The Revenge Game
Prologue: Lies for the greater good.
By Pat Squared
DISCLAIMERS
This is a work of literature with references intended for somewhat mature audiences.
If you cannot handle such, please read the rated K and K stories on the Website.
Yes, I do not own any rights to Kim Possible©. These are owned by Disney.
All I own is a few shares of a mutual fund that invests some of its funds in
Disney, which I will probably have to end up selling to pay for the copyright infringement lawsuits.
I did not make any money off this story.
OTHER DISCLAIMERS
NEVER have unprotected sex.
NEVER share needles.
DON'T stick any metal in the electrical sockets.
ALWAYS read the manual, paying attention to safety warnings.
NEVER mix alcohol or drugs with any task requiring concentration or operating heavy machinery.
DON'T even think about making at home porn or take nude pictures if you don't want them to appear on the internet or pop up when you are running for public office.
LADIES, that eagle tattoo on your tit will become a vulture as you age.
Guys even if she is wrong, she is ALWAYS right.
You can never say I LOVE YOU too much to your significant other and family.
MOST IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER
FAILURE TO REVIEW THIS STORY WILL RESULT IN ANOTHER WRITER'S STIKE!
Timeshare lair just north of the US Mexican Border
"Mom, why were the people so mean to the elephant man," asked six year old little Ricky.
"Wolves tear apart the wolves that are different from the pack," whispered his mother.
"But why do people…"
"Ricky-dear, people have two sides. G-O-D or D-O-G. The spelling is not accidental. God and dog are reflections. A dog is just a domesticated wolf. When bad things happen, what separates us from the wild goes away."
"Yes mom."
Ricky Go closed his green eyes safe in the knowledge that his mother would be around to protect his from the bullies.
However fate had a way of destroying innocence.
"SHEGO!" yelled the funny blue man with a bad smell.
Ricky never liked the blue man. There was something about him that made the little boy uncomfortable.
Besides Uncle Drakken whined and squealed like one of those cute white lab rats with little pink eyes that were locked up in the blue man's latest invention. Mother beat up the blue man once for tying to use him as an x-per-a-mental twest subject.
Ricky learned his favorite swear words from that episode and other similar in his life.
Without opening his eyes, Ricky knew that his mother was biting his lips to avoid cursing. Mother could cuss up a storm, but she tried to speak properly in Ricky's presence. Not that she was always successful...
"Do as I say...not as I do. I don't want you to mess up your life like I messed up my life, kiddo" was his mother's favorite saying.
Ricky opened his eyes and vanished into the hidey-hole that his mother insisted be put in every lair since he was born. Inside this hole was an uninterruptable power supply, a microwave, a refrigerator stuffed with a month's worth of microwavable dinners, art supplies, a set of World Book encyclopedias, a small bathroom, and a small surplus army cot.
Ricky knew the drill.
Hide tight. The lair will collapse and his mother would come by in a week or so and dig his out of the rubble. Until then, Ricky was to take care of himself and finish reading the next volume. Mother would then quiz the six year old on the way to the next time-share
lair. Having a mother with a teaching credential meant being stuck at a school year-round without sick days.
However, Ricky was like his mother...he did not always obediently follow the rules.
He hacked into the camera and watched what was happening in the main room.
The blond haired boy who loses his pants and the red-head girl were fighting. The red-head girl and his mother were sparing. It was a pretty even match. However, between the blond boy and the pink rat, somehow the self destruct was activated. It was Ricky's clue to get in the hole.
Ricky took one last look at the monitors.
The red-hair kicked his mother in the chest. His mother bounced against the rail. Then his mother collapse. His mother was not moving. But the red-head and the blond ran away.
Ricky did not run to hidey hole. He ran to his mother. At six, Ricky was not strong enough to drag his mother to the hole.
Ten…nine…eight…
"Ricky Go get into that hole now."
His mother was weakly pushing his to the hidey-hole.
Ricky did not want to go. Nevertheless, his mother gave an order and Ricky dove into the hole and sealed the door as he was taught.
The computerized voice droned on and the roof collapsed.
The six year old knew that mommy was not going to be able to save him this time. He knew that he no longer
had a mommy. For a six-year-old already without a daddy, that meant the end of the world.
Dr. Betty Director watched.
The hazmat/salvage crews delicately moved the heavy concrete slabs. The small ones were a ton. The big ones…that are why there was a union demolition crew armed with hacksaws and sledgehammers at the site of the former lair. Dr. Drakken's fondness for chemicals precluded the use of high explosives or any machinery that could throw off sparks.
Why does Ron Stoppable seem to leave so much destruction behind? You would think that he would learn how to defeat Drakken without pressing the self-destruct button. The demolition bills are making me run over budget every month.
It was the self-destruct button that made it hard to prosecute the blue skin college-dropout. All they could bust Drakken on was the possession of high explosives and hazardous chemicals without the appropriate permits. Even now, Drakken was speaking to his part-time attorney Hal Perkins who told him to sit tight and keep his mouth shut. Even the Environmental Protection Agency threw up their hands dealing with the want-to-be mad scientist.
Suddenly shouts of alarm told Dr. Director that this was no ordinary savage operation.
Dr. Director made her way to the sight. The stones were bloody. There was a strong acidic coppery taste in her mouth from the stench of decay.
It was once a human. Now the mass of flesh resembled a cubist painting that only Picasso and Salvador Dali's combine imaginations could devise. The only thing
holding the flesh together was a green and black jumpsuit
Ton of concrete crashed the infamous Shego. Her criminal days were permanently ended.
The blood bubble coming out her nose and mouth told Betty Director that the former superhero was alive for now. Her limbs were crushed and twisted. Amputation was the only hope for keeping the villainess alive. Shego was not going to be stealing anything for Dr. Drakken anymore.
Dr. Director did not know whether to be sorry or be giddy with relief.
With Shego gone, Drakken would not escape the jailhouse anytime soon.
Maybe this time the EPA will be aggressive in thier investigation.
Doctor Free Love Hewitt, M.D., PhD hated her name. Between hippy parents and a career in psychology, it seemed life was one big comic prankster who spent all his time tormenting her. However, despite how much she hated treating nutcases, she was too good to quit the head-shrinking gig. She would be the first to confess that she was long past burnout.
Hewitt examined the charts.
Shelia Go, age 27, freelance mercenary/thief.
Hewitt shook her head at the X-rays. She had seen people die from a lot less. Not even her mentor, Dr. Anne Possible, could fix this mess.
She went over the medical records.
Then it hit her.
Stretch marks…where is the OB/GYN report.
Hewitt pulled up the X-rays. It had been two decades since she last worked an OB/GYN rotation as an intern, but even she could read the signs of childbirth in the damage done to the former mercenary's pelvis. There was a natural birth. Hewitt then made a phone call.
Two days later, Dr. Hewitt had an answer. Not the answer her patient needed, but an answer. Shelia Go's efforts at human reproduction had failed. The child was dead. And in her condition, Shelia Go would never have another.
Hewitt approached the frozen quadruple amputee.
"Shelia, I need you to listen to me. Your child is…dead. They found his body under all the rubble. It was quick,"
The lower lip trembled and the eyes watered, but the patient was still.
Suddenly, the steel façade that was Shego melted. Even missing her limbs, there was something that made you believe that she would strike fear into the hearts of men again. Now, the iron will...the spirit of aggressive independence that made Shego a force of chaos now evaporated. Dr. Hewitt just watched her patient give up the will to live. The body would follow the mind into the grave.
Dr. Director put down the phone.
It's better this way.
It was not the first time she destroyed a life for the greater good. It would not be the last.
Now she had to find the kid and salvage him from a life of crime.
Sergeant Eduardo Garcia scanned the horizon with his 8x56mm Steiner field glasses.
The heat of the midday sun was literally bending the air. When he looked at the ground, he would see the reflection of the sky…a mirage. For most, mirages were just illusions. For Sergeant Eduardo Garcia, mirages were the tool that allowed him to scan the winds at two hundred meter increments.
Hitting a 4-foot diameter target at 2,500 meters was one part skill and three parts luck. Having made a dozen such shots in Afghanistan, the tribal enclaves of Northern Pakistan, Iraq and Iran, it was now Sergeant Garcia's turn to pass on the skill to Lance Corporal James Foster.
After laboriously entering the wind speed and direction into the handheld ballistic computer, Sergeant Garcia triple checked the figures. A two-mile per hour or ten degree error and your bullet will be hitting something in the next county rather than your target.
"Aim at the bottom right corner. I will dial you in."
Garcia pasted his eyes to the 120X powered Leupold spotting scope.
Bang.
The bullet was on its four second flight to impact. Miraculously, the first round hit the target. Usually it takes three or four to walk the rounds into the target.
"Six inches off at the 10:30 position. Target down."
Suddenly a dark figure fell out from behind the target.
"Cease fire…cease fire."
The figure was lying on the earth...not moving.
"Don't move, Foster. Call Sugar Six Six and tell the gunny that we have a possible fatality."
It was not the first time that illegal aliens from Mexico tried to sneak through Camp Pendleton live fire range. Death was a risk even for well equipped Marines, let alone illegal aliens that walked into the off-limits zone. However, these were mainly due to stumbling against an old mortar dud from the Vietnam era or poor planning dealing with Mother Nature. This was the first time in two decades that some illegal was shot by a Marine.
Garcia started jogging towards the target. Twenty five hundred meters was further than a mile. What took a fifty caliber round seconds would take far longer on foot.
Six minutes later, he spotted the kid.
The child was sunburned with dark hair. The clothes were ripped.
Thankfully the kid was not hit by the main projectile. No...it was the sprawl. At twenty five hundred meters, the 750-grain bullet did not have enough kinetic energy to penetrate the one-inch thick armor place. However, there was more than enough energy transmitted through the plate to have pieces of metal sprawl or splinter off the backside of the plate. That was why the inside of tanks have a special lining to prevent metal from ricocheting around when hit by a rocket.
The child was small, weak, and emaciated like he had not ate for weeks. A moan told the sniper that the kid was still alive.
"¿Como se llama?"
"Water please," was the kid's only reply. The accent definitely was not Mexican.
Garcia opened a package of Gatorade powder and poured it into his canteen. He swirled it around and let the kid slowly sip the liquid. Too much too fast and the kid would vomit.
"What's your name, son?"
"Reekay," was the weak reply before the kid fell unconscious.
"What's your name?"
It seemed that was all they could say.
The child had a name. He knew he had one and he knew what it was. However, he remembered what his mother told him.
"If they find out who you are, they will do to you what they did to me. They will put you in a cage and tell you that you are to serve those who can't take responsibility for themselves. Promise me that you will never tell them who you really are."
The boy remembered his mother's lessons. He did not want to live in a cage and treated like the Elephant man.
"Ricky."
"Hola Enrique. Do you have a last name?"
The boy shook his head.
"Do you have parents? A mommy...daddy?"
Do not let them know who you are!
Instincts kicked in. While he could not explain the reasoning, he knew that the best way to lie was to give only half the truth. It rarely worked with his mother, but worked all the time with the blue man.
"Bye bye...Mommy went to heaven."
The ones in white coats kept asking him questions. In the end, the boy just closed his eyes and started sleeping.
Doctor Betty Director watched the videos of Shelia Go's interrogations.
Once broken, Shelia Go did not resist. She could not resist. She simply was mentally somewhere else most of the time. When she was here, it was far too easy to get answers. All they had to do was show her something that triggered the memories of her child.
In the end, it was merciful to simply turn her over to her brothers.
Why stick the taxpayers with the cost of housing her, feeding her, and changing her adult diapers?
Dr. Director looked at the folder in her hands.
Some marine sniper found the kid wandering lost in the hills of Camp Pendleton. DNA tests confirmed the child was Shego's. DNA also confirmed the identity of the birth father.
Dr. Director shook her head.
The child had won the genetic lottery when it came to villainy. His parents were all too effective when it came to being bad. His mother was bad enough. His father was Dr. Director's worse nightmare. Even now the memory of his father's abilities gave Dr. Director the
chills. For a lady who was use to dealing with the worst of the worst...
Think happy thoughts, Betty. You got the kid out before he was set on the path. He has talents that maybe we can use for the better good.
Much like Dr. Director and her twin brother did. With a father who was a button man for the Chicago Outfit and a mother who still serving multiple life sentences for being one of the world's more active hit-women, it was a miracle that Dr. Director did not end up in the family business.
The director knew that often what separated the worst villains and the best cops was a simple choice. Her twin brother and she were textbook examples. She ran Global Justice. He tried to run the World Wide Evil Empire or whatever he is calling it this week. Gemini was dropped one too many times on the head to be a functional villain.
Betty wondered often just how far she had fallen. She had made her decision for the greater good. Shego's child had potential. She was now going to mold the child into her next best agent.
For now, she would let Sergeant Garcia and his wife raise the little tyke.