A Kim Possible fan fiction by fudje
Disclaimer: Kim Possible and all associated characters a Copyright © Disney, and are used in a not-for-profit artistic manner. Leonard J. Da Hand is a fudje original. All characters and events in this story are entirely ficticious with exception to the Scottish war of independence, and any correlation to the real world is entirely coincidental. Ingredients have not been tested on animals. May contain traces of nuts.
A slim figure tiptoed down the main hall of Middleton High. It was neither Kim nor Mr. Barkin, the only people who were theoretically supposed to be in the building, although they were only there because someone had been seen entering the premises.
"Possible! Is that you?!"
The figure tilted its head on one side and a hand shot to the handle of the sword on its back. It turned to look back along the corridor, and then disappeared into the shadows behind a wall strut, stowing the hand again. Shortly afterwards, a slightly shorter and somewhat more feminine figure darted into the opposite end of the hall from a muscular one.
"I heard something down here, too, Mr. Barkin."
From the shadows, two eyes glinted a brief confusion. Surely he'd never made a sound? It slunk further back into the shadows.
Barkin walked carefully down the hall, scanning every inch. He stopped right before the figure, who remained stock still. Barkin looked to his left, apparently straight at the swordsman, then, crouching, to his right. Something moved above him, apparently on the ceiling, and Kim was on the move. The swordsman tensed, concentrating on the fourth potential combatant. A long-haired shadow descended over him, the figure that cast it dropping from the ceiling. Kim was not fast enough, and the swordsman was wary to give away his position in a battle he was not party to. Knocking Barkin down, the assailant proceeded to dart off in the direction Barkin had come from. Kim came too close, and the figure had let her temper flare - a brief green spark, intended merely to knock Barkin out, was bigger than she'd intended, giving away her identity.
"Shego!" yelled Kim, and continued to charge after her.
The swordsman, relaxing, watched them leave into a classroom, and then turned to look down at the partially conscious Barkin, who was even now coming to. He heard glass break, then there was a pause. Footsteps came back. Kim appeared from the same door via which she'd left, and knelt down next to Barkin.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Possible. Report."
"She got away," Kim sighed, "Something will probably turn up soon that she's involved in though, so I wouldn't worry."
The swordsman was running out of breath, and relaxed a little to try and accommodate this. He started breathing shallowly, trying not to reveal his hiding place in the shadows. It was good to know that it was probably not him they'd heard.
"Look, she won't be back tonight, Mr. Barkin, and we probably shouldn't be here anyway. I know security's on strike, but-"
"Who told you that?"
"You did, when you called me, remember?"
"Let's get out of here then," and with that they left.
The swordsman drew a breath and stepped lightly out of the shadows. He then went into the classroom through which Shego had left and stepped out through the broken window. After pausing for a moment to check for observers, he stood up tall and his eyes followed the slight trail that Shego had left behind as far as he could track it. As he did so, the moon caught a shadow of his image. He had a long mane very light brown hair, tied behind his head, and the deepest eye sockets you could imagine on a healthy man housed a pair of pale eyes that seemed to reflect their surroundings, neither one colour nor the other. A recognisably masculine but girlishly slim figure was offset by a long robe, and a Scottish Claymore was sashed to his back. A glint of metal off the front of the same sash suggested the presence of more blades, but this was quickly hidden by the robe, which he now pulled again tight around him. He pulled a hood over his head and the handle of the sword, and looked down.
"Shego, eh?" he asked the air, "looks like a bright girl. What a stupid name, though. I guess I can't talk, though," and he was gone, in a different direction.