Author’s Note: This one is quite long. So get a small snack or something.

‘Hmm… I wonder what I had for lunch today.’ Thought

“Echo-Four-Nineteen inbound…” Radio Chatter

“REPORT: Targets moving…” Opti-HUD

Disclaimer: Kim Possible is owned by Disney.

Proving Ground

- As Luck Would Have It

By Enigmatic Pseudonym

Chapter 9- The Ron Factor

The biometrics module on his HUD blinked to warn Ron of his elevated heart rate. Sweat was leaking from every pore on his body as he tensely wandered the Close-Quarters Combat Training area. The hundred square-meter mock-up of a city was populated with rectangular concrete buildings of varying heights ranging from one-story ‘shops’ to three-story ‘apartments.’

He crept onwards, staying as close to the wall and the ground as possible to make him a smaller target. The constant drilling and practice at Yamanouchi School instinctively came into play—every step he made on the hard-packed dirt was either quiet or muffled, every move he made was always underneath a shadow or towards another, and his ice-cold demeanor hid the stress he was experiencing. Dressed in black, lightweight, LAPD-style armor, he blended excellently with the shadows.

Ron was given a very simple load out for the exercise: a single flash bang, one MP5 submachine gun, and only one magazine of Less-Than-Lethal ring airfoil rounds (which was already loaded into his weapon). He held the SMG tightly in his hand, using the weapon as his only source of comfort.

‘Calm down, Stoppable,’ he thought. ‘It’s just a squad of American Deltas. They’re not out to kill you. Nothing to worry about.’

He placed his hand on his forehead to wipe off the sweat, but realized that he was wearing a helmet that covered his entire head—only his eyes were visible through the visor.

‘Oh man! What am I going to do?’ he thought. ‘This would be so cool if it wasn’t going to kill me.’

He came up to a corner on his left and stopped. He thought he heard two consecutive clicks and the sound of rubber soles against concrete. A shiver went down his spine—something wasn’t right. He lined up the weapon’s fiber-optic sights with his eyes and leaned slightly to the right.

A Few Minutes Ago

Holly, Major Dobbs, and Lt. Razor were soon joined by Dr. Bortel and the rest of his team, Dr. Betty Director along with Will Du, and four generals from the Global Justice Brass.

“Good afternoon, Major. I see that Super-One is already up and running,” Bortel said as he watched Stoppable walk into the training area.

“Yes, it seems that you did a fine job getting him back into shape,” the stone-faced Major replied. ‘Too bad about his memory, though.’ Dobbs turned in his chair to face Betty. “Good afternoon, Betty. You never said that you would bring him,” Dobbs said, his thumb pointing accusingly at Agent Du. Will cringed, his pride hurt.

Betty spoke up for her speechless agent. “Will may have made some serious mistakes, but he’s still—so far—the best operative we have in the agency. And his opinion will be very valuable.”

Dobbs gave her a questioning look; he still didn’t trust the man who almost ruined the agency he had strived so hard to keep hidden. “I understand, please sit down.”

Soon, the room was dead silent as they watched the unknown operative proceed down one of the many roads. Bortel couldn’t help but smile. The Deltas didn’t know who they were up against, and they probably never would.

Bortel sat down beside Razor. “Lieutenant Rosco, as a friendly gesture I would like to place a bet of 50 on the operative in question. I win if he wins.”

Razor smiled. “You’re on, Doc. If he’s taken out, I win. What are your conditions?”

“They are the same as the exercise’s objectives, Lieutenant. He has to take ALL of them out.”

“Three-to-one odds, Doc?”

“Deal.” Both men shook hands.

Razor turned his attention to Dr. Korin. “Dr. Korin, please leave all communication devices outside the room. ESPECIALLY your earpiece.”

Holly glared at him and reluctantly placed her PDA onto the table outside.

Dobbs clasped his hands together and placed his elbows on the arm rests. “Let the games begin.”

Current Mission Time

“This is Delta-Two, target spotted. He’s across from me and is about to turn the corner.”

“Do you have a clear shot at the bastard?”

“Not yet, I can only see him through the reflection on the window across down the road…But it’ll be easy to hit him from here.”

“A’ight. Wait for a clear shot and take him out. Let’s get this over with and get back to base.”

“Roge-O.”

Delta-2 was perched invisibly on the second-floor balcony of a building 20 meters away from and opposite the corner. D-2 meditated on the sequence of events of the perfect kill. The target’s head would appear, he would fire immediately, and the round would cross the distance in less than a second. Theoretically, the kill should take less than a second. The soldier was calm, and his breathing was slow; he had perfected the art of sniping in every climate, weather, and terrain imaginable. ‘If only you could fire a rifle under water,’ he mused.

The edge of a boot appeared on the corner. Delta-2 quickly lined up his eyes with the hunting cross-hairs of his M4 Assault Rifle. To his surprise, the newbie slowly leaned out and exposed his head.

“Delta-2 to squad, I am taking the shot. Say goodnight, Super-One.”

1.00 Second

Delta-2 pulls trigger, causing the pin to strike the rear of the bullet, and sending the LTL air-foil round towards its target at a speed of more than 500 meters per second.

0.98 Sec.

The crack of the rifle flips a switch in Ron’s mind, triggering the activation of his MMP. He falls to his right. The bullet is half-way to its target.

0.96 Sec.

The bullet misses Ron’s head by a few millimeters and hits the dirt behind him. Ron’s MMP-increased reflexes steady his aim as he falls.

0.50 Sec.

As the red dot on his sights passes over the silhouette of a head, Ron’s index finger instinctively tightens on the trigger. Three rounds are fired and travel the opposite direction.

0.46 Sec.

Two out of three of his rounds ram Delta-2 in the forehead and temple, instantly knocking him out cold.

“REPORT: Delta-2 neutralized. Six out of seven targets left.”

The perfect ‘kill’ in less than a second.

“What the fu…?”

“How did he…?”

“I don’t care! He took out Jake!”

“Squad, open fire! Open fire!” Delta-1 screamed over the radio. All six of them fired staggered 6-round bursts at Super-One, so that their target would constantly be showered with rounds. Like a rabid mongoose Ron zigzagged left and right, dodging all of the air-foil rounds that the merciless assault rifles were throwing at him.

“Stop moving, dammit!” Shafts of dirt trailed Ron, produced by the high speed projectiles.

“He’s heading between us! Cease fire! Ce…” Delta-6 was cut down mid-sentence by a ‘friendly’ round to his throat.

“This is Delta-3, we have two guys down. I repeat, Delta-2 and Delta-6 are down! Who the HELL took Delta-6 out with friendly fire! Never mind, I thought Razor said we’d be up against a new guy?”

“Did anyone else notice that his eyes were glowing blue? They were frickin’ blue, man!” Delta-4 screamed.

Delta-1 glanced down the street. “Who was that?”

“Don’t know El-Tee, but he just schooled us.”

“Not for long. No one beats SEAL Team 6. Team, move out.”

Dr. Director was in deep thought. To an average person it would have looked like Super-One knew that the shot was coming, but to her it was something completely different. Super-One did not dodge the round; he was startled, fell, and pulled the trigger on impulse. ‘All accidents…and he still managed to take one of the Deltas out.’

Will saw that he and his mentor were thinking about the same thing. He tapped her on the shoulder. “Ma’am, I’ve seen that before.”

“Where?” she asked.

“In the GJ R-and-D labs; you initiated the project yourself almost six years ago. All agents were required to study hours of footage to see if we could recreate the phenomenon. When nothing came out of the program you closed it down. Remember? The scientists proposed a theory: a series of seemingly random accidents, instigated by one unique individual, would always result in a positive outcome.”

“Wait, there’s only one person who…can…do that.” Her eyes widened profusely “My God! Are you saying that this man is…?”

“No,” Will replied emotionless. His eyes were focused intently on the unknown operative running down the road. “But I would definitely maintain that as a possibility.”

Both GJ Operatives sat forward and simultaneously thought, ‘You’re supposed to be dead.’

Stoppable moved with accidental precision as he zigzagged down the street. Upon reaching a corner, he leapt to his right and placed his back against the wall. His throat burned from screaming all the way down the road.

“There’snoplacelikehomethere’snoplacelikehomethere’snoplacelikehome…” His thoughts were interrupted by a beep.

“Report: 5 out of 7 targets remaining. Note: Hostiles moving towards current position. Exercise profile ‘Hunter, Hunted’ is activated. Map is inaccessible. Military Database is inaccessible for recommendations on optimal tactical response.”

“Badical,” he exclaimed sarcastically. “They give me cool stuff to use and the only things I’m allowed to use are my Vision Modes and Biometrics.”

He looked at his gun. A pop-up appeared beside his MP5, displaying the current amount of ammunition he had—27 rounds.

He cradled his head in his hands. “What do I do? Come on! What do I do?”

A familiar female voice replied, ‘Stop goofing around! Study the situation and your enemies. Find a way to gain an advantage and attack decisively.’

“I need to find something, anything!”

Ron glanced at the different buildings around him and saw a small convenience store. The front had large glass windows and two glass doors. There was another door at the rear, adjacent to the main room.

He grimaced. ‘That’ll do.’

The five SEALs—Delta-1, -3, -4, -5, and -7—were separated into two fire teams and were proceeding opposite each other down the road where they last had visual contact with Super-One. SEAL Team 6 was tense—the guy they were hunting had taken down two of their guys without breaking a sweat.

“Delta-1 to team, anything out there?”

“D-3 to D-1, negative. All quiet on the western front.”

“El-Tee, -4 and -5 see nothing.”

“Alright, proceed down the road and be careful. The bastard may try to sneak up on…” The burst took Delta-1 completely by surprise and he slumped to the ground. He would have an intense head ache when he woke up.

‘Dammit!’ Delta-3 growled. ‘Did anyone see where the shot came from?’

“The ‘convenience store’ north of here, D-3.”

“Alright get in position! -5 and -7… You guys take the back. D-4 and I will take care of the front. Move out!”

“That son-of-a-bitch isn’t gonna run this time.”

Razor started to laugh. “Bortel, I think you’ve lost already. He just trapped himself in the store. He’s got no escape! Better pay up, Doc!”

Both Bortel and Dobbs smiled—the Delta’s may be experts at Room Clearing, but Stoppable was trained as a CQC combatant by the world-famous Kim Possible.

Dobbs replied to Razor, “Don’t make any judgments before the exercise is over, Lieutenant.” He refocused his gaze on the jet black super soldier. ‘Stay on your toes, Stoppable.’

In a matter of seconds, both the front and the rear were manned by the SEALs. Delta-5 and -7 knew the plan. They would throw a flash bang through the door and burst in at the same time as Delta-3 and -4. They would all simultaneously take down Super-One. Theoretically, it should be easy—except nothing usually went according to plan.

“FLASH BANG NOW!” Delta-3 hollered. Delta-5 opened the door and Delta-7 tossed the stun grenade into the room. They didn’t expect what would happen next.

Surprised, Ron performs a spin kick and he hits the flash bang dead on.

With two seconds left in the built-in timer, the grenade is volleyed back to the Deltas. Both pairs of eyes lock onto the black cylinder that seemed to float slowly by in between them. The ensuing detonation wreaked havoc on their senses. Their bodies react almost immediately, causing both to fire on each other. Both drop to the floor, unconscious.

A second earlier, Delta-3 and -4 burst through the glass in the front, guns blazing. Ron has no choice but to run backwards and dodge the bullets. Ron backpedals swiftly to the door. His increased reflexes allow him to dodge the bullets by millimeters, but in his confusion he gets too close to the bolt that locks the door (causing his vest to catch), trips, and lands painfully on his back.

It seemed as if the tide had turned in the favor of the SEALs.

Delta-3 and -4 reached their target in a few bounds under two seconds. Both of their weapons were trained on the hapless Super-One. To the SEALs and the viewers in the camera room, the fight was over.

A Few Seconds Earlier

Sweat dripped down the side Dr. Korin’s face. She wasn’t able to see inside, but she also wasn’t hearing any gunfire. “Major,” she whispered. “What’s he doing?! He has to fight back!”

Dobbs replied calmly, “Dr. Korin, please calm down. It’s his style…”

“…He doesn’t fight directly,” Dr. Director interrupted. Dobbs gave her a curious look.

“What I mean is that he doesn’t fight. He’s the distraction.” Dr. Director glared in Dobbs’ direction.

Major Dobbs stared at her with no emotion. His face said ‘I’ll explain later.’

Ron shut his eyes as tightly as he could. His helmet completely covered his ears, but his hands went up to cover them instinctively.

Delta-3 saw Super-One’s response. Suddenly, everything made sense as his eyes wandered to the ground beneath him. ‘Fuck.’

The room was blanketed with dazzling white light. In response, Stoppable leaped to his feet. Lightning fast, he launched himself in between the two SEALs, and a sweep of his legs sent the two soldiers on a collision course with the ground. While holding his weapon normally, he brought the stock of the MP5 down hard on Delta-3’s back to his right, switched his hands so that his right hand gripped the stock and his left gripped the front grip, and slammed the stock of the submachine gun like an axe into Delta-4 who was on his left. Delta-3 and -4 hit the ground simultaneously.

Ron stood up and glanced at the two unconscious SEALs, his eyes slowly transitioned from blue to chocolate. “Sierra-001 to Command, (gasp) you got served.”

The Viewing Room erupted into loud cheers, applause, and laughter. Dobbs was chuckling hard. “He pulled it off. Sierra-001 pulled it off!”

Bortel walked over to a dumb-founded Lt. Razor. “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” he said with a smile. “But I would like to collect my 150 dollars, please.”

Razor scowled, “Here’s your money, Doctor. Beginner’s luck.”

“Report: All targets neutralized.”

The four soldiers around him were highlighted in blue, while the other three were displayed as blue silhouettes in their theoretical locations.

“All mission objectives achieved. Logged: mission completed. Proceed to the extraction point.”

Ron collapsed against the wall, his body tired from the adrenaline rush. His breaths came out in heavy grunts.

“…Ron. Are you there?” The O-HUD displayed Holly’s ID picture in the top right corner. ‘Caller ID?’ he thought. ‘Cool!’

“Holly?”

“How are you holding up?”

“Okay. I just want a shower and then I want to sleep.”

“(Chuckles) Yeah, you need it.”

“Objective Update: Immediate deployment required in Tokyo, Japan. A hostage situation has developed at a bank in downtown Tokyo.”

A window appeared showing a direct viral feed into CNN’s camera. The Japanese police were exchanging gunfire with soldiers armed with blasters of some sort.

Ron slammed his head against the wall behind him. “What the hell!” he screamed. “I just went through an exercise. That is NOT cool.”

A Global Justice vertical take-off transport touched down on top of the store. “Sierra-001, get up on the roof. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

Middleton, Colorado

Jim and Tim rushed quickly up the stairs into their sister’s room, wearing full mission gear. They saw their sister with her head buried in her books.

“Kim, how are you…”

“…holding up?”

Kim smiled at her siblings. “I’m okay Tweebs, just doing some work.” She didn’t use the collective name for her brothers as an insult anymore. Instead, it manifested into a loving nickname for the twins.

“Good, ‘cause something big just happened.”

“We just got a hit on the site…”

“…and there’s a hostage situation in Japan.”

“A bus full of children…”

“…holed up in a bank.”

She frowned. “Who led the attack? The Yakuza?”

“No, an unknown group of bad guys. Wade couldn’t identify them.”

She nodded. “Okay, it seems simple enough. What’s the catch?”

“Hannah Stoppable is on a ‘student exchange’ trip in Japan…”

“…Her bus left an hour ago for a school trip to the Tokyo Museum…”

“…and her bus was held up. She’s in the bank…”

“…and they’re threatening to kill her, Kim.”

“I know she defeated Yono, but she’s only five.”

“Kids get scared…”

“…and they have a gun against Hannah’s throat.”

Kim shot out of her seat, ran into her bathroom, and changed as quickly as she could. Wearing her purple mission outfit, she stepped out of the bathroom.

“Alright, let’s move. Tweebs, coordinate with Wade; you’re my field op-center.” She activated her watch and Wade appeared as a hologram. “Wade, how fast can we expect a ride?”

“Funny, the military is willing to send you one in ten minutes—as long as you complete the mission with one of their people.”

“Good. I don’t mind. Let’s go.”

To Be Continued…