Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible™ or any character, location or event from that said show.

Last time on Legend of A Monkey Master

- In 1288AD the Monkey Master fights the invading Mongol Army.

- Present Day: Kim Possible's exploits gain the attention of Senor Senior Senior who laid a trap for her.

- Ron makes things go boom. Kim fears her mother reaction.

Ch 2: Monkey Hate Mondays

Late into the night and the streets of suburban Middleton were quiet. Most of the residents were either comfortably in bed or catching the tail end late night TV programming. Mostly the former given tomorrow was yet another tedious Monday morning.

The quiet was suddenly broken, as it had been increasingly these past few weeks, by the ferocious roar of a low flying aircraft, this time a Helicopter with the initials PGA on the side. Those still awake rushed to the window to view the events. Those sleeping, or formally sleeping, residents of Kim's neighbourhood buried their heads under their pillows and cursed the name Possible.

"Thanks for the ride Tiger. And thanks for the autographed golf ball, aside from Captain Constellation you're my dad's idol. Take it easy on the knee."

"It was my pleasure Kim. Thank you for saving the PGA from Duff Killigan's mutant greens."

Kim humbly waved off his praise. "No big. Once me an' Ron borrowed Joe's heavy duty yard care kit it was easy chopping the rough back down to size."

"Night Kim," Tiger yelled as the helicopter took off again.

Kim stood in the street, waving Tiger Woods and his pilot goodbye for as long as she could, putting off the act of opening her front door facing the lecture that no doubt awaited her. Despite racing the setting sun back from Europe with the help of the PGA she had missed school night curfew by hours. To top it off, any chance of sneaking into her room and saving the talking to until morning had been ended when Tiger offered to give Ron and her a lift from the airport….

"Oy! You going to stand their loitering all night? What time do you call this anyway, arriving in your own personal chopper you're freakin' majesty?! Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Oh right. Then there were the neighbours.

"Sorry Mr Oglivy," Kim politely called back before retreating back to her door, muttering, "Gratitude for saving the city from a nuclear detonation defiantly has a use by date."

Key took her key ring out of her equipment pocket and opened the door. She was mildly surprised to find her mother wasn't sitting on the staircase waiting for her. Maybe Kim had gotten lucky and her mother was asleep? Or called to the hospital on an emergency? Nevertheless Kim was wary. She made sure to scan the kitchen and living room entrances for signs of a hidden ambush.

Good, now she just had to make it past her parents bedroom on the way to her attic room and she would be….

As the sole of her foot pressed down on the first step of the stairwell two devices sprang to life. The first was a buzzer, loud enough to alert everyone in the house of Kim's arrival. The second was the release mechanism for a spring set arm holding a fly swatter approximately at Kim's head height. The plastic whipped her, stinging her cheek. "Ow," Kim said in surprise, stumbling backward off the step.

The buzzer stopped with the release of pressure. Too late for Kim, it had served its purpose. A walkie talkie hidden behind a pot plant relayed her mother's commanding voice, "You stay there young lady. I'll be down in a moment."

Kim groaned.

...

Kim seated herself at the kitchen's breakfast table while her mother busied herself making hot chocolates. Anne had also set up a small electric heater. Strolling around in her bath robe, slippers and with a towel wrapped around her wet red hair, she needed the warmth being fresh from the bathroom.

"Don't you think the alarm is a little extreme?" Kim said pointedly.

"I wasn't going to sit on the step till God knows what time of the night. My posterior has already suffered enough abuse during these late nights worrying about you. I had the boys' string up a warning device while I took a bubble bath."

Noting Kim was rubbing her reddened cheek Anne added, "The fly swat was the boys' idea."

"I already get ambushed everywhere I go. It would be nice if I didn't have to worry about traps entering my own home!"

"That is precisely the point," Anne remarked sternly. "You do get ambushed everywhere you go! When I agreed to let you take on these 'missions' it was on the condition you only selected the harmless ones and referred anything dangerous to the proper authorities. So far none of your renowned exploits have met these criteria!"

"It's not like we're deliberately disobeying the rules you set out. How were Ron and I supposed to know the strange weeds appearing at the golf course were toxic? Or that a bad stitching in a shirt from Club Banana would…."

"Lead you to an international counterfeiting ring with mafia connections? Or that mysteriously disappearing garbage in Lowerton was in fact being used to feed an army of giant cockroaches?!"

Kim had no answer for her mother. Seriously, who could predict it? She could only blink and raise her shoulders in a cautious 'I don't know' motion. Anne lightened her momentarily. "Alright, I accept the last one seemed highly improbable. That doesn't excuse the fact you've been jet setting around the world picking fights with one psychotic madman after another! I didn't know there were so many loonies in the world until I saw my sixteen year old daughter battling them on the evening news!"

Kim was uncomfortable, shifting in her seat as her mother continued to make hot drinks and while fixing her with unhappy glances. She hadn't meant her activities to turn out this way every time but her mother was right. Almost every innocent mission she'd embarked on so far had led her to be ambushed by one mad scientist or another. Even a mad golfer! How many mad golfers could there be?

Putting her even more on edge, if Kim were truthful she didn't want to give up those crazier missions either. There was a rush of accomplishment that came with them far beyond anything experienced babysitting for Mr and Mrs Mahoney or mowing Mr Oglivy's lawns. Not recognition, she had plenty. The media loved their new teen hero. They loved trailing her around the world. They loved sending her piles of letters pestering her for an interview or debating why this teenager and her website seemed in a better position to uncover such plots than the cops. Even conspiracy theories on whether her achievements were staged. After the destruction of the bug invasion sitch there had been great anticipation for the teen heroine's next exploit. Now, without looking for trouble, she had provided catered to their expectations.

Recognition had the disadvantage of being recognisable which she didn't entirely care for. It was the intense sense of purpose she craved. The feeling she made a difference. She didn't know if she could go back to living the mediocre life, concerned only with practice cheer routines or high school popularity politics. Kim intended to save a new person each and every day.

Anne took two mugs of hot chocolate, two of five which she had prepared, and sat down at the table opposite her daughter. The second mug was offered to Kim. It was late at night, into the early hours of the morning even. Anne seemed tired.

"What was it this time? Honestly?"

"We were asked to present a petition signed by several fishing communities to a billionaire on his offshore island. The villagers were wanted him to conserve his power usage, he was causing blackouts all over the bay."

"And how did that turn out?" Anne asked sarcastically.

"He did promise to take the petition under advisement. Limit his usage during peak hours and warn the villages in advance before a big project," Kim said evenly. She winced when a new comer to the discussion challenged her version of events.

"Na-ah!" protested a young voice from around the corridor corner. "You blew up his island and – OW!"

Anne snapped her fingers. "Out here, now!" She gruffly demanded. The twin boys reluctantly complied with her demand, still subtly slapping each other back and forth, believing their mother didn't notice. Their squabble was forgotten when Anne directed them toward the three extra mugs of hot chocolate on the counter which they gleefully accepted.

"You too James."

Answering his wife's bidding James entered, dressed in rocket pyjamas like his sons. "I was just – hustling the boys back to bed," he explained sheepishly, also taking a hot chocolate while urging the boys to take the mugs with them back up stairs. When they were gone, Anne returned to her conversation with her daughter. "Why don't you try answering that last question again, keeping in mind the news headline of the day: Snow in the Mediterranean: It's Possible!"

Starring into her mug Kim admitted, "I blew up his island – utilizing a massive freeze ray."

"And how do you justify this within the mission criteria I laid out for you?"

"He was going to freeze Paris with an icy ray of death!" Kim protested, believing in the undeniable merit of her explanation.

"Then call the navy, or the police, or that bloody Director you admire so much!"

Anne kept her voice level though she couldn't disguise a scowl as she muttered mention of the director. "It's her job. Instead she has the nerve to send children to do her dirty work. Her and her 'janitor'."

"It's not like that."

"Yes it is. Maybe it's not the way they intended but it is."

Solemn, Anne made her final demand. "No more. No more missions. No more GJ. No more website - no more listening to the half-baked suggestions of Joe and his Director. You aren't even to take a babysitting job without running it past me first."

Instead of disputing this pronouncement or protesting Joe and Director's innocence in a squabble which could only come between mother and daughter, Kim solemnly and sincerely admitted, "I only wanted to prove I could help people without the sitch becoming another twisted plot."

If Anne was sympathetic to her daughters attempt to comply with her wishes she didn't show it. She didn't say anything as Kim excused herself and went upstairs. She just emptied the untouched mugs and followed upstairs to her own bedroom in her own time.

James waited for her in their room, sitting on their bed.

"You're going to stick up for her now?" Anne put it to him pointedly.

James sighed. "I can't say I disagree with you," he admitted. "We certainly haven't been keeping a close enough eye on these 'missions'. But they mean so much to her."

"There are better ways to help people - and I'd be more than a little concerned if it was beating the snot out of people aspect she's drawn to."

"It's not," James assured her. "My mother was the same, remember? Journalist touring the world covering civil rights protests, disasters, revolutions in Africa and South America; the lure of adventure has been irresistible to many a Possible. Where do you think the family motto comes from?"

"Anything's Possible for a Possible," Anne repeated the mantra, often a source of inspiration, now a cause for frustration. Raising a trio of way too smart Possible kids was no easy task. She sat down on the bed beside James and let him wrap his arms around her. "After – Drew, every patient congratulated me raising such an upstanding daughter. Now all I get is the look."

"The look?" he questioned, rubbing her shoulder.

"The look! Where they say 'oh, that's your daughter' and what they're really thinking is 'you're a terrible mother, letting your daughter run around the world like that'."

"Hone, you're just being paranoi….," James stopped as recent conversations came back to him. "Wait, that's what that look means?!"

Anne failed to answer his question. She just pulled away from his grasp and climbed into bed.

James remained seated, stricken. "I'm a terrible mother."

...

The Middle High cheerleaders casually jogged out from behind the basketball hoop one at time, each one in line alternately waving her pom-pons at a different stand. When they reached the free throw line they broke into cartwheels, or back flips based on the girl's preference, veering out in alternate diagonal directions until they were lined abreast along the mid-court line facing the far wall. Strung out across the width of the court they performed sequenised pom-pon movements, and hip movements, to be observed by the crowd arriving to view the match.

The centre of the line split and moved backward to create twin parallel columns. Running down the corridor formed of beauties ran Ron Stoppable, the Middleton Mad Dog. In a real game situation the basketball team or maybe the football team would be following his lead out onto the court, or field if the case may be. Being just a practice of this opening routine it was just Ron at present, yet Amelia demanded her squad scream and cheer as if Johnny Depp or David Beckham were strolling out of the locker room. She slyly suggested the effect was best achieved if they imagined each hunk with their shirt off.

Ron gave himself a run-up, dropped to his knees and slid across the (extremely diligently polished) gymnasiam floor. Stopping approximately where he imagined the visiting team to be. Acting to intimidate, he gave his most fearsome growl, (Rufus had helped him perfect his growl in a contest for the game console control), and shook his head spastically. Foaming bubbling from his bulldog face splattered the imaginary opponents and they cowered in fear.

Rufus cheered from the stands. She had learned from earlier experience Ron's routine was not intuitive to a comfortable sleeping environment in said boy's pocket. Instead she amused herself screaming for one of the cheerleaders to give the Mad Dog a smooch.

Practice ended and Amelia thanked her squad. Ron packed his homemade Mad Dog head into an old trunk Mr Barkin had provided him for the storage of his costume. Kim retreated back to the girl's locker room to collect her belongings consciously wondered who of the squad, if any, would bring up her news-worthy adventure gone awry in Europe.

"Hey Kay! Heard weekend vacations to the med' were spoiled by poor whether. What do you plan for an encore? Battle evil ninjas in space? Foil a mind control plot in American Idol?"

Of course it would be Bonnie.

"I was thinking of a case closer to home, the mystery of the mayonnaise and the mascot mask."

Bonnie Rockwaller, Kim's high school nemesis. As close to a stereotypical high school nightmare as you'll ever find; attractive, intelligent, stylish, popular and mean. Cunning and viciousness packaged in a strikingly soft and supple frame. Evil never looked so good….

"Going to be spending much time in the janitors closet tonight? I can lend some concealer for the love bites."

"Save it. I got a hit saying some wacko stole a weather machine and is heading north. You'll need all the concealer you can get when the rain hits and you begin to wrinkle and melt."

Monique, a senior squad member, came over and stood beside Kim. She crossed her arms and nodded at Bonnie with a gleeful smirk. "Score girl. You know I think I already see a line forming around her cheek? Too much time in the sun bed?"

Kim snorted. Other squad members were also amused with the comment.

"Shoo Bee," Monique command. "Go on, before I pull your stinger out. G-B-I-S-U."

"I'm sorry. Did you mistake me for someone who speaks your voodoo language?"

"Oh, little Bee needs translation," Monique cooed with mock sympathy. "It means Go Before I Slap U!"

Bonnie's eyes drifted away, surveying the reactions of girls behind Kim and Monique. None were willing to get involved on her behalf. In fact most were as tired of Bonnie's vendetta against Stoppable as Kim. That the two were tight was old news. They weren't interested in speculation about happenings behind the closed door of the janitor's closet.

"Whatever," Bonnie relented, withdrawing from the confrontation, smiling and acting in no way the defeated party. Just a retiring party from a meaningless jest, presenting her humility plain for all the fair minded cheerleaders to see.

Sure to be back when she sensed weakness.

...

Kim entered janitorial supply closet and shut the door. Ron was already waiting for her, as was Joe and Wade. Joe leaned casually against his workbench in a corner of the room. "Take a seat," his cool voice offered. Two stools were placed before his workbench. Ron occupied the second. Kim took her place beside him while Wade participated the meeting via video link. Earlier Team Possible had petitioned Joe for a place in the school to use as a base. Wade set the team up with a sophisticated computer system consisting of three screens, multiple CPUs, terabytes of drive space, fax, phone, and video capability. It was nothing more than an outlet for Wade's greater network. All controlled remotely from his room, maintained by one of the world's foremost child hackers under the roof of his Global Justice Agent parents. Wade's central hub had more security than some large businesses.

"Hey Wade, how's college? You look a little ragged; you haven't spent the weekend in some frat party, have you?"

"No Kim, I haven't," confirmed the ten year old hacker, cracking a smile. He did seem tired. Still, he was cheerful. "My papers are going fine. I just completed an essay on mathematical algorithms and differential equations, and I can write software with both arms tied behind my back using only my foot," he said proudly. Leaning closer he added, "The real trouble is my mom. She wants us to enter a charity fun run as a mother-son team in three months! I'm glad for any excuse to skip family jogging hour."

Joe allowed a rare chuckle. "Don't expect any sympathy from us. It'll get the blood flowing. Make you smarter, smart boy."

"Have a heart!"

"Sorry Wade," Kim added, "you brought this on yourself. Karma for too many years of sending Ron for Pizza."

Wade looked to Ron, his last bastion of support. "Well me an' Rufus feel for you buddy. Anything we can do to help you dodge your mom."

"Down to business," Joe interceded in the conversation. "Wade debriefed me on the weekend's disasters. Let's start with the reason you were in Europe. Hank Perkins."

…

Yelping from repeated electric shocks, Ron pulls the offending device from under his shirt. A wire tap device. Hank Perkins removes a gun from his briefcase, forcing Kim to act quickly. From her seat in the limousine she slides forward and kicks the weapon out of Perkin's hands. She places her heeled foot under his throat. Her low cut dress allows Perkins a front row view of the smoothness and power of her cheerleading honed legs.

…

Kim and Ron have their brunette wig disguises removed. They sit with the family that requested their aid in the waiting room of a police station. Soon the door opens and Perkins is allowed to leave. Several men wearing expensive suits and carrying briefcases form a defensive circle around him.

The officer leading the interrogation shakes his head in disappointment. Perkins gives Kim a menacing grin as he walks past.

…

Ron was still embarrassed over the incident so Kim answered for the two of them.

"It's a sitch in progress," a determined edge to her voice, "We recorded nothing incriminating before our covers were blown and, aside from being a deceitful con-man, Hank Perkins is apparently also an excellent lawyer."

Joe agreed with her assessment. "We still have time before the family is deported. I'll drop hints to some old contacts that Perkins is a person of interest. Pressure him until we can regroup and return with a better plan next weekend…."

"Problem." Kim put up her hand, feeling self-conscious. "Mom saw the Senior's island sitch on the news. I think I'm grounded. From missions anyway. I'm not to take any without her express permission."

Joe stroked his chin and his bristles of short, dark facial hair growth. "You're not only one mom is cross with. Betty," refering to Dr Betty Director, head of Global Justice, "is concerned we're operating above our amateur status. Wants us to stop stumbling onto wacko plots."

"I could go with it," Ron agreed. "My mom isn't happy either."

"We'll tone our operations down for now. Since we're on the topic of Senior, the question I put to you is: What was your error?"

"We overloaded the freeze ray?" Kim suggested.

"Before that."

"We were captured?" Ron ventured.

"Before that," Joe insisted.

The pair were blank.

"You entered the wolf's lair without properly arming yourself with the facts. Wade!" Joe pointed a stern finger at the computer's camera. "Information is your area of responsibility. The lives of your team mates hang on the mission data you provide. Why were Kim and Ron not aware Senior was the head of an international criminal organisation?"

Wade was taken aback by the question. "I – I didn't know! There was nothing…."

"The legendary 'ghost' in the global network. Alleged to be responsible for the cyber attack on Estonia. The daring hacker who posted excerpts of Betty Director's diary on the web could not find so much as a parking ticket in the name of one of the most private and wealthiest men in Europe?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Ron called as Kim gasped, "Joe!"

Their calls for restraint on Joe's part failed. Realisation struck home. Wade was mortified with his failure. As Kim protested it was not Wade's fault, the genius level I.Q. boy calculated it was.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I'm so sorry; the hit on sight seemed innocent. I never thought…."

"Don't apologise Wade, this wasn't your fault…."

Kim refused to let the blame be laid on Wade. Joe agreed. "She's right about one thing Wade. This was not your fault. Fault lies with the team. And with the team leader." His mere glance quietened Kim instantly.

"Most of all, Wade, fault lies with the one meant to be keeping watch over you three. So I'm to blame too. The good news, Wade, is we can prevent this error from becoming a mistake by correcting the problem. You never send them in blind again."

He turned to Kim. "You never lead your team in blind again. And inform me of any side mission jaunts across Europe before hand. You," Joe turned again to Ron who tense with apprehension. It grew worse as Joe paused to consider his answer. "Stay five feet back from electronic equipment at all times. And never stop telling Kim it's a bad road."

Wade felt trapped. He now felt guilty over Kim and Ron's close call against Senior. Nonetheless his hands were tied. He was uncertain how to broach the problem with Joe. "I'm on a probation. If my parents or Dr Director catch me hacking personal files again, even to protect Kim..."

"I understand Wade," Joe immediatly assured him, "and I'm sorry. I know I just put you in an impossible position. I didn't mean to upset you but the point had to be made. I'll talk to Betty and your parents and make clear I take personal responsibilty for any action you undertake in the interests of Team Possible. In the meantime if there's anything you think we should investigate, but can't, tell me. Tell me irregardless of how trivial, or the time of day - I still have access to some means of digging up dirt."

...

Ron hesitated as he left the Janitor's closet. Reflecting on Joe's commandments, Kim wasn't distracted enough not to notice. "You coming?" she asked.

Ron answered reluctantly. "In a sec'. I want to ask Joe something. Private."

It was unusual for Ron to keep her in the dark over an issue bothering him. At least she had assumed it was until she met Wade. Suspicions were raised though Kim could not deny him. She had to trust whatever the sitch Ron would talk to her when he was ready. She agreed to wait for him.

Ron re-entered the closet. Joe sat with his back against the wall, polishing a selection of his tools over the workbench. "Come in Ron. Sit down," he said, almost managing to sound friendly. Ron did so, taking up a stool and sitting down across the corner of the bench.

"It happened again Joe. I was trying to pull the wiring out of the ray and…."

Ron shrugged. He didn't know how to explain what happened next. It was the same thing that always happened.

"Stay away from techno junk. You'll be fine."

"It's more." Ron tried to put his thoughts into sentences. "This morning mom was ready to explode over the news. Dad tried to calm her down by suggesting everything you've taught Kim has her better equipped to handle rough situations than most federal agents. It was when he crunched the numbers on me – that was when he was distressed. Calculated I shouldn't have survived grammar school."

"No one can calculate…."

"He can! He's an actuary! He calculated the date the Soviet Union would collapse and the Berlin Wall torn down!"

For a moment Joe tensed. His focus on the tool polishing was broken for three whole seconds as he stared at the door. As quickly as the change in body language appeared it was gone. He was back to quietly working.

"I-I had nothing to do that by the way. Sounds completely normal, your dad just has an overactive imagination. There was no studies into….You do wear your seatbelt at all times in the car right?"

"Yeah?"

"Life jacket when swimming."

"I-I don't…."

"Tell you what. I'll come over glue padding to all the sharp edges in your house tonight."

"Okay…?"

Joe set down his tools and polish. "Ron. I would never send Kim into the field alone. The problem is Kim tends to attract attention like you court disaster. I have very good reasons for keeping a low profile. It might be more dangerous - no, it would be more dangerous for her if I were there. So I need someone I trust with her. Always with her."

"But am I helping her, or putting her in increased danger?"

Joe sighed. "I don't know. She listens to you. Tell her to back off a case and you may do more to protect her than I ever could."

...

Deep within a rock bunker in an undisclosed location in South America, Junior observed his father and world terrorist leader Gemini engage in cordial conversation. Or cordial to the point they weren't lobbing missiles at each others secret lairs, a step up in relations between Senior's operation and World Empire since the eighties. Gemini had a calm, cool manner his predecessor lacked although Senior still found his often impulsive, arbitrary acts of ruthlessness distasteful. Gemini inversely wearied of the old man's code of conduct and sharp tongue. A weariness Junior could understand.

"Next time I think I'll set the trap myself; since you seem incompetent of holding a pair of untrained teenager wannabe heroes."

From a large view screen affixed to the far wall of the cavernous bunker, Gemini flicked stones. So Senior flicked them back.

"Perhaps the lord of WE needs a reminder of just how competent I am."

"Then the only other explanation I can conclude is that Kim 'look at me, I'm a superhero' Possible was aided in eluding your billion dollar security system."

"I lost my home to this endeavour if you care to remember, Sheldon. My family and I pride ourselves on being a trustworthy bastion in the underworld so I know you wouldn't suggest I engineered Miss Possible's escape. Not if you wished to continue utilizing my information and banking services."

The room was designed to have a tropic feel despite being underground and carved out of rock. The lighting replicated the warm kiss of the sun against bare skin. Plants were spread throughout the cavern and watered by a hydroponics system. The Seniors even had a cool fresh water pool to enjoy. It was beside this pool Junior sat now, under a shaded table, taking less interest in the preceding than he had with Team Possible. He played with a set of small Team Possible figures. Ron and Rufus were strapped to a bottle rocket aimed at a Lego Eiffel tower on the far side of the pool. The Kim figurine stood triumphant over a series of enemies including a Darth Vader, Majin Buu and Megatron. The later evil figurine had been torn apart at the limbs and lay straddled across a monopoly house and hotels city.

From his distant lair Gemini relented, shrugging to demonstrate is was no great loss as he transferred over the bet funds. On another, smaller though still substantially large, screen the amount of funds in one of Senior's secrets accounts grew instantly larger.

"Gracias. On a further note, may I ask the lord Gemini to in future only refer to Senorita Possible with the highest respect in my presence? I assure you; she managed to elude my best defence systems by her own skill and courage. In fact, intriguing stories have come to my attention about the late Dr Drakken and the events surrounding his demise. It seems Senorita Possible may be the first to defeat Shego in hand to hand combat. You remember Shego, don't you Senor Gemini? You gave her a 'hand' bringing down Professor Dementor's Grün Valkyrie Project?"

Mention of 'Shego' and 'hand' in the same sentence was one sure fire way to dig under Gemini's cool collar. Junior quit playing to pay attention, missing his carefully orchestrated loosing of a flaming spinning top toward the bottle rocket, igniting it and sending helpless Ron figurine careening into the Lego tower. No one witnessed the structure collapse with a colourful bang.

Gemini narrowed his one remaining eye at the senior Senor Senior. His nostrils flared in a snarl though he fought to keep his tone civil.

"Yes. I remember Dementor's project. It disturbs me that you should."

Senior merely politely smiled back.

"And WE is also aware of the rumours surrounding Drakken's demise. Preposterous. I wouldn't give such mutterings a moment's thought aside from the unusual interest dear Betty has taken in the child."

"Interest she has shown in one potential before?"

Senior practically sang the statement. He looked away from Gemini, eyes catching the ceiling looking guiltily innocent.

"We're watching her."

"She's going to be so much fun to play with, like Betty in her prime," Senior mused aloud, "Agent Du was far too serious. Walking stroke case…."

"If she's such a big deal, why haven't you taken her out?"

Junior's unexpected interruption from across the room earned him different reactions from each villainous mastermind. His father was horrified at the prospect. Gemini was amused, mostly of Senior's obvious reaction.

"Junior! How could you even contemplate such a dreadful act? Has nothing I've taught you…. Do you not care at all for the codes of this family?"

His father's scolding did not bother Junior. The revelation both Dr Director of GJ and Gemini of WE were keeping there eyes, one apiece, on Possible impressed him beyond measure. Kim Possible was becoming an increasingly intriguing girl with every new revelation. He wanted to know more.

"… of an innocent teenager!" old Senior's rambling on as Junior approached the view screen. "Never have I felt so shaken and disturbed by your continued interest in violent methods."

As Senior finished Junior handed him the little Kim figurine, placing it in his hand and patting it gently on the head. "Father, I did not ask if we should. I asked why a man as agreeably detestable and despicable as him," he pointed at the Gemini's image, "has not?"

Gemini considered for a moment, impressed with Junior though unsure how much of WE's interest in Possible he should betray to the information broker.

"We've tried," Gemini admitted at last. "The first man we sent was delivered back to us in a garbage bag."

For a moment Senior was wide eyed with disbelief. "Dead?"

"No, no. His mouth had been washed out with soap. And a plunger…. It was wedged up…."

Junior got the picture. He picked up on subtle though important wording of Gemini's comment.

"First man?"

"After the first failure WE got serious. I hand picked my most ruthless executioner. We found him working as an enforcer amoung Somalian rabble. Nasty piece of work."

"He came back bleached," Gemini explained. "Like Michael Jackson Thriller to Michael Jackson History. We didn't recognise him."

Senior was a little pale himself. Junior revelled in the mercenaries' fate.

"As you can imagine the volunteer pool on Possible has dried up. I'm not sure I could order my top rank to take the hit."

Junior grinned. "I think you're right father. I think it could be immensely fun to play ball against Senorita Possible."

"I can't say she sounds like the wholesome girl I imagined her to be," Senior cringed. "Still - bad Gemini! Sending assassins after a 16 year old!"

Gemini shrugged. "I'm a bad, bad man," he replied smugly.

"And we're very, very rich men," Junior postured. "Quarter of a billion dollars to guarantee the safety of Senorita Kimberly, at least as long as she remains a civilian. The Senior family gets first crack."

"Done," Gemini agreed. "If you want your chance against Possible, you have it. Imperial intelligence has discovered Lord Monty Fiske, a British aristocrat, intends to request Team Possible's assistance in retrieving an ancient item of value. A second group of warriors have approached WE interested in acquiring it and several other artefacts spread across the globe." He let the details sink in before posing his proposition to Junior.

"You want in?"

A lop sided grin crossed Junior's face.