Foreword: Often I start fanfics and everyone wonders if I'll ever finish them. Well, I'll let you know right from the start: this one is already dead. I'm not going to finish, but I'm posting it here for fun and because I loved the idea, even if I couldn't succeed in executing it.

*** (KP) ***

Greatest American Sidekick

Episode 1: Pilot / "The Texture of Darkness"

*** (KP) ***

"But this is MY operation!" yelled Dr. Director, slamming her fist into computer desk beside her for emphasis. Her single eye was narrow and her lip arched in disgust over the the people in front of her. "You have no authority over me!"

The large screen hung silently but the projected faces onto it were grim and serious. They retained their composure throughout Dr. Director's outbursts and replied with maddening calmness.

"You are technically correct," said the center face, an elderly african-american man with cool blue eyes. "But your 'operation' has amassed a troubling amount of power, technology, and money that one might see it as a personal army."

"That's absurd!" yelled Dr. Director. Her normally quaffed brown hair with flecks of gray was starting to come undone.

"Say what you will, but it is a force we can no longer afford to ignore," said the face on the right. She was a younger woman than the man in the center, with red hair pulled severely behind her and black, thick rimmed but stylish bifocals before her green eyes. "We have observed your unchecked war against your brother wreak havok across the US and our allies abroad for far too long. If you wish to exist on our soil, you will abide by our laws."

"Your laws keep you from being effective," said Dr. Director. She'd had this argument perhaps a thousand times before and it never changed. "The most agile, well resourced, or otherwise atypical criminals can easily skirt beneath your view or exploit the weaknesses in your legislation. Who deals with them then? Local police? You NEED Global Justice."

"That may very well be the case," said the face on the left. This was also an older gentlemen, with fully gray hair but brown eyebrows. His face was narrow and long, with half-lidded eyes that seemed always to be disinterested in what his mouth was saying. "But what we don't need is you. If you believe in your ideal then do the right thing and step down and hand your organization off to another more tempered individual who will treat our liaison with respect."

"You have some nerve," spat Dr. Director. "Insulting me to my face."

"Do it," continued the narrow-faced man. "Or you will face the might of all our governments. We cannot have unchecked armies running rampant within our own borders."

"I can fight you, I'm not without means," said Dr. Director.

"Perhaps," said the center face. "But with all your attention on us, and ours on you, who will be looking for those criminals you spoke of."

Dr. Director looked revolted. "How low can you sink?"

"Do the right thing," said the center face. "For everyone."

"Screw you!"

"You needn't answer now," said the woman on the screen. "You have until Friday. We expect to hear good news."

The faces on the screen simultaneously vanished leaving behind blackness and green text that read "Video Chat Terminated."

Dr. Betty Director shook with impotent rage. Then she flipped the bird to the black screen for good measure.

*** (KP) ***-

Ron Stoppable straightened his beret, folded his arms behind him, and looked out over the group of young girls assembled before him. He made a stern face and walked stiffly to the blackboard at the front of the room. On it was drawn a crude map of Golden Gate Canyon State Park.

"All righty pixies," Ron called out. "With Mr. Barkin out sick with the flu, it's up to us to carry on in his stead and begin the annual Middleton Pixie Scout camp-o-ree!" He raised his hands in excitement but his audience was unimpressed.

"Okay, okay," Ron waved his hands. "I know you were hoping Barkin would show you his famous bear wrestling move-"

"Yay!" the pixies cheered.

"But there's really no way I'm going to wrestle a bear and survive," admitted Ron.

The pixes stared. One of the pixes, a blonde haired girl with two pigtails and freckles raised her hand. "Does that mean you're not going to wrestle a bear?"

"Ah... no," said Ron. "I won't be wrestling a bear."

"Boo!" the same pixie said. The other seemed to commiserate with the vocal one but simply nodded in assent.

"Now, now, I'm sure I can make this trip exciting too," said Ron. "I looked up all sorts of techniques for adapting french cuisine to outdoor cooking. So, you may not get to see a man mauled by a beast, but you'll be able to make a superb venison terrine over a open fire."

The pixies stared.

"Also, you'll be helping me get credit for my Basque cuisine assignment, so it's completely win-win," reasoned Ron.

"What's 'venison'?" asked one of the pixies, a brown haired girl with a braid.

"It's deer," said Ron. "Very low in fat," he added.

"Eww," said the same girl.

"Hey, don't knock it until you try it!" said Ron.

"You'll fight a deer but not a bear?" asked the blonde haired girl.

"No, I'm not actually going to be fighting the deer," said Ron. "I'm going to bring it with us."

"A whole deer?"

"No, the meat," said Ron, frowning.

"Mr. Barkin always catches his food during the trip," pointed out a short brown haired girl with glasses.

"Really?" said Ron. "Er, I mean, well, Mr. Barkin is a very... er, manly man. And I guess he has no problem flaying an animal in the wild, but I'm not really that sort of ... um... person."

"You're not a man?" asked the blonde haired girl.

"No, I am a man."

"Then why aren't you catching your own food?"

Ron sighed. "Lets talk about activities, now, and we'll get back to food."

*** (KP) ***-

Betty Director was packing her things into two moderate sized black duffel bags when she heard her door open. Part of her mind flew into rage. Less than a day after giving up her command and people were already walking into her room uninvited and without knocking. The world is going to hell, she thought.

Instead of speaking those grievances aloud, she wordlessly turned to see who had entered. It was the tall, broad figure of Al Ferris, her recently designated 'replacement.' Betty wanted to come up with dozens of vile words to say about him, but the honest truth is that she had been breeding him to take over for her for a while. He was smart, restrained, and had a strong position on what justice truly mean. They didn't see exactly eye to eye on that definition, but Betty respected him for having a strong voice in a world full of bureaucratic, pass-the-buck cowards.

"Al," said Betty, regarding him respectfully.

"Betty," replied Al with a small smile. It quickly faded when he noticed Betty wasn't going to match his levity. "I'm sorry it came to this."

Betty shook her head. He was just here to make himself feel better, she quickly concluded, and turned to continue her packing. "There was no other way for it to go after the incident with Will Du in Buenos Ares." She shoved a shirt roughly into one of the bags. "I screwed up."

"Still, I never expected the Security Council to actively turn on us," admitted Al. "I always felt the limit of their ability was to impose sanctions."

"The UNSC didn't turn on us," said Betty. "Three of it's leaders did. It never would have gone to resolution, but those countries have the ability to make our lives living hell." She paused in her packing and straightened slightly. "They're right. If we spend all our time trying to avoid them, we'll never get anything meaningful done."

"It could have been an empty threat," said Al. "They'd have to admit our existence to their respective governments if they wanted to carry through with it."

"It doesn't matter, Al!" Betty shouted as she turned to face her successor. "It's over. I'm out, you're in. Just deal with it."

Al sighed and looked sadly back at his once mentor. "Just because I'm in charge doesn't mean you have to leave," he finally said.

Ah, thought Betty, the real motivation: fear of failure. "It's your job now," said Betty simply. "I'm not going to stick around and cause confusion."

"Where will you go, then?" asked Al.

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Betty had no firm answers. "Where I can be useful."

*** (KP) ***-

"Can we stop for snacks?" asked one of the pixies for about the hundredth time.

Ron glanced in the rear view mirror to look at the nine pixie scouts packed into the large van he had rented to make this trip. The drive from Middleton to the Colorado state park was not incredibly long, but he recognized that the ten to thirteen year-olds might easily get bored so he tried to pack a few activities for them to occupy their time. Unfortunately, they found almost none of the bingo games or magnetic checkers interesting and had quickly gotten bored despite Ron's preparations.

"It's not going to be much longer," said Ron. "We'll eat when we get there, I brought lots of goodies."

"But I want to eat now," said one of the pixies.

Ron sighed. "There's some granola in the red cooler in the pack, if someone can reach it without taking off their seat belt."

He heard a series of shuffles going on behind him but since he didn't hear the familiar click of a seatbelt being unlocked he tried his best to ignore it. It wasn't like they were five year olds, he reasoned, they should be able to figure out how to entertain themselves while on a brief car ride.

The tones from the Kimmunicator reached Ron's ear and he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the blue plastic device and noticed it said a call was incoming from Kim. He smiled slightly, welcoming a distraction from all this last minute pixie scout replacement trouble.

The screen came alive after Ron pressed the large button and showed Kim's beautiful - in his opinion - face. She was smiling warmly as she looked out of the screen and up at Ron. He placed the Kimmunicator on the dash and a pair of wheels popped out the back to hold up the device so Ron could see the screen and the camera could see his face.

"Heya, KP," said Ron, glancing back and forth between the Kimmunicator and the road.

"Hi sweetheart," said Kim. "How's the trip going?" She grinned knowingly.

"Long," said Ron, unwilling to say more within earshot of his pixies. "I can't believe Barkin made me do this at the last minute."

"I'm sure he didn't plan on getting sick," said Kim. "Besides, you love the pixies! I thought that was why you continued to help Barkin after all these years."

"They're great," said Ron, honestly. "But I'm not really a camping sort of person. You know, always brings up bad memories of Wannaweep."

"You have to get over that someday, Ron," said Kim, arching a brow. "But this is hiking through the mountains, not summer camp at a lake, it should be totally different."

"Maybe different from Wannaweep, but given what these pixies are telling me about Barkin's usual trips, it may be a wholly new form of terror."

"You'll manage, Ron," said Kim, shaking her head with a smile.

"So, how's the Paris nightlife? It's a little late there, isn't it?" asked Ron. "Oh, did you get the chance to try out that restaurant on the Champs-Elysees they mentioned in my class? I really want to know what you think about the Moules à la crème Normande they serve there and how it compared to my version. My professor says the Normandy calvados can't be replaced with regular cider without changing the entire flavor of the dish."

Kim made a pained face. "Sorry, Ron, I haven't had a chance," she admitted. "I'm kinda in Venice right now."

"Venice?" asked Ron, surprised. "What are you doing in Italy?"

"Trying to track down what Shego did with that Watteau painting she stole from the Louvre," said Kim with the slightly curl up of her lip. "This is the the third time she's made me chase her across Europe to find things she's stolen from Paris." She shook her head gently. "Ever since she quit Drakken she's just been running rampant."

"I wonder why she keeps stealing things from Paris," voiced Ron aloud. "I mean, she's gotta know you're there by now."

Kim put her hand to her lip and ran a fingertip slowly across as if lost in thought. "I guess she wants me to chase her," she said finally.

"That's crazy," Ron shook his head. "I'll never understand villains."

"I guess I won't either," Kim said, absently.

"Well, I'm sorry it's been such trouble," said Ron. "I wish I could help." He hesitated and then in a softer voice said, "I wish I could be with you."

"It's okay," said Kim, looking back into the Kimmunicator with a bright expression. "It's not all bad. I've seen more of Europe in the last six months than I have in the past eight years. Shego certainly doesn't hesitate to stop at the nicest places when she's trying to fence her loot."

"I'm glad you're having fun," said Ron, halfheartedly. Then he got more energetic. "Oh, hey, KP! I talked with the Dean of Culinary Arts and she said that they're open to me spending a semester or two abroad at a Parisian restaurant if I can arrange a workstudy with a university there. So, maybe if you have some time when you're back in Paris to talk to your school-"

"Hang on, Ron," Kim suddenly interrupted. She looked intensely at something off to the side of the Kimmunicator. Her expression slowly changed to that of an evil grin before she looked back at the screen. "I knew it! She had to come through here if she didn't want to be seen carrying the painting." She made a triumphant fist. "I've gotta go, Ron, I think I found Shego."

"Er, oh-okay, KP," said Ron, stumbling over his words for a moment. "Well, be careful! I-"

"Bye!" Kim said quickly and the screen went black.

"-love you," finished Ron. He sighed again.

"Are we there yet?" asked one of the pixie scouts again. Ron looked back and saw she had bits of granola all over her hands and was casually wiping them off onto the floor of the van. A quick inspection revealed an awful lot of granola on the floor, in fact.

Ron looked back at the road and noticed a sign for the park coming up.

"Yeah," Ron said without energy. "We're almost at the end."

*** (KP) ***-

Dr. Director drove into the dark out of the Global Justice facility. It was carefully tucked the Rocky Mountains in Colorado and she had to take a number of narrow, side roads to leave the official complex by car. It was meant to make the place hard to find by accident, but now that she was on her way out, she realized how suspicious it was to have a long twisty road around hills and through a forest for no apparent reason only to dead end in front of a mountain. It was also a huge time waster, which is why she'd always used VTOL jets or helicopters to get around.

The night was extra dark, and her headlights were doing almost nothing to pierce through the light fog that had descended. She wished she'd taken the route more often, in retrospect, so she could be more confident navigating by instinct. But as it was, she had to move slightly slower than her frustration would like her to, in order to avoid an accident.

Eventually, however, Betty found herself successfully on the main road through the mountains and headed towards the city. She hadn't honestly planned on what to do next after leaving Global Justice, she just knew she had to vacate as soon as possible. She'd given up her dream and even thinking about it left an awful taste in her mouth.

What could she even do now? Not all her assets were tied up in Global Justice, so she could conceivably start again, but what would be the point? As soon as she formed the right team and equipped them, she'd get the evil eye from the UNSC again. And without a team, how could she fight the injustice Gemini and his ilk fostered?

For a moment she considered the teen hero she had once tried to decipher for the betterment of her agents: Kim Possible. She was a marvel, that girl. Single-handedly she stood up to the criminals of the world was a not a laughing stock. She'd made a difference. A drop in the pond compared to the constant vigilance that Global Justice had maintained, but still, for one person, it was extraordinary.

But that was impossible for Betty to emulate. She wasn't old, by any means, but she wasn't young anymore either. There was no way she could run down twenty-somethings on foot anymore, and while her skill in the martial arts made her a formidable opponent, going against a dozen footmen at once was a dream from her youth. No, she had traded in her skill in the field for tactical knowledge, to be a more efficient and effective commander.

She just had nobody left to command.

Her phone rang, breaking the silence of her night drive. She pulled out her earpiece and turned it on to answer the call. "Director," she said.

"Betty?"

Betty's heart skipped a beat. "Richard?"

"How are handling being unemployed?" asked Richard's deep, rough voice with just a touch of mirth.

"How do you even know about that?" asked Betty. Richard always put her off balance, but she refused to crumble, especially now that she was, as he said, unemployed.

"I have my ears, you have yours," said Richard. "You didn't think I stopped being a spook just because I left the company, did you?"

"I..." Betty hesitated. No, she hadn't, but she hadn't been able to locate him after they parted ways, and figured if the massive network she'd assembled couldn't find hide nor hair of him, there wasn't enough left of him to identify. Clearly she was wrong. "What happened to you?"

"That's an old story by now," said Richard. "But I'd like to make new stories with you. Come to Bristol."

"Bristol... England?" asked Betty.

"The very same," said Richard. "I have need of someone with your experience." There was a pause and the sound of a slowly released breath of air over the line. "Someone I already know I can have a trusting personal relationship with."

Betty swallowed, and tried to control the flush on her cheeks as she drove. "You never trusted me," she said pointedly.

"You were just a girl back then," said Richard. "I've seen what you can do. I've watched you. Come to Bristol. I'll explain what we're going to do."

"Do about what?" asked Betty.

"The world," said Richard. "That's always been your drive, hasn't it? Make the world a place where what happened to your father can never happen again?"

Betty felt like someone punched her in the gut and all romantic memories of her midnight liaisons with Richard Vedas, secret agent, were banished. "You're a son of bitch," she said coarsely. "And you still don't trust me. I'm not that girl anymore, you're right. I won't jump at your call, and I don't find it mysterious that you spend so much digging up information about me just for shock value."

"Ah, that's my girl," said Richard. His voice sounded pleased. "I knew that fire in you was special. But I won't be deceitful anymore." He cleared his throat and when he spoke again it was smooth, stripped of deep warble that felt like a warm blanket. Betty was surprised to hear a forceful, respectful voice behind harlequin-novel facade. "I bided my time, Betty, because I didn't want to interfere in your life. But you had always impressed me. Now that you are like you are, I felt it was the right time to offer you a job as my partner."

"Partner in what?" asked Betty.

"I don't want to say exactly over the phone," admitted Richard. "And calling it a PMC is more than a little misleading."

"A private military company?" asked Betty, surprised.

"In a way," explained Richard. "But I can promise you that your UNSC troubles would be over."

"I'm not a mercenary," said Betty.

"It's more complicated than that," insisted Richard. "Come to Bristol, and I'll explain it."

Betty anxiously bit her lip. This was too much and she was feeling too many conflicting feelings to clearly think on this matter. She was still angry at being ejected from her home, and Richard's assumption that he knew everything of consequence about her sounded too much like the UNSC's decision that she was too 'unchecked' to be allowed to roam free.

Of course, there was also the matter that talking to Richard still made her heart race like she had never grown out of being a twenty-two year old INTERPOL stationed in Prague. She was trying her best to ignore that, but it was easier said than done.

"I need to think about it," said Betty.

"I understand," said Richard calmly. "But know tha- two lat- em-"

"Richard?" asked Betty. His call was starting to break up.

"Bet-?"

The phone dropped. Betty grabbed her phone to look at it and noticed it had powered off. She thought that curious since the battery should easily still have at least half a charge left.

Then her headlights went out at the same time as the engine stopped and the steering wheel locked up. Betty simply dropped the phone and grabbed the wheel to wrench it under her control in the sudden blackness. She found she could still move the wheel but the power steering had given out and it was significantly harder. She pulled the wheel to the side and stomped on the breaks, skidding to a stop.

"What the hell?" she said aloud. She reached around in the glovebox for her flashlight, but when she pulled it out it also refused to turn on. She frowned as she looked into what she believed to be the end of the cylinder that light was supposed to come out of.

"EMP?" she wondered. Certainly there would have been a sound of some sort, she rationalized. Best way to accomplish this level of electronics nullification was to detonate a bomb in the atmosphere and it certainly wouldn't have been quiet.

She sighed and got out of her car. She pulled out her coat from the back seat and put it on to take the chill off the night air. She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could see the road ahead and behind and it was just as dark in either direction. She knew her position, generally speaking, enough to say that her best bet to find civilization would be to head into the woods in the direction of Middleton. But that would mean abandoning her car.

Betty peered into the back seat of the small sedan and looked at the two bags of clothes and assorted gear. Over ten years and this was the extent of her life, a broken car, some clothes, and a small duffel of personal affects.

She reached in, took the duffel bag of clothes, and left the other behind. Turning towards the trees to the east side of the highway, she began to walk.

*** (KP) ***-

Ron looked around and frowned. It was dark, cold, and his phone and Kimmunicator were dark. He wasn't sure how those last two had happened, since both should have had more than enough power in them to last through the weekend and, in the case of the Kimmunicator, probably the next two years.

"Mr. Stoppable?" asked a small voice.

Ron looked down and could barely make out the small, freckled, pixie scout holding her hands together nervously and looking up to him. He tried to smile to reassure her that everything was okay, but if she could see him in the darkness, she gave no sign.

"It's okay, everyone," said Ron loudly. The path they were walking on was a night hiking path with periodic lights marking the trail. Abruptly, all the lights went out at once at the same time Ron's phone and Kimmunicator, leaving them blanketed in darkness and unsure where they were or which way led back to the camp. Ron had made sure he had a GPS on his phone for this very reason, but it served little use now.

"I want everyone to come together and hold hands," said Ron. "Everyone hold onto two other people's hands so we don't get separated." He took the hand of the girl beside him and squeezed it reassuringly. He was trying to stay calm and keep order, since he knew the pixies were young and might easily panic if the only grown-up with them started to lose it. This mean he had to keep a careful lid on his own emotions, which were telling him to freak out and panic loudly.

"My flashlight won't work," said one of the pixies. Ron couldn't see who it was since it wasn't the girl next to him.

"Mine neither."

"Something must have happened," said Ron. "Nothing seems to be working. Lets see if we can follow the path back to the camp by going back the way we came. Everyone hold hands tightly and stay with me."

Ron started walking slowly back the way they came, feeling with each step whether the ground was hard or soft beneath his sneakers. He knew the trail was well traveled, and if he stayed on the beaten path, it should take them back to the camping grounds and, hopefully, then he could find someone with better direction sense and maybe a normal compass instead of a computerized one.

The walk back was long and many of the pixies started to cry as the darkness dragged on them and made them see things in the woods around them. Sounds of animals walking became the doom steps of horrible beasts who only exposed themselves when a group of young girls were lost and in the dark.

Eventually, though, Ron's method bore fruit and they found themselves in a clearing where the moon and stars gave them enough light they could see the way back to their tents and canopies. Ron quickly turned around as they broke into the clearing and tried to gather the girls again.

"Okay, everyone, we're okay, see?" He pointed out across the clearing and many tents and lunch tables. He was surprised there weren't more people around looking concerned but supposed that most people ignored their technology when on camping trips anyway.

He looked back to his pixies. "Are we all here and together?" he asked. He looked over the girls and counted.

He came up with only eight.

"Oh, god," he said softly as the situation settled on him. "Is... is everyone here?" he asked again, squinting at the group and up at the dark trail going into the wood. He could barely make out everyone's features let alone tell at a glance who he was missing. "Everyone say their name, one at a time."

The girls announced their names, some talking over each other, forcing Ron to ask them to speak again, and when he got eight names, he heard no more.

"Where's Rebecca?" asked one of the pixies. Then the rest started looking around.

"She was holding my hand," said another. "I mean, I thought she was."

"Okay, when was the last time anyone saw Rebecca?" asked Ron quickly.

"We were together on the path," said one of the pixies. "But... she didn't say anything after it all went dark."

Ron's hands tensed as his barely contained fear struggled to break free. He looked back at the camp and then at the woods. "All right, girls, we're going to go back to the ranger's office on the other side of the camp grounds. I want you all to stay there while I go back out and look for Rebecca." In truth, he had no desire at all to go back into the woods where he could barely see, but there was a little girl lost out there and she was his responsibility. He swallowed his terror and resolved himself to finding her.

*** (KP) ***-

Betty Director hiked swiftly up a brief incline to get to an elevated ridge in the park. The walk had already been long and the cold was making it hard to breathe and keep her energy up. She was tired and frustrated, but more than a little curious.

What could have disabled all the technology in her car without such as the slightest sound? And what purpose would there be to it? Was someone targeting her or was she just collateral damage for some other target? Betty could have no idea until she found someone else to talk to.

Once she reached the top of the ridge, she looked out over the forest around her. The ridge wasn't very high, and most of her view was still obstructed by the trees around her, but she at least got a better look at the valley in front of her. If she was right, it was Golden Gate Canyon Park below her. There should have been at least a few lights scattered through the public park but she saw nothing. There were no lights, no signs of movement, nothing but blackness.

That pretty much settled it for her. Whatever was going on, it was affecting the whole area. Though, as she looked towards the horizon, she could see the light pollution that came from Middleton, so whatever it was that shut off all her tech, it was somewhat localized.

Betty shook her head. This had got to be one of the most atypical days in a long time. Stuck in the forest with no technology and no explanations to be found. She almost expected Richard to turn up suddenly, having arranged the whole thing to make her feel more vulnerable, but she dismissed that idea quickly. It wasn't his style, and this was task that she felt was even beyond him. Whatever resources he may have access to these days.

Betty crested the ridge and started down the other side towards the park. At least if she made to one of the paths, she could follow it back to a ranger's station or hopefully a campground where there might be people to meet up with.

Her hike over the uneven terrain continued for nearly another hour before she started to hear it. It sounded like yelling or shouting of some sort. Staccato, like something being repeated over and over again. Betty turned towards the sounds, figuring they were better than the endless silence and cold darkness. It wasn't for another five minutes later that she realized what she was hearing was someone calling out a name. 'Rebecca,' the voice said.

The voice sounded kinda familiar, but Betty imagined anyone's voice can sound similar when they're shouting at the top of their lungs. She figured someone had gotten lost or ran off in search of whoever this 'Rebecca' was. Still, it was a voice which mean it was a person, and that was a step up from her current situation.

Once Betty had tracked up pretty close to the voice, she added her own. "Hello?"

"Hello? Rebecca?" the voice responded. It sounded surprised.

"No, sorry," replied Betty. She continued moving towards the other person. "I just heard your calling."

The sounds of someone moving quickly over fallen leaves preceded a shout. "Have you seeen a little girl, about ten years old, wearing a pixie scout uniform?"

Betty's heart sank at the description. Someone had lost a little girl and she felt awful for them. Nothing was worse that losing a child. "No, I'm afraid I can't see much of anything out here. You don't happen to have a flashlight, do you?"

"It's not working," said the other voice. It was very close now. "Nothing's working, really."

"Hm, yeah, nothing of mine is working either," admitted Betty. The sounds came close and a figure emerged from the dark. It was still hard to see but it looked like a young man, somewhat tall, and wearing a back-pack. "Do you know what's going on?"

"No idea," said the young man. "Everything suddenly stopped working and I lost track of one of my scouts. I need to find her."

"Maybe I can help," said Betty. She may no longer work for Global Justice, but she wasn't about to let a helpless girl go lost and alone in these cold woods. "I'm Betty."

"Ron Stoppable," said the man.

Betty's eye went wide. "Ron Stoppable?" she said, surprised. "As in, Kim Possible's friend?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Wait, you know me?"

"I'm Dr. Director," said Betty, using the name she'd introduced herself with way back when.

"Dr. Director?" repeated Ron. "Global Justice! What are you doing out here? Is some fight going on?" He sounded panicked.

"No, no," Betty waved him off. "I'm here by myself, there's no operation in progress."

"You're here, alone, in the woods, at night," said Ron, incredulously.

"My car stopped at the same time as my phone," explained Betty. "I hiked here."

"Wow," said Ron. "What a coincidence." He was quiet for a moment. "So you're saying you don't have any nifty spy gadget to help us here?"

Betty sighed. It was her own fault, really, the image she projected to those kids. "No, everything I have is dead."

"Ah... that's a shame," said Ron. "I guess we'll have to do this the long way." He turned to the side. "REBECCA!" he called out.

Suddenly a whirring sound started, startling Ron and Betty. They both looked towards the source of the sound and began to see a dim, floating light, start to get brighter and brighter.

"What is that?" asked Ron.

Betty stared. "Possibly a flare," she said.

The glowing mote of light started to grow in size an intensity. Quickly, Betty and Ron had to shield their eyes from the light. The humming sound increased in volume as well.

"I don't think that's a flare," said Ron loudly.

"We should get out of here," shouted Betty. She normally would like to investigate, but she had very little control over the situation as it was. It would be better to escape, given the circumstances.

"Whatever that is, it's probably causing the blackout," said Ron.

"What makes you say that?" asked Betty.

"It's the only light I've seen for miles in this direction," said Ron, motioning behind him. "I guess it's the same for you."

Betty had to admit, it was a fairly reasonable conclusion. "Alright, but stay behind me."

"Ah, come on, I'm no rookie to the hero scene," said Ron.

"I'm the senior-" Betty started, but abruptly stopped herself. "Just trust me." She turned towards the light and moved forward.

Ron followed behind her as they moved between the trees towards the bright - and ever brightening - light. Betty expected them to see some sign of what was generating the light as they approached but instead the brilliant light seemed to gradually wash away the forest around them leaving only a blank slate behind.

"Can you see anything?" called Ron. The sound was almost deafening now.

"Not really," admitted Betty. She wasn't even sure Ron could hear her anymore. "We should turn back."

Ron glanced behind. "Uh, I'm not sure there is a back to go to," he shouted.

Betty turned to see what Ron was talking about but quickly realized he was right. Behind them the forest had completely vanished and instead was replaced with endless whiteness. Betty stared in response.

"How is that possible?" asked Betty.

The loud humming noise suddenly quieted to a low murmur. Betty lowered her hand. The light had completely surrounded them now and no longer seemed to be coming from a single source anymore.

"Okay, this is weird," said Ron.

Betty looked around. At some point the soft ground beneath their feet had been replaced with a solid floor that was just as white as the world around them. She stomped on it experimentally. It was clearly very solid.

"I think we've been kidnapped," said Betty. "At least we're not in the dark any more."

Ron began walking around in the whiteness looking for walls or borders of any sort. Betty watched and looked around. She figured that if someone was going to go through the effort to kidnap them, he or she would present themselves before long. She wasn't disappointed.

"Stoppable," said Betty.

Ron looked up to see Betty pointing at a rectangular black window hanging in the air a few dozen feet in front of her. He walked quickly up to her side and stood in front of the window.

"So what is this all about?" asked Betty to the rectangle.

For a moment there was no answer. Then the rectangle turned transparent and showed a room beyond it. It was a strange, angular room, with a repeating triangle motif. It looked like a small amphitheater with a single chair in the center of the stage surrounded by colorful podiums. Sitting in the chair was a short figure with a large head and bluish skin. The figure's face and arms were covered with scales that glittered a variety of colors in the spotlights of the small room. Two large black eyes stared from the oversized head which was resting to the side on one of the figure's arms.

"Is that..." started Ron.

"You've seen this before?" asked Betty.

"N-no," said Ron. "I mean, we all saw those Lorwardian aliens but this guys is definitely different. Smaller, more... frail and scaled."

A sound like croaking came from the hanging window. It went on for at least a minute before it slowly morphed into something Betty and Ron could understand.

"Your... world... needs... help," the voice said.

"Yeah, we get that," said Betty. "Who are you?"

"Watched... your... world... saw... you... need... help."

"Yeah, for how long?" asked Betty. "Did you see that invasion from Lorwarida? Maybe we could have needed help then."

"You... must... help... yourself... or... no... salvation... will... last," the alien croaked.

"Great," Betty rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the prep talk, but that's nothing we don't already know."

Ron put his hand on Betty's shoulder. She looked at him sharply for the suddenly familiar action but his expression made her pause.

"Look at him," said Ron softly.

Betty looked more closely through the hanging window. The figure was alien in an alien setting, she figured she might as well be looking at an M.C. Escher painting for as much meaning as she could derive from it. The room was presumably some communication or conference room, possibly an interrogation room, but there was no way to tell. The figure could be a soldier, an officer, a cop, or a child for as much as she knew. There was almost no context to help.

Betty was about to look at Ron like he was crazy when she started to notice it. The figure's small frame, the way its scales hung loosely off of thin bones. The way the figure shuttered as it croaked and the labored way it's chest moved. The more she concentrated on the figure the more she realized it wasn't resting in the chair so much as collapsed in it. Its head, more pale the rest of its body, was propped on its arm instead of rested here. Even the eyes looked oddly sunken with a wetness around the edges as if it had been crying.

"It's sick," said Betty.

"He's dying," said Ron.

The alien trembled once, then began to croak again.

"You... have... no... idea... how... close... you... are," said the alien. It's head moved slowly and unevenly. "Can't... know... until... too... late."

"It happened to you," said Ron.

"We... failed... to... avert... our... disaster... but... you... have... time... left."

Ron frowned sympathetically. "Is there anything we can do for you?" he asked.

"Too... late... only... time... left... to... atone..."

The figure moved lethargically, lurching to the other side as an arm reached out and slid along the arm of the chair. As it moved the floating rectangle split apart and opened to reveal a floating shelf with a glossy black box resting on it. On the surface of the box was a red symbol that looked like an open book with a long thin sword bisecting it like a bookmark.

"When... I... am... gone... this... will... be... all... that... remains... of... our... people."

Betty reached out and picked up the smooth box and held it in her hands. It was light, possibly made of plastic, but had no seams as far as she could see. If it was a box, she saw no way to open it.

"Use... it... save... yourselves..."

Ron looked sadly between the box and the two sides of the window. "Who were you?"

"Failures..." The figure moved, sinking further into the chair and shuttering more with each breath. "You... have... our... legacy... learn... from... it..."

Betty turned the box over in her hands again. "How? How does this work? What is wrong with our world that we have to fix?"

"The... seed... of... change..."

The figure stopped shaking suddenly then slowly slumped forward in the chair and became still.

"You got to be kidding me," said Betty, narrowing her eye at the alien.

"I think he's dead," said Ron. He looked down. "Poor guy."

"Assuming it was a guy," said Betty. She looked down at the box. "I'm not even sure what this is supposed to be."

"Does it do anything?" asked Ron.

"Not that I can see." She looked it over once more then handed it out toward Ron. "Feel free."

Ron reached out and took the box into his hands. He held it upright before him for only a second before it suddenly began to glow and then split down the middle. There was a bright flash of yellow light that blinded Ron and Betty for a moment. When it faded they were standing in darkness again and in his hands the box separated into two pieces revealing a folded piece of red fabric with the same symbol in the center that was on the outside of the box.

Betty looked around and rubbed her eye. They were back in the forest again, completely in the dark save for the glowing box. "What did you do?" she asked.

"Nothing!" said Ron, a little alarmed that the box in his hand opened and was now glowing on its own. "It just opened!"

"Hmmm..." mused Betty. She poked at the cloth within. "Looks like a blanket."

"Maybe it's wrapped around something," offered Ron.

It was a reasonable idea, thought Betty, so she reached into the box and grabbed the cloth. She felt something smaller and hard within the red blanket and lifted it all out of the box. She slowly unwrapped the object, revealing a black book with a glowing spine and the same red symbol on the cover.

"I wonder what that symbol means," commented Ron.

Betty opened the book and was surprised to find it written in English. The glowing spine illuminated the pages as she read. She turned the first few pages and frowned. "It looks like a list of ... actions. Instructions, I think."

"To do what?" asked Ron.

"Directional levitation and locomotion," read Betty. "Transformation of directional velocity into torque... remote manipulation through visualization." She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. There are instructions here for containing small quantity antimatter reactions by wrapping the reaction in 'the cape.' I think we've been punk'd."

Ron took the red cloth from Betty and held it by a corner. It unfolded the rest of the way. "Uh, Dr. Director," said Ron.

Betty looked up from the book and blanched. The cloth she thought was a blanket was actually a one piece red jumpsuit with a black cape attached on the back.

"They're pajamas," said Betty. Then she remembered something she had just seen in the book. She quickly opened it and paged quickly through until she found the picture. She looked at it, then at the jumpsuit, and shook her head. The picture was showing a generic human form wearing the jumpsuit and then the same figure hovering over the ground. "This has got to be a joke."

"What is it?" asked Ron.

Betty showed Ron the picture in the book. "It's a power suit."

*** (KP) ***

After realizing their phones worked once they had returned from the land of white, Ron quickly used the GPS in his phone to get them back to the ranger's station he'd left the pixie scouts at. To his surprised, he found Rebecca with the rest of the scouts under the watchful eye of the ranger.

The ranger explained that Rebecca had come wandering down the path out of the forest about half an hour after Ron had left. They missed each other probably by a few dozen yards but in the dark they could hardly tell.

Once she was assured the girl was safe, Betty asked the ranger for a lift back to her car.

"What should we do about the box?" asked Ron before Betty left.

"The magic jammies?" said Betty, incredulous. "It's a prank. You can have them."

"That alien entrusted us with the legacy of his people," said Ron.

"That alien decided to have one last laugh," Betty said dismissively. "How are we supposed to save our planet with a pair of tights and a cape. It's ridiculous. Don't take it seriously."

Ron frowned, unsatisfied with Betty's response. He took the bundle of cloth from Betty and clumsily shoved it back into the box with one hand. He was determined to keep it safe, for the alien's sake at least.

"I'll just hold onto it," said Ron.

"Do as you like," said Betty. She had other things to be worried about, like what to do with her life now that she didn't have Global Justice. And whether or not to accept Richard's offer to meet him in Bristol. "Have a good life, Stoppable." She waved casually and followed the Ranger back to his car.

Ron gathered up the pixie scouts and decided to cut their camping trip short. Getting lost in the woods during a suspciuos blackout that killed all technology was enough excitement for one weekend.

He kept constant track of each of the girls as they packed up their things and loaded up the van again. Then they drove off into the night to head back to Middleton.

*** (KP) ***

On the ground, not far from the ranger's station in the park, the small black instruction book lay quietly and still, having fallen unnoticed from the bundle of red cloth as it was passed from Betty's hands to Ron's.

*** ( And Then… ) ***

And that's it! I think I wrote this like six years ago (!) and never could come up with a good way of carrying it forward. I invite anyone who is interested in the idea to feel free to continue it. I'll post links or update this chapter to direct people to the continuations if you do so!