Chapter 13: Epilogue

Kim, Ron and Bonnie had expected Senior's aircraft to take them all the way home, but Global Justice had different ideas. Instead, shortly after the marriage ceremony, the international crime-fighting organization sent word that they had transport in the area, heading towards Middleton. So instead of taking them all the way to Middleton, Senior's luxurious aircraft dropped them off at Palermo.

"Thanks for the ride," Kim addressed Senior's pilot.

"It was a privilege to carry you, Miss Possible," the pilot replied. "Even if we hadn't already pledged to carry you home, we still owe you for what you did for us."

"Oh, anybody could have given Senior Senior Senior CPR, while everyone else was staring at Junior after he made his choice," Kim replied, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Perhaps that is true, but you and your partner performed an invaluable service at the ceremony."

"Okay, I understand that Senior wanted to attend his son's wedding," Kim told the pilot. "And at least Camille returned to her own form, but was it wise to have the ceremony so soon? I mean really, as soon as the two of them were at the altar the poor old man fainted. Then as soon as he recovered, he fainted again!"

"Eighteen times," Ron added, stepping into the cockpit. "He isn't a very big man, but it was starting to get a little tiring, catching him every few minutes."

"Until you fetched the lounger for him," the pilot concluded. "Being reclined seemed to help him remain conscious, but I digress. Senior Senior Senior has instructed me to assure you that we owe you several favors. You only need to ask."

"Thank you," Kim smiled at the man.

"I came to tell you that I've got Bon-Bon all moved over to the GJ craft," Ron told his team leader. "As well as our gear. We're ready to go at any time."

"It has been a pleasure, Miss Possible," the pilot assured the heroine. I hope that the two of you can visit us again, under pleasant circumstances, soon."

"So do we," Kim assured the man. "But we have to go now."

The two teens left Senior's aircraft and sprinted across the concrete tarmac to the Global Justice craft, where they found Bonnie inside exchanging some heated words with Will Du.

"So Global Justice just couldn't let me have a few more hours of freedom!" She snapped at the agent. "Did you really think that I could run away? First of all, I don't have any money or passports, so I couldn't exactly pull a vanishing act! Secondly, I don't think that Kim and Ron would let me get away! All you would have had to do was wait five hours for Senior's pilot to deliver me home, but no! You have to come get me right away!"

"Miss Rockwaller, I can assure you that that wasn't our intent," Du countered. "I honestly was en route back to our headquarters."

"THAT's really likely," the would-be bride huffed. Unfortunately for Bonnie, she was far too tired, both physically and emotionally, to argue the matter. Instead, she simply buckled herself in, while Kim and Ron did the same just ahead of her. Du took off and soon they were on their way back home.

It didn't take Bonnie long, once they reached their cruising altitude, to realize that Kim and Ron would prefer to be alone for the trip. She looked around the passenger cabin and realized that there were no separate enclosures. The only place to go was the cockpit, with Agent Du. This was just as well, as she wanted to talk a few things over with him anyway. Bonnie got up and made her way to the front of the aircraft, sparing the couple only the briefest of glances.

"Agent Du," she asked, upon entering the cockpit. "Is there any regulations against me sitting up here during the trip? I think Kim and Ron would like to be alone."

"I'd actually enjoy the company," Du responded, pointing to the copilot's seat. "To be honest, the computer is flying the ship, I'm just here in case of a computer failure, or we need to reprogram the destination. Just keep your hands off of the controls. You don't have a songbird with you, do you?"

"No," Bonnie shook her head. "After Junior's Christmas present, I'm done with birds for a lifetime. Why do you ask?"

"A very strange directive," Du shook his head. "Dr. Director has stated that no GJ agent is to have any songbirds in any GJ facility or aircraft. I don't know why, I just abide. Anyway, you're more than welcome to join me."

"Thanks," Bonnie said, settling into the indicated chair. "I'd like to talk about what's going to happen to me next, if you don't mind."

"Some things are classified," Du informed her. "But I'll say what I can."

"Okay, here goes. What happens to me now? Your organization was willing to intervene with a lot of the charges I have stacked up against me. Now that I've lost the competition, is Global Justice going to forget that I tried to win? After all, part of my probation agreement was that I wouldn't leave the county. I left the country on a GJ aircraft, without a passport, so all you need to do is claim ignorance and I'm in prison for a very long time."

"Global Justice does not work that way, Miss Rockwaller," Du assured her. "We will still extend the 'good word' that we promised. As for entering and leaving the country without a passport, that's one of the reasons you're on a Global Justice aircraft right now. We have a pass to go by Customs Officials and Senior's aircraft doesn't."

Du let Bonnie digest the information for a few minutes before he continued. "To be honest, you did an acceptable job. Global Justice is satisfied with the outcome."

"But I didn't win the contest," Bonnie protested. "Camille did by…" here, the teen shuddered, unable to continue.

"You don't need to elaborate," Du assured her, shuddering. "In fact, I'd prefer you didn't. Anyway, I'm going to let you in on Global Justice's acceptability list for this operation: Our first priority was to keep Trudy Dementor from winning the competition. Pairing Senior's wealth and influence with the professor's evil genius would have had terrible consequences for the world."

"What would you have done if she had won?" Bonnie asked.

"That's classified," Du told her. "And you probably don't want to know anyway. The next lowest rung in our acceptability list was Elisabeth Minated. We don't concern ourselves with an individual nation being able to obtain its import tariff revenue and while Mr. Minated's organization has never dealt in drugs or weapons, it would be too easy to alter it and conduct dangerous, destabilizing operations. We considered Miss Minated as a marginally unacceptable winner. This means that we would have attempted to counter her influence, but without crossing certain lines."

"We considered both Lynn and Leon to be marginally acceptable," Du continued. "While both have clear, criminal motivations, neither one is interested in worldwide conquest and oppression. Leon, in particular, is extremely vain. We find it most likely that she will spend a great deal of Senior's wealth on self-indulgent, harmless expenses."

"We considered you to be a completely acceptable winner, Miss Rockwaller. The personality profile we established for you showed you to be vain, but not overtly criminal. Our ideal candidate, and winner, would have been Miss Possible."

"Did you really think that she would have entered the contest?" Bonnie asked. "I mean, she doesn't exactly have her future planned out, but she's determined that it's going to be with Stoppable."

"Dr. Director has become accustomed to operating an authoritative organization and accustomed to Miss Possible meeting all requests for assistance," Du told Bonnie. "When you add the two together, you can see why my superior could assume that Kim would compete, when requested. Perhaps it is just as well that Kim informed her, in no uncertain terms, that there were moral lines that she wouldn't cross."

"Oh," Bonnie replied with a little bit of snarkiness back in her tone. "Kim telling off your boss weakens a potential rival agent, doesn't it."

"It does," Du admitted, with no trace of defensiveness. "But it's more important to Global Justice that this operation has given us a solid grip on Miss Possible's moral qualms."

"I'm not understanding that," Bonnie admitted.

"Very well," Du nodded. "Let me use an example. Would you be willing to become a crime boss's mistress, with everything the term implies, in order to report on his activities?"

"No!" Bonnie snapped back. "I'm not a…"

"I'm not implying that you are," Du interrupted. "Miss Rockwaller, Global Justice exists and works in a very non-ideal world. There are times that we have to get our hands dirty and do things that many people would find morally repugnant. Most of us senior agents have performed acts that…we don't really like to talk about. Miss Possible is on a short list of teens that we have our eyes on, as prospective agents. This incident has taught us that she has certain behavioral boundaries that she is not willing to cross. Our recruitment division will need to take this into account."

"So she might not be able to become an agent because of this?"

"No, but we will have to note what she isn't willing to do. Global Justice makes errors, Miss Rockwaller, but we try to learn from them. In the past, we simply assigned agents to missions based upon ability, without taking moral qualms into consideration. We discovered that not very many people could cross their own moral boundaries, repeatedly, without suffering long term emotional damage. Since a staff of basket cases isn't an asset, we've learned to find each agent's boundaries, and work within them. That isn't easy, since these boundaries are hard to define and they change over time."

"However, I don't think that you are interested in how psychology affects our recruitment and our assignments," Agent Du told her. "Let's get back to the original topic of conversation. Global Justice will honor our commitments to you. While you will find yourself on probation for years to come, you probably won't see any jail time. I can't predict what might happen to you in civil court, but we have no control over that."

"What do you suggest I do?" Bonnie asked.

"Learn from your mistakes and straighten out your life. You're still very young, Miss Rockwaller, so your future is very open. If I were you, I would look into obtaining an education and putting together a career. Who knows, you might even look into a career with Global Justice."

"How did you get started?" Bonnie asked.

"I was considerably younger than you," Du explained. "I had just…

Much to his own surprise, Du found himself enjoying the company on the long flight back to base. Bonnie did as well, learning some surprising things about a Global Justice Agent's life.

Kim had felt a little self-conscious about cuddling Ron on the flight, at least with Bonnie in the passenger compartment. Shortly after takeoff, the brunette had made her way to the cockpit, flashing Kim a brief glance that somehow said: "I'm giving the two of you some alone time." While Kim wasn't about to take things very far with Ron, she felt comfortable letting the reclining seats down and curling up with him. The two teens simply took enjoyment from the close contact and relaxed after a very long day.

"So what do we do when we get back home?" Kim asked.

"It's hard to believe that we've only used up the first month of our summer break," Ron commented. "And we've only been on Senior's Island for less than a week. It seems so much longer."

"Yeah, I think I've aged years after seeing Junior and Camille…"

"DON'T REMIND ME!" Ron yelped. "I've been staring at bars of soap, hoping that it'll wipe the memory, but it just doesn't work!"

"Okay, we will never mention what we saw, ever again," Kim pledged. "The first rule about this mission is that we will never again mention this mission, but that still doesn't answer the question, what do we do for the rest of the summer?"

"Well, maybe we should get on a schedule like we had last summer," Ron suggested. "I could work for Riverna's and I'd like for us to spend as much time as we can with our friends. Who knows when we'll be able to get together again?"

"Yeah, I'll put in some time at Cub Banana, the spending money will be nice this fall. We should probably start some workouts, as well. We've come a long way, but you never know when the next super-villain is going to try to make a name for himself. Not to mention, you might want to get ready for Upperton U's football team this fall."

Kim frowned at that last one. Ron would have to head to Upperton two full weeks before she did, since football workouts started well before classes. Kim had no doubt that the two of them would be called in to testify at various governmental hearings and investigations, dealing with Warrick Loward's takeover attempt. Kim sighed, the one summer she really wanted things to be quiet, it was going to be anything but.

"KP," Ron decided to broach the subject that they were both dancing around. "Do you think we're going to find the time and place to do what we nearly did the last two nights? I mean, it's not like that's all I'm thinking about but…well…"

"You're just about as frustrated as me," Kim finished for him. "Ron, I don't know when our time will come, but we'll get there. We won't get there soon enough in my opinion, but we'll get there."

"I love you, KP, you know that."

"Oh, how I know it."

A crashing sound pulled Shego out of a sound sleep. The mercenary quickly determined that the home security system wasn't sounding and that she was alone in her bed. Subdued cursing and the sound of wood scraping against wood followed the crashing sound. Shego placed the sounds in the house's spare room, right next to the bedroom. The green-hued woman slipped out of bed and padded silently to the spare room and peeked into the door. What she saw brought a smile to her face.

Lord Montgomery Fiske was struggling to reassemble a crib he had purchased a couple of days ago. The former nobleman had proven fairly good with tools. He had disassembled the crib, sanded down the wooden parts, then repainted them. Now he was struggling to put the piece of furniture back together, and was proving almost hopeless at it. With a glance, Shego could tell that he had almost successfully put together one of the sides, only to have it fly apart under his hands.

"There's no real rush, Monty," Shego pointed out, slipping into the room with him. "I'll be on that medicine that Dr. Sdue gave me for another couple of weeks each month, then he'll be able to harvest some of my eggs, then we'll be able to go through the procedure. According to him, it takes an average of three procedures before we'll get one that takes, so we're talking maybe four months before we're successful, then another nine before we need the crib."

"At this rate, it means that I'll have it done perhaps forty-five minutes before we need it," Monty growled. "I took careful notes when I took the blasted thing apart, so I should simply need to put it back together in reverse order. Why in the name of all that's holy can't I get the cursed thing to stay in one piece?"

"Monty, take a break," Shego told him. "Take it from someone who's made a career out of losing her temper, beating your head against it isn't going to help. Lets grab something to eat and get ready to go to work. You told me that you've figured out one of the collectors is pocketing some of his take, so take your frustrations out on him. There's nothing like beating the tar out of a big guy who thinks he has something over you to calm you down. Trust me, you'll be able to pay attention to the details a whole lot better after that."

"Perhaps you are correct," Monty nodded. "I just wanted to get finished with this chore while it still has my full attention. I sometimes wish that I still had prehensile feet, then I could work more efficiently."

"Hey, it's not like I'm not trying to push the action, y'know," Shego snickered. "We'll get there, no sweat. Now, lets get some food, get to work, kick a little butt then take care of this when we get back."

Although she wouldn't admit it, Shego considered Monty's efforts to be strangely appropriate. They were preparing for their family like they handled life, with planning, hard work, a little violence and a whole lot of profanity.

Warmonga stalked through her newest factory, content that she would soon have her production on line to meet demand. She couldn't believe that no manufacturer had grasped a simple truth: Since narcotics worked by eliciting a response from the human body, what better to produce a narcotic than another human body? By eliminating a subject's higher brain functions, connecting the body to life support equipment, then manipulating the body's genetics, Warmonga turned humans into efficient production tanks, capable of producing almost any product she wanted to sell.

Did her customers want to feel energetic, ecstatic, calm? Warmonga could manipulate one of her production tanks to produce a product capable of eliciting the mental and physical reactions requested. Weight loss, muscle gain, hair growth and cholesterol control, Warmonga could provide a substance to allow it. She paused a moment, looking at the production tank that was once known as Little Jack. Of course, now he was simply production tank 8M. Warmonga idly wondered if he was aware of what was happening to him. Theoretically, he was incapable of any thought but she couldn't help but wonder. When he had led his mob into her last factory, and had seen previous tank 12M, formerly known as Creeper, his expression had been most memorable.

Warmonga left the main production floor, knowledgeable of the fact that she needed additional production tanks. Transporting her previous tanks had been too risky, since they required careful handling after going into production. The raiding party had provided roughly half of her needs but she would need to influence one of her 'distribution franchises' to bring in some more candidates. That would be easy enough to accomplish. She also needed to scout out another alternate location, preparing for the inevitable day this location became compromised. Finally, she needed some more machinery. Several of the delicate instruments she used to maintain her tanks had sustained damage on the trip to this facility.

Turning her back on tank 8M, Warmonga left her production area and walked down a stairway to her personal quarters. On the way, she passed her private lab, which contained the only two production tanks she had brought from the old facility. She didn't use these tanks, designated 1F and 2F, for product, they held something much more valuable, clones of Shego and Ron Stoppable.

Warmonga paused a moment to contemplate her slowly expanding tanks. While she had accepted the fact that these clones wouldn't exhibit their originals' enhanced traits, they could still prove useful. While she preferred to master the tormentors' traits, a skilled geneticist could accomplish other things, with perfect duplicates to study. Warmonga smiled at the thought of producing a toxin, specifically engineered to affect Shego's DNA, or perhaps a disease made specifically to infect Ron Stoppable. The possibilities were endless.

Shaking her head to clear these pleasant thoughts, Warmonga continued to her personal quarters and picked up a secure phone.

The phone interrupted Dr. William I. Sdue while he was reviewing some of his files. A quick look at the caller ID told him who it was.

"Bigfoot!" He greeted his caller. "What can I do for you?"

"There's a question I like to hear," Warmonga complimented her supplier. "I need some more equipment."

For the next several minutes, Warmonga outlined her requirements while Dr. Sdue jotted them down. Finally…

"I'll be able to get you three quarters of your equipment in 24 hours," he told her. "And the remainder within 48."

"That'll work perfect," Warmonga told him. "I'll be in touch."

"Hey Bigfoot," Sdue broached a subject. "It looks to me like you're playing with genetics."

"I don't like my suppliers being curious," Bigfoot's voice was cold steel.

"Hey, I'm just making an observation," Dr. Sdue replied, picking up a file marked 'Shego Fiske'. "But if you are working on genetics, I might have some very interesting samples for sale in a couple of months."

A/N:

Hello everyone and thank you again for taking the time to read my story. At this time, I'd like to thank Joe Stoppinghem for his beta work. He really deserves a round of applause so, if you could, drop him a line and say good job.

I'd like to let everyone know that I am planning on writing a sequel but, as real life has been encroaching more and more forcibly, I don't know when that's going to be. I just wanted to take this opportunity to say that, speaking as someone whose posted stories for 'Misc. Television Shows' and "Underworld", the KP fandom is the most supportive I've run into on Fanfiction.

Thanks again everyone and, until we meet again;

Best wishes,

Daccu65