I do not own any Disney characters named herein and am only borrowing them to tell a nonprofit tale meant for entertainment purposes only.
Kim Possible: Gifted
By LJ58
2
"This is our subject," the new doctor asked as he eyed the squat, spectacled man who was watching the small toddler on the other side of the thick, insulated viewing glass that let them see into the small, isolated chamber.
"Kimberly Anne Possible. Thirty-six months yesterday. The only real survivor of the impact despite being found at ground zero," the researcher told the new doctor who was slightly stockier than he.
"Current radiation levels?"
"Curiously enough, when we arrived on-site, and first discovered the subject, the levels were off the chart, and some of the energies detected were….genuinely alien. As in never detected before in human history. Yet inside of two hours, the toddler somehow….absorbed those energies, leaving the entire quarantine zone….normal. We just kept up the barrier for our cover as we were unsure what was happening to her as yet."
"Right," Dr. Cyrus Bortel nodded. "Any obvious indications of genetic influences or alteration?"
"Funny you should ask," the man wearing thick glasses said as he opened up a laptop. "Kimberly Anne Possible in a recent family photo," he said, showing a young toddler with long red hair and a happy smile.
The girl in that containment room had scorched red hair with a very pronounced rainbow streak of green, blue, and white down the center of her now mostly cropped mane. Her skin also had a very pale, nearly snow-white pallor.
"So, the hair was not just her parent's affectation," Cyrus murmured. "Any other obvious effects?"
"You want obvious," the researcher told him. "Watch her," he said and pressed several buttons on the console before them.
Small, slender, if sharp prods came out of the walls to start poking the girl who had been sitting in the middle of that small chamber, sullen and brooding.
"Stop," she moaned when one poked her harder than the rest, waving a hand as if to ward off the randomly striking prods.
They kept poking her. Some now harder than others as the random sequence continued.
"Stop," the girl whined, and Cyrus mused, "Just what was this room used for before now," he asked.
"It was used for behavioral studies," the researcher shrugged.
"Indeed," Cyrus murmured, squinting as he considered he might be needing glasses himself of late after far too many hours spent researching in endless libraries.
Then one prod hit the girl in her forehead.
The change was instantaneous.
"I says stop it," the small girl screamed as she jumped to her feet, and her entire body seemed to glow a faint green as she grabbed a prod, and literally snapped it in half before she flung it at the observation port.
Cyrus yelped as the projectile not only penetrated the glass, it flew past him just missing one ear, and embedded in the wall behind him. The solid, concrete wall.
"Still think she's an ordinary case, Dr. Bortel," the researcher asked with a sly smirk.
The girl was still screaming, and tearing the prods apart, or smashing the walls and floor so that small craters ended the torment by just destroying the source of those prods as the toddler raged.
Then she glared around her, looking mulish as she crossed her thin arms, and sat back down and glared anew.
"Oh, no. No, she's obviously far from ordinary," he murmured. "But I do know if you keep treating her only as a specimen, you'll soon have a very dangerous, and very hostile subject on your hands. No, I think we need to take a different approach here, my friend. A more….maternal approach."
"We, ah, already told her parents that she died. You aren't suggesting bringing the mother back into the loop?"
"Oh, no. No, no, no. That would be too counterintuitive. We just need to give the young lady a sense of security, but in a manner that will mold her toward our needs. I suggest a maternal caregiver who will just happen to instruct her that obedience and loyalty are all that truly matter," Cyrus smiled.
"That's still risky. We've already seen that she's a pretty willful brat for a toddler," the researcher admitted.
"Of course. She's a child. Regrettably, we do not yet have the technology to simply induce compliance," he said, and paused thoughtfully, "But, still….for now, the right approach will be to condition her to obedience. It is just a matter of patience. And the right caregiver," he said slyly.
The rest of the research team assigned to Project Comet found it hard to argue with the man.
~KP~
Kim sat staring at the wall, far from caring that today was supposed to be her seventeenth birthday. Why they even thought that she cared about that escaped her just then. Only there were a lot of things her stupid captors did that escaped her.
It had been almost fourteen years since that stupid rock hit her home. Almost fourteen years since her mom and dad had died. Fourteen years since they locked her up in their stupid maze, and had her doing endless tricks in their stupid labs.
She couldn't tell how many doctors, researchers, or plain madmen had come through with their own theories over the years, and all with their own ideas of how to best handle her. How to manage her. How to control her. Only it seemed even their best failed.
She still had her own mind. Her own ideas. And her own feelings.
And she really hated this place.
If she didn't try leaving, it was because she knew that the damn comet had not only made her a freak, it had stolen her home and family and left her with no place else to go. No place at all. She was a walking albino with rainbow hair, and the slightest little thing had her glowing like a lightbulb, and doing damage without even trying.
The one thing they had both learned was that the older she got, the stronger she got, too. In fact, she was starting to learn she had more than just insane strength. A discovery she was not bothering to share. A girl had to have some secrets. God knew they watched her enough to have learned everything they could, but they still kept her locked up. Still kept on with the endless tests that made no sense to her. They wouldn't even let her watch television without careful monitoring. Usually, dumb war movies that they felt would teach her something they felt was important. That tended to sour her on the few things they let her watch because she had long since figured out the truth. They just wanted to control her, period, and she knew it.
They just quit bothering to hide that fact, and the guy watching her now more or less said if she didn't start cooperating, they'd be vivisecting soon, to see if they could empower agents that would be more compliant.
Sounded like they just wanted super robots to her. Which was stupid. How could robots do anything you wanted if you weren't there to constantly tell them what to do? That just sounded dumb to her.
She kept staring at the wall when the door finally opened, and one of the guards who was a familiar, if indifferent face said, "Okay, kiddo. Straight to the cafeteria, and then you have a few new physicals planned for the day."
She didn't even bother to comment.
She rarely said much of anything these days. There was no reason. They didn't listen to her, so she quit talking to them. It annoyed them, but she didn't care. They needed to be annoyed more to her way of thinking.
Fourteen minutes later, she was in the cafeteria, picking listlessly at the too common powdered eggs and soggy bacon the old woman behind the counter had given her when one of the guards came in and switched on the television that was so rarely on while she was around.
"Hey, guys, look at this," the man said. "Some wacky doc out west just created living metal."
"That's bull," another said as they all turned from filling mugs and thermoses with fresh coffee. The coffee she was never allowed to even taste. Even her diet was controlled here, and she sometimes wondered if they were trying to make sure she didn't really grow up any stronger.
"No, listen, here he is," the man protested, and indicated the television screen.
"Dr. Possible," the reporter called out, making Kim look up at the television for the first time as she saw the vaguely and painfully familiar face with the banner "Dr. James Possible's New Discovery!" "Can you tell us just what inspired you to create cybertronic replication?"
"Well, I was thinking about our daughter, lost in that terrible meteor strike some years past," he said, "And I realized that if people had something that could shelter them, shield them, instantly, then maybe Kimberly or anyone else wouldn't have had to die. Maybe, in the future I hope to help build, no one else will have to die like that," he said grimly. "So, I suppose, all this is for our lost daughter, killed so many years ago," the man said somberly as he stared out of the television screen.
"But….I'm not dead," she rasped and realized someone had lied. To her, and probably to her parents.
Her green eyes glittered, and her body began to glow, and for the first time in years, Kimberly felt her temper truly surge as one of the guards turned, and another one rasped, "Oh…..fuck," just before a wave of living, green energy surged out and around the girl rather than just her hands as usual.
"Lying bastards," she screamed, and turned and ran for the door.
To Be Continued…..