All-Purpose Disclaimer

Kim Possible is a registered trademark of Disney Inc. All characters, locations and themes are used without permission. The work below is a fan work done for personal amusement and as a pathetic bid for attention, and garnered no profit. The following is entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to any peoples, alive or deceased, is purely coincidental.

That being said...

The following is a true story. Everything in here really happened, even the confusing parts that contradict other parts. Kim Possible is actually real, as is Ron and his gelatinous naked mole rat. They're waiting for you right now at Bueno Nacho. Better hurry, or you might miss them. Oh, but review before you head out. Kim told me to tell you that. She wants you to review the story. Really.

The Boring Author Part

Well, you were all patient, and I don't intend to disappoint. Here it is, the (apparently) much-anticipated sequel to The Power of Love. I hope you all enjoy, 'cause this one's for you.

Kim Possible

The Power of Trust

by Cyberwraith Nine

Somewhere in the Himalayas...

Mountain peaks jutted high into the sky, stabbing into swirling clouds. From a distance, the landscape seemed an endless field of daggers, eternally reaching for the heavens above, yet doomed to never tower quite high enough. Earthen daggers capped with white, the frozen tears of the earth, they were a thousand fold more dangerous than any mere knife forged by the hand of man. These were the blades of the Almighty, cast in unyielding stone. To the unaware, their wrath was terrible and swift.

Outside, the snowstorm raged with impossible bluster, billowing white powdery death that obscured the landscape from view, leaving only a sallow curtain to be seen in every direction. It felt as though God's icy breath itself fell from the heavens and tore into the ageless spires of stone and ice that had stood for countless eons. Despite the ferocity of the storm, they would continue to persevere. The same could not be said for any living soul unfortunate enough to be caught out in the storm.

But sitting not ten feet from the storm, a group of black-clad figures paid no mind to the unparalleled fury of nature's wrath. Illuminated by a single, flickering candle, the dozen sat on the cold stone ground with their legs crossed and their hands raised in deep meditation. The mountain they were currently in could have transformed itself into a volcano, and they might not have noticed, so great was their concentration.

Though each of the figures was clad in identical black robes and hoods, one stood out from the rest. This special individual was in the center of a circle composed of the other eleven, hunched over a small stone statuette. Though those in the circle remained quiet, the figure's low voice was uttering a constant stream of an unidentifiable language, spoken too quietly for anyone even familiar in the dead tongue to discern. Only the robed figure and the statue sitting at hand could hear.

The figure's sleeves raised, caressing the smooth, worn lines of the stone monkey. Rough, calloused hands ran across the inanimate creature's shrieking face, gentle as a lover's touch. Slowly, trembling, the figure stopped at the monkey's fangs, and pressed hard into its mouth. A drop of blood welled up from the figure's thumb and dribbled between the statue's jaws. The red droplet hung there for an achingly long second, teetering on the brink before sliding down the monkey's lip and trailing down its little porker potbelly.

As the blood ran its course, the eyes of the monkey came aglow with a soft crimson radiance that burned two more points of light into the darkness of the cave. The figure's breath drew in sharply as the skin of the stone monkey swallowed the trail of blood, absorbing it and leaving its surface once again a pristine grey. Though the blood was gone, the glow persisted, despite the oppressive black held at bay by their single, pitiful candle.

The figure gently cupped the stone monkey with trembling hands, raising it to the darkened and faceless hood. The monkey seemed to stare back with its now-red eyes in cold silence. But at the same time, those two specks of light spoke volumes to the figure.

" worked." The utterance was quiet with astonishment as the cloaked individual rotated the monkey before a shadowy face. "It worked!" Quickly, the figure rose, hoisting the statue aloft. One of the sleeves of the figure's robes fell away, revealing a whitish-pink arm topped with a fine, thick coat of black fur. "The Idol of G'dall has been awakened!"

At once, the eleven of the circle stood up and began leaping and shrieking excitedly. Their tails flickered back and forth and their fangs foamed behind stretchy black masks. They weren't nearly as tall as their leader, and were not nearly as powerful. And yet, they represented a portion what their vaunted sensei sought so desperately to become.

The focus of their excitement, the Idol of G'dall, didn't share their exuberance. It sat peaceably in the leader's hairy-knuckled grip as the gathered troupe celebrated their success, competing against the roar of the storm outside with their own cries. For a time, they were victorious. But in time, their excitement faded, and the figure waved the gathered throng back into silence, once again asserting the dominance of storm's constant bass howl.

"My monkey warriors," the figure spoke in that same low tone, spreading arms wide to encompass the short yet fierce soldiers. "Our time is fast approaching. With the Idol of G'dall active, we need only secure the last remaining piece of our puzzle and claim the glory that destiny has assured us!"

The monkey ninjas howled in approval, leaping high and pounding their fists against the floor. Unseen in the candlelight, the figure's lips pulled back in a smile before continuing.

"We will achieve what so many have sought for countless centuries," the figure proclaimed, waving the idol before them as if to bless each ninja with this promise. "What too many pretenders already possess, we shall take for our own!"

Another shriek of support.

"We shall claim the powers of the Ultimate Monkey Master for ourselves!" Their unified roar reached its crescendo as the figure lofted the idol high, nearly crushing it against the ceiling of the cave. "And together, WE SHALL RULE!"

A sudden blast of icy wind invaded their sanctuary, snuffing the tiny candle out in a heartbeat. Only the twin pinpoints of red light remained. They glowed malevolently, piercing the black veil where nothing else could. The figure could sense brief panic in some of the monkey ninjas, but it would quickly pass. When the storm cleared, they would make their way down the mountain and begin the completion of their lifelong quest. The power of the ancients was nearly in their grasp.

Who could possibly stand in their way?



With a vicious thud, Ronald Stoppable slammed into the padded mat of Upperton University's martial arts room's floor. Air rushed from his lungs as the compressed like a cheap accordion, while at the same time, a sound reminiscent of the same instrument gargled from his throat at the impact.

Leaving a streak of sweat in his path, Ron slid to a slow halt on the red and blue checkered mat. The vinyl squealed beneath a triangle of bare skin left exposed by his white wraparound gi, leaving the flesh rubbed a raw red that matched the color of his desperately-inhaling face. His feet hung just above his head, swaying to and fro from his sudden and unexpected trip through the air.

"You weren't expecting that, were you?" Nearly three yards away, a smug redhead similarly dressed placed her hands on her hips and leaned back, basking in the glory of her own handiwork. Normally, Kimberly Anne Possible didn't delight in inflicting pain, and especially not where her best friend of who-knew-how-many years. But on some deep and petty level, she figured he deserved it for shooting his mouth off about his 'mad-crazy skillz'.

Prying his lips out of a joint between mats, Ron rolled over and onto his back. He was content to converse with Kim while staring at the ceiling. The 'really' witty comebacks would wait until he had refilled his lungs. "Obviously not," he huffed, "Or I wouldn't have ended up being tossed like a sack of potatoes."

"Look, Mr. 'Karate-Class-In-Japan'," Kim made quotes with her fingers and smirked at him, "Don't get snippy with me. I wasn't the one who left myself open for that flawlessly-executed, brilliantly-conceived hip throw." But despite her criticism, Kim walked over and extended a hand to help Ron up. "You might also want to note that I wasn't the one-"

"Tossed like a sack of potatoes," Ron finished with a roll of his eyes. "I already said that."

Kim pretended to be hurt. She withdrew her offered arm and folded it with her other across her chest, pouting her lower lip out with a ridiculous expression. "Fine, be that way." A smile soon replaced her faux-sulking, and she waggled her eyebrows at him. "You can get up on your own then."

His legs flew up and over his head as he twisted to the side, rolling off his shoulder and back up onto his feet in one smooth motion. A grin of his own met with her silent, clearly smothered approval. "Why, yes I can. Yay for me."

"Smart ass," Kim sneered playfully.

Feeling his cheekiness return, Ron shot back, "Well, some part of me had to be."

"Shut up and fight."

The impromptu conversation ran dry as they circled each other, testing the other's defenses with a feint or a jab every once in a while. Not for the first time, Kim found her eyes running up and down the long chasm now sported on Ron's athletic chest that peered out from the folds of his gi. They had been working out together for some time now, ever since Ron had gotten back from his summer in Japan to 'brush up on the basics' before college started.

Apparently, he had also visited a local dojo, or something, because he brought back with him an amazing new boost in confidence and fighting ability, and the physique to match it. The baser part of Kim mourned the fact that, while much of Ron had changed, his dress style hadn't, disallowing her any real good look at just how deep that physique went.

Suddenly Ron's fist was grazing her cheek, and it was all she could do to duck out of the way. 'Sloppy, Possible,' she chided herself silently, glowering at the smug look on Ron's face. While she was busy imagining herself ogling her best friend, he was going to wipe the mats with her. If someone had told her a year ago that she would end up attracted to her best friend, she would have laughed herself into a coma. But she couldn't help noticing the enticing way his now-longer blond hair brushed over his eyes, which held a constant twinkle she had always known about, but never really looked at.

Another blow, this one a blinding front-snap kick, neatly knocked Kim out of her revere and almost forced the wind out of her as Ron's foot sailed past her arms and tapped her in the belly. His control was excellent, giving the hit just enough force to pull her back to reality. 'Damn it,' she swore silently as she watched the silent laughter pass across his chocolate-brown eyes, 'What are you going to do; sit here and stare at him, or fight?'

Then a thought occurred to her, prompting a devilish smile. 'Maybe I can do both.'

"You seem distracted, KP," Ron teased her gently, coming in with a chop that she easily blocked and moving back to a safe distance. "Am I really that boring?"

She smiled, trying to cover the slight trace of red that filled her cheeks as she prayed he mistook her staring at him for simple focus. "You know me, Ron," she lied, "My mind's a million places at once."

"Not me." Ron ducked beneath a hook kick and came back with an uppercut, brushing against the red locks of her bangs. "All I can think about is a big ol' burrito from Bueno Nacho after this."

"Always food with you," Kim taunted as she waited patiently for an opening. It took a few seconds before she saw it, feinting high with a roundhouse kick, then stepping in quickly to lock arms with him, once again hip-to-hip. "I think all that fast food is making you soggy around the middle."

Now it was Ron's turn to mock her with a pout. "You think so?" Luckily, he was too focused on her eyes and grinning features to notice her quick hands at work.

"One way to find out."

To Ron's surprise, Kim pulled back quickly, grabbing a fist full of his oversized sleeve as she went. Ron quickly felt himself spun about as the heavy cotton folds of his clothes betrayed him, peeling away at Kim's forceful yank, forcing him about like a strange yo-yo. By the time he regained his balance, he saw his best friend clutching his uniform top in one hand and raising her fingers to her mouth for a wolfish whistle with the other. He also felt a curious breeze, and looked down.

She wadded the garment up and tossed it out of the way. "Aw, no gut. Guess someone's been doing his sit-ups." Kim's light tone and scornful words barely masked the awe pounding in her brain as she looked at the hard lines of Ron's body. Where once he had been a skinny, if somewhat doughy teenager, now there wasn't an ounce of fat on his body. His stomach was outlined in a sextuplet of hard muscles, drawing her eyes up to his powerful chest and defined arms. He was no bodybuilder, as he had been under the influence of that stupid Hench ring, but instead built like a judo assassin; sleek, wiry, but fast and powerful.

No stranger to public exposure, Ron's face nevertheless went red at her whistle. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, trying desperately to force the blush out of his cheeks before facing his secret crush once more. "C'mon, Kim, I-"As he turned back, he only barely avoided the flying side-kick aimed straight for his jaw, and ducked as Kim sailed overhead. "Hey, no fair!"

"All's fair in love and war, Ron," Kim replied, catching Ron off-guard with a reverse kick as soon as she landed. He stumbled back from the blow as she moved into press her advantage.

'So which is this?' Ron thought to himself. Deciding it was time for some payback, he sidestepped her latest attack, allowing her to pass by harmlessly. Then he moved in and caught her from behind. His hands moved like lightning, striking in dozen places in just a handful of seconds. It was all Kim could do to block him. The strikes came so close that she could feel the breeze blowing off of his knuckles.

Then, just as Kim began to catch up, Ron simply disappeared. An instant later she felt a pair of arms loop beneath her armpits and meet behind her head in a full nelson lock. Ron's voice muttered comically in her ear, "How do you like them apples, KP?"

Trying to ignore the way his bare chest felt pressed up against her through her gi, Kim kept her own bravado firmly in place. "Oh please," she snorted, "This is the easiest one in the book." Her tense muscles immediately relaxed as she allowed gravity to pull her straight down. Kim slipped right out of Ron's grasp-

-and right out of her gi.

Kim gasped in surprise, rolling away. The vinyl mat was cold against her shoulder and back as she leapt to her feet, already a few yards away from Ron in case of another attack. She shouldn't have bothered; Ron was almost doubled over with laughter, clutching the top to his stomach in case it should split with his guffaws. Kim hadn't even noticed him untying her gi, and couldn't imagine how he had done it. Clearly, Ron was a lot faster than he let on.

Regaining his voice, Ron wiped the tears from his eyes as he tossed her gi next to his. "What was that about all being fair, KP?" he laughed. His eyes roamed about her exposed flesh of their own accord...not that he would have stopped them even if he could. From the taught lines of her tummy to her black sports bra which concealed her modesty (and Kim had quite a bit to be modest of, he silently noted), to the graceful curve of her neck and the smooth lines of her collarbone...this was easily the best training match they had ever done, period.

Kim crossed her arms over her chest and blushed furiously, just as Ron had a moment ago. Though she scowled something fierce, there was amusement dancing in her jade eyes. "Oh, you're dead now, Stoppable."

"Bring it on, Possible." Ron grinned. He adopted a fighting stance, then swiveled his wrist and waved her in with mocking fingers. Now that they were on equal footing, his confidence had returned. Now, if only her exposed flesh wasn't so distracting...

With another grin, this one twisted with a fearsome giyup from the back of her throat, Kim launched herself in a flying side-kick that nearly took Ron's head clean off his shoulders. He rolled beneath and came up just in time to catch a furious flurry of blows from the redhead's tiny, bony knuckles.

"Wha'sa matter, Ron?" Kim asked between jabs and kicks, "Am I too much for you?"

Ron budgeted his attention to allow for a brief smile as he blocked each one of her strikes. There were several openings that he didn't take. Likewise, there were at least three different kinds of sweep kicks he could use that he knew she wouldn't expect, but he held them back. He could have caught her arms and had her on the ground in a heartbeat, but for the moment, he was content to block, and watch. "You know me, KP," he grunted, pretending to strain. "Always at least three steps-"

Something exploded in the back of Ron's mind. It was like a twelve-story-tall warning beacon blaring louder and brighter than anything he had experienced before right behind his eyes. There was only the strong, unshakable belief that something devastatingly bad had just happened, and it was coming to bite him square in the ass. It flashed only an instant, but lowered all of Ron's defenses. Then it was gone.

And then there was pain.

Kim, unaware of Ron's dilemma, continued her assault. Ron had been performing admirably (heck, he was amazing!) up to this point, so backing off didn't even occur to her. So when she came in with a roundhouse punch, Ron dropping his guard and gaping like a moron was the last thing she expected from him. But that's exactly what happened.

Ron's head spun like a top as Kim's fist landed a bone-jarring blow right on his jaw. The rest of his body soon followed, pirouetting him into the air and then down onto the mat with a dull thud. For a moment, he simply lay there, trying to collect his jumbled thoughts. He was only aware of two things; the memory of the powerful explosion of foreboding, and the throbbing pain in his mouth.

"Oh my God! Ron!" Kim was immediately at his side, rolling him over so his face wasn't buried in the thinly padded floor. All the arrogance and amusement in her attitude vanished as she looked into Ron's dilated, spinning eyes. She winced at the growing purple blob on his cheek, and prayed that there wasn't any lasting injury. "Ron, I'm so sorry! I'm-"

His auburn eyes suddenly focused in on Kim, returning to normal as he found himself back in the here and now. Slowly, the panicky redhead and the distant ceiling separated themselves from the large, swirling blob that had been his vision a second ago. Though it hurt, he managed a small smile for her benefit. "I think you knocked a few fillings loose, KP."

Kim's relief was as immediate as her concern. "Thank God you're all right," she sighed, lifting his head and hugging him tightly.

As his face was pressed into her shoulder, part of Ron silently wished she smelled a little better. Another part told that first part to shut the hell up, and immediately enjoyed the warm feeling of her flesh pressed to his.

Realizing their mutual state of undress, Kim released Ron and hoped she wasn't blushing. She helped him to his feet. "I think that's enough for one day. Does your jaw feel up to a trip to Bueno Nacho before we head home?"

Her tone was light, but Ron could detect the subtle hint of worry behind it. "You have to ask?" he laughed, ignoring the dull ache that burned at his freckled face.

"What were you thinking back there, dropping your guard like that?" Kim asked as she picked up her discarded gi and wrapped it around herself. She tossed Ron his own gi, then tied the strings of hers.

Ron caught the gi. His eyes were drawn to the pristine fabric. It was white, snow.


Where did that come from?

Pushing the odd sensation aside, Ron shrugged and slipped into the coarse cotton folds of the top. "Guess I just lost focus for a second. No big."

But despite his words, he couldn't help but feel as though the feeling hadn't been a fluke. Something told him that it was a sign of something very big. Very big, and very dangerous.

To Be Continued