This is what happens when I listen to the soundtrack of Das Boot on repteat for 8 hours straight while reading KP-fanfics.

I do not own Kim Possible or related characters. All are copyright of Disney and/or respective owners as relevant.


The year is 1921, The Great War is over but for some peace has yet to come.

A desperate crew under a captain out for revenge prowl the seven seas.

Captain Ron Stoppable and the eccentric crew of the submarine Kimberly Anne's Revenge and assorted allies and friends across the world fight for freedom, wealth, adventure and vengeance.

But is Kim Possible really gone? Are all friends true of heart? Are all enemies what they seem?

Time alone will tell.

Author's Notes:

It is written in a darker tone than in the original Kim Possible cartoons and some of the characters, groups et.c have been altered slightly to fit the setting and the general plot.

Hopefully not so much as to become unrecognisable to the reader.

English isn't my first language so if you notice errors in grammar or syntax, please let me know.

It will be rated rather higher on suitability for future events of violence and implied erotic situations. I will endeavour to keep such things as non-graphic as possible.

Reviews are of course welcome.

Part One:

The moment the conning tower of Kimberley Ann's Revenge broke the surface the hatch swung open.

Captain Ron Stoppable climbed out, grabbed the railing, slammed a pair of binoculars to eyes and scanned the horizon.

After a few moments the weather bitten and unshaven blonde man seemed sufficiently certain the waters of the Tierra del Fuego were reasonably safe and shouted down the hatch:

"All clear! Open the hatches!"

Below deck commotion was heard as the motley crew on the pirate submarine set about their tasks.

Captain Stoppable's second in command joined him on the platform.

"Ah, Mr. Renton" Ron said as if they hadn't spent weeks and weeks in the cramped confines of the sub but rather just met for the first time in a few days.

"Good to be topside again, eh what, Captain?" the British ex-airman quipped.

He'd climbed up the ladder faster with his prosthetics than most men with real legs.

Unlike his Captain, Lt. Renton, formerly of the RFC, took pride in maintaining a clean-shaven and gentlemanly exterior. He could afford caring about such things as opposed to his driven and haunted superior officer.

"You know, Felix, sometimes, here out at sea in the middle of nowhere..." Ron began but fell silent in mid-sentence.

Felix Renton nodded quietly. He knew what his captain had meant.

He had felt the same back a few times in the war when he still flew with 266th and still had his legs. Those precious moments of vast expanses and solitude in the air were something that could not be explained. Only experienced.

"Herr Kapitän!"

The silent musings of the two officers were interrupted by Chief Gunner Dementz who'd been fiddling with the massive 105mm cannon on the foredeck.

"Yes, Dementz? What is it?"

"Ze new ziel you say, the sight. Es ist fitted. Ve vill be hunting good, Ja?" The stout German laughed loudly. Although his thick Schleswig-Holstein accent made him difficult to understand he was a veteran submariner and a genius with ordnance.

"Excellent, Dementz! Remind me to buy you a round when we reach port next time!" Ron shouted back with a fierce grin.

He was always happy when the devastating power of his beloved submarine was improved.

Dementz' skill with the cannon and it's shells only matched by that of the two polish anarchists cousins in their respective fields.

Edward and Andreas (Andrew to his English-speaking fellow pirates) Lipsky had decided to exile themselves from the crumbling Russian empire and found the fledgling Polish republic too orderly for their wild tastes.

Neither of them had been hard pressed to sail under the black flag of piracy.

After all here they were not just free but actively encouraged to put their brilliant if erratic talents as chief engineer and master of torpedoes respectively to their fullest use.

Where conventional navies and science academies shied away from their designs in cautious fear the wild flame of revenge burning in Captain Stoppable's heart had made him abandon all fears and to him caution was only a means to an end.

Ron turned back to his second in command and friend.

"What do you think of the new kid?"

"He's a brazen chap, all right. Stowaway on a pirate sub no less."

"Let's put him to the test."

"Aye Captain."

They climbed back down into the dank darkness of the submarine that was now dashing happily through the waves of the northern Antarctic at full speed.

Ron pushed the bulkhead to the engine room partially shut, not so much to drown out the thunder of the powerful engine as the incessant off-key singing of Edward Lipsky.

"He's a happy bugger, isn't he?" Felix laughed.

"Why shouldn't he be? The engine is running at full power and we're getting fresh air."

They made their way to the cramped space where a dark skinned lad in his early teens sat before the wireless telegraph sharing space with the radio.

"Well, then Load, you said you could actually be to some use of us alive?" Ron said, adding a certain menace to his tone to test the mettle of the American stowaway. "Think you can prove that, kid?"

"Call me Wade, Sir."

"You will address the Captain by his proper title!" Felix snarled. He enjoyed playing the role as a harsh and villainous man for a laugh. "You'll better learn that in a hurry or you'll be shark food before sunset!"

Wade Load swallowed nervously.

"Sorry, Captain Stoppable."

"That's better." Felix growled and winked at Ron.

"Now, Wade, show me what you can do. There are the tables." He pointed to a binder shoved under the telegraph. "The antenna is up. All you need to do is to get in touch with our supply ship and get some news for us."

Felix started.

"Er, Captain... isn't that a bit much?" he said, knowing full well that the Amy Hall under the renegade British commodore Lord Fiske was quite a long way to the north, off the coast of Chile and with the weather and the distance it was difficult even for an experienced radio operator to make any reliable contact, much less so for a fourteen year old stowaway from New Orleans.

"Not at all Mr. Renton. If Wade is as good as he promises he'll manage quite..."

Captain Stoppable grew silent in a hurry as he stared in amazement, alongside Renton, RFC (Ret.).

The American boy was well under way sending telegraphic messages at a furious pace all the while writing down the replies with his free hand without even looking at the text.

"Annnd...Done! Here you go, Captain!"

With a proud grin he handed the paper over to Ron.

"I say..." Felix actually raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like you passed the test Mister Load. Welcome aboard."

The boy almost preened when the Captain addressed him with the adult honorific.

When both Felix and Ron shook his hand and smiled Wade knew he'd made the right, if hasty, choice to sneak onto the sub just before it sneaked out of New Orleans.

He also knew that all those hours playing at his uncle's feet at the telegraph station had come to serve him well today.

As Felix and Ron walked off to talk in privacy.

"The kid's.." Ron interrupted himself. Anyone who worked like a man was to be treated as a man. That was the principle on his ship. "The man's a natural."

"Quite so, Captain. Quite so. Now, if I may query, what's the word from our Lordly friend up north?"

Ron spent a few minutes reading through the message before shouting out:

"All hands on deck! We have work to do!"

In scant moments the crew had gathered around the deck gun.

"We have word from the Amy Hall! Two convoys! One WWEE from Santiago de Chile bound for Tokyo. Four ships with copper ore! The other is Global Justice, coming through Panama. Three ships, arms for the Whites in Siberia!"

"Which convoy do ve hit, Herr Kapitän?" Dementz asked, his eyes afire with hunger for the hunt.

"Well that's the problem, isn't it? Sinking the WWEE convoy will rob them of considerable amounts of cash as well as cause the Japanese arms industry some headache but on the other hand if we hit the GJ convoy we can stock up on weapons and munitions and sell what we don't need on the black market."

"Captain, I can seriously interrupt!" Edward Lipsky called out. 'Seriously' being the first word he'd learned in English he tended to overuse it.

"Yes, Engineer Lipsky?"

The hulking blonde man brushed his blonde mane back with a ham sized hand.

"My new, seriously better, engine modifications can take us to both convoys in time. Of this I am serious! With much velocity and using seriously less fuel! Also, my cousin has new serious warheads!"

"Dr. Lipsky?" Ron turned to the Polish scientist and blinked. The Pole's reckless experimentations with all manner of strange chemicals was beginning to affect his already pale complexion, turning it oddly bluish.

The man in question straightened up from his slouch. Unlike his cousin his hair was black as anthracite coal but kept almost but not quite equally long in anarchic defiance of convention.

"My new torpedo warheads have improved capability. Less payload, same effect. Calibrate the torpedo engines and the less weight give us great range. With Dementz new sights this is what we need to spread anarchy on the seas, nie?"

Felix leaned closer to his Captain.

"By Jove, if these Polish blokes know what they're talking about we could actually do it."

"Seriously we know!" Edward Lipsky shouted, seemingly offended at the sheer audacity of Felix to even question the skills of the Poles.

The crew looked to their captain who's turned his thoughts inwards, thinking deeply.

To hit both WWEE and GJ right where it hurts in shorter time than ever before.

He imagined the furious frustration of both Mr. Gemini and that cold-hearted vixen, Betty Director as ships and goods to the value hundreds of thousands of Pounds Sterling were sent to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, all at the hands of Ron Stoppable.

It was nowhere near enough to pay them back for his loss and the losses of others but it was a start and there would be more.

"To your stations!" he shouted, startling his crew. "We hit both convoys!"

The Lipskys slapped their hands in a bizarre Jazz-gesture known as a high five which was appatently the latest fashion.

"Jawohl, Herr Kapitän!" roared Dementz in savage delight at the prospect to once again prowl the waterways of the world.

"Mr. Renton! Set a course due north!"

"My pleasure, Captain!"

Kimberly Anne's Revenge tore northwards, slashing through the waves like a sword of retribution aimed at the heart of the offender.

The hunt was on.