Kim Possible The Worst of Both Worlds

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kim Possible, Shego or Bonnie. They are owned by Disney and Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley. Any original characters shown or mentioned belong to me and can not be used without permission. Okay?

**The Worst of Both Worlds**

Chapter One – _Coeds, Not Co-deads _

"Wait! _My shoes!"_

"_Forget them Bonnie!"_

"But they're twenty-four hundred dollar _Ferragamos!"_

"And that's a multi-million dollar machine designed to _end your l__ife__!"_ Kim Possible maintained a hard pace, one hand tugging on her classmate's. Even though Bonnie Rockwaller was running just as hard and fast, her penchant to occasionally look back and nearly stumble caused her to lag the redhead by a step.

Which in turn left her barely a step _ahead_ of a torrent of 7.62mm shells erupting through wood and plasterboard walls and which were, at fifty rounds per second, well along in the process of cutting the school horizontally in half.

It was only the pair's third day at Medfield University in Montclaire, California and the start of the autumn semester. The third day into their post-high-school post-summer lives.

However, as some things never really change, it was also the third day of Bonnie's renewed rag on Kim.

The brunette had been in a foul temper ever since finding out she and the redhead shared nearly all of the same elective courses as well as signing up for the cheerleading squad. While it was no secret the role Kim had played in the Lorwardian Invasion, Bonnie's recounting of events played out exactly what it was like to be so close to ground zero of such an overwhelming force directed at the teen hero. She followed that up with every sordid detail of every sordid time she and others in school were in harm's way all because some whack job had gone gunning for Kim. Or Ron.

Problem was Kim was unable to refute any of the stories because irritatingly enough for once Bonnie uttered not a single inaccurate word. In the span of the first day's afternoon she saw the excitement of having a hero among them turn into quiet fear. By lunchtime the next day there was open abject terror on most of the faces of her fellow students as they avoided her.

By this morning even some members of the faculty shared the haunted expressions.

Kim had tracked down Bonnie between first and second periods and with an insensate growl abruptly pulled the debutante into an empty lab, slamming her roughly against the blackboard at the back of the room as the period-start bell rang.

"Hey!" the brunette objected, normally narrowed eyes wide. "What's your ish?"

"My_ ish, _Bon-_KNee,"_ Kim glared, her face nearly as flush as her hair with anger, "is why are you so intent on thoroughly trashing my life??"

"_Moi?"_ the rich girl's slitted expression returned.

"Muu!" the redhead shot back with their ritualized made-up French word for 'you'. "Telling all these stories of me! Wasn't making my life a living hell in high school enough for you? You have to do the same for college? What's up with that? I thought between the hip-to-hip thing and helping you find Junior that we were nearly frien… ."

So angry was Kim, so intent with the other girl, she had paid scant attention to the growing muffled _fwuup fwuup fwuup_ in the background until an electrically brilliant red line flashed along the blackboard before quickly crossing Bonnie's cheek as a crosshatched circle the size of a quarter. A brief dimming of daylight through the windows and a black shape seen only from the corner of her left eye galvanized the world-saving teen to action.

The next moment Bonnie found herself nose-to-nose atop Kim's body on the hallway floor, being hugged tightly. Her surprised shock-turned-sneer of "I always knew you wer…" cut short as the wall a foot above her head proceeded to disintegrate under a loud and prolonged _brrrrraaaaaappppp‼_ of a high-caliber barrage.

"_YIKES‼"_

The redhead was gratified that only the upper part of a gymnasium sat in the middle of the structure, and therefore only mostly empty air lay beyond the inner wall being ruined. After a forty-five second eternity the assault ended. While debris liberated from shredded lockers lining the other side of the corridor rained down, the brunette looked over the ragged new top of the wall, her teal eyes the size of saucers. "Sheeeeeeeeeesh… ."

She only had a second to take in the disintegrated ruin which used to be the Advanced Applied Chemistry 202 lab and the bulbous shape of an ominous black helicopter beyond equally destroyed windows before a handful of roughly grabbed hair yanked her flat again, _"Giddown‼"_

_Brrrrraaaaaappppp‼_

"_Aaiiieeeeeeeeeeeee‼"_

Placing a hand on each of Bonnie's shoulders, Kim shoved hard the moment the firestorm paused again. Like a Jack-in-the-Box the brunette was popped upright, reflexively bringing her feet under her in time for a scrambling Kim to grab right hand with left and _run._

Bonnie lost high-heeled shoes with their first and fourth steps, Kim having already kicked hers off while still prone. The destructive fusillade picked up again, following as the rotorcraft hovering outside the building drifted sideways after them. Sprinting hard for the building's corner, classroom after classroom evaporated in their wake. Passing a few between-class stragglers prone on the floor, the teen hero prayed first that any occupants in the rooms also had the good sense to be flat and unmoving, and second that whoever the assailants in the mysterious AH-6-variant were would not launch any of the missiles she had spotted in twin-mounted pods. The collateral damage from _that_ would generate instant fatalities. The mini-guns alone were more than enough. _Nothing 'mini' about them!_

As it was, her first priority was to lead the confrontation away from crowded areas.

Well, her second priority. The first was keeping herself – and Bonnie – ahead of the torrential horizontal rain of death dogging their heels. If only Bonnie would just keep up… though the brunette was getting into the spirit of things and – having finally written off her shoes – extracted her hand from Kim's grasp and pulled alongside, knees lifting above belt line as she furiously pumped feet.

The pair hit the stairwell situated in the building's corner at the same time, barely three feet ahead of the full-metal-jacketed firestorm. Which the thicker mortar and brickwork slowed not an iota. Without thought Kim spun, scooped left arm about Bonnie's waist, and finished the pivot by rolling them both over the railings into the center space of the well. As they fell, part of the redhead's mind took note how the other barely uttered a squeak with the maneuver, not screaming as expected. Instead Bonnie's body was both tensed and relaxed in the same fashion recognizable from cheer practice. Which meant, hopefully without a debate, the brunette was primed for whatever cues Kim might throw her way.

Which at the moment was: _stay in place._

Kim felt the brunette wrap herself closer, increasing the spin of their roll, doing her part in helping to keep them centered in the tight space between the flight of steps. The hail of bullets, each the length of dollar bills, cut the air inches above them. Gratified that for once Bonnie was working with her, the redhead snapped her right arm out, triggering the wrist Kimmunicator's grapple. The micro-piton dug deep into a thick rafter in the ceiling. The duo were bungeed, snapping upright – their feet just scrapping the concrete bottom – back upwards a good eight feet.

Fortunately Kim activated the line's retract, sending them whisking back upwards, for seconds after they cleared the ground level a missile turned the wall there into a deadly spray of shrapnel.

"How're they following us without eyes-on?" Kim growled, not sparing a downward glance as the back of her mind formulated their next moves.

"You mean, _you,"_ Bonnie finally broke her silence with her usual 'You're the cause of all my pain' voice.

The second level exploded inwards just under them. "You sure about that? Who's father is a military manufacturer that just laid off a few thousand?" The redhead's eyes were drawn to a trapdoor set into the ceiling just a couple feet left of where the piton was anchored. It was accessible via a simple metal ladder set to the concrete wall.

"Did he? I don't keep track…," Bonnie finished uncertain, as the third level disintegrated.

"Door! Invert flip layout to cradle!" Kim hissed as she released from the other teen, tucking to flip head for heels as the rewinding line pulled her ahead. Again without argument the debutante followed suit, her maneuver lagging by only half a second. Triggering the grapple's line-cutter, the redheaded teen hit the trapdoor upside-down, one foot close to the lock. Aluminum and wood shattered and splintered, sending the door itself flying, as she threaded the tight portal. A heartbeat later so did her companion.

Reorienting, Kim landed catlike just in time to catch the brunette in her arms. _"Ooff!_ Putting on some weight there B!" Planting the girl on her feet, she headed for the far side of the gravel-covered tarred roof in which direction lay the parking lot.

"I only have energy bars for breakfast!" the other objected, managing to remain only half a step off Kim's left hip. "Where're we going?"

"Eat enough of anything and you'll put on the pounds… my car, we need to put some distance between us and the campus!" Kim spared a moment's glance to check her wrist device for the icon confirming the next micro-piton of a tiny magazine of three was spliced into place and how much line was left. _Twenty-one-point-four feet. Not much to work with, but'll have to do!_

Hearing the helicopter clearing the roof-line behind them, resuming fire, and with twin strafing lines chasing after them, the teen hero again scooped her companion's waist, other arm extended as if reaching for a tall radio mast standing tall some feet from the building. "Kick hard!"

Several events happened nearly at once:

With the rich girl putting almost as much effort into a leap as the redhead, as one both girls launched a second before two flat-angled, walking lines of bullets savaged the rooftop where their feet had just been as…

…Kim's grapple spat its line for the skeletal column, the micro-piton wrapping about one of the triangular trusses even as she set it retracting to yank them up and forward while…

…a second black attack copter rose into view ahead of the girls, its blades cutting the spun-steel thread, loosing them on an upwardly arcing trajectory while…

…the barrage from the first helo shredded the bulbous canopy of the second – erupting red painting the inside of the darkened glass. It set to wobbling amid suddenly whining servos as its seriously wounded pilot fought to maintain enough control to avoid hitting the brickwork as…

…uncontrolled, the pair of young women – catapulted by muscle and micro-winch power – hurtled up and over, directly for the erratically flying machine's main rotor, its downdraft tugging at their loose clothing like the claws of a hungry tiger…

Bonnie Rockwaller had been wanting to scream her bloody head off for the past three minutes, only she learned from her experiences at Wannaweep and being glued to her hip in the Bavarian Alps that if nothing else, when it came to these sorts of Life or Death situations, Kim was more than capable of keeping herself, and others, alive. Provided she could focus. Not being an idiot, the brunette swallowed down everything she normally would have said or done which might distract or hinder the other, though a part of her brain tucked it all aside to unload later.

At the moment she was on an adrenalin rush which, while it allowed her to stay in tune with her squad leader's cues, picked a mighty _DAMN_ fine time to prove the movie myth about sharpened clarity and perception of time slowing in times of heightened danger to be true.

With crystal acuity the world ground almost to a halt. The brunette's hearing muffled and, as if submerged in water, the entire world lowered in timbre and tonal quality; the rapid beating of helicopter blades slowed to a steady if rapid beat, its high-pitched whine of distress underlying everything. The solidity of the rotordisk broke into six easily discernible if shadowy spokes revolving about the central axis. She could feel both the breeze of their flight, as simple a stunt as any of their cheer sets, on her face as well as the stronger more urgent downward clawing from the aircraft. She could smell the sharp tang of recently cut grass and the odor of the roof's sun-heated tar underneath its small gravel covering and even the redhead's soap and strawberry shampoo. Bonnie marveled at seeing the last couple inches of the cut end of tiny cabling whipping about just prior to disappearing back into its housing mounted on Kim's wrist. Felt the other arm tighten around her waist even more securely, prompting her own grip to snug, the dual hold somehow making her feel safe from all harm, like nothing could touch them.

Not even the spinning death they were _almost casually_ falling into feet first.

What amazed Bonnie the most was her taking notice at a time like this of exactly how pretty Kim's face was in profile. Even with eyes narrowed and lips compressed in concentration. Lips which began moving. For the redhead to be speaking now meant she had something important to say. Still experiencing what the movies called 'bullet time', it was agonizingly slow and deeply bass-shifted.

"LLLiiiiii…," _Live? Hell YES I want to live!_ "…iiiibbbb!"

Suddenly the world snapped back to normal and Kim was practically screaming, "Lib! Lib! Lib Reeetaaake!"

'_Lib'? What the hell is sh…,_ Even as Bonnie tried making sense of the command, long hours of practice found her left leg – the one farthest from the other girl – lifting at hip and folding at knee, her right extending as the ball of her foot reached for a landing spot.

_Landing? Where does one land atop a helicopter with blades spinning?? _

Kim's legs mirrored the debutante's, the middle of their 'three-legged' limbs pointing together, free arms extended outwards to stabilize. Putting a twist into their flight, she guided them through a combined effort, altering the trajectory of their plummet the best she could. Unable to spare a look at the Kimmunicator to see how much of the grapple line remained, she had known even before being cut nearly mid-length, twenty-one feet would in no way be enough to clear them across the twenty-seven-plus feet of rotorwing suddenly in their way.

However as always – _as sixteen masters had trained her_ – the redhead 'knew without knowing' exactly what needed doing.

So it was the feet of both cheerleaders in a _Tandem Liberty_ pose, found and briefly rested on the center beanie, or 'hubcap', protecting the aircraft's rotor-assembly. Absorbing the shock with flexing knees before _retake_ – kicking back off – the teen hero's eyes locked somewhere ahead of them and directed their rebound into a flip to carry them across the second half of the diameter of death whirling below.

No sooner had the duo cleared the erratic attack craft by inches, the rotor tip vortex making a final grab at them, than it lifted up and hard to the right – _away_ from the edifice against which even the most casual of kissing brushes promised destruction. However, the injured pilot at the controls finally lost it as the disk of the rotorwing tipped too far to one side to keep its equilibrium. In a side-slip so casual as to appear slow-motion yet far from it, the craft slid into the tubular radio mast, slicing off the top ten feet. What occurred next was too fast for the eye to follow.

Imagine dropping a pen into an open blender.

Even as the blades bent and broke with the initial impact, the toppling structure danced briefly across the top, increasing the damage taken by both, breaking up further and each piece causing even more damage. Pivoting completely out of control the entire study of high speed destruction finally caught the ground, crumpled, and burst into flames.

_BWWOOOOOOHHHMMM‼_

All of which the redheaded hero ignored, having not taken her eyes from a tall elm tree directly ahead of them. Figuring she had only about nine feet of line left and praying she had _not_ imagined the tiny _thunk_ of the final miniature piton in the Kimmunicator's magazine being auto-spliced into place, Kim waited as long as she could before triggering it. The micro-cable snagged the tree's trunk, swinging the girls around it rapidly two and a half times before they came to rest with the bole of the deciduous between them, the force of the eruption, and the debris it propelled everywhere.

When Bonnie finally dared to opened her eyes, she stared in wonderment at finding her long-time rival, sheltering her body with her own. Kim's eyes were already open, but she was peering around the tree trunk, resizing up the situation. Still in mission mode, the redhead was not ready to slow down just yet for a breather.

Or to even acknowledge the near misses from the explosion. Like several pieces of copter and tower strewn all about the parking lot and grass, some still aflame, but mainly two of the rotor blades. One sword-like airfoil was mumble-pegged into the ground several feet to their left while the other extended a foot and a half out of the tree's trunk half a foot above her head – _having been driven entirely through it!_

"_Sheeeeeeeeeesh… ."_

Meanwhile Kim was confident she had most of the players pegged. _One helo down, one lef… scratch that… _two_ helos left!_ A third low-flying matte-black AH-6 came swinging wide about _The Dexter Riley Hall of Science, _buzzing straight for them like an angry hornet. _I see. _That's_ the one that first shot at us!_ A firm grip on Bonnie's arm and the pair were off again.

"Why're we leaving cover?!" the debutante yelled even though offering no resistance to the pull.

"You don't _seriously_ think a tree would stop that ammo any more effectively than _brick walls,_ do you??" Kim led them zig-zagging between the cars of the lot as the two ominous rotorcraft angled for them. They opened fire again, pinning them behind a blocky SUV, only this time in addition to twin mini-guns mounted under their noses, single and semi-automatic rifles joined in. Weapons in the hands of men leaning half out the sides, their feet propped on the landing skids. Masked men in the rich lavender uniforms of…

"WEE!" the redheaded hero breathed.

"Really K, this is no time to be having fun!" Bonnie rebuked from where she sat on the ground, her back to the vehicle, hair disheveled, eyes wide, and breathing hard. She looked like a rabbit run to ground in a small and sparse copse, barking dogs circling outside.

_Not too far from the truth,_ Kim reflected, "No B. Worldwide Evil Empire, _w – e – e,_ or WEE. A ruthless counter-peacekeeping organization." _Who don't normally use conventional shoot-to-kill weaponry and ammunition! What's going on? _"I've dealt with them before."

"So this isn't about me after all?" she peeked. _"Mauve? _You've gotta be _kidding_ me. _Ugh! _How_ pedestrian!_ And what's with the frat letters? Should've known they'd be tacky if they're after you."

Kim reached out a foot and kicked with her bare heel at the rim of a hubcap of the car facing them until it popped off. "Get me another B…, hard to say who they're after. Those are _Rockwing_ variants of AH-6 Little Birds with Special Forces configurations and loadouts…," the redhead barely spared a glance as her friend also kicked loose a wheel cover with torn-stockinged heel, "That's one of your daddy's companies… ."

Popping up, Kim flung the aluminum discus hard. It went wide of the leading copter.

"Oh great! You missed!" the brunette had one eye up far enough to peer through the SUV's windows as she held out the other hubcap, a slight trembling to her hand.

"Did I?" Kim grinned back, taking the proffered _ad hoc_ weapon. "Wait for it."

Bonnie peered again in time to see the flying disk curve into the tail rotor assembly of the attack craft. The smaller propeller-like assembly tore itself loose and went flying on its own. From abundant action shows her old boyfriend Brick insisted they watch, her imagination filled in insistent and stuttering emergency alarms she could not hear in person.

"Wow. Good shot," the rich girl grinned viciously. She raised her voice, "Take that, you _shoe-killers!"_

Suddenly twirling like a top about the pivot point of the main rotor, it juked and swerved erratically. The pilot fought to maintain equilibrium long enough to bring it lower in order for _ground effect_ to provide additional stabilization and cushion enough to land. Purple-clad individuals bailed, jumping clear – some not landing well – in fear of an impending crash.

As it turned out, a good idea.

Kim sent her second borrowed missile straight for the cockpit canopy of the other attack craft. Trying to avoid it and its reeling mate, the second veered sharply and the tail sections of the helicopters collided. More uniforms leapt clear as both careened into asphalt and several parked cars.

_Great. Just great,_ Kim thought as fireballs bloomed, and leading the amazed brunette further away between the vehicles while staying low, _Not only school property damage, but now personal… seems all the fear was justified, and if anything, Bonnie probably saved lives by instilling it in them._ She sighed, prairie-dogging to try and spot her car. _Might as well look for another alma mater…, if any'll take me after _this!

Hand-held weapons fire pinged about the area as the WEE agents regrouped to continue their mission. Kim nibbled her lip. The presence of Gemini's forces made it a lot less likely Bonnie was their target. _Can't cut her loose though,_ she fretted. By now the angry henchmen would see the debutante as her companion and not let her go free. At best they would take her, seeing her as a bargaining chip, a way to force Kim to give herself up. _At worst they'll kill her in retaliation._

The redhead frowned, _I'll just have to keep her with me until it's safe._

Which was only a few rows over in the form of her plum-colored Roth SL Coupe. All they had to do was get to it and they would be off the grounds – and ground, since it could fly – in less than a minute. The nearest fortified Global Justice base was in Santa Ana, about thirty miles as the crow – or Sloth – flies. Still keeping her red head low she headed for it. "Come on B!"

Bonnie followed without further comment.

The teens were only a row away from Kim's car when from out of nowhere a familiar green-haloed beam of energy hit it. The Sloth exploded, its burst chassis springing twenty feet into the air. This time Bonnie did scream. Kim twisted about, tackling the brunette and shielding her again with her body as burning wreckage rained down about them, the ruined shell of the supercar crashing crosswise across the two sports coupes they lay between.

When moments later they crawled clear, it was to find themselves facing a wall of lavender uniforms, the chest of each sporting two to three Greek letters. With rifles and hand guns leveled at them, the lower halves of the masked faces of men and women were clearly neither amused nor happy. Steely defiance on her own face, Kim moved in front of Bonnie, who had _eeped!_ and raised her hands.

"Make way!" a voice as familiar as the green fire a moment ago cut its way to them. The wall of stern henchmen and women parted, allowing to enter the catsuited figure of…

"Shego!"

The raven-haired, light green-skinned woman slinked half way between them and the lackies, stopping to face the two. Smiling she crossed her arms. "Surprised to see me Cupcake?"

Tilting her head down ever so slightly, Kim narrowed her eyes. "Not really. You tipped your hand to your presence when you destroyed my car."

The woman smirked, "I guess I did at that, didn't I?"

"What brings you here Shego?"

"I guess you haven't heard yet."

"Heard what?"

"There's a price on your head… ."

"_Ha! _I _knew_ this wasn't about me!" Bonnie's triumphant exclamation cut itself short as everyone, including the redhead, glared at her. She tried to grow smaller, "…sorry, pay me no mind… ."

"So, what? You're here to collect?" Kim shifted into a battle-ready pose.

"You know what I've been saying Princess…," the enforcer also shifted her stance, spreading feet wide and uncrossing arms to light fists with roiling green energy, _"…No one_ kills Kim Possible _but me…"_

* * *

**Notes**: Helicopter 'hubcaps', called "beanies", do exist, and yes on the vast majority of rotorcraft equipped with them they do indeed spin, obviously at the same rate of rotation as the blades. For Kim and Bonnie to touchdown even ever so briefly on one of them would probably see their feet sent skidding out from under them, toppling and pulling them to their deaths into the blades. However, on a few select models the beanies are _stationary_. The _'Little Bird'_ military grade helicopter seen here in it's AH-6(variant) configuration is ONE of them. I researched this and checked with experts, and thus the choice of this model Attack Helicopter.

A Go-Prize for why I chose 'Medfield' for the University.


End file.

Kim Possible, Adventure