Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible. She and related characters are owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. As this is a Multiverse story, any variations in established or original characters are my treatment and belong to me unless otherwise noted in the closing notes. At any rate it is best to ask me who to get permissions from. Otherwise hands off. Okay?

Every Kim Possible

Chapter Three – Fast Pace

"This is where they would have come out," Moanique pulled the stolen flat-bedded tractor-trailer onto the road's shoulder, placing it in park and setting the brakes. "Feedback migraine is gone, which means my idem is dead or has left the Line, which means they all did. No way a Kim, especially if she is another Possible, would leave any of them behind."

"You really think that was a Kim Possible that Probable met up with?"

Cool Stare. One eyebrow cocked.

"Right. Forget I asked."

"Well you saw her. In action no less. Who do you think she was?" Ticking off on fingers, "School bus, a Mr Barket, younger us, the first squad cheer team, Stoppable – ever notice how all the Ron's are Stoppables? – and a Shego."

"Soooo typ of the crowd she gathers about her," the woman flipped mousy-colored hair, longer than in her younger days, in disgust. "That aperture chamber must have dropped Probable practically in her lap."

"With a dedicated nuclear reactor for power," came a self-amused voice from the cabin's sleeping nook behind them, "it could've popped'er inside her underwear!"

"With just the portable tapping that output, it dropped us right on top of them."

General Rockweller growled, "We have one order: follow and retrieve…"

"That's two orders," Izzy commented, thrusting forth a hand with the appropriate number of fingers. "Tennically speaking."

"Easy, GF," the black woman laid a placating hand atop the brunette's in the process of pulling one of her sidearms, gently pushing it and the weapon back. "She is a resource provided by the Supreme One. Shadow Animates are fine an'all, but the dimensional lag time between them and their controllers means they are slower than having flesh and blood troops with us. Izzy has the benefit of being here, giving us at least one lag-free lackey."

"I know! It's just she gets on my last nerve and is so… disrespectful of the Supreme One!"

"What're you gonna do? You dare not shoot the Supreme One's hand-picked, and we're Lines from any agony booths. Besides," a head jerk in the direction of the redhead watching them with a partially stuck out tongue clamped firmly between teeth and green eyes radiating 'Crazy', "she loves the booths!"

"It clears m'head! And I think my acne. Meh heh hem, least, I've not had an outbreak since m'first boothin'!"

"Lieutenant, you were in your late teens when your Line was Enlightened," Moanique retorted, "you shoulda been years past any acne outbreaks!"

"Eh heh he! I know! But why take chances?"

The brunette general made a display of double-checking her weapon's magazine was full, advancing a round, and ensuring both safety and holster thumbreak strap were firmly in place. "I swear, if I were to shoot her in the head, nothing but pudding would come out."

"Pudding! I LOVE pudding! Think it'll be caramel? I love caramel pudding!"

"Will you stop putting ideas in her head?" the darker-skinned general slapped the steering wheel with both hands. "Great! Not only will we have to keep an eye on her she doesn't blow her own brains out in search of dessert, but now I'm hungry!"

"There's always room for pudding!"

"Just one bullet… I swear she'll hardly notice the extra breeze and'll probably appreciate the cross ventilation…"

"It is kinda stuffy in here."

"How about we focus on the mission at hand?" the former fashion designer hopeful pointed to a living asphalt Fisk just stepping out from the trees roadside. Although there was a flesh-and-blood person in control of the asphalt form – of each of them – laying safe and sound in animating couches in a secure installation on an undisclosed Line somewhere, the golems themselves were incapable of speech, having to rely on an abbreviated form of sign language and hand signals. What the Fisk Animate was saying was, "They discovered the exiting adit point."

"About time!" the two generals opened their doors while the carroty wild-woman exited by the expediency of launching head-first through the shattered windshield, diving into a handstand-tuck-and-roll, springing lightly to feet bare but for the stirruped bottoms of her uniform's leggings. Disdaining the encumbrance, her boots usually remained rolled up in one of her fanny packs.

Upon seeing the three following, the man of blacktop led the way deeper into the roadside woods in the same monkey-like knuckle-manner consistent with most of his bio-genetically enhanced strain. After several hundred feet of wild yet not overgrown woodland forest, the occasional sound of vehicular traffic floating in the distance around them surrealistically, they came upon a huge chunk of mountain stone between some trees. Leading up to it from the other side, the direction of the school bus leaving the roadway, were visible signs of its passage but ending less than five feet shy of the natural blockade. The remaining eerily silent black figures which had survived the attack on the yellow transport milled about the area, waiting for further orders, a few evidently in conversations between their bodies back in the animation chamber.

"Yep, TBESL," the chocolate woman nodded.

"Nearly forty years and I still don't know what falls out of your mouth at times."

"'This Be Exit, Stage Left'!" supplied Izzy in amused sing-song, hopping into a crouch atop the rock. Moanique nodded confirmation.

"How do you do that?" glared Rockweller.

"Dunno. Jes' pops inna m'haed," the woman rolled eyes in independently opposing directions. "It's simple! Al'ah gotta doo is leave it blank… 'cept for th'pudding… and the answers're just there… ."

"Think we should focus, General?"

"Fff-inne!" Bonnie groused. "They obviously used that adit device Freedman spoke of."

"Obviously," agreed Moanique.

"Which means, if it works as he says it does, it'll deposit them as close to the next Line's Kim Possible as it quantumly can. From there they'll have to rely on a scanner primed to her DNA."

"Assuming that works. According to Freedman, the tech was untried and they were operating upon a lot of faith."

"Well ours is supposed to do the same, only by tracking its mate."

"And only reopening recent portals it made!" Izzy added, leaning forward until gravity pulled her into a simple flip to land squatting on her feet.

"She has a point, how long did the Good Doctor say we have?"

"Forty-eight hours. Unless they opened a conjunction advent, in which case we have as long as the advent stays viable."

"Right. So question is, do we return or follow?"

The three women dressed in the blue and white of the Supreme One's forces looked at each other for long minutes. It was Izzy who summed it up, "I'm crazy. But not enough to go back to HER empty-handed!"

The two dark-haired generals nodded in unison.

""Follow.""

"It's been nearly thirty minutes," continued Moanique, "Depending on how fast and far they've traveled, we should either arrive through the spot, or an advent closer to where they are."

"Either way we'll be playing Catch-up," groused Rockweller.

General Moanique slipped a cellphone-like flip device from her pouch – virtually a twin to the one in Kim Probable's possession – pointing it at the spot where damage to trees and tire tracks ended. "Might as well dismiss the Putties. No use tying up the Supreme One's vital resources needlessly, and they'd not survive a transitioning intact anyway."

"I'll give them a formal report to make on our behalf." Turning to the closest Animate of an Adrena, Bonnie threw her a flurry of hand signals before once again withdrawing the billiard-ball looking device which had summoned the golem troops. A rapid double-click and the ambulant asphalt statues melted or crumbled into piles.

A strong breeze tugging at their hair and uniforms, the scene twisting into a cyclonic adit sprang to full effect, apparently signature of this new type of super-dimensional travel.

"At least it's a more pleasant transition!" Bonnie felt a psychological need to lift her voice against a nonexistent roar of motion before leaping forward, form twisting with the phenomenon and disappearing.

The black general nodded, walking after her companion.

Diving into the portal's center without hesitation, Izzy whined, "But I like the pai…!"

For long minutes the on-edge vortex whirled silently like a bizarre eye watching the now empty space before once again winking from existence without trace.

A moment sliced out of time.

Not exactly frozen…

…Mister Barkin yelling with arms lifted in protection of head and face…
…Ron and Yori on the floor, his arms wrapped about her, one of her hands grasping one of his…
…Zita, crouching behind them, the fingertips of one hand on Ron's unintentionally brushing the Japanese's girl's, the other with video camera pointed at and out the bus' front window…
…Tara and Hope holding onto Monique still clutching her head in agony…
…Crystal sitting with arms crossed on the back bench, face nonplussed as if prepared for the phenomenon, braced with one leg against the bench ahead of her…
…Twins Jessica and Maggie caught in midair having been sent flying by the last bump…
…Liz and Marcella hugging each other fiercely, cheek-to-cheek, mouths open in wordless scream…
…Bonnie in her seat, bracing with both arms, eyes slitted, mouth open in some complaint…
…Younger Kim, adit opening device in both hands, frozen in the process of pitching over the front safety rail, both Kim and Shego reaching for but not yet touching her…

…more like when a digital file's data error causes the same moment to 'skip' repeatedly. Had it occurred only once it could easily have gone unnoticed, overlooked, or even ignored, so minute was the momentary bounce. However when repeated somewhere between a hundred and a thousand times, one tends to take notice.

As long as the protracted blink lasted, each individual able to soak in every detail from overloading senses, it was over nearly faster than it started.

Sound snapped back to normal, slight air currents hardly missed returned, odors previously ignored vying for simultaneous recognition. It was as if they had not been in existence for the briefest of, or perhaps momentarily caught between whatever counted as, ticks of it.

"…it can't end like this…‼"
"…Ron-kun…‼"
"…Ron…‼"
""…yeoww…‼""
"…AAAAAAaaaaaahhhhhhhhh…‼‼‼‼‼"
"…-wear Kim, if you get me kil…‼"

""…easy there girl!"" both former rivals snagged the head-pitching tweener, dragging her back to her feet as with a bump the bus' wheels reengaged ground, threatening to throw them into a sharp left veer. Still yelling, the perennial substitute teacher automatically re-grabbed steering wheel, wresting vehicle once more under control.

"Holy Orsen Welles‼" braking hard, he brought them to a rapid stop. His call of "Possible!" brought the rest of the overlapping commenting to a halt. Like the rest, Kim stared out of the windows. While it was apparently the same late afternoon time of day they had just left, an ominously overcast sky gave the impression of much later in the evening. However that was not what was of concern.

They were in the middle of a wide open tarmac stretching off in all directions, a control tower in the distance marking them as on some airport grounds. All around lay pock and sinkholes and other indications of disaster. Several airliners lay strewn about in various states of destruction, from where they had parked to apparently in the midst of taxiing or take-off. All old, for even though there were blast and scorch marks everywhere, and the wrecks burned, none were still in flames.

However, the cause for it all was obvious…

Lorwardian invasion devices which the media had dubbed as 'walkers' stood the periphery of the grounds like sentinels. They counted more than five, less than ten.

"IDTWIKA," a recovered yet awestruck Monique whispered as if the things could hear them.

"Wha…?" Shego shot an askance at her redheaded ally in the same hushed tone.

"If I had to guess…"

"By all means."

"'I don't think we're in Kansas anymore'."

"Kim! You get us out of here, you hear me? Now-mmmm!" Bonnie's sharper insistent tones were clamped shut by overlapping hands across her mouth from both Hope and a Tara with apologetic eyes.

However it was too late.

"Uh oh!" Jessica and Magnolia uttered together. Whether hearing them, the acerbic brunette, or sensing their presence by other means, one by one the walkers activated, turning red domed-saucer tops in their direction. As if from all of them at once, an imperious voice thundered:

YOU ARE IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF PENAL CODE 1.13 SECTION 9
TURN OFF YOUR VEHICLE AND DISEMBARK
THROW DOWN ANY WEAPONS
YOU HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO COMPLY

Kim and Bonnie were the first ones to react. The latter's words were still muffled by her teammates' hands, but wide eyes and insistently waving and pointing arms were in accord with the former's urgent, "Drive, Mr Barkin!"

As one the walkers took first steps in their direction. Not much sent the old veteran into a tizzy, but the invasion had been one of his worst fears come to life. All pitched backwards as with a nearly inarticulate bellow the man practically stood on the pedal, the rear axle spinning for long seconds before taking hold.

Shego yanked the younger Kim upright and close, "Alright, Rerun, start 'splainin'!"

YOU NOW HAVE FIFTEEN SECONDS TO COMPLY

Like a maniac the man sent them careening across the open field, swerving to avoid wreckage and potholes.

YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY

Equally as panicked, with an expression the pale woman found both alien and obscene on a face so much like Kim's, the girl blubbered like the sidekick was occasionally wont. "I-I-I-I donno! Obviously in this Line the Lorwardians were successful! Either Possible was driven into an underground resistance, taken off-world, or… or…," she trailed off.

"Or what?" Shego shook her, remembering one of the aliens' almost casual of boasts. "Or WHAT!"

YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO COMPLY

"Or dead," the older Kim, the real Kim – her Kim – answered in a strangely quiet deadpan voice, face haunted. Also remembering.

Come Warmonga, we will take this one as a trophy.

She had been stunned, knocked senseless by Ron's thrown body slamming into hers. Hoisted upside down by a leg like a chicken for slaughter, unable to react but hearing. As if from a distance, yet hearing nonetheless.

She will look handsome mounted beside your thorgoggle spine.

FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE…
WE ARE NOW AUTHORIZED TO USE PHYSICAL FORCE

"Left!" cried Monique, sitting just behind the driver's seat, leaning forward, gripping the rails at his right shoulder. Responding without thought, he yanked the wheel over, a green energy beam ripping up the asphalt where they just were. "Right!"

"NO! NO!" the green woman raged as blasts from the war devices rained about them, Barkin swerving more violently, cheerleaders screaming in counterpoint, "The Doofus prevented that! I would have prevented that‼"

"Maybe… here, you couldn't…," floated softly from someone. It really did not matter from whom.

All pitched to one side as the yellow transport, tires squealing, curved about a downed aircraft so hard they were in real danger of rolling over. Half turned, hanging tight, Kim snapped, "Counterweight!"

"LADIES!" Bonnie's voice rang out sharply. "To the left‼"

Used to responding without hesitation to either team captain's or lieutenant's commands, hearing both the entire squad moved automatically as one, diving, leaping, or otherwise moving to the ordered side of the bus. A few, Marcella, Crystal, and one of the twins, actually leaning far out opened windows, legs firmly in the grip of the others. With the weight shifted so, the vehicle managed to remain on its right side wheels before falling back, the girls outside folding back in before it could jounce.

"B!" Kim called, swinging about while keeping her grip on an upright guardrail, "Keep that up!"

"Squad! Single file center aisle and Ready Routine! Mov'it Loser!"

Scrambling out of the way, Ron once more regained the back seat as, with a discipline worthy of a crack military unit, the girls took positions as ordered, standing along the length of the bus' central aisle, hands gripping seat-back rails for stability. Throwing a nod in Bonnie's direction that she was also at her command, Yori likewise took up position.

Although terrified out of her wits, not used to the level of action going down around her, Zita continued recording. Less out of any thought of posterity than an uncertainty of what else to do. She had wrangled herself one job to perform in order to get on the trip, and por Deus, by God, she was going to do it.

"Hard left!" Monique yelled. "Three quarter circle, then double tap brakes, bear right and speed back up!"

Bellowing with each move, not having any better ideas in mind, fully encouraged with each correct prediction which saw alien weaponry missing them, Barkin continued following the fashionable student's directions without once giving thought as to how she was pulling it off. He simply put his all into each maneuver.

"Right!" Bonnie's order rang forth in counterpoint heartbeats before the squad, now focused and no longer screaming, followed suit. Although not having to exit the vehicle again, they nonetheless continued ensuring the aging school bus less likely to tip.

"Use this can-opener of yours and rip us a new hole out of here!" Shego tugged on Smaller Kim's arm holding the device.

"I can't!"

"Why not?" Big Kim added. "It did it before!"

"The unit's battery needs time to recharge!"

"How long?"

"Twenty-four hours!" the girl shouted, an edge of hysterics to her. "On its own twenty-four hours! Eight in bright sunlight, twelve overcast… four plugged into a source!"

"We don't have that kind of time, Rerun!"

"It's like a cellphone battery, yes?" came from the far back.

"Yes, Zita!" Probable replied.

"Pass it back! I have something I might can do!" the Brazilian shoved the camcorder into Ron's hands. "Keep filming!" she commanded, diving for her A/V equipment bag lodged in one of the next to last benches, left open for purposes of luggage and napping.

YOU ARE NOW IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF PENAL CODE 1.41 SECTION 2
*blast* … *blast* … *blast*
HALT SO YOU MAY BE EXECUTED AND DISECTED

"I don't BLOODY THINK SO‼" answered Barkin. "No one's anal probing Mrs Barkin's second favorite son!"

"Right! Under that one!" from Monique. "No one mentioned ana… ."

"STILL NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!" swinging the wheel hard. The vehicle swerved.

"Left!" commanded Bonnie. The girls hopped to.

The yellow vehicle eked beneath one walker's down-coming leg and under its body just in time for one of the rear ones to lift out of the way. Two units to either side, swiveling to track them, hit their fellow with crossfire, each 'kneecapping' a leg. The injured machine began a slow tumble into a fourth.

Scooping the clamshelled unit from her double's hand, Kim leaned past the Japanese non-cheerleader, "B! Get this to Zita!"

The girl took the thing without argument. "Over Under Pom Pass!" In a routine meant to send a different colored pom-pom moving around the squad, the Second Lead cheerleader rotated stiffened right arm back over her head, skipping Tara immediately behind her, handing it off to Hope. Who rotated her arm under Marcella's armpit for Liz to take, who went over-hand past Crystal's shoulder to Magnolia. Who skipped her twin under-hand to drop it into Ron's lap.

From where the Hispanic snatched it while the blond tried to keep a proper if hasty composition of events. Locating and identifying the faux cellphone's various ports, Zita fumbled with a kit of universal tips, spilling most as the vehicle jounced to opposing directions from Monique and Bonnie, yet managing to hang onto the one she wanted. Quickly she hooked up a battery designed to provide cellphones and MP3 players emergency life. "I got it‼"

"Press the green button!"

Flipping it open and finding the proper control, Zita pointed out the nearest side window purely out of reflex. Another portal swirled open next to the burned-out hulk of an airliner broken in three places, just under its nose kept upright by forward landing gear like the chin of a man waiting for a punch.

Somehow the black classmate had anticipated the odd positioning, having already instructed Barkin into a series of hard and soft turns around and under alien machines, downed aircraft, and the larger holes in the tarmac. With each of the now confident directions, Bonnie ordered the team to the contra-side.

As much as Shego had observed the cheerleaders in their drills during the past couple of weeks, at that moment she marveled at exactly how disciplined the squad truly was. Maybe it was simply the situation – practice never having such a dire edge – and they rising to meet it, but just as equally it could have had something to do with being sharpened by the mettle of their captain. More the latter probably. There had to be a reason why this particular group of girls made the First String roster's cut.

If GJ or any of the world's many military after me were this sharp, I'd have been captured every week! Good thing Miss All That never brought them along!

Yet not just them. Everyone on the bus, but for her and Kim the Second clinging to her tightly, were pulling their weight. And Dark'n'Sweet… what's up with her? No one runs a lucky streak this long… Not that I should complain, but definitely more's there than meets the eye!

"Swing it wide!" the allegedly lucky girl under consideration cried while waving to the same side of the bus as they were turning into. Bonnie, immediately picking up the intention, ordered the girls low, to the rear and to the same side.

The bus' tail-end fishtailed, swinging about widely, locked and bumping wheels leaving dark skid marks in protest as green energy blew divots out of the blacktop mere feet after their passing. Monique patted Barkin's shoulder, not needing to voice the obvious…

"Punching it‼"

"Everyone grab hold!" Kim shouted.

Bonnie hardly had time to dutifully repeat the order as the yellow transport, chased by Lorwardian fire, lined up for the portal's swirling eye, surged forward, hitting it once again at speed.

When the tracking trio punched through, the Line's dimensional p-brane snapping back and momentarily wobbling like stretched cellophane, the first thing they saw was a grouping of six Lorwardian war walkers arrayed towering around the wreckage of a ruined commercial aircraft. Their domed tops focusing on a single area with the patience only machines could practice. A couple more lay off to one side, at least one missing a couple legs, trying but failing to get upright.

In exasperation, Bonnie sighed, drawing her right pistol with deliberate motion, other hand digging into a pouch, "I hate these fuckers."

"Oooh! Oooh! Not me! I love mixing it up with them!"

"Lorwardians. So the local Kim is either with an underground resistance, off-world," commented Moanique, "or dead."

In the process of swapping out her weapon's magazine for one with bullets glowing electric red, the brunette general scoffed. "Shha, not hardly likely. Knowing K, 'dead' is nearly impossible. Took over two years to kill the one, and you saw her, more holes in her than flesh and she was not only breathing, but fucking still talking when the Supreme One dealt the final…"

HALT

One of the alien machines had taken notice of their presence and was in the action of turning about, its five companion units still standing sentinel over the same spot. Evidently not considering three women on foot enough threat to warrant the attention of all.

YOU ARE IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF PENAL CODE 1.13 SECTION 9
PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS
YOU HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO COMPLY

"Hey! Leave us alone, we'll leave y'alone! Them's th'deal!"

"I don't know why the United Galactic Federation continues to put up with the poaching bastards. Clearly they're in violation of the Roswell Resolution."

"Yeah! Yer the ones violatin'! This issa protected preservative planet! Mosquitoes ar'ndangered species y'know!"

With a stiff-armed two-handed grip, Bonnie took steady aim. Upon pulling the trigger, about a foot from the barrel a red beam the thickness of her arm blazed to life. Shadows danced wildly across the tarmac, flashed to life as the energy leapt forth to spear the walker at the seam where glowing dome arched from the top of the saucer. Straight through and erupting from the far side. After a moment as if thinking about it, much like some humans struck between the eyes, a couple of quick explosions erupted as it slowly crumpled into a heap.

That caught the attention of the rest. Five more sensor domes swung in their direction as the units reassessed the danger. Each took a step forward, the rear three lifting legs high to clear the burnt out hulk.

Izzy whistled. "Hey! Lemme try!"

YOU ARE NOW IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF PENAL CODE 3.14 SECTION 15
CEASE HOSTILE RESISTENCE
PREPARE FOR TERMINATION
YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY

Darker-skinned general, with restraining hand on the eager woman's shoulder, commented calmly, "Stand down, Lieutenant. The Supreme One only graced us with a limited supply of Ka'me'ha ordinance…," then to the brunette, "…so how about trying to consolidate the next few shots, hmm?"

"Think you can do better?"

"It's your gun design. You're the trick shot."

"Then allow me to concentrate, please and thank you… ." Taking aim once more, this time with only one slitted eye, Rockweller shifted two steps to the right. "That's it, line up those legs… ." The next bullet, charged with the Supreme One's very own chi energy by the woman herself, lanced out to shear through half the inside 'hip' joint of the closest alien device and then through half the outside 'hip' of the limb aligned immediately behind it. Two more explosions preceded its legs shearing off.

So hobbled, the thing crumpled rearward to its right, where the sharp edge of its 'head' impacted two of the 'thighs' of its neighbor, which then twisted as it proceeded to topple back and over toward the next.

YOU ARE T-T-TO CEASE HOS'ILE AC-C-CTION 'N-N-N' ACCEPT TER-MI-N-N…

"Nice. Perfect dominoes shot," Moanique congratulated as one-by-one the falling mecha took each other down amid sparks and explosions, both muffled and loud.

"Ye hah hah, yeeEAaah‼" the carrot-top crowed, throwing her hips about in dance to a rhythm only she was privy to. "Five with one blow! Who bad… we bad… you mad… too sad… ."

Holstering her handgun, Bonnie prompted, "What's the tracker say?"

Pulling it out, giving it a flip practiced from similarly styled communications units, the raven beauty reported, "Gone. No longer on-Line. Forty-seven and a quarter hours til non-viable adit."

"Arrgh! Even this Kim is a pain! Open the adit and lets get after them."

Flipping the thing closed, tucking it away, "Sorry, NCDNTTR."

Frowning, Bonnie turned to the youngest, "Alright, Pudding, what does your empty head say to that?"

"'No Can Do, Needs Time To Recharge'."

A whistle while scanning the area, "Wow. If I hadn't said it myself, I don't think even I would have known what it meant."

"What are you looking for now?"

"One, securing our position. Sudden disconnection of six active walkers from their netless is bound to draw eventual investigation. Two, I am still hungry, and I'd rather not have to use our rations if there's any alternatives. And third, a source of power. The tracker says twenty-four hours on its own, or four with a source." She turned back to them with a dry smirk, "I'd rather not hang around a full day. How about you?"

"Hell no."

"Prolly a buncha snacks over inna concourses," Izzy suggested, setting off at a quick pace. "Maybe even some Pop Pop's!"

"Ugh! Save me from preservatives!"

"Maybe even some corndog chips!"

"Come on, General Grumpy," half-heartily tugging at her shoulder, Moanique sashayed after the other.

"Supreme One save us from preservatives… ."

Dr Betty Director walked up the woodland path. Looking up, with one eye she checked the low-lying Arkansas sun through the thick treetops. Nearly five-thirty, she judged, even though she had more accurate means of keeping time, Less than forty-five minutes response time. Not too shabby. All things considered, it was a beautiful day for a stroll. If not for the nature of Wade's report.

Upon reaching the end, a brief clearing ending at a large grey stone boulder, she snapped, "Report."

Looking up, Special Agent Will Du detached himself from a small group of operatives in white science lab coats, each fiddling with a different kind of scanning device. "Madam Director, all eyewitness reports collaborate that of Junior Agent Lode's. Apparently three women appeared out of thin air at the rest stop and truck fueling depot down the road to accost Asset Possible's party. From there a high-speed chase between their scholastic transport and the stolen semi lead to both here where the trail of bus ends, and thirty-five yards further on where the truck stands parked on the highway shoulder, motor still running. Currently there are no signs of any of the principles."

"Identities of the three?" she asked absently while exercising her own skills earned in the field so many years prior to read the signs. Typical tracks for a Type-C school bus, ending suddenly, yet no signs of braking. "Teleportation?"

"Forensic artists are working with the eyewitnesses even as we speak, and so far, scans reveal no method of super-transpositioning currently known."

"Experimental?"

"Ma'am, as a professional, it is not in my nature to skip even the long shots."

"Of course not," she nodded, keeping her head low, hiding a mild smirk by pretending to examine a spot. Then she no longer needed to prevaricate, "Will, what are these black mounds? Looks to be eight or nine of them."

The lead field agent summoned one of the white coated operatives, "Cooper. A moment."

A tall, gangly young man wandered over. "Special Agent?"

Indicating what Betty was now kneeling by, "Have you determined the composition of these mounds yet?"

Cooper leaned back on his heels defensively. "Well of course I have. You asked me to and I did so right awa…"

"What are they, Cooper?" Betty cut him off, knowing if she did not he could conceivably continue to protest at length an imagined slight against his efficiency.

"If you were to check your Global Justice Mobile Database Units, you'd find I've already uploaded my analysis of the compositions as eighty percent carbon; ten percent hydrogen; six percent sulfur with small amounts of oxygen, nitrogen; and trace amounts alcohol, carboxyl, phenolic, amine, thiol, iron, nickel, vanadiu…"

"Which is what?"

"It's a petroleum-based asphaltenes compoun…"

"Sheldon…!"

"Asphalt. A common formulation for the area. Specifically, identical to that of the nearby refueling and eatery depot."

"Ah yes, the reports of tar-babies growing out of the ground and coming to life. Thank you Sheldon. Dismissed." the one-eyed woman waved him away. As he went back to his previous pursuit, she remained squatting in place, deep in thought.

It was several minutes, during which he stood silent vigil without fidget, back ramrod straight, before the Mediterranean prompted, "Ma'am?"

"What of this 'Black Mesa'?"

"Special Agent Nyn still has an ETA of several minutes from its location in New Mexico. However as of her last check in, she is of the recommendation that if it is indeed as sealed as its records seem to suggest, that a breach be postponed until more in the way of background can be checked and verified. It appears something unprecedented went down there. Its very existence has been redacted and disavowed from every available source."

A nod, "Tell Nyna that as Respondant Agent in Charge, she has full jurisprudence and to follow her gut."

Du fidgeted before opining, "I'm uncomfortable with gut reactions, Madam Director. More often than not they are in response to a bad lunch than a good hunch."

Half-smile, "Why, Will, that actually rhymed."

"Purely unintentional, Ma'am."

"I suppose it was. Nonetheless, Nyna's intuitions have a solid track record. Better the results of thoughtful than thoughtless. Relay the order."

"Very well."

"I'm not sure what all this portends, Will," she continued, straightening, and although not having touched anything, wiping hands on her thighs, "but it would appear the content of the files attached to Agent Lode's report may be more science fact than fiction. Dimensional travel, troops drawn whole-cloth from the very ground, and thousands of alternate realities under the heel of a tyrant the likes of which makes Hitler seem a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

"It seems we may be facing a credible threat from a source with a scope even greater than international – or even extraterrestrial – proportions. And I'm not entirely certain we'll be properly prepared or able to repel it." A pause. "I want an immediate upgrade of Alert Status to Orange Network-wide."

Without blink or hesitation, "Confirmation phrase?"

Not turning around, the woman pulled out her mobile database unit, keying in commands as she spoke. "From Double Take to Fast Pace."

"Escalation of Alert Status confirmed," the stiff-spined youth turned, standing back-to-back with his superior, pulling forth and activating his own MDU. "Fast Pace. Escalated from Double Take." Both officers pressed their thumbs to biometric sensor pads, then passing their units with right hands to the other's left, presented thumbs once again. Every station and MDU display throughout the Global Justice Network worldwide, as well as every other light in each facility corridor, turned orange.

After swapping the devices back, Betty looked once more for the sun through the thick foliage, now even lower on the horizon. "Wherever she is, I can only hope Kim Possible is in better shape than any of us, for once again she is in the thick of it."

If the GPS feature of the Kimmunicators were working properly, with the wrist-mounted one upgraded to the same functionality as the New Kim's older PDA-style, both piggybacking on the local Wade's satellite system – supposedly invisible to him unless establishing a connection directly with him – they were somewhere in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. If the theory behind the technology held true, then the local Kim was not far away. What she could be doing within two hundred miles of the southern half of the Garden State was anyone's guess.

"Of course," Ron had remarked offhandedly, "we've ended up some pretty unusual places a couple times a week the past few years, so no real wonder there, KP."

After hours of driving by the seat of his pants, Mr Barkin had found a place for them to park deep within the wild woods near a fresh water lake. The over-growing nature of the place made spotting them from road or waterways virtually impossible even despite the bus' brilliant chrome yellow paint. Everyone was tired, coming off of adrenalin rushes, and although Bonnie wanted to bitch about nearly everything, laying blame to both Kims, when the rest of the squad groaned, begging her to give it a rest for the night, even she turned in for a fitful night's sleep. Even so, at Shego's suggestion, seconded by the veteran teacher and supported by Yori, a watch schedule had been established.

As it was a clear evening and temperate, the vehicle's roof was selected as the watch post. Mr Barkin had taken the first stint while Yori scouted the area, setting ninja stealthy alarms and traps. She then took the second watch. Now nearly midnight, Kim climbed onto the bus top to spell the quiet Japanese girl. She found her sitting Lotus, a folded blanket for a mat, seemingly at one with the quiet sounds of insects and other nocturnal life.

Without moving, "Good evening, Possible-sama. You are early."

Taking a seat next to yet not looking at her, Kim replied, "Good evening, Yori. 'Sama'? I don't believe I know that one. I thought we had graduated to 'Kim-chan'."

Quite conversationally, the visiting student explained, "Circumstances have changed, Possible-sama. This is no longer a time for casual familiarity, which makes 'chan' inappropriate. 'Sama' is much like 'san', yet instilled with more respect as for one's superior."

"Oh please, Yori! I'm far from being superior to you. I mean, I may know a few martial arts, but I'm no ninja."

"You speak with great modesty and humility, Possible-sama. Which only serves to highlight your worthiness for my respect."

"So not the drama."

"Incorrect, honorable daimyō, the drama as you say is indeed 'so the'."

"D'yammo?"

"Daimyō. Hmm…," the girl's head inclined momentarily. "It is a position of appointed office roughly that of a… old western lawman…"

"Sheriff? Marshal?"

"I believe sheriff will do. The usage may not be entirely correct, but for our language and cultural differences I believe it to be a workable comparison. The circumstances we currently find ourselves in requires I offer my services as ninja to you in this capacity."

"Well I'm no sheriff either!"

"That too is incorrect, Possible-sama. In case you were unaware, during the unfolding of this afternoon's events it was to you everyone looked for answers, guidance, and command."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for all that."

"The most worthy of daimyō do not," she stood smoothly, using only the strength of unfolding legs to rise to her feet. "They simply answer the call when sounded and rise to the occasions. As you have done many times, today included."

Tucking hair behind an ear, "I don't know about all that…"

"Even worthy humility grows old and stale, daimyō. Best to not overdo it falsely, and embrace your destiny."

"Hmm. Maybe. Thank you, Yori," Kim reached out a hand, touching hers lightly in gratitude. "You do me a great honor. Your service today was greatly appreciated. Get some rest. Good night."

"Good night, Possible-sama." The ninja walked away, dropping off the side of the vehicle as easily as she had during the chase earlier, making for the door left partially open. Do not thank me yet, daimyō, for there is little honor to the purpose of my visit to America. Regardless of my performance during the upcoming days, I fear I shall yet bring great shame and dishonor to us all.

Notes: A lot more technobabbling terms tossed about this time. I've started a Glossary on my Deviant Art page (same name, LoveRobin, no space). Initially I was going to run entries as needed per chapter, but realized that would make for a scattered and confusing reference material, so it was suggested I place it on DA where I can edit and update while keeping it alphabetized as I go along. Other than an entry for The Supreme One, it is not a compendium of alternatives of any of the characters. Feel free to ask questions there so I can get a feel on what needs adding or editing. However, keep a mind on spoilers for those who've yet (foolish of them, huh?) to read the fic.

I find myself lamenting not thinking of numbering the Supreme One's trackers as four, including a Ty Lee – yes, from Avatar, the Last Airbender, that Ty Lee, if a little older – who would make an excellent addition to the group as well as nicely offsetting Izzy's Crazy. Ah well. Maybe if the Supreme One's scientists ever manage to get Black Mesa back online…

The mention of a galactic civilization and mosquitoes comes from the Lilo & Stitch series courtesy of the Kim Possible crossover episode Lilo & Stitch:Rufus, although the name of the Roswell agreement is mine alone.