Author's Foreword: In my continuing quest to procrastinate and not complete the next chapters in Apocolocyntosis and Possibility Engine, I present to you the most terrible crossover idea I've ever come up with.

If you can't figure out what's being crossed over with here from the tone and dialog, it's stated clearly in the last scene. With luck, I'll never continue this travesty. But ... well, who knows. I do actually know how it's supposed to end.

The Last Thing You Wanted To Read...

By Adam Leigh


With a blaze of swirling light, the nexus of energy regurgitated two forms onto the street like a cat spitting out a hairball then immediately vanished from sight in shame, its ears tucked behind its head. The hairball left behind was actually two girls, one in her late teens with striking red hair, beautiful green eyes, and a slim, athletic body, and the other a dark haired, sharp featured, and bigger bosomed woman in her early twenties with -- interestingly enough for a heavily recessive trait -- equally beautiful green eyes of a slightly brighter shade.

The younger, ginger-haired one, called Kim by her friends (and "Little-Miss-Kimmie-Too-Perfect-Goody-Two-Shoes-And-A-Princess-To-Boot" by her fellow traveler) rose her head and shook her mop of hair from her eyes to see the world they'd landed on. Traveling across dimensions, seeing alternate realities only dreamed of by primetime TV and various science fiction movie writers, and getting into trouble that could only be classified as 'Planet of the Apes' level insanity was more than a little tiring and Kim was wishing they'd landed in Planet-of-the-Ice-Cream-Sundaes-That-Don't-Add-To-Your-Waistline world. The over-presence of common looking city-dwellers looking at her with confused and somewhat shocked expressions and the lack of any sundaes within sight probably meant she had not gotten her wish.

Kim opened her mouth to say as much when she realized it felt like someone was speaking into her butt. She turned to look and, sure enough, her companion traveler -- typically called Shego -- had her face planted in Kim's ass and was muttering angrily. "You have to talk to this end for me to hear you," Kim said, pointing towards her face.

Shego sat up with a scowl on her face and shouted about as loudly as Kim has ever heard her shout. "I HATE THAT GODDAMN PORTAL!"

Kim considered that for a second. "Well, I wasn't planning on making it my best friend or anything."

"Why the hell do we jump into that thing together, but you always come out first and then I come out head-first?" Every word Shego spoke was deliberate and pointed. Kim couldn't help but notice that her anger was directed towards her. "You, Little-Miss-Kimmie-Too-Perfect-Goody-Two-Shoes-And-A-Princess-To-Boot, are going to go in last when we leave this world and you're going to wait at least a minute before following me!"

"Any way you can call me something shorter?"

"I am not going to leave this place until I have a proper faceguard," Shego crossed her arms grit her teeth. "Because I have no intent on relying on you to cushion my fall, Ms. Boney Ass!"

"Nope, changed my mind, let's go back to that first name."

Shego pushed herself to her feet defiantly. "Come on! Get up! I'm not lying in the street all day." She stalked over to the curb then started looking at the skyline as she walked down the sidewalk. Kim quickly scrambled over to follow just in time to see Shego bump carelessly into first one then two people while she was distracted by the tall buildings.

"Head in the clouds, mu---" Kim started then stopped as she looked down to see Shego mechanically going through two wallets, liberating them of their cash.

Kim glanced behind them then back at Shego. "Hey--"

"Not. A. Word," Shego spat, then tossed both wallets into a nearby trash can as she walked.

Kim sighed and rolled her eyes, but continued to follow Shego all the same. It's not like she hadn't let Shego get away with worse things in other worlds already.

Far away from the Kim and Shego Dimensionally Traveling Circus, a young man in his early twenties was sitting in his street-level office in Upperton, leaning precariously far back on his office chair and wondering when he was going to get to do something fun.

Just then, one of the two phones on his desk rang. Score!

"Ron Stoppable," said the man as he picked up the phone.

"Er... the mercenary?"

"Nope, that's the other guy in the book."

"Oh... thanks."

"No prob, Bob!"

He hung the phone back up and leaned back in his chair. A moment later the other phone on his desk rang.

"Ron Stoppable."

"Um... I think I just spoke to you," said the voice on the phone. "I'm looking for the mercenary."

"I prefer 'Well-Compensated Establishment Provocateur.'"

"Ah, then this is the mercenary."

"Weren't you just listening? 'Well-Compensated--"

"Yes, yes. Have you heard of The Corsair Project?"


"It's in Middleton."

"I refuse to go to Middleton on moral grounds and on account of several ex-girlfriends who are quite well armed in a suspiciously illegal manner for secretaries."

"Executive assistants."

"I assure you, there's nothing executive about these 'ladies.'"

"Hrm. Anyway, I'm willing to make it worth your while."

"Me? You gotta do better than that, pal, I'm cheap. I'm looking for something in the range of George Cloony's while."

"How about John Travolta's while?"

"You drive a hard bargain! Christopher Walken."

"Done. Come to the Centertron Building in Upperton, there'll be an envelope waiting in the lobby for you with the details."

"How will I recognize it? Any distinguishing features?"

"It'll have your name on it."

"Very clever. I'm assuming stealth is not one of my mission objectives."


"Hello? Hello? He hung up!" Ron hung up the phone with a smile on his face. A job! Oooh, this will be fun.

"Wadey!" he cupped his hand to his mouth and hollered. "I need equipment! We're going back to Middleton!"

He waited.


He waited some more.

"Waaaaadeeeey?" This went on for a few more minutes until...

"Oh, right. I fired him." He shook his head. "I hate going back to people with my hat in my hand. I hate hats." He scratched his chin. "I don't think I even own a hat. I'm going to have to buy a hat just to go to him with in hand! Expenses... expenses... expenses!"

Shego strode happily in the suite at the Ritz-Carlton, threw her bag on the styled sofa, then leapt joyfully onto the large pillow bed, letting out a long and contented sigh immediately afterwards. Kim walked into the room a moment later and just stared as Shego settled blissfully into the mountain of soft pillows at the head of the bed.

"We're not leaving this building for the entire twenty-four hours," announced Shego. "Understand?"

Kim sighed reluctantly. "I understand," she said dolefully. "But you know we've tried this before. Trouble always ends up finding us."

"Not today," said Shego. "I've got a good feeling about this hotel. And do you know what that feeling says?"

"That... at this cost per night the fixtures should be solid gold?"

Shego ignored her. "It says in-building spa, five star restaurant, and on-call massage therapists in three exciting flavors: straight, gay, or sexually confused."

"You just made that up," said Kim. "And, ew."

"You don't know how to live," said Shego with a knowing nod.

"Shirking responsibility is not a way of life. Or it shouldn't be."

"What responsibility? We don't HAVE to fix this world's problems, we're just staying here for the night until the Kimmunicator recharges. No responsibilities means we're not shirking anything." Shego sat up... or tried to, but an avalanche of down-pillows filled in the space behind her, gripping her in a soft embrace. She took a second to settle again, pleasantly. "Tell me, how many worlds have we been to?"

Kim shrugged and sat on a nearby overstuffed chair. "I don't know. Too many to count."

"Exactly! And in all those worlds never once have you cut lose and relaxed, or gotten freaky with a no-strings-attached-alternate-realty version of your boy toy. You call that living?"

"First off, I'm still in high school," said Kim. "I don't want to get into something I'm not ready for yet."

"Oh, riiight," said Shego. "I forgot that when I was in high school I had no hormones."

"Were you even IN high school at any point?" asked Kim.

"That's not important here, we're talking about you." Shego waved her hand in a dismissive fashion.

"And he's not my 'boy toy,' by the way."

"Oh, come on! What exactly do you call a meek boy who seeks out only your attention and hangs on your every word, hoping for approval but willing to settle for acknowledgement?"

"Ron is not that way," Kim said adamantly. "And I'm not going to cheat on him while we're out here, even with an alternate version of him."

"Listen, prude, it's over," Shego said plainly. For a second she looked almost sympathetic but it was quickly trampled by a look of smug satisfaction. "Has it never occurred to you that we may never get back? That even if we do, there's no guarantee that Stoppable will get back too? And even if he does, right now he's out here probably wandering worlds as well. Boys... you leave them alone and their eyes start to wander."

"Stop it!" snapped Kim. "Ron wouldn't!" She turned away from Shego and folded her arms. "We'll find him and bring him back with us."

Shego, out of Kim's sight, frowned slightly. "A little sensitive about that, are we? Is it possible you've been thinking these things already?"

Kim said nothing in return, just sat and stared away from the bed. Shego studied her for a minute then climbed out of the avalanche and picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?" asked Kim, her head slightly turned.

"I'm getting us appointments at the spa," said Shego. "You may have no interest in the playtime options, but in the very least we're going to get treated like proper women for a day, instead of army soldiers."

Kim looked slightly down at her hands. "Well... I... could use a manicure," she admitted. "And maybe a haircut."


"Woah, Wadey!" Ron held up his hand in a neutral fashion as he approached the hospital bed. "Calm down."

"W-w-what are you doing here?" Wade stammered, clutching the bed sheet like a vice.

"Can't a buddy come to visit a friend while he's in the hospital?" asked Ron innocently.

"You PUT me in this hospital!"

"Well, it wasn't like I was trying to kill you or anything."

"You fired me out of a cannon!"

"Oh... well, clearly I didn't mean it," explained Ron. "If I did I would have made sure you were dead." He grimaced slightly at his own excuse then held out his hand. "Look, I brought a hat." He was holding a beanie.

Wade eyed it suspiciously. "What do you want, Ron?"

"I've got work again so I need you to come back... become unfired."

"No way," Wade said without hesitation.

"Aw, come on, you know I'm only like... ninety-five percent as effective without your help, I need you... in a strictly professional way."

Wade stared.

"Okay, maybe something like eighty-five percent as effective." He waited. "Seventy-five?"

"And when you run out of work again, will I be fired again?"

Ron looked uncomfortably around the hospital room. There was an inordinate amount of white things around. White made him uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, anyway. "I may need to plead the fifth on that one."

"Leave me alone, Ron."

"Alright, alright," Ron backed slightly away with his hands up. "I know what this is about. Sixty percent, but that's as low as I'll go."


"You are not good at this negotiating thing."


"Listen, I didn't want to resort to this, but you've given me no choice," said Ron. "You've got a broken leg and I'm heavily armed and halfway crazy. I don't think it's a good idea to go turning me away at your leisure."

"Halfway crazy?"

"That's the compromise I've come up with my therapist."

"You're seeing a therapist?"

"Yes. Well, no, but I have been getting advice from an editorialist on the Playboy dot com forums. I think she's a real psychologist. She gives good advice! Though it's the internet, so I guess she could be a twelve year old dog for all I know. Still, that's one clever damn dog!"

"So you're threatening me now, then?" asked Wade.

"I'm just saying that the whole hiring and amiable working relationship stages could be skipped in favor of simply firing you again, since that was the fun part."

Wade sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"Is that an 'I give up' sigh, or a 'we have a war on our hands, good sir, I mean WAR!' sigh?"

"Get me a wheelchair," muttered Wade into his hands.

"Excellent," said Ron as he scurried off to find one.

Kim hated to admit to Shego being right when she was being such a pain. It ranked right up there with tooth decay and making any form of physical contact with Bonnie. But she was wrapped in a soft terrycloth robe that felt like clouds, her hair contained carefully in a towel after being luxuriously treated to a cleanser and volumizer that contained actual coconut milk and honey, and her toes and fingers were currently being worshiped by some of the sexiest manicurists and pedicurists she'd ever laid eyes on. She couldn't help herself from sighing in blissful joy.

"See?" Shego said softly, done up the same way in the chair beside her. "I toldja."

"All you've told me --- oh, that feels nice -- er, I mean, all you've shown me is that if you throw enough money at people they'll treat you like a queen."

"But it feels good, doesn't it?"

Kim felt her body relax in ways it hadn't in months. "Very good," she purred.

"Thatta girl," Shego smirked. "Lets just relax this trip, okay? No insanity, just pretend we have normal lives for once."

"Okay," Kim said all to easily. She would probably agree to anything at this point, but she at least knew better than to say that out loud. So she changed topics before it got there. "So, have you noticed what makes this place different, yet?"

"You're not anywhere in the news, for one thing," said Shego. "I checked today's paper while we were waiting."

"That doesn't mean much, I'm not all that frequently in the news back home."

"It at least means you're not a ten-foot tall rampaging samurai, terrorizing the Middle East," provided Shego.

"Lets not talk of that world."


Monique Montague had an unusual situation. She was a journalist for the Middleton Chronicle -- her dream job -- but she got there through somewhat questionable means that somehow an insane vigilante-hero slash murderous psychopathic hitman who she used to go to high school with found out about, putting her in the unique position of being his faceman (or facewoman) in Middleton. It really had to end.

"Hey darling!" came the incredibly shiver-inducing voice of her blackmailer. Monique turned deliberately to see Ron Stoppable striding in pulling an empty wheelchair behind him by a string.

"Stoppable," said Monique, blandly. "What do you have there?"

Ron looked surprised. "Why, you don't remember? This is--" he turned back and stopped. Then looked around quizzically. "Huh, I must have lost him somewhere."

Monique shook her head. The whole world hated her, she was sure.

"I'll be right back!" called Ron as he ran out of the pub. Monique turned around and ordered a whiskey straight. She was on her second one when the blonde haired idiot returned carrying a younger, overweight black man in a cast and plopped him into the wheelchair.

"You're alive?" said Monique as she stared at Wade who was rubbing his shins for some reason. "Oh, thank god. I thought I was covering up another murder with that stuff in Algiers."

"I knew you'd be glad to see me again," said Wade with a knowing smile.

"Oh, please stop. It's not going to happen, no way, no how, and I get too much of it from him." She gestured towards Ron who was ordering a root beer and tequila. Monique slammed down the rest of her whiskey to take the edge off.

"That's what you say now, but I know when my magic is working," said Wade.

Monique turned to Ron. "I take it back, I'm no longer glad he's alive."

"Forty-eight seconds, that's a new record for you," said Ron as he received his drink and Monique ordered another.

"I don't expect to last another forty-eight, so cut to the chase. Now."

"Corsair Project," said Ron. "Tell me what you know."

"Albin Labs on the east side," said Monique. "Hush, hush project. Probably more no-bid government work they picked up because they're cozy with the President's chief-of-staff. They're supposedly a physics-research lab but I've got a bucketful of circumstantial evidence that says Corsair is a super-gravity manipulator weapon. I can't get my editor to run with it though."

"Well, then, this is your lucky day!" announced Ron. "And this is a terrible drink!"

"Please don't say that," groaned Monique, putting her hand to her head.

"Why? It's the truth, this drink is awful and I'm appalled that someone would serve it to me!"

"It's exactly how you wanted it, sir," the barkeep suddenly appeared and interrupted.

"Well, you should know better," said Ron.

"Please don't say it's my lucky day," interjected Monique, trying to keep the conversation on track. "It's never really all that lucky for me."

"But, I'm going to take care of this problem for you."

"You're going to get me hard evidence of what they're doing at those labs?"

"I'm going to get rid of the labs altogether so they won't be anyone's problem!"

Monique sighed. "Yeah, I knew where this was going."

Ron held out a large envelope with codename his name on it. Monique looked at it suspiciously. "What's this?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"Your evidence," said Ron, smiling.

Monique blinked then took the envelope and extracted its contents. "Ron... these are government work orders... and project status reports. Schematics... personnel lists." She looked up in wonder. "Where...?"

"The employer," said Ron. "It's all Greek to me, I just need to know what I'm looking for and where it is. The rest is yours."

"This is exactly what I needed!" said Monique. "I could kiss you!"

Ron flashed his teeth.

"But I won't, because, ew."

Ron's face fell.

"Here," said Monique as she scribbled on a napkin. "This is where you need to go. Sub-basement two."

"Thanks, darling." Ron snatched the napkin and picked up the string again. "Oh, one more thing?"

"What?" asked Monique.

"Does it say anything in there about the MacGuffin being EM shielded?" he inquired.

"Eh?" Monique looked down at the papers. "I don't know, I guess, why?"

"No reason," shrugged Ron as he picked up the string and pulled Wade along with him as he left.

"Call me!" called Wade before they left the room.

Monique sighed but considering her typical interactions with Ron Stoppable, that was almost altogether civil.

"You're covering his tab, right?" asked the barkeep, tapping Monique on the shoulder.

Kim stared at the brown pool of guck and clutched her robe with a passion. "What isthat?" she asked.

"It's a mud bath," said Shego, pulling off her robe and slowly descending into the liquid. "You'll like it."

"I can't imagine so," said Kim. Her grip on her robe tightened.

"Do we have to do this at every stage of the spa treatment?" asked Shego, now fully lowered into the pool.

"Are there any future steps where I'm supposed to voluntarily get myself covered with dirt?"

"Since you've already declined the playtime activities, I'd say no."

"Then this will be the last time," said Kim.

Shego slowly smiled. "Can I hold you to that?"

"No. I think I'll go back to the room," nodded Kim.

"Come on, Kimmie, this isn't some deviant behavior I'm forcing you into, it's a mud bath! This is an exceptionally nice hotel and we had to pay a hundred dollars each to do this, clearly this is just a relaxing dip, not mud wrestling. Remember, Ritz-Carlton, not Hooters."

Kim rolled her eyes. "It's weird."

"Only because you haven't done it," said Shego. "Remember, we're relaxing on this trip, so stop being so uptight and get in here."

Kim hesitated then turned back and slowly approached the semi-large, circular pool in the ground. She sighed. Why was she letting herself get led around by Shego? She had no idea. But, honestly, she'd led it happen all day so far, there was little reason in questioning her activities now.

With a groan, Kim pulled off her robe and descended into the dark muck. She shivered as it slid in around her and grimaced as she felt dirt in places she'd never hoped to.

"Better?" asked Shego.

"No, it's disturbingly warm and still weird," Kim shook her head.

"Yeah, it is, but you get used to it," said Shego leaning back on the edge of the pool.

"What's the purpose of this, again?" asked Kim, moving slightly and getting creeped out at the feel of the mud flowing around her skin.

"Classically? It's for treating rheumatism," said Shego with her eyes closed.

"I do not have arthritis!" Kim said, angrily.

"Neither do I," said Shego simply. "But we both put more stress on her bones and joints to be looking at some serious pains when we're older unless we prepare for it."

Kim blinked. "I thought you didn't put any faith in preventative medicine."

"I'm more amiable to it when it's being administered by a world class spa."

"Figures," Kim shook her head then tried to relax. The feeling of warmth around her was starting to feel kind of pleasant but the mild sweat she was building up still bothered her.

"I don't want to get involved in this," Shego said suddenly. "But I looked you up on the internet while you were finishing your pedicure." She turned her head towards Kim and opened her eyes. "I think you're dead in this world."

Kim blinked. "I'm... dead?" She felt slightly annoyed that Shego waited until now to tell her. "How long ago?"

"A few years now," said Shego. "Your whole family was caught up in some mystic-magical thing with Monkey Fist and you, your family, and Monty all were vaporized by the event."

Kim felt a hollow feeling inside of her but tried to push it away. "Well... it's not like it's the first time I've been dead in a world we've been to. Did they figure out what it was that got ... me?"

"Not in what I read," said Shego. She turned her head back and closed her eyes again. "Who knows with that mystical monkey crap, though. Strange totems and powers from the gods and whatnot."

"Ron might know," said Kim. "Was he involved?"

"He survived. Don't know where he vanished to afterwards though."

"We should--"

"No!" Shego snapped. She looked back at Kim angrily. "No, no, no! We are relaxing, we are not here to uncover the mystery of your magical death. This world has six billion other people that can figure it out because it matters more to them than it ever will to us. Tomorrow we'll be gone and nothing we do here will make a difference to our goals."

"Okay, okay!" Kim said urgently. "I get it. It was years ago, it won't make a difference now. We'll leave it alone."

Shego was slightly taken aback by Kim's quick agreement but nodded all the same. "Right. That's right. Let's just... right." She turned away again.

Kim relaxed in the mud for a few minutes more before talking again. "What about you?"

"What about me?" asked Shego, unmoving.

"Where are you in this world?"

She opened her eyes but didn't turn back. "I don't think I exist here. Or if I do, I'm not me."

"No records?" asked Kim.

"No criminal, no hero, and no references on the villainy websites. Either I was never born or I stayed a meek little child, never rising above my neighborhood."

Kim frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Shego."

"Don't sweat it, I don't care. It's not me, just some bizzaro world version of me. I'm not like you, I don't have a perverse curiosity for how things 'coulda been.'"

"Okay," said Kim, but on the inside she was curious. She wanted to know how she, herself, turned out, yes, but she also wanted to know about Shego too. The surly thief had opened up considerably during their interdimensional trips, but she still knew next to nothing about her traveling companion. Any way to get a glimpse at what made her what she was immediately interested Kim. The only question was how to investigate without bringing on the green fiery wraith.

Kim sank a little lower into the mud and pondered the question silently.

Ron watched carefully out of the tinted windows of his surveillance van while Wade was busy building equipment into his 'utility belt.' They were parked across the street from the Albin Labs building, in front of an abandoned bank, staking out the activity in the area. Which is to say, they were observing how little of it there was.

"Man, they sure picked a good place to set up shop," said Ron looking around through binoculars. "I'm surprised this place is on the map, nobody seems to ever come through here."

"Which probably means your 'surveillance' is useless," pointed out Wade. "We stand out like a sore thumb."

"We stand out like a truck in a road with no traffic," agreed Ron.

"..." Wade looked up from his work. "Then, maybe we should pick another place to hide, perhaps?"

"Too late now," announced Ron. "In for a penny in for a pound. I've got TV shows to watch tonight, can't delay this any longer than necessary."

"Don't count on the element of surprise," mumbled Wade as he went back to soldering.

"Come on, who is going to question a Happy Custard truck?" asked Ron. "There's a big honkin' clown on the side of it! Doesn't that just scream childlike innocence?"

"It screams, 'why am I trying to serve ice cream in an area of the city with no children?'"

"You're just jealous because there wasn't any actual ice cream in here," said Ron. "Do I need to get you some soft serve? Blood sugar getting low?"

"I'm not diabetic," said Wade. He closed the flap on the belt and held it up to admire his work. "Okay, it's done."

"Sweet," grinned Ron as he snatched it and wrapped it around his waist. "Which one is the pulse?"

"Third on the left," said Wade. "But please don't use it if you don't have to. It will grind Middleton to a halt."

"It'll be no worse than the '77 New York shutdown," justified Ron.

"Yes, no worse than the lowest point in New York history," said Wade. "I can see how that's supposed to make me feel better."

Ron tightened the belt, threw on his long black coat, and picked up a long, thin nylon case with a strap and slung it over his shoulder. "Well, ready to go. See you in a few minutes."

"Please don't do anything that might inadvertently get me killed."

"No promises," smiled Ron as he jumped from the truck and headed across the street to the building. He strode purposefully and deliberately. He'd learned from movies that if you act like you belong somewhere, people will believe you. With that knowledge in hand, he strode into the lobby and was ready to go right past the security desk and into the elevators.

Except there was about a half dozen security guards standing by, unabashedly watching him. The guard at the desk coughed politely and motioned for Ron to approach. Unsure of what Eddie Murphy would do in this situation, he simply changed his direction and walked right up to the desk.

"Hello there, good sir," said Ron. "Pleasant day, is it not?"

"Finally decided to come out of your ice cream truck, huh?" said the man at the desk. He was a muscular individual with dark skin, wearing a uniform of a white shirt and black pants with clearly displayed weapons on his belt. He looked like he tolerated no nonsense.

"What, perchance, do you mean, sir?" Ron said in mock surprise.

The man stared back, unfazed.

"I am simply a humble employee here, but I have forgotten my ID, perhaps you could look me up in your directory?" said Ron. "The name is John."

"John ... what?" asked the guard, not amused.

"Just read off your Johns and I'll tell you which one I am."

"Okay, why don't you turn around and head out before we have trouble," said the guard. He pointed a large finger back towards the door.

Ron casually reached down and rested his fingers on the third pouch on the left. A small button protruded out the side which he placed his finger on gently.

"Perhaps, good sir, you could call down a manager to wave me in," said Ron.

"We're going to forcibly remove you now," nodded the guard, waving the other muscular men in the room over. "Don't cause a scene."

Ron immediately leapt backwards, landing in a fighting position, but with one hand on his belt. "Aha! Well, lets see what you think about THIS scene!" he announced and pushed the button on the pouch.

Everyone stared.

"Eh?" frowned Ron. He pushed the button again. "What the hell?"

"Let's go, sir," said a guard as he approached Ron.

"Stupid technology!" cursed Ron has he punched the button several more times. Suddenly he noticed a small sound growing in intensity and timber. He frowned. "Do you hear that?" he asked. "Is it you?"

The guard looked panicked as he stared at Ron and, more specifically, at his suddenly glowing belt pouch.

"Oh, right!" said Ron, slapping his forehead. "It takes a few seconds to warm up." The high pitched whine reached its apex and beeped three times. "Okay, here we go."

"GET HIM!" yelled the guard at the desk, finally coming to his senses. But it was too late.

Kim was delighted to finally be free of the dirty muck she'd been covered with during the mud bath. The warm spring-water bath and scrub afterwards was like heaven on earth and she felt happy again as she left the baths and met up with Shego again at the entrance to the spa. They were both still in their soft robes and white fuzzy slippers, but their hair had been freed and delicately combed.

"So, all in all... good thing?" asked Shego.

Kim reluctantly nodded and smiled. "Good thing."

"See, you should trust me more often," Shego said as she turned and headed for the hotel elevators.

"Only on matters of comfort," qualified Kim.

"Feh, you're still such a prude."

"And you're still dangerously reckless, but we're together on this mission, so it does no good brining it up all the time."

"Fine," said Shego, as they got on the elevator. She produced her key and slotted it to get access to the upper floors where the suites were. With a soft noise the doors closed and they slowly ascended.

"It was good not to be involved in the world saving this time, you were right," said Kim. "But we're not going to make a habit of it."

"We'll deal with the next world when we get there," said Shego.

Just then a distant, low rumble reached their ears. It almost sounded like an explosion. "What was--" started Kim. Then suddenly the elevator seized up, throwing the two girls to the ground, and then nearly exploded around them. Every light and LCD panel exploded outwards at once, shattering and raining tiny pieces of glass and plastic on them. They covered their heads from the debris then suddenly felt the elevator tremble and drop a few inches before stopping and everything became silent.

Kim opened her eyes slowly when the bizarre silence lasted for more than moment but saw nothing but blackness. The lights had exploded and they were in an enclosed box, so she wasn't surprised. She felt around softly. "Shego?" she said.

"Yeah, I'm here," Shego said. Kim reached towards the voice and felt the terrycloth robe. She held onto it lightly.

"Are you okay?" asked Kim.

"I think I have plastic dust in my mouth," Shego said awkwardly. Kim heard her spit a few times then blow a raspberry. "Bleh."

"What was that?" asked Kim.

"Dunno." The robe Kim was holding started to rise and Kim figured Shego was getting to her feet. Kim did the same and reached out to the walls to orient herself. Shego did the same and the two of them found the doors and started to wedge them apart. A tiny trickle of light shined in from beneath the floor-level door they were closest to and into their car.

Kim looked down at herself and brushed off the bits of plastic and glass.

"Looks almost like an EMP," said Shego. "Everything with a circuit in it overloads, sometimes violently."

"Someone set off an EMP in Middleton?" Kim asked, shocked. Then she thought of something else that made the blood drain from her face.

"What?" asked Shego, who was now staring at her.

Kim reached slowly into the pocket of her robe, almost in a zombie-like state, and then pulled out a dark colored device. Shego stared at it but knew already what it was. The device was squareish, with what used to be a screen on the front which was now cracked and slightly smoking, and a black charred streak was running along the back of the device where the plastic had melted.

"Is that..." started Shego.

"The Trans-Dimensional Facilitator," said Kim. She looked up at Shego. "Unless we can find someone to fix it..."

Shego's jaw dropped but completed the sentence, "...we're stuck here."

Some smoke and debris covered the entire lobby as the desk guard picked himself up off the ground and got to his knees. He had small bits of glass in his hands and cuts across his face and forearms from when the monitor he was standing by exploded at him. The whole lobby was dim as it looked like all the lights had gone out and even the emergency flood lamps had yet to activate.


The sound of something heavy hitting the ground followed the scream and the desk guard quickly reached for his gun. Beyond the desk someone was moving around quickly and brutally, as the sounds of screaming guards and falling bodies filled the air. The desk guard held his gun tightly and slowly peeked beyond the edge of the desk.

A boot slammed onto his hands as soon as she exposed himself, crushing his fingers against the ground and pinning his weapon. He screamed out once then looked up at the source of the attack.

The blonde haired man in the coat was there, holding a long, glowing green katana in his hand, with the tip pointed right at the guard. The blonde man was smiling deliriously down at him as his sword inched closer and closer to the guard's neck, making the smallest pin prinks on his skin.

"W-w-who are you?" asked the desk guard, terrified.

The man grinned widely then reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of cloth colored red and black.

"You can call me..." started the man. Then he pulled the cloth over his face and the guard recognized it as a mask, mostly red, with two large wedge shaped black spots around where his eyes peeked through the material. It covered his entire head and neck once pulled taught, slightly muffling his voice.

He stared down with wild eyes.

"Deadpool!" he said sinisterly. Then he swung his blade down at the guard's neck.

End Issue 1.

I'm an awful, awful man.

Here. Have some scenes from future installments of this awful idea:

"Things change," shrugged Death. "We grow up, change our likes and dislikes, and spin the 'ol wheel of fortune to see what aspect we're going to be this century."

Kim blinked. "You ... change? Like, you used to be Famine or something?"

"Actually, I used to be Climax -- which was a lot of fun, mind you, but really, once you embody the peak of sexual pleasure, what else is there?"

"This is a seriously trippy," commented Shego.

"You'll see," said Death with a sly smile and a wink.

"Okay, we're leaving," said Shego, grabbing Kim's hand and pulling her away.

"Laters!" waved Death cheerfully. "Say hi to Ron for me!"

Shego stared incredulously at the screen. "That's it?" she gaped. "Timer reaches zero and bam, all life in the cosmos gets extinguished?"

Death, standing beside her, nodded gravely. "You never realize how fragile it all is until you find out how little it takes to topple."

"But, we'll never get there in time!" Kim exclaimed.

Death shrugged.

Kim and Shego stared at the screen as reality settled in their minds like an unwelcome house guest. "This is it, then," Shego said softly. "Less than an hour to live."

Kim sighed and turned to Shego. "Better make the best of it then." She suddenly leapt onto her and began kissing her with fervor. Shego took less than a second to return the sentiment.

Then Inspiration and Innovation ran into the room and spoke in unison. "Hey, we found a way to--" They stopped mid-sentence as they saw Kim and Shego making out on the floor.

Innovation grinned widely. "Hicka-Bicka-Boo!" He turned to Inspiration. "I totally called it! Twenty bucks."

Inspiration grumbled something unintelligible and reluctantly passed the bill over to his brother.

Kim and Shego didn't even notice.

Copyright Information:

Kim Possible is copyright by the Walt Disney Corporation and all rights to Kim, Shego, Wade, Ron, Monique, and Monkey Fist and their likeness are reserved by them.

Deadpool is copyright by Marvel Enterprises and all rights to the character and his likeness are reserved by them.

Everything that remains is copyright Adam Leigh, not that anyone would dispute him on that topic.