jedi padawan. He looked to the south, and the child was right. In the distance, he could make out the small silhouettes of AAT hover tanks popping over the hills, firing pop-shots off at Republic positions. The mission began to make sense. He wasn't here to kill anyone. He wasn't here to tip the battle's favor toward the Republic. The shrouded man, the Jedi youngling, the target.

Fink turned away as his shrouded boss began a sickly ritual over the Jedi youngling and the clone officers.

He walked into town, needing a good observation point. He wasn't here to assassinate. He was here to gather critical information. He was here to frame someone. His skills required stealth for his target wasn't a person, but their character.

IV.

Ron's speeder bike zipped through the plains to the south of Pesktda, with Cecily riding alongside him. Two clicks south of the Republic forces, Ron turned north to drive into the enemy's flank, defending the capital.

Ron's train of thought was simple. The Hail-fire droids would distract the Republic long enough for him and Cecily, along with the commando droids approaching from the west flank to penetrate a weakened force and destroy them from the inside out without harming the city or its inhabitants, leaving the battle droids to march unhindered and mop up any resistance, with Dementor's remaining improved droids making up the front line.

He took a nervous glance at Cecily. The setting star-light from Garqi's red sun painting her ivory skin and silver torso armor mesmerized him. She looked back at him and smiled. His helmet failed to hide his wandering eyes. The feel of protection his armor cast nothing but a transparent glass to his soul for her.

He smiled back. Her smile grew, with the red glow darkening from her flushing cheeks. Her red hair whipped in the rushing air.

The speeder bike's transceiver blipped below.

Ron turned back and answered the summon. His Master's hologram appeared in front of him. "I can see that you have begun your assault on the clone forces. However, they've not been drawn away from the city as I've instructed." Exactly what Ron had needed to ease his already tensed nerves.

"I have the situation under control, Master. We won't scare the city or its people. You have my word," Ron replied.

Aella crossed her arms, raising her brow. He knew the look all too well. "You'd better be sure of that. If not, there will be consequences." Consequences. Ron gulped at the words.

"If you've begun your attack, may the Force be with you." Her hologram flickered away. He shook his head, hoping that his plan wouldn't fail the requirements that his teacher set.

He turned back to Cecily. Her fearless expression comforted his anxiety.

Her smile turned upside down, her hazel eyes dilating with fear at the path ahead. Ron snapped forward. The hailfire tanks already unleashed their deadly payload of missiles upon the Republic troops.

However, two of the smoking rockets hadn't targeted the Republic walkers, but them instead. Their contrails spiraled away from the intended target to them. For Cecily, it was too late. The rocket zipped past Ron and slammed into her speeder bike.

Ron's jaw dropped as the speeder bike burst into flames, nose-diving into the ground, turning into a tumbling metal fireball.

"Cecily!"

The second rocket blitzed toward him, but he could not care less. Was life so cruel that it had to rip everything he learned to care about away from him? If so, he'd rather it end in a fiery blaze.

"Cecily!" he shouted.

"Ceci—"

A body thudded against his armored back, a slender, lightly armored arm slipping around his waist. Another arm pointed ahead of him, warning of the impending danger.

"Right!"

Ron followed the advice, veering out of harm's way. The rocket zipped past them and shot upwards, looping back around to follow. Ron gunned the bike.

"You won't out-run it!"

"I know, but we don't have any other options right now!" Ron shouted back. "Unless you can shoot it down!"

The missile completed its loop and homed in on them. Cecily looked back and saw the answer. Ron's jet-pack. "I can't, but you can! Your vambrace has a rocket in it. Use it."

"It'll only work if I can target it with the scanner." He thought he had just lost her and now she was taking risks. "Why not ditch the bike?"

Cecily didn't bother to answer, instead, she grabbed onto one of Ron's arms and threw herself off the speeder. Ron bit his tongue, holding back his shout of pain from the excess weight as she dragged behind, inches above the ground. If she had done this before all the harsh training Beta and Aella had put him through, the force and shock of the move would have torn his arm off.

"What are you doing?" Ron shouted.

"Shoot it down!" Cecily struggled against the rushing air and drag, trying to separate her from Ron's own grip.

Ron twisted back, lowering the antennae on his helmet. He struggled to focus on three tasks at once, keeping Cecily from crashing into the ground, maintaining the bike's course, and steadying his wrist to lock onto the rocket. The missile came into his scanner's view, and his wrist lined up with the rocket. The small, dart-like wrist rocket zipped out toward the missile.

The two collided, bursting into a bright ball of fire. He closed his eyes, trying to extinguish the blinding pulse, pulling Cecily back onto the speeder.

Ron shook his head, still trying to regain his full sight. "Why would our own weapons malfunction like that?" Ron asked.

"No. If it was one… maybe. But two. Someone sabotaged our weapons and targeted us."

"Do you really think Alex really hates me that much?"

Cecily laughed, snaking one of her arms around Ron's waist, holding on tight. "No Ron. It has to be the enemy."

Cecily took extra steps to maneuver her hands under the armorweave vest that sported his beskar plates. Underneath the hard vest, her hands traced around the soft jumpsuit, revealing the tense skin underneath.

She remembered spying on his training, but from far away, she severely underestimated just how far that training pushed him. Master Aella and Beta had trained him hard and well. The contours of the sculpted muscle spoke of that, pulling her further into him. She shook her head. She needed to focus on the battle.

Cecily peered ahead. The now battered clone forces were fast approaching.

"Ron! Enemy directly to the front! Half-a-kilo and approaching fast!"

"I still can't see!" Ron shouted back.

Cecily had no choice as Ron drove blindly. She tightened her thighs' grip on the seat, withdrawing her hands from Ron and unsheathing her lightsaber. She reached for Ron's belt, grabbing his own saber. With one in each hand she stretched her arms out, the ignited sabers becoming the bikes' own extended buzz-saw slicing through any clones in their path.

The Hail-fire droids dealt a devastating blow to their mechanized walkers. Mostly stubborn clones and about half of their armored force remained, who would fight to the death.

"Follow my directions!" Cecily ordered a debilitated Ron.

Ron blinked. He couldn't let Cecily do this alone. His vision was still blurry from the blast. Far in front of him, a shadowy figure stood in their path. It wasn't a clone trooper.

"Who is that?" Ron asked.

Cecily looked ahead to see what Ron was seeing. The small, hooded figure grew closer. Her eyes grew wide as the senses kicked her gut, the hair on her arms stood on end. It was worse than any clone the Republic could muster up in some genetic lab. The hooded figure's blue blade erupted from its hilt.

"A Jedi!" Both Ron and Cecily shouted.

Cecily leapt from the bike, prying Ron off with her. The speeder bike spiraled out of control, crashing into a destroyed walker. They tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop just short of the hooded Jedi.

Ron stood up, grabbing his lightsaber from Cecily's outheld hand. They took a defensive stance, waiting for their opponent to make a move. The ground below them rumbled as an AT-TE moved behind the Jedi toward the defensive berm.

"This isn't right. Aella and Svana said that there weren't any Jedi stationed here. We're not supposed to engage the Jedi unless absolutely necessary. That's from Beta." Cecily said.

Beta's rule not to engage the Jedi echoed through Ron's head. For one reason or another, Beta didn't want Cecily or Ron to engage the Jedi, and that was taught on the first day of his training.

Cecily and Ron handled facing the Sith assassin on the Republic cruiser.

This was different.

But as the hooded Jedi stepped closer, Ron sensed a familiar presence he hadn't felt in a long time. Anger, hatred, and jealousy oozed and dripped in the air. Jedi didn't wear these emotions, at least not how he was taught. These were the feelings of a Sith, but Ron usually didn't have a knack for sensing these emotions through the Force. These emotions rang true through every fiber, an intense hatred of him.

He recognized the presence, and that presence recognized him even with the helmet. Ron tried opening himself to the cosmic Force hoping to understand what he was seeing. Ron's eyes grew in realization. The Force let him recognize exactly who stalked toward them. Their missiles targeting them all made sense now, hitting Ron's senses like a turbo-laser blast.

The figure removed his cowl.

"Outsider..."

V.

Emerald and crimson clashed in a storm of strikes, blowing across the courtyard of an abandoned ninja school. No one watched. Not a single creature dared to stir as the two warriors, one old and one young, dueled each other as lightning strikes in a storm.

The defining duel of Yamanuchi School. It's headmaster up against a former student, disciple, and one of the foretold heroes of the prophetic scrolls of Toshimiru. That hero, now a fallen to the dark side, and one of Monkey Fist's most trusted apprentices.

Sensei knew the former boy as Gregory Volkov, one of two brothers that were born of an unmet father and mother. Though Sensei knew that he'd fallen to the dark side, he did not know his new name, Darth Bratr, or Monkey Fist's right hand.

Sensei jumped back, avoiding two flashing strikes for his midsection, landing graciously on the cobblestone.

"Koshiro, just tell me where you put the girl. Make this easy on yourself… and your students that are in hiding."

"I never will," Sensei replied.

Gregory narrowed his eyes. "Do you think that hiding this girl will change the outcome of what is coming? Toshimiru's prophecy is unraveling as we speak."

"You don't know the Force's will, my former student. The darkness only lets you see what it wants you to see."

The two began to circle each other.

"Do you think I don't know that you sent Ron Stoppable and Kim Possible to the old realm? Believe me, old man, their fate has already been sealed. With the Han firmly in Lord Fist's grasp, the prophecy is foiled. You cannot possibly think that by naming a girl Hana, you can change destiny."

"If you believe she cannot change destiny, then why do you seek her destruction? It is because you see the child as a threat."

"Seek her destruction?" Gregory scoffed. "For such a wise old man, you have such a simple mind. I don't seek the child's destruction. I seek to bring her into our fold. To teach her in the ways of darkness. Another ally… such as your granddaughter, Katsumi. Lord Fist and the Han would be pleased."

Sensei stopped with his back to the gate to Yamanuchi and the rope bridge behind him. "You will not provoke me to anger, Gregory."

"Do as you wish, then. Just know, without the Han, the prophecy is doomed. That small girl won't change a thing."

"We shall see."

Gregory dashed forward, blade whirling in his hand, unleashing dozens of strikes upon Sensei, pushing him out of the gate and onto the rope bridge that stretched across the canyon. Before Sensei could react and jump back over Gregory and into the school, it was too late.

A wave of the Force slammed into Sensei, sending him tumbling further onto the bridge. Gregory twirled his blade and sliced through the ropes, posts, and splintering boards.

Sensei fell with the bridge into the foggy, bottomless chasm below as Gregory watched with an uneasy smile.

"Farewell, old man."

A/N: Well... I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Tell me how you feel about it.