Disclaimer: Kim Possible © Disney. I own this work and its prequel.

Author's Notes: In case y'all don't know, this story is the sequel to "Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold." No, you don't have to read that first (I'm not exactly proud of it), but this story might make a little more sense if you do.

And now, on with the people who so kindly reviewed the first story: Jason Barnett , the Desert Fox, momike, conan98002, Dr. J0nes, CastaS, moi, Tragic warrior, SapphireSora, The Real Sidekick, bigherb81, and Shegofan.

Sooo, a few of you guys might be wondering, "What took you so long?!" Well… better late than never, y'know? I hope to answer all of y'all's questions in this story. If not, tell me! I'd be happy to PM ya or something.

To Build an Empire

"The Challenge"

Brown. Dark brown. That was the color of his eyes.

Ron Stoppable's stupid friend had always said his eyes were the color of coffee in wintertime. How disgusting. Coffee. It was like some sick joke—she was trying to bandage up the hurt of her rejection with a friendly complement. Like, "Oh, I don't want to date you, marry you, and be your soulmate. I've ruined your life with this rejection. But you have pretty eyes!" That was just sick and wrong.


The former teen sidekick stood before a large glass window, looking down onto the bustling streets below. He was positioned high in the main room of his tower fortress in the center of downtown Middleton. He and… well, his old self and that girl had spent so much time here that it only felt right it should be the first to go. World domination and all that. It was now his capital, standing tall and dark against a swirling midnight sky. He hated Kim Possible, so he took her hometown first. He thumbed his nose at her.


She had no power against him. No one did. And he savored every second of it.

He was reminded of coffee-colored brown once again as he caught his reflection in the window. Dark, cynical, maniacal… with just a tinge of the underlying intelligence Ron knew was there. He was smart. He was fast. He was good. So good he was bad. Very, very bad.

World domination had been easy for someone like him. It had been only six months since he had escaped from prison, but already he had taken out all of the U.S., Canada, South America and Australia, and most of Europe. There were a few random Pacific Island nations that he hadn't bothered to invade yet, and Switzerland and their cursed military defenses had yet to fall. But they would. Eventually. Time would show them who was boss. He had also adopted various viceroys and presidents to run the lesser portions of the world. He was their supreme leader, but the truth was, he just couldn't do it all by himself. He needed help. So Zorpox enlisted the services of a few of his… friends (along with some very detailed descriptions of what would happen if they revolted), and left them to their peace. He had destroyed all the banks, churches, and communication businesses, so money wasn't necessary. He commanded countries to grow and manufacture and trade what they had with other countries. If they didn't, they would be annihilated.

Just look at what happened to Norway. They caught a bunch of fish, didn't want to share, so boom! Now they're a nuclear test site. Last he heard, it was a floating radioactive wasteland somewhere in the northern Arctic Ocean. Not like he cared, though. Those dumb Norwegians were weird, anyway.

Zorpox's stone-cold face cracked ever so slightly to allow a smile. Think of it: slaughtering thousands, maybe millions, of people just to keep everyone else in check. Just as a public spectacle. Just to show everyone else how powerful he was. "Mess with me, and you shall die," he had said to them. All the other Scandinavian countries shared their fish after that.

He loved that. He reveled in it. Drank it in every day as billions of people sang his praises in thousands of languages, 193… erm, 192 countries across the world.

Now that was power.

Ron shifted behind the paned glass which shut him off from the world he controlled. He didn't consider himself a cruel dictator by any means. He didn't purposely torture people just for his own sick pleasure. He made sure that all deaths were quick and as relatively painless as possible. They served as an example to everyone else: "I am your leader; do not cross me!" He thought about putting an "or else" in there somewhere, but it would've been ferociously redundant.

In fact, the people actually enjoyed having him as their ruler. In the very beginning of The Last War (that was what they called Ron's rise to power), he had destroyed all technology of any kind. Machine guns, submarines, heat-seeking missiles, anything and everything. There were commercial jets, of course, but none of them were equipped with weapons of any kind. Period. The people loved this because if there were no weapons, there would be no war. Of course, there was always the threat of underground bomb factories, but once he gained absolute power, it was fairly easy to rat these out and make a public display of them. War was bad, and he made sure everyone knew it. It was taught in the schools, transmitted over the radio and television, and even posted on banners in public places like the downtown plaza.

Kids could now grow up in a society where nothing was bad. War, nuclear bombs, and terrorism were foreign words only to be experienced in a textbook. Never would they happen in real life.

Of course, in the beginning of The War, Zorpox had been forced to equip all of his synthodrone soldiers with high-tech weapons of his own design. And some of the battalions out there in Switzerland and the Pacific Isles still toted around AK-47s and old-fashioned M-5s. But as soon as his last soldiers came home, he would destroy the remaining ten percent of the world's weaponry. The only things that would be left were swords, scabbards, and bow-and-arrows. If he kept the world in the Dark Ages, they couldn't fight each other as effectively—and they couldn't revolt against him.

Zorpox the Conqueror paced around his main throne room. He wasn't a pompous man like Drakken or Dementor; he preferred to call it "the Throne Room" just because it sounded cool.

Like he ruled the world.

Which he did. Obviously.

There was a loud knock on the door. "Proceed," Ron called out. The huge double doors creaked open, revealing five shadowy figures. They all stepped forward in a line at his request and continued to move toward him. They stopped a few feet away.

Zorpox was still gazing out over his kingdom. "Report."

A blue-skinned man standing beside a velvet-tressed woman spoke up. "All is well in Drakkanada, sir," he said. "Also, our citizens in France and Germany, also known as New Shegovia, seem to be warming up to our rule." Drakken seemed a bit jittery as he cautiously moved behind Shego. He knew how moody a superbad Ron Stoppable could be.

Shego said, "Everyone seems to be getting along fine so far. They're done pouting since you destroyed their weapons, sir, and they've moved on. New Shegovia," she spoke the words as if tasting something wonderful, "has become, once again, the most productive country in Europe."

"Very good." Ron still had his back to them. "Killigan?"

This went on further. Killigan ruled Ireland and Scotland (dehr), while Monkey Fist and his ninjas controlled Japan and a bit of southern China. The fifth figure, a woman by the name of DNAmy, opted to stay in Japan and rule beside her beloved "monkey king."


Ah well. As long as they obeyed him fully. Five and a half months ago, word of his escape from San Quentin had circulated throughout the villain community. Every bad guy, thug, and thief in the universe was vying for his attention, hoping to suck up to the man upstairs—him. They all wanted the same thing he did: Power. That's what it was always about.

But he only gave control to those who earned it in his eyes: the five (well, four) most notorious villains he and she had ever fought together.

He sent the villains away, content to let them rule their provinces in peace.


Her. That girl. That awful, God-forsaken, horrible, lying, cheating, whimpering gnat known as Kim Possible. Make that Kim Mankey.

Ron spat on the ground. That name left an awful taste in his mouth. Bleh.

He looked at his watch. That reminded him—it was almost feeding time. It would be a sin to let another man's wife and unborn children die of starvation.


Zorpox ambled downstairs into his fortress style dungeon. Many prisoners from his old life found their way down here. People like… Joshua Wendell Mankey.

He passed by Monkey's cell, his footsteps echoing loudly off of the cold stone surfaces. He heard the prisoner's soft moan for help, but pretended to ignore it. Joshie wasn't a concern of his. He could survive another few days without meat. Kim, on the other hand…

Zorpox the Conqueror walked on, head held high, as he felt the quivering masses glance at him. They feared him. They respected him. They gave him the recognition he never received in high school.

His genius. Booyah.

He felt like laughing, but held it in.

When he finally arrived at his destination, he shoved a key from his belt loop into the lock and creaked the heavy door open. There she was, sitting on the bed. Bright red tresses falling long past her hips. Vacant green eyes staring expressionlessly at the opposite wall.

Ron felt his body stiffen with hatred. She was very large with her babies, being in her ninth month of pregnancy. When he had last fought Poss… er, Mankey in Drakken's old lair, she was barely three months pregnant. It was just enough to get a fair ultrasound, but not too much to keep her from jumping around like a hyped-up cheerleader.

Now, six months later, her belly was swollen with her firstborn children, and she was ready to go into labor at any moment.

Zorpox had thought long and hard about what he was about to do. But every time he mulled it over, he came to the same conclusion: It was no good to have babies without their mother. He certainly didn't have the time nor the will to take care of them. It was better for everyone if he let Kim off the mind control to birth her children.

Besides, he heard childbirth could be quite painful.

He walked over to her, never once hesitating. Ron stopped beside the bed in front of Kim. She looked up at him with an empty stare. "Hello, Master," she breathed.

One great thing about mind control was the total and complete loyalty to him.

He liked to play games with her mind. It was fun. "Hello, Kimberly," he said coolly. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh yes, very much."

His expression never changed. "What would you like to eat today, servant?"

Kim's mind was still under the chip's control, but her face managed to morph into an expression of desperation. "Anything, I don't care. I'm just… so very hungry today."

Ron nodded. "Yes, you haven't had much to eat yet. Come with me and I will fix you something."

She followed obediently, like the slave girl she was. Then again, Kim didn't really have a choice.

Ron led her through his fortress, never once suspecting treachery. She was under his control, and she couldn't get away without his permission. He walked into the kitchen and started preparing a meal, not really bothering to see if she had followed or not.

Of course she had.

She sat down at the sturdy wooden table and stared at him as he cooked. Ron felt her eyes on him, but didn't trouble himself to turn around. She was being mind-controlled, for goodness' sake; she was probably thinking about what she could do for him after dinner was over.

In just a few minutes' time, Ron had prepared a wonderful yet simple meal—chicken cordon bleu. That is, chicken stuffed with cheese and ham slices. He added a light vinaigrette salad on the side, served with apple wedges and scalloped potatoes. Kim still stared at him.

"Eat," he ordered. She obeyed willingly.

Zorpox watched as his prisoner devoured one, two, three steaming platefuls of food. It was amazing what a pregnancy could do to your appetite. He stood up, gathered the dirty dishes, and dumped them in the sink. Then he led her to the bathroom, where he locked her in and ordered her to use it.

Kimberly knocked on the door when she was finished. "All done?" he asked. She nodded. Ron still couldn't get over the fact she was so… large. Her nine month period had added a few pounds around her butt and thighs, but most of the weight went to her tummy. As women sometimes do, she had to lean backwards a little bit to keep her balance. Ron doubted she could see her toes.

Instead of putting Kim back in her cell, he led her to his totally awesome throne room. Here they would both take a look at the world as it was—and maybe catch a glimpse of what it could have been.

Zorpox the Conqueror stood, emotionless and stoic as usual, in front of his window. Kimberly stood behind him. It was almost time for him to take off the mind control chip; but he still had time to wait. Everything in life had a specific order. If he went outside this order, his plan might go… well, not according to plan.

As the sun was setting, the blue villain turned to his red-headed prisoner and stood before her. "KP," he said, lovingly, and for a moment one might assume the old Ron was back.

Don't make that mistake. He wasn't.

Zorpox continued on, "You've caused me so much pain these past few months, Kimberly." He reached up to stroke her cheek, but her gaze was as lifeless and empty as ever. His soft tone was even more disturbing than if he had been shouting at the top of his lungs. "No more," he said. "You know as well as I do you don't have to be a prisoner anymore."

He cupped her cheek, as a lover does his own wife. He ran a gloved thumb over the chip on her forehead. "Just behave, Kimberly Ann, and I can offer you anything you want. I can give you the world."

Ronald leaned in, his freckled cheek brushing hers. He whispered, "Just ask."

And with that, he flicked off the chip, standing back and viewing his handiwork. Kim Possible was back, baby. And she belonged to him.