1"Outside the world you know, Mortal, there exists the Realm Eternal—Asgard. The shining light of the Nine Worlds, Asgard is home to the gods."
Those words rang dimly in her ears as the bright, blinding whiteness faded from her vision, leaving Bonnie Rockwaller staring at a grand spectacle of an enormous throne room. Upon the throne, the one feature which dominated the room, sat an old man dressed in the manner of the Vikings. Though old, the man was powerfully built and still seemed in the prime of his life. Yet there was a haunted cast to his eye. The other—the left—was covered by a decorative patch.
"What's going on," she demanded full of righteous furry, gaining her bearings somewhat, "and what the hell is this?" She was not in Middleton anymore—she knew that!—she did not think she was even still in Colorado. "If this is some way to get at Kim you can forget it, she's NOT my friend, and I'm not hers. So whatever stupid scheme you have in mind, just call it off and take me home! Or I swear—"
"Silence!" the old man roared the command with such force it knocked the brunette to the ground. Each and all had indeed gone silent. He rose from the throne, pointing to her. "You, Mortal, have been chosen to fulfill a great task. Long ago, I sought to teach my son, Thor, a lesson in humility, to teach him compassion. He learned his lesson, too well it would seem, as he is now neglecting his duties to his people and King. Therefore, I must teach him a new lesson. That he is not as indisposed to Midgard as he might believe. That there is another that can take his place as it's champion. And therefore a challenge: A mortal, unbecoming, shall now wield Mighty Mjolnir, and take up Thor's mantle as the protector of Midgard. In the name of this challenge I, Odin Allfather, bestow this boon and geas(?)—for the span of year and a day, thou art worthy of the hammer of Thor, and take upon thyself the duties of guarding the mortal realm from all great threats, both from within and without. If fail in this challenge, returned to my son his weapon shall be. Yet succeed and you will have proven your worth to continue.
From out of nowhere, a huge hammer, more like a solid block of metal with a handle in it, flew in to view to land before her. Before she could stop herself, Bonnie reached out grabbing the hammer, lifting it almost as though it were light as a pompom. Without thinking, she slammed the butt of the hammer to the ground. A flash of light surrounded her and a wild streak of lightning erupted from the hammer. She stood now clad not in her lavender blouse and skirt combo from Club Banana, but rather in armor similar to that which the Thunder God himself wore, only with a skirt instead of leggings.
Her mind blossomed with knowing. Knowing only what she needed; knowing even if she thought otherwise, she could not simply hide from this. It was a responsibility that she was all but certain to fail. Her mind was racing for a reason—any reason not to have this burden. She was NOT a hero. She hated this kind of thing! Yet before she could voice them she knew, every reason why she was not hero material were the exact reasons she had been chosen. If the least likely person could rise up to become worthy of Mjolnir, then what reason would the God of Thunder have to remain on Earth.
"Now, Mortal," Odin said, "return to your home; not as you were, but as you are now, Champion of Midgard. But know this, if ever you speak of this, to any soul, you shalt be stripped of the power you now possess."
Once more, a bright light surrounded Bonnie, and she found herself hurtled through the dimensional gulf, awash in the colors of the rainbow.
The next morning, Bonnie found herself in her own bed. She bolted upright in a cold sweat. It was only a dream; it HAD to be a dream! She cast her gaze wildly about the room. It had only been a dream. She began to breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing was out of place, everything was as it—no. All as it had been save for one thing! Sitting in a corner next to her dresser, was a baton. It was not ordinary baton, she knew—even though she did not want to know—it was Mjolnir. It was the Hammer of Thor!
She was drawn to it. Her hand reaching for it, before she could stop herself. Startled by her near instinctual want of the baton she jerked her hand back, clenching it into a fist. It was no dream and now she was cursed, to want a weapon she did not know how to use—a weapon she did not even think she could control. It was insane! It was all pure insanity to think she could be a hero. She had a life—a real life—full of cheerleading, shoes, fashion, shoes, dating and more shoes. All the important things in life! Well, after Tara that is.
"Hey, Bon, wakie-wakie!" came from the other side of her door, accompanied by loud and familiar series of knocks. It was her brother, Jonny, the only one of her siblings who seemed to care for her. "The sun is up! Time for that bun of yours to shaky!" He was also the only one who respected her privacy—her sisters would have simply walked in, as they had several times before. Once, they even broke in on her for no reason while she was in the shower!
"I'm up," she called to him. Despite her agitation, her voice was level. Years of dealing with Connie and Lonnie making it almost second nature to her, though this was the first time she had ever used this skill on her brother. And now that she thought of it, it would not be the last.
She put her head in her hands! She wanted to scream in frustration, to howl in rage—she wanted to tell Odin to cram it and find someone else for this test. But she could not. The king of Asgard had made his decision. Sighing in resignation, she climbed from her bed and began her morning routine.
The sun shone brightly as it sank towards the horizon. The small bell on the door tinkled, as Bonnie entered Bueno Nacho. She slumped into her favorite booth in the corner, nearest the exit. It had been a grueling day. She had tried to but could not force herself to leave behind the baton. Her teeth grinding in irritation that, for this matter, her will was not her own, that she was compelled to carry the stupid thing with her. Once she even threw it out her car window on the way to school, only for it to mysteriously appear in her bag as she was pulling out her books. She had stuffed it in her locker then, and thankfully, it had stayed there until the end of the day. When she left it in her locker, it had again found its way into her bag.
"Hi, Bonnie," the brunette looked up at the sound of the near perpetually cheery voice. The owner of said voice being none other than Ron Stoppable. Great, what does he want? Just as she was about to ask. Tara appeared at his side.
"There you are, Ron," she said. "Are you ready for our date?"
Bonnie did a double take. Did Tara just say DATE? With Ron Stoppable? She knew Tara had a thing for him since he saved them at Wannaweep nearly a year ago, but she did not think it had been more than a crush. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her—that this was all still part of some crazy dream or nightmare. Yes, that was it—her mind was playing tricks! The brunette discreetly pinched the underside of her arm—OUCH!—it was real. It was real!—All of it!
"Yea, I am. I spotted Bonnie and figured you'd be nearby. Anyway, what movie do you want to see—Eternal Sundown or the new Space Journey remake?"
Tara giggled, taking his arm. They WERE on a date! "Actually," she said, "I was thinking of seeing The Soulkiln."
"You mean the Bricks of Fury prequel?" He sounded surprised. It did not surprise Bonnie however. Tara had the box set of the other four movies. Of course Bonnie liked them too in a mindless you-know-how-it-ends-but-in-the-meantime-a-whole-lota-people-are-gonna-die kind of fun. Not saying anything she watched as the two blond(e)s walked away, giving off a kind of "giggly-in-love" vibe as they went. She felt like she should be making a mountain out of this, but with being chosen to be the Champion of Midgard, she just could not process it.
The cheerleader sat at her booth for over an hour, milling over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Just as she was about to get up to order, a tray was placed in front of her with her favorite order fixed just the way she liked it—a number seven combo with no tomatoes, extra lettuce on the side, all smothered in enough Diablo Sauce to melt through the table, with a medium diet drink. She looked up to see Ned standing there.
"I took the liberty, seeing as you looked so down. Kimberly ruin your political maneuvering again?"
"No," she answered casually—nobody was around to witness their interaction. Ned was an odd person for her to have as a friend. Not just in terms of the food chain which dictated they should not be friends period, but because he never let his outward shell crack when anybody else was around. It was almost as if he was worried his reputation would suffer from more than a casual business association with her. How absurd was that?—if anything his rep would improve.
But what Ned chose to do was his own business. She slowly took a fork full of chimerito and shoved it into her mouth, allowing herself time to think. Within seconds, her tongue and lips were on fire! But it was a pleasant fire. Looking back up at the Bueno Nacho assistant manager, she said, "I just have a lot on my mind right now."
"Oh, you mean about Tara and Ronald, and how that will affect your plans?"
"Something like that," the brunette replied.
He put his hand on her shoulder in sympathy, "I—"
The next instant the front of building vanished in a cloud of dust and debris as an enormous metallic sphere ripped it away. Survival instincts kicking into high gear, Bonnie and Ned were out the emergency exit mere moments later. Coughing as the dust followed them out, Bonnie suddenly felt a pull, as if she had to do something—not just any random something—she had to do something about what just happened. Of its own volition, her hand wrapped around the baton, that was the disguised Mjolnir, and her feet were carrying her farther away from Ned.
She knew what was happening to her, though she did not like it one bit. Whatever was going on, by Odin's decree, she was compelled to stop it. She fought the compulsion to seek a deserted place to summon her Asgardian powers, trying desperately to turn aside and run out into the open, wanting nothing more than to simply go home and let someone else deal with it.
But no!—she was now Champion of Midgard. She had to deal with it. Whatever it was. The hand holding the baton rose up… Her other clamped onto her wrist to stop it! Gritting her teeth as she strained against the magic animating her arm against her will. Her right arm was beginning to give, as her left continued to restrain it.
Suddenly her arm jerked up, then slammed down, striking the butt of the baton to the ground. Thunder pealed! Lightning streaked from the sky, filling the alleyway. In her hand, she now beheld the mighty hammer Mjolnir in its proper form. She was clad once more in Nordic armor. Complete with a familiar winged helm resting atop her head.
Before she could even think to reverse the transformation, her arm was whiling the magnificent sledge, preparing to take flight. With an upward heave, into the air she flew, racing over buildings. Sighting the path of destruction caused by the metallic sphere, she found it in one of the mall parking lots. The sphere was the size of minivan, and a dull gunmetal-gray in color. As she landed, a closer look revealed the sphere was not perfectly round. It was segmented, as if closed in on itself. From the top extended some sort of antenna array. A small globular protrusion sat next to the antenna.
From deep within the sphere, she heard a deep rumbling sound, followed by several small whirs and clicks, and finally a heavy metallic scrap as the sphere unfolded into a semi-gigantic robotic spider. One of the robo-spoider's legs shot out smashing through the Beemer parked in front of it. The leg retracted, ripping through the vehicle with a terrible grinding noise. With the whir of several servos, the mechanical monster stood, then began marching to the mall.
Bonnie wanted to run away. She was not a hero! She could not fight this thing. Yet even as she watched, she saw Ron come running form the mall to investigate—And with him Tara! The robotic spider came to a halt, a probe-like device extending form an opened panel on its back. "Scanning," a dull, mechanical voice sounded near the front of the spider. The probe locked onto Tara. "Genetic aberration confirmed. Proceed with termination."
Termination?—Tara?—not just NO, but OH HELL NO!
Something burst within Bonnie, and the next instant she was flying at the robot, Mjolnir ablaze with lightning, as she struck with a righteous fury. The enchanted sledge smashed into the metal housing of the spider's armored side, knocking it off balance. Driven by her wrath, Bonnie brought the hammer down on one of the leg joints near the body, taking the leg off.
The spider then bucked, throwing her to the side. "Warning! Redirect targeting scanners. Neutralize imminent threat," the voice of the spider said.
Bonnie rose from the pavement. Holding out her hand Mjolnir flew to her grip. Charging the mechanical spider, hammer held high, she was caught unprepared as it spun, more rapidly than she believed possible, and fired twin laser bolts at her. She deflected one with the great hammer, sending harmlessly into the ground. The other caught her in the shoulder. The force slammed her back, smashing into a car.
A lone police officer arrived on the scene. He yelled at the robotic creature to get its attention. When that did not work, he drew his gun and began firing. Several pings were heard as the bullets ricocheted of the armor plating. The spider kicked out with its back leg knocking away the officer.
Again, Bonnie climbed to her feet. The fact that she had just endured an impact that should have shattered every one of her ribs not even entering her mind as she did so. Her eyes narrowed. Now she was PISSED! She hurled Mjolnir at the spider, the mighty hammer thudding against the head of the monster, causing it to recoil.
She looked around for anything that might be of use. Yet all she found were bystanders and onlookers, who had grown accustomed to Kim fighting freaks in the streets, and saving the day without any casualties. Bonnie was not Kim however, and what she needed to do could get people hurt if they got too close.
"Get back!" she shouted at the lookie-loos(?), sending a small bolt of Mjolnir's making near their feet to emphasize her point. That done, she returned her attention to her mechanical foe; raw electrical power crackled around the enchanted hammer, as she readied herself to attack.
As she charged, from within her an urge to scream welled up from inside her. "For Asgard," she bellowed as she struck the spider once more, sending all the pent up power into the artificial beast, overloading its circuitry. One by one, servomotors and actuators blew out. The Spider seized up, falling in defeat. But Bonnie was not done with it yet. She held up Mjolnir, a massive bolt lighting descended from the sky to strike the ruined hulk of the robotic spider. Lightning continued to rain down upon the metallic husk, super heating the metal until it blew apart from the sheer force of the lightning.
The explosion had been deafening, yet over the sounds of sirens and other emergency vehicles, the Champion of Midgard could distinctly hear cheering. The crowd was cheering her victory. She held up her hammer in acknowledgment of their praise. Then she began whirling the mighty sledge to again take flight.
Landing in a deserted alley, she struck the butt of Mjolnir's handle on the ground, returning to her normal self, holding what appeared to be a normal baton. She ran out of the alley. Heading straight for the mall—straight for Tara—she ran as hard and as fast as she could. She had to know if her friend was all right. She needed to know.
She reached the mall, and finally saw the full scale of the devastation. The parking lot was utterly destroyed; the pavement was in ripped up in massive slabs where lightning had struck, several cars were mangled ruins, and one of the mall's exterior walls had partly collapsed. And the extent of the ruination stretched beyond the parking lot, as a path of destruction could be backtracked through several damaged buildings. The Bueno Nacho, one of them.
Police were beginning to cordon off the area. She needed to find Tara. Looking around, she could not see the wavy-haired blonde she could pick out of a crowd of wavy-haired blondes anywhere. All right, plan-B; she found Officer Hobble.
"Hello, Bonnie," he said trying to look cheery, and only succeeding in looking bilious. "If you're looking for your friend I think I saw her and her date heading off towards the BN down the street."
Of course, Ron would head back to the Bueno Nacho. After thanking Officer Hobble, she ran off back the way she had come.
When Bonnie got home, she slipped in through the back door near the kitchen, making a quick sandwich before heading up to bed. She was tired; the events of the day were beginning to catch up to her. What she needed now was rest. Thankfully, her sisters were not home now, having to spend a certain amount of time actually living in their dorm to keep from being expelled from Upperton University. She was positive she could not deal with them right now.
Heading into her room, she locked the door behind her. Throwing the baton aside, she flopped down on her bed. Rolling over she managed to kick off her shoes before sleep claimed her.
The next morning she woke refreshed, though she still moved sluggishly. Trekking downstairs for breakfast, she found her father and brother already eating. She sat down, shocked to see her picture on the front page of the morning newspaper under the headline Thor Girl, Champion or Charlatan. Not quite sure how to react to the headline she settled on silence, wondering if she had been identified and if so did it cancel this stupid test she was forced to undertake. Then she got a good look at the photo. It was a very poor shot from far away, and blown up to its current size, it was grainy enough to distort her face beyond recognition.
One question answered, but none of the rest.
"Great, another damned vigilantly," her father muttered as he read the morning paper. "They're starting to spring up like weeds. Next thing you know every idiot that gets the notion the cops aren't doing their job will put on a mask or a cape. It would serve them right if they wound up getting themselves killed. Leave the job to the professionals, not a bunch Dirty Hairy wannabes."
Bonnie wanted to shake her head. The "professionals" were not trained or equipped to handle the threat villains like Kim's freaks posed, but she could not tell her father that, or he would just start ranting. He was worked up enough as it was. No need to throw gasoline on the fire.
She looked over to see her brother glaring at their father behind his paper. Bonnie knew that look—he was fixing to throw a propane tank on the fire. Damn! "Dad," he said, "the cops can't stop these new super-criminals that are appearing even more frequently than the heroes are. They're out gunned and outmatched at every turn. If not Dr. Drakken and Shego, then that thing that destroyed the mall parking lot and damaged several other buildings is proof of that. That thing would have killed Bonnie's friend if that Thor Girl hadn't showed up. I mean it attacked Tara specifically! And you saw the cops—bullets didn't even scratch that thing! I for one am happy we have another hero in Middleton.
"Robert," was all their father said. The middle name—ouch! Bonnie winced in sympathy for her brother. It was never a good sign when their father used their middle names. He folded down his newspaper, setting it on the table. He was a deliberate man, never one to speak or act in hast. He sipped his coffee. Looking over to his son, he asked, "What makes you think this vigilante is a hero?"
"She saved people," Jonny said defensively.
"That she did; I won't argue facts with you," he replied, "but how do you know that was her only intent?"
"What," her brother responded confused. Arguing and reasoning had never been Jonny's strong points.
"He's asking," Bonnie cut in, coming to her brother's aid, "how do you know she wasn't being paid to stop that thing?"
"Because," he said, "she didn't look like a mercenary."
Bonnie hung her head in defeat. Jonny would not understand the point their father was tiring to make.
"She obviously has a connection to Thor. So honor has to be one of her motivations, and honor doesn't have a price. She has the power to help so she's bound by honor to help—it's that simple."
It was later in the day and Bonnie was still reeling from yesterday's… excitement. She played the incident over and over in her mind, and even now, as she thought about it, all she wanted to do was run away from it all as far as she could. To somewhere where there were no rampaging robots, mad scientists, or mutant freaks; someplace where it was always sunny and the boys were oh-so-sexy, like Miami or Cancun. And whether she wanted to or not, she would drag along Tara—tied up and thrown in a trunk if she had to.
The brunette was in her private dance studio working though the various motions and routines of ballet to help clear her head. Playing softly in the background was Ride of the Valkyries, her favorite piece of classical music—actually her favorite piece of music period. It fit her mood so much better right now rather than traditional ballet music.
As she pirouetted, she caught sight of the abominable baton. That vile thing had made her act as idiotic as Kim and Ron—running around trying to save the day!—pu-leeease, she had more important things to do than look after people too stupid to run away on their own. That…that…that… thing had made her do all that. She snarled in impotent fury at having her will overtaken like that. She had been taught that there was not silver platter; that things were not simply handed to a person. At birth, a person is given life and will and nothing more. A person must exert their will to take what they want thereafter. And what galled her about that is that no matter how she exerted her will, Kim always seemed to come out on top with almost no effort.
Again, she snarled. She snarled at having allowed her thoughts to wander. Kim, though a pain in her ass, had no place in her current predicament. It was all the fault of Odin. Him forcing her to take that damned hammer. Forcing her to fight!—to be a hero! It was insanity, all of it. But she could not deny it. Though it had been kind of fun summoning that lightning.—No! There was nothing fun about it at all.
Standing up striate, she used the towel draped over her shoulders to mop a heavy sheen sweat from her brow. She walked over to the wall-length mirror set at the far side of the studio, where her water bottle was. Bending over to grab a hold of it she chanced to look out the window and saw the Middleton National Bank across the street just as the doors blew outward and a mangled wreck. Though distorted by the smoke, she saw figures running into the bank.
Before she knew what she was doing, her free hand moved of its own valuation back to the corner where she had thrown the baton. A second later, it slapped into her hand, and she struck the butt of the stick on the floor. Thunder pealed and a bolt of lightning filled the studio! In her hand, Bonnie held not a baton but the mighty hammer Mjolnir proper. Again, her clothing gave way to a breastplate and armored skirt of Nordic design. The winged helm of Thor appearing upon her head.
Catching a glimpse of her herself in the mirror before Odin's decree forced her into action, she noted that she was taller than normal, by at least half a foot. Her musculature was also different, it was much more defined than normal. And her hair!—it had blonde-frosted tips! These were all things she had not noticed when looking at a grainy black-and-white photograph in the morning paper.
Landing in front of bank, smoke billowing from the ruined doors, she tread though the broken debris, bits of plaster and marble crunching and grinding under foot. In the lobby, she found not the ordinary group of thugs she was expecting, but rather a group that nearly defied description.
There were six of them. One of them, an oddly fit man, looked to be driving a sort of robotic exo-suite, similar to the prototype her father's company was designing for the military. The suite was absolutely massive, towering nearly ten feet in height, but thankfully it was stripped of any weapons. Though that did not help much as the exo-suite was meant to be a weapon all on its own. The suite, heavy thuds sounding with each step it took, had to be the reason they blew the doors off the bank.
She then noted a man nearly as large as the exo-suite; standing nearly seven feet and built like a steroid junky from Muscle Beach. His pointed ears and grey skin tone told her all she needed to know about this mutant freak.
Then she saw a man with a metal plate covering half his head, and his left arm looked inhumanly thin, and it was metallic. He was a cyborg. Next to him was a woman who was also a cyborg, though her face was intact, both her arms and legs were replaced by mechanical limbs.
Near the door to the vault, a humanoid robot with four arms, each with a different tool was cutting its way through the hardened steel barer. Its servos whined as it moved the arm bearing a torch though one of the hinges of the door.
The last one seemed a normal human woman dressed in advanced combat gear, and wielding hi-tech looking weaponry, a black cowl hid the upper portion of her face, while her crimson hair spilling down her back in a thick braid. Her features twisted into a cruel smile as she leveled a pair of guns at one of the hostages, an older woman in an immaculate and fashionable dress-suite. Apparently, she was the leader of this gang of villains, "You and me Honey, are going into your office, while my friends here work on that vault. Oh, and no funny business—unless, that is, you're into that sort o' thing. I've never done it in a bank before, and you are kinda cute."
With no warning the redhead leaned in and kissed the bank executive full on the mouth. Pulling away just as quickly, "Now move!" She pushed the other woman towards an office before disappearing behind the door.
She stepped back out for a second, "Fang, make sure everyone stays quite while I have some fun."
"Roger," was all the mutated man said with an underling growl as the redhead disappeared again.
"Hold, Varlets!" Did she really just say that?! That sounded so stupid! She could not help herself however as an overwhelming urge compelled her to speak, "Desist from yon illegal enterprise or face thy wrath." They spun to face her—all save the robot.
In a flurry, they attacked. The cyborgs using laser canons housed in their mechanical arms, fired shot after shot at her. On instinct, Bonnie dove away, landing behind a desk. What the hell had she been thinking? She could not do this; she was not a hero! Just as she righted herself to move again she was tackled by the mutant—Fang he had been called. Mjolnir fell from her grip as his clawed hands wrapped around her throat.
"Hello girly. Ya know, lil' girls can get hurt palin' with big boy toys. Here let me show ya," one of his hands left her throat and gripped the handle of the enchanted sledge. Mjolnir resisted his pull. "What?" his grip on her throat loosened and the next instant she slammed her helmed head against his. He roared in pain, "That little stunt is gonna cost you, girly!"
The mutant reared back and his clawed hand descended towards her face. On reflex, Bonnie took up and swung the mighty hammer. A dull clunk sounded as it hit his head, knocking him off her.
Coughing for breath, she rolled away, dropping her magic hammer as she did so. Bonnie took refuge behind desk. She was scared out of her mind and her hands were shaking from the adrenalin coursing through her system. She took great gulping breaths to try to calm herself. She could not do this. Her breaths were punctuated by small sobs, as tears rolled down her checks. She was no hero, and she was going to die because of it.
"Spread out," ordered the woman cyborg, "she's got to be here somewhere."
The exo-suite thudded by. "I can't find her; something's interfering with my scanners."
"You've got eyes—use them! The Boss will have our heads if we screw this job. I don't know about you, but I do NOT want to go back to that damned wheelchair."
Seconds ticked away; seconds grew into minutes. She heard footsteps beside the desk. Then in a flash of light, Bonnie reverted to her normal self. What?—HOW? She looked to where Mjolnir had been and saw only the baton as it was kicked aside by the other cyborg. The footsteps moved on and she breathed a sigh relief.
Then a mechanical hand clamped around her arm and hauled her out from under the desk. The man in the exo-suite scrutinized her. From her new vantage point she could now see his legs were atrophied and that the suite was operated completely by hand controls "It's not her!—just some kid that was hiding under the desk," he called to the others.
"Then keep looking, idiot."
"At least I'm not a freak like the rest of you," he retorted.
"We only did what you were afraid to do," said the other cyborg.
The man in the exo-suit barked a harsh laugh, "Afraid? It takes guts accept what happened to ya."
Bonnie could not believe it! They were bickering!—in the middle of this! It was simply unbelievable. Here she was hanging by her arm, and these idiots—the people who were trying to kill her—were fighting amongst themselves.
A shot rang out. All eyes turned to the office; the leader of the gang stood in the doorway with a sour expression on her face. "I told you to keep it quite out here. Was that too much to ask?"
"But Boss," the male cyborg said, "we were attacked."
"By who—the 'ice-princess'?" the redhead sneered.
"No, by some crazy chic in armor, and a hammer. She smashed Fang's face in—he's out cold. We found the girl under one of the desks," said the woman cyborg.
"Then find the bitch!" ordered the redhead, "And put her with the others."
The claw holding her let her go, and Bonnie fell to the floor in a heap. Thankfully though, she landed near the baton. That stupid baton. That cursed baton. That sweet wonder baton. Feigning a spasm from the hard landing she quickly grabbed the damned stick and slid it up the sleeve of her unitard. She slowly climbed to her feet, before being marched away to where the rest of the hostesses were being kept.
Just then, the skylight shattered above and in swung Kim and Ron. Bonnie groaned mentally. Kim would undoubtedly hold this over her head in the weeks and months to come. It was humiliating to be saved time and again by a person you did not like. For once Bonnie wanted to be the one to hang it over Kim's head.
Taking advantage of the distraction Ron and Kim made, the brunette broke away from her guard, dashing off into an empty hallway. Within seconds she unsheathed the baton from her sleeve and smashed the butt to the ground. Lightning enveloped her as she once again summoned her Agardian powers.
With a heave of her mighty sledge, she flew into the fray. "For the honor of Asgard!" With a thunderous crunch, she smashed Mjolnir into the exo-suite. She caught sight of Kim ducking behind a partially destroyed desk as the leader of the gang fired blast after blast at the other redhead. With just barely that one look, she could tell Kim was out matched. This gang was more than anything the teen hero had faced before. One or two of the she might have been able to handle but not all of them.
If Kim could have handled them, Bonnie could have slipped away. After all she was not a hero. She did not go in for this 'save the day' stupidity. Yet, Odin's decree compelled her to act. Bonnie held Mjolnir on high, summoning a bolt of lightning, frying the exo-suite. But she was not finished. Thunder boomed overhead! Lighting filled the bank lobby striking in wild arcs, destroying the robot that had never stopped working on the doors to the vault.
Three down and three to go.
Whirling the mighty hammer overhead she lunged at the male cyborg, aiming high. She hit her mark! The force of the blow ripped way his mechanical arm just as he leveled his laser cannon at Ron's head. The cyborg screamed in rage and frustration. She followed up with an uppercut, hitting him square in the jaw. His head snapped back as he fell unconscious. Little electrical buzzes sounded from frayed weirs.
Looking up she saw Ron doing his best to dodge darts and other projectiles coming from the other cyborg as she chased him through the lobby. Bonnie could feel the power of Mjolnir humming in her hands as she changed her grip. She waited for the right moment to strike. And strike she did! Loosing a mighty blow, which sent the fiend flying into a wall. As the cyborg rose again, Bonnie hurled a bolt of lightning at her, shorting out her mechanical limbs.
The Champion of Midgard spun about looking for the last of the villains.
"Hold it!" came the woman's voice behind her. She spun once more only to find an unprecedented sight. The woman had Kim in a headlock and one of her blaster weapons at the teen hero's throat. "Drop the hammer or I paint the walls with Red's brain," she said coldly. Bonnie's knuckles began to crack as her grip tightened on Mjoljir. The offer was tempting—she would be rid of Kim… But she could not; even without the magical compulsion laid upon her, she could not bring herself to sacrifice her archrival.
Her only choice was to comply. She let the magic hammer slip from her grasp. But it was over; she could faintly hear the wail of the sirens as the police approached. "I have done as thou bid, villain." She grimaced; did she have to sound this dorky when she spoke. It was as if she was reading one of those stupid plays from English class. "Release yon hostage," she called.
"I think not," the woman said flashing a grim but devious smile, her eyes sparkling with dark mirth, before licking Kim's cheek, "I like her." Bonnie's eyes narrowed. The wretch had no honor!—Where had that thought come from?
"You shalt not escape thy wrath," the thunderess warned.
Suddenly Ron sprang from the side with a flip-kick. He knocked the woman's weapon away from Kim's throat. The same instant Mjolnir flew back into Bonnie's grasp just for a second as she hurled the great sledge at the woman. The villain dove away as the mighty hammer smashed through the ground where she had been. When the dust cleared, she was nowhere to be found.
Kim glared murderously at her. "Are you unharmed," Bonnie asked, giving over to the compulsion on her speech, as she extending a hand to the redhead. Kim for her part slapped away the hand.
"I had everything under control until you showed up," the teen hero's voice was as ice.
The thunderess only smirked. "Verily, I engaged this rabble long before thou didst." Stupid as it sounded it was worth it to see her rival's face turn the same shade as her hair in frustration. "Now I must away. Farewell, Kim Possible; mayest the hand of fate be kinder when next thee venture forth."
Whirling the enchanted hammer over her head, she flew up out the skylight Kim had entered.
Bonnie landed back in her dance studio. Tapping Mjolnir on the floor, light filled the room as she reverted back to her normal self. The baton in her hand felt different. She had no idea how to describe it. It felt as though the baton was…resonating?…with her. A small smile curled her lips. How it had been fun to dress down Kim like that, even as idiotic as it sounded. She was rather pleased with herself. After all, she had saved the day. Her!—Bonnie Rockwaller had saved the day, and she had finally managed to tweak Kim as she did it.
Of course there was that one slip. She would have to be more careful next time. She certainly did not want to wind up dead. DEAD! That thought sobered her quick. She could have died. And her ire came raging back at full force. Because of that stupid test; she could have been KILLED!
To think that just a moment ago she considered it so lightly. What was wrong with her!? She was not a hero. She did not want to be a hero! She raged and ranted internally, cursing Odin with almost every breath she took. It was not far! Why was she stuck doing this?
At last, she broke down into tears. She sat huddled in a corner, weeping when the answer came to her. A voice like a whisper; it was the voice of her younger self. What about Tara, it asked. She would have died if you hadn't saved her. Would you trade her's for your own? A million similar questions the voice asked. And Bonnie knew the answer was for her to bear this burden.
With that question settled, she set about formulating a plan to make it easier for her to bear.
"Now what, Bonnie?" Kim's tone obviously said she did not want to be bothered right now, especially by her. How she loathed having to deal with this stuck-up bitch. But she needed to do this.
"K, I think we should add baton twirling to our routines." Bonnie's words were thick with barely controlled derision as she spoke. "I already went ahead and ordered the new batons. See?" She held up her baton as a part of the ruse, inwardly smiling at the fact that she secretly held the power of a god in her hands. She allowed a fraction of that smile to show through, playing to Kim's perception of her.
"Interesting idea, B… not! Half the girls don't know how to twirl." Bonnie killed her outward smile—the bait was set, and the redhead never even saw the trap. This time it was easy, almost too easy. Now she just needed to give Kim enough rope to trip over, but not enough to hang herself with it.
A soft tug in the right direction ought to do it. One had to be careful about what strings were tugged and when, or the puppet would notice the string, and when that happened, they tended to pull at them themselves. "Fine. Then we can set up routines where I'm at point twirling," she modulated her voice just a hair to sell her deception.
"I don't think so, Bonnie," Kim answered flatly, giving her an equally flat look. Perfect!—time to pull the snare closed.
"But, Kim…!" the mousy-haired girl pitched her voice a half-octave higher, for a not-quite-whining tone of whining. She added a defensive stiffness to her back, and thrust her arms down into a position that screamed frustration. That was the extra touch—the twist of the knife, as it was—which made Bonnie the Queen Bee and not Kim.
"Look. You feel strongly about it, take it to the squad," Kim said testily. "They like the idea of you twirling at Point, bonnie for Bonnie. But I don't think so." The brunette grinned in satisfaction as Kim brushed past her, walking off. After it goes up for a vote, no matter which way it goes no one will think anything of my having the baton around. And with that, Bonnie went her own way, circling back to Tara—the only other person still in the gym—while idly twirling the disguised Mjolnir, even giving it a punctuational toss into the air, as she did so.
To assured with her victory over Kim—one of only a handful recently—she was not paying that much attention to her baton. Miscalculating the position of the whirling stick, it bounced off her palm, but the brunette instinctually clutched at the baton, managing to wrap her fingers around it just as the butt struck the ground.
Light and thunder filled the gym! In the place of a mortal cheerleader, there stood the new Champion of Midgard, in all her resplendent glory.
Tara gasped disbelievingly, her eyes seemingly wide as saucers, "Bonnie! You're Thor Girl?!"
Settling into a calm resignation the brunette thought of how best to handle this situation. How could she resolve this without compromising the edict forbidding her to speak of this? Then it struck her!—the path of medium resistance, "I can't tell you."
"But I can see it. I saw you change with my own eyes," the blonde nearly shouted!
"Listen to me, Tara… I. Can't. Tell. You. Ever!" The brunette bit off each word as an individual sentence, hopefully managing to convey her point.
The blonde, ever insightful, gasps in understanding, "Ahhhh, I see…"
"And you can't tell anyone else either…" Bonnie scolded preemptively.
"Bonnie…" Tara started, seeming slightly nervous. And she had every right to be; it was not every day that you find out your best friend was also your hero. The questions that must be spinning and swirling around in her skull, each one at the front of her mind, but unable to ask them. And it might be the sheer awe of sitting next to a godling. "If we can't talk about… uh, you know… this, then how can I know what's going on?"
The mousy-haired girl sighed, it was not like her friend to be this skittish. "T, it's me! Stop acting like I'm gonna smash your skull in if you say something I don't like. You know I would never do anything to hurt you; in a way, I'm thankful for that slip in the gym. Now I don't have to hide this from you, or lie to you about it."
"It's not that B. It's just… Oh, I don't know what it is!"
At that declaration, all eyes in the Bueno Nacho were on Tara. Realizing it, she began to blush fiercely in embarrassment. "Sorry," she said barely loud enough to register. Bonnie on the other hand shot the room a death glare that sent everyone's attention hastily back to their meals.
"T, whatever happens wi—with this thing I have to do, we'll get through it as friends."
