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

3

The tall, lanky man sitting behind a wide desk in a private office shook his head at the men before him. He was a younger man than most who had been in his place, with thick hair pulled back into a careless mullet eyed the men before his desk. He sighed, ran his hands over his face, and down the sides of his head, and then shook his head again as he now surveyed the footage of Possible's unbelievable rampage on his computer monitor.

He well knew that there were those that began to doubt the efficacy of their project. There were those that felt Possible's few apparent gifts were just not worth the time and energy, or the money being sunk into the long-term project that only seemed to drag out without results. Only this rampage finally proved her real value as fourteen years of study, research, and attempted conditioning had not.

The teenage girl with no real apparent training or skills had just ravaged a hardened military research center, tore through a platoon of the best, and nothing, absolutely nothing had even slowed her down. Not bullets. Not tranquilizers. Not even the best and most powerful tasers did more than piss her off. She tore her way out of the remote site, literally melting and smashing through steel panels meant to hold off armies, and didn't even slow down doing it.

"So," Dr. Edward Lipski asked blandly. "Who do I blame," he asked as the seven men stood before him, two of them heavily bandaged.

"I think….it was me, sir. I was watching that morning newscast about that guy with the….living metal," one guard replied sheepishly. "I didn't even think…. Anyway, the next thing we know, she's…..just going nuts," the man said with a grimace.

"Indeed. And tell me, Robbie," he called the man familiarly. "What was the man's name who created cybertronic replication?"

"Uh….Oh, uh, I think it was…..Dr. Possible."

Edward's big hand slammed down on his desk, and he swore at the idiot who only then seemed to have the sense to cringe.

"And did anyone give clearance for an open news station in her presence? You know the drill here, people. No uncensored media. Ever," Edward spat.

"Sorry, sir," the man accepting blame cringed all the more. "I…..forgot," he groaned and dropped his head.

"You forgot," Dr. Edward Lipski snarled. "Robbie, you will remain here. The rest of you are dismissed," Dr. Lipski spat, making a dismissive gesture.

The other guards filed out, and several gave him sympathetic looks, but no one spoke. Then the door shut, and Edward looked up and smirked at the guard.

"When they gave me this damn babysitting job, I thought it was the most absurd assignment they could have given someone like me," he drawled as he eyed the man. "Watch their pet freak, and see if she does anything interesting," he chortled. "Three years. Years. And she did nothing but pout."

"You sure called it, though, Doc," Robbie smiled, having actually worked with the eccentric scientist on and off over the years, and knowing his way. "That newscast set her off like a bomb."

"Of course it did," he smirked. "I suspected that the revelation of the little conspiracy around here would be enough to make her finally react. Of course, she reacted far more strongly than anything we could have predicted, but now those clowns in DARPA will have to admit that at least they now have measurable results. Tell me, were all the sensors and scans online?"

"We had readings every step of the way, sir. She was radiating enough energy to have melted titanium steel, but I have the feeling she wasn't even close to reaching her fullest potential. I have the feeling she was still….holding back."

"Very interesting," Edward smiled. "While I go call the Joint Chiefs, and terrify them a bit with the news that a rogue mutant they thought useless is loose, call in my cousin."

"Oh, man, Doc," Robbie groaned in earnest now.

"He's a loon, Robbie, but he's an intelligent loon even if he is a college dropout. If anyone can find a way to control, or even replicate this girl's very valuable powers, it's my cousin Drew," Edward Lipski smiled. "Now, go. We still have to find the girl and bring her back. Which means we need a means of controlling her all the more now we know just what she can do."

"I'll call him at once, Doc," the man sighed and left his office even as Edward was picking up the phone to call a very secure number.

~KP~

Shego, as she still called herself for professional reasons these days, sat in her chair with her feet up on the battered desk before her, and pondered her life.

To her mind, it was a good life. Better than working for the government, which she had come to know and loathe as nothing else in this world. Still, she had a few thrills. She made a few dollars, and no one told her what to do, or how to live. So, win-win.

Technically, she was a professional bounty hunter and troubleshooter. She had trained herself to fight as much as track, and there weren't many people out there that could give her much grief these days. In fact, there weren't many that even tried anymore. Most people she went after gave up. They already knew her reputation.

Still, she wondered if she was getting too good of late. Things had been getting a bit boring, and she hated boring as much as she hated some of the amateurs now trying to annoy her.

It seemed that some of her competitors were now trying to cut her off. Make sure she lost assignments by playing with her phone lines or had accidents. She was still considering what to do to the little jerk that nearly let a real slimeball escape when the guy had sabotaged her car when the phone abruptly rang.

She let it ring three times, lifting it on the fourth that suggested they were serious, and so reached over, and picked it up.

"Go City Investigations, Shego speaking," she growled.

"Ah, Miss Gordeaux," a grim, basal voice growled back. "We have need of you."

"And we are….?"

"This is General Roger Hastings, Miss Gordeaux, and your nation needs you."

"No, thanks, I look lousy in uniform," she quipped and started to hang up.

"Hold on, Miss Gordeaux," the man snapped. "We have an extraordinarily dangerous, and unique assignment that we felt only someone of your caliber could manage. Needless to say, this is all hush-hush, and absolutely above top secret."

"Let me guess. One of your little aliens or pet monsters got out, and you need them back before they hit population," she sneered at the man.

"How did you know," the man asked quite seriously.

Shego didn't show her surprise even in her tone as she replied, "Why else would a bigshot like you call someone like me," she retorted sardonically even as she was gaping at the idea her snide comment had apparently been taken seriously.

"Yes, well, this is very serious, and we need it to stay very secret."

"Okay, details. And I need to know financial details, too, of course. I don't move without a payday. And I don't mean minimum wage," Shego growled.

"Expense is no object at this point. We need the….target back at once, any way possible."

"You're authorizing lethal measures?"

"You may need to employ those just to slow her down," the man admitted.

"Really, sounds challenging," Shego smiled, ironically all the more interested. "So, alien, vegetable, or mineral," she asked mockingly.

"Where can you meet?"

"You ever hear of the Rogue's Diner uptown?"

"Yes. I'll meet you in the Rogue's Diner in thirty minutes with all the details. Needless to say, you cannot share. But this is critical, Miss Gordeaux. We must get….her back or things may get very bad. Very bad."

"Thirty minutes," she nodded at the phone. "See you then, GI Joe," she drawled and hung up.

On the other side of the phone, a burly, graying man stared at the man in a gray suit who worked for the Agency, and asked, "You're sure that this woman is capable…."

"Honestly, sir, she was one of our best before she went freelance. She can track anybody or anything, and she has never….never failed to complete a mission. Trust me," the agent told the senior officer, "If anyone can bring Possible back in, it's Shego. I've never seen her fail."

"Never?"

"Well, so long as you pay her. Try stiffing her, and she might be after you next," he advised.

"I'll bear that in mind," the gruff officer nodded as he lifted a sealed file from his desk, and asked, "Just tell me she understands national security."

"She probably still holds more secrets than Mossad," the man snorted. "You'd just play hell trying to make her admit it."

"And you let her go?"

"She, ah, blackmailed the Director into giving her early retirement after a….personal matter went badly," the agent admitted. "Even I don't know over what. I didn't want to know," the man said pointedly. "That woman can be vicious."

"Understood," Roger Hastings nodded. "I suppose I'd better go meet her, then."

"If your ten seconds late, she won't be there," the agent admitted.

"I'll bear that in mind," he said, and headed for the door, his driver already waiting in his car.

~KP~

Shego eyed the man that had just entered the diner in full uniform and waved at the waitress even though she had a salad and glass of tea already before her.

"Steak, medium rare, with fries on the side, and a black coffee," she told the waitress as Roger took a seat in the booth across from her, and eyed her large salad.

"That hungry?"

"That was for you, GI Joe. Just letting you know I'm a details kind of girl," she smirked.

Roger frowned, and asked, "And you just happened to know my usual order when dining out?"

"You'd be surprised at what I know," Shego drawled, having long since learned that even trivial information could end up surprisingly valuable.

"Indeed. I brought you a gift," he said and slid the manila folder over the table to her. On top was a plastic gift card with a blank face.

"Give me the quick and dirty, and I'll tell you what else I might need."

"That folder has all the relevant details in it, and that card is for expenses. It has a ten million dollar limit for an advance, and any expenses. Pull this off, and I'm ready to add ten million to the account after…delivery. Agreed?"

"Sounds good….on the surface. I'll study this…"

"In a secure, and private location," he suggested as she patted the envelope.

"Natch. But once I have the gist, I may adjust the price depending on the effort required, and actual risk involved. Agreeable, GI Joe?"

"My name is…."

"Look. You don't know me, and I don't know you," she cut him off. "This is just a job. Best to keep it impersonal. Got it?"

"Right. My number is in the file for contact, and pickup. Don't share," he told her.

The waitress returned just then with a steaming platter of food and set it before the man with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Might as well eat, soldier boy," she smirked. "Be a shame to waste Patsy's food. She's a damn good cook."

"Yet you only eat a salad," he asked blandly as he lifted his knife and fork, admitting only to himself the steak did look, and smell quite good.

"You haven't tasted her grilled fajita chicken spears she tops it with," he was told as Shego stabbed her fork into one of those very morsels. "Ambrosia," she grinned and set to eating in earnest herself.

Twenty minutes later, leaving the senior officer with the check, Shego was driving out of town on her way to a rendezvous. She had spent her time waiting on General Hastings' arrival tapping a few private sources just to be thorough. She was guessing they could give her more than the usual tripe his kind liked to hand out in measured doses like most bureaucrats. She might find some value in the files, sure, but she doubted she'd learn what was critical. Which was why before she made a single move she was headed to a trusted source she had known since the bad old days of government service.

Dan Brotherson was an information broker that admittedly played all sides, but if he didn't know it, it couldn't be known. He had saved her butt more than once in the past when he came up with the seemingly impossible knowledge that put her ahead of the game. She was going to hope he could do it again. Because even she could tell that soldier boy had been sweating bullets, and beyond nervous. Guys like that didn't sweat unless it was serious. Well past serious. Which meant she needed to know more than he likely wanted to tell her.

To Be Continued…..