+-A/N: Been a long time (almost eight years), but here's a new chapter.

Kim luxuriated in the scalding hot water spraying out of the shower head. Being virtually invulnerable was nice, most of the time, but not after a fight with a power-armored villain whose fists hit like heavy artillery shells. She ached like the devil, a sensation she didn't experience very often any more. The best cure, of course, was a couple of aspirin and a nice hot shower. Unfortunately the hot water heaters in the Possible residence were set at an energy saving 115 degrees, warm enough for normal people, but not for Kim. In the room she shared with Ron was a private shower just for her, hooked to an on demand heater that put out 200 degree water. Naturally nobody else dared to use it, but when her brothers started making babies the risk of a tragic accident became unacceptably high, and her father installed a biometric lock that only Kim could open. There was also a scanner in the shower itself that examined the person getting into it. If it didn't recognize that person as Kim, the shower would lock itself down and tell the person to go elsewhere.

That was all beside the point. She and Ron had returned from Nevada not twenty minutes ago, and as much as she was enjoying herself, and much as she'd like to stay in the shower for an hour or two, Kim was going to have to cut it short very soon. Since her return to Earth there was a lot to do, be it catching up on current events, touching base with old friends, or meeting some new friends. That was the main item on today's agenda. An old and very dear friend was on his way to the Team Possible compound at that very moment, though he wouldn't arrive for another forty minutes. Coming with him was one of those new friends, and Kim was eagerly looking forward to meeting her.

A more mundane task would come tomorrow. She and Ron, along with Kal-el and probably the rest of her family, had to go down to the Federal Courthouse and finalize the details of Kal-el's legal status. There would be forms to sign and legal pronouncements to be made, but nearly everything had already been taken care of, and all the real decisions made. This was just to formalize things. Kal-el would be give a Green Card and granted permanent resident status in the United States. Kim and Ron, already so appointed on an interim basis, would become Kal-el's permanent legal guardians. In absolute terms Kal-el had been born nearly forty-seven Earth years ago, but physically and psychologically he was still in his early teens. Kim and her father, working back from the current Kryptonian date, had declared that for practical purposes Kal-el was a few months (two months and twenty-one days to be exact, as of today) shy of his fifteenth birthday, and the court had accepted their word as law.

There was also the matter (less pressing for the moment) of Kal-el's education. Kim and Ron were debating on just how to handle that. Should they send Kal-el to Middleton High? Or one of the magnet schools? Or was home schooling the best bet? Obviously Middleton High was the best place for him as far as socialization and learning human culture and history was concerned. On the other hand, everyone would know he was an alien, and while he was nowhere near as strong as Kim he was already two or three times stronger than a human of his age and build. Would he be bullied? Ostracized? Mobbed and fawned over? Some of everything? Kim laughed suddenly. She had made it through high school in one piece. Most people did, in fact. She thought back to the time a certain exchange student from Japan had arrived at Middleton. Nearly every girl in the school, herself included, had gone nuts over Hirotaka. Somehow she doubted that Kal-el would have any trouble making friends.

The airplane closing in on Team Possible HQ was coming in at a steep angle, it's pilot choosing a hybrid approach rather than a pure VTOL one. As Kim watched the black jet descend she had to struggle to keep from smiling, and knew that Ron was having the same problem. Officially, neither of them had the slightest clue who the man flying the incoming plane was behind his mask. Unofficially they knew perfectly well who their impending guest was. He was, after all, one of Team Possible's greatest benefactors.

As it entered the compound the black, scallop-winged jet shifted fully into VTOL mode, its engines roaring as it stooped down toward the landing pad atop the HQ. Under its pilot's steady hand the jet settled neatly into place. As ground crew ran in to chock the main gear the engines shut down, and the canopy opened.

The man who emerged was clad head to toe in a suit of black body armor, complete with a helmet-like cowl and a cape whose hem was scalloped just like the wings of the jet. Once on the pad, he turned and advanced on Kim and Ron, his face set like granite. As he reached them his eyes flicked back and forth between them. He offered Ron a curt nod, then locked his eyes on Kim's.

"Superwoman, there's someone you need to meet," he growled.

"Batman, welcome to Team Possible Headquarters," Kim greeted Gotham City's Dark Knight. The barest hint of a smile flickered across Batman's lips, and his eyes sparkled, then went hard again. The man behind the mask would let only that much of himself show through, until they were in private, Kim knew.

Looking past Batman, Kim took in their second guest, who had just finished climbing down from the Batplane. Kim heard Ron suck in a sharp breath, and she could understand why. The new arrival was stunningly beautiful. And tall! She was six foot two, if she was an inch, and that wasn't counting the heels on her boots. Those boots, along with much of the rest of her outfit, appeared to be made of some kind of red metal with gold highlights. The only exception was her skirt, which was of blue leather decorated with white stars. Everything else, from her breastplate to her bracers to her tiara to the lasso hanging from her right hip, was red or gold or some combination of the two.

"Kim Possible," Batman said, his tone oddly formal, "allow me to present Diana of Themyscryria."

"Wonder Woman," Kim said, extending her hand, gazing up at the other woman.

"Superwoman, it's a pleasure to meet you," the Amazon warrior returned.

"Likewise," Kim replied, smiling. "My husband, Ron Stoppable," she added, motioning to Ron.

"Mr. Stoppable, an honor." Ron took Wonder Woman's hand and shook it.

"The honor is mine, Your Highness," he said, bowing ever so slightly. "Shall we go inside?" he suggested.

"Please," Wonder Woman smiled. Kim noticed a tiny flick of the other woman's eyes, as they glanced to one side. 'Toward the gate, and the crowd of reporters,' Kim thought. High definition cameras with long lenses were no doubt aimed at them, as were, in all likelihood, highly sensitive directional microphones. Kim knew that Diana was a subject of great interest for the news media, as well as tabloids and gossip rags. Batman as well, since he was rarely seen in daytime, and hardly ever spoke to reporters.

"This way then," Kim said, gesturing to the stairwell leading down from the roof. Ron led the way, Batman escorted Wonder Woman, and Kim brought up the rear.

When they were inside, and the security status light over the door changed from red to green, Batman noticeably relaxed. Gauntleted hands went to the elaborate collar around his neck. There was an audible (to Kim at least) click as he activated some sort of mechanism, then the hands took hold of the point-eared cowl and pulled it up and off.

"Whew!" Bruce Wayne exhaled forcefully, shook his head, and ran armored fingers through his messy, sweat dampened black locks.

"Helmet hair," he said, grinning at Kim and Ron. "It's the worst." Mussed hair or not, Bruce was a good looking man. By chance he bore a strong resemblance to the actor Christian Bale, a fact many people had noted, and which was not lost on either man. One of Kim's favorite photographs of Bruce was of him and Mr. Bale hamming it up and mugging for the cameras at a red carpet event in Gotham. It was one of the few times she'd seen Bruce look like he was actually having fun.

"You have my profound sympathy," Kim mocked gently. She stepped up and planted a kiss on his cheek. Then she backed off to arms length and eyed his armor.

"I like the suit," she admitted.

"It's a little hot sometimes," Bruce admitted, gesturing at his hair. "But it keeps the bullets out of me, so I'm not going to complain."

Ron cut in. "The suit looks good," he agreed, "But you look better. You seem a lot happier than you were the last time I saw you."

Bruce actually blushed, something Kim had thought she'd never see. The Bruce Wayne she remembered could be friendly and charming, but that was mostly an act, a cover for his relentless obsession with avenging his parents' murder. He'd poured the majority of his time, money and energy into fighting the crime and corruption Gotham City was infamous for, as a community activist until he'd met Ron's counterpart from an alternate reality. Bruce had only been planning to become Batman when Kim left for Krypton. Then he'd gone and done it, and what a difference it had made.

Ron had told her that the coming of The Batman, as some people referred to him, was like the opening of a second front in Bruce's war on crime. Whatever Bruce Wayne the law-abiding philanthropist couldn't manage, Batman the ruthless vigilante would take care of. And he took care of a lot. Corrupt cops and would-be muggers were his favorite targets, but he always had time for organized crime, "the cancer eating at Gotham's heart," as Bruce liked to put it. That said, Kim wasn't entirely comfortable with some of Batman's tactics. Bruce channeled his anger over his parents' deaths into brutal beat-downs, and he'd put more than one person in the hospital with serious injuries. He was clever, though, and made sure there was always video of his fights, video that showed the injured parties initiating the violence. That, along with the evidence he left behind that showed the crime or crimes his 'victims' had committed, was enough, just, to preclude the police from actively pursuing an arrest. The result was a precipitous decline in crime in general, and street crime in particular, with a concurrent rise in economic activity and general prosperity.

Ron was right, though. Bruce did seem a lot happier. The glance he directed at Wonder Woman was almost shy, if such a thing was possible. That reminded Kim of why they were all here. She turned to their other guest with an apologetic smile.

"Your Highness," she began, but Wonder Woman cut her off with a smile of her own, and a shake of her head.

"Please, call me Diana," she said. "Bruce has told me so much about both of you that I feel like I know you. In any case, I'd prefer to avoid unnecessary formalities. I get enough of that as it is, what with the media and all."

"Believe me, I sympathize, Diana," Kim said. "And likewise, call me Kim."

Changing the subject, Kim said, "Well, I know my parents, and my brothers, and my nieces and nephews, and Kal-el, and Wade, can't wait to see you and/or meet you, so...uh." Kim stopped with the suddenness of someone who had just experienced an unpleasant realization.

"Bruce?" she said, somewhat apprehensively.

"Yes, Kim?" Bruce asked, puzzlement at Kim's expression plain on his face.

"How secret is the fact that you're also Batman?" she inquired.

"Well, you and Ron, and Wade and Lucius all know but..." Bruce's voice trailed off, as understanding overcame him.

He sighed, and started to put his helmet back on. "I knew I should have come as myself," he said. "In my defense, I'm still new at this whole 'superhero' thing."

"That's why I have a public identity," Kim commented.

The next two hours were interesting. Bruce played the role of Batman, glaring, growling and glowering. Jim's and Tim's kids ate it up, and Kim had to fight to keep from laughing as she watched Bruce struggle to keep up his stone-faced facade in the face of so much childish enthusiasm.

Diana was a big hit as well, especially when she demonstrated some of what she was capable of. She was incredibly strong, and could even fly, an ability she attributed to her boots, which she said had been made by Hephaestus with the same enchantment as the winged sandals of Hermes. More impressive in the eyes of her audience was her ability to pull a shield and spear out of thin air. She demonstrated several times, and while Kim and Ron (and everyone else) watched intently, no one could figure out what was going on. Diana would flick her hands down, and her shield and spear would suddenly be there like she had been carrying them the whole time. An upward flick, and they would disappear. And it wasn't a case of them turning invisible. They actually weren't there. Kim's father was fascinated, to say the least, and he, Wade, and Kal-el were soon deep in discussion of theories about hyper-spatial physics and pocket dimensions.

In the yard behind the house Diana put on a demonstration. First, she let everyone have a good look at her spear. The shaft appeared to be made of wood, with a bronze ferrule on one end and a deceptively simple looking bladed point of the same material on the other. Diana then gestured toward a large stone, by chance the same one Kim had used in her earlier demonstration to Kal-el of her invulnerability.

"Is that terribly important?" she asked.

"No, not really," Kim answered, curious about what Diana had in mind. She quickly found out. Using the edge of the spear's blade, Diana sliced off a chunk of the rock. Not broke off - sliced, as cleanly and effortlessly as if she was cutting a loaf of stale bread. She followed that up by stabbing the rock. The point sank into the stone, almost to its full length, the stone cracking and splintering around it. When Diana pulled the spear free and showed the point to her audience, they were amazed to find not a single blemish on it.

"That's incredible," Kim conceded, peering closely at the weapon. "What metal is that? Is it the same as your armor?"

"Hephaestus called it bronze," Diana said, "but it obviously isn't. I've done my share of bronze working, and it can't be made as hard as this stuff is."

Kim's super senses went to work. X-ray and microscopic vision revealed an utterly flawless crystalline structure and an edge that looked frighteningly, impossibly sharp.

"I want to try something," Kim said, taking hold of the spear shaft just below the point with her left hand. While Diana, and everyone else, watched with interest, Kim very, very lightly touched the tip of the point with the tip of her right index finger. For a moment nothing happened. Then a sensation Kim hadn't felt in almost fifteen years went shooting up her arm.

"Ouch," she said, and drew back her finger. She squeezed the end of it, and a red drop appeared. Kim looked at the blood oozing from her finger, then at Diana and her spear, and finally around at the stunned faces of her friends and family.

"Wow," was all she could say.

"Experiment number 87," Dementor announced for the benefit of the cameras that had been set up to record every aspect of what was about to happen. Since relocating from New Mexico, he and Stanford had made a decent amount of progress toward untangling the mysteries of their Atlantean crystals. Their greatest success to date was getting a crystal to grow a perfect replica of itself, and Dementor was still feeling the aftereffects of the celebration. But there was no use letting the grass grow under their feet, and no hangover was going to keep him from pressing forward.

"An attempt to grow a simple weapon; in this case, a knife." Dementor tried to keep his expectations in check. To date all of their 'grow a useful object' experiments had failed. Oh, they had grown objects, some of which even resembled the objects they'd intended to grow. None had yet functioned properly, however. It did little good to grow something that looked like a hammer, only to have it fall to dust when you struck a nail with it. Still, every failure had taught them things they hadn't known before, and they had yet to fail the same way twice.

Dementor checked the setup once more. A glass basin held a selection of raw materials: large pieces of iron, carbon, and silicon; smaller samples of many other elements , all in carefully measured amounts, along with the crystal that would control the process. Even the amount of water that would be introduced had been measured with great care. When the experiment was over, the mass of the newly grown object would be compared to the remaining ingredients to see if the amount gained by the one matched the amounts lost by the others.

"I think we're ready, Heinrich," Stanford said from his position at the main control point. He was the one who would initiate the experiment, and shut it down if anything went wrong.

"Very well, John, begin!" Dementor cried theatrically.

The result was not disappointing. The knife they had grown was crude looking. It's edge wasn't even sharp; Dementor could run a bare finger along it, pushing down the whole way, with no ill effects. The point was sharp, but not especially sharp. Still, Dementor had managed to thrust it half an inch into a pine board. It was the blade in general, though, that was the impressive part. It was so stiff that neither Dementor nor Stanford could flex it even slightly, with their bare hands at least. The hardness of the blade exceeded their first attempts to measure it; when they used a hand pumped hydraulic press to try and bend it, the result was a ridiculously high pressure being reached before the blade snapped with a sound like a gunshot and the press literally jumped an inch or two into the air.

"This is incredible," Stanford said excitedly as he examined the fracture face under a magnifier.

"Incredible progress, my friend," Dementor agreed enthusiastically. There was an uncertainly long way yet to go, but this was a large step forward. If they continued to gain ground this quickly, perhaps by the end of the year they'd be ready for the next phase of his plan. Time would tell.