Author Note: Hey, all, Duo here. Why, yes, I am completely insane. How kind of you to notice.
So… Kim Possible… I actually watched this show a bit when it was newer, but I stopped for some reason or other (most likely taking myself too seriously). I actually got back into the series as Disney did the giant finale (irony, that), which… was actually the second finale since the series had already died once and been brought back to life without my knowing… Anyway, I remembered something I'd forgotten, and that was that the show was… well just fun and kinda silly. Don't knock silliness, it's what Monty Python is, basically. So, yeah, I figured I'd never get involved enough to write a fanfic for this series, but… I had this crazy idea, so… you know how it goes. Point being… ah… don't hate me because I suddenly discovered I enjoy a show about a cheerleader who fights super villains in her spare time? I have no idea, really.
Updating… yeah, no idea here either. This chapter took about a week and a half, but I'm absolutely terrible about updating anything, and, in fact, it's probably nuts of me to take on another fic when I have so many unfinished ones that I do actually want to come back to at some point. Regardless, keep an eye out every now and then (and I promise I'll update my TotA fic soon! There's really no excuse on that one, the next chapter's written already…) if you're interested.
So yeah, for once I actually have nothing to talk about endlessly up here. I'm sure some of you at home are cheering right now. Those people don't get to read this. Okay, they can, but only because I'm desperate for readers. Enjoy!
Kim Possible: So the Evil Corporation
By Duo Himura
It was a dark night characterized by storms and/or commotion. Rain poured down from the heavens seemingly without end. Lightning leapt across the sky to great cracks of thunder. Wind seemed to twist about all that it touched—rain, trees, people.
It was not an ideal night to be plummeting from a recently departed jet.
Kim Possible, just your average teenage crime fighter (which to be fair, is a very small demographic outside of Saturday morning cartoons), was hurtling nonchalantly through the midst of the storm, on a collision course with the ground some thousands of feet below her. She'd seen—and done reckless things in the midst of—worse. Granted none of those reckless things had involved skydiving in a thunderstorm. Also granted none of those reckless things had involved her parachute not working.
Free fall was not a new experience for Kim, though the fear that she could be struck by lightning in the process was pretty different. She sighed, hardly even aware that she had done so over the noise of the storm and rushing air, and began to think how to avoid ending up splattered on the ground. If Ron were there they could probably manage to somehow share his parachute. Of course, if Ron were there she probably wouldn't have been taking a jet into the middle of a thunderstorm in the first place. He got kinda nervous about stuff like that.
An inflatable raft would have sufficed, if the Mythbusters (that show was on almost constantly at her house—more for the explosions than the science, she suspected) were to be trusted. Likewise any of various rocket-based or jetpack-like gadgets she and Ron had made use of in the past would probably have done the job.
In retrospect, she was a bit on the woefully unprepared side of things.
At last, beginning to get desperate, Kim did something she would never have done under ordinary circumstances: she pulled out her cell phone.
No, not the "Kimunicator," the pale blue all-purpose device that was ever her link to her friendly neighborhood super-genius 12-year-old, Wade. Not the Kimunicator, which had automatic video feed, worked anywhere on the planet that she'd bothered to try it, and could run off of the same battery for some years at a time. A cell phone. A normal cell phone.
Clumsily she pressed the unfamiliar buttons with her thumbs, sending out a message in the most agonizing way she could imagine. At last, with a shudder, she hit "send."
She had just texted Wade.
Meanwhile, back in Middleton, a young, dark-skinned boy sat watching over a variety of monitors. The computer screens were the only source of light in the room—not especially good for the eyes, but it did wonders for the atmosphere—and at present, they were being largely ignored on behalf of some extremely interesting finger-drumming the boy was engaged in.
It was a slow day for Wade. Yes he had sent Kim to face potentially life-threatening danger, but that was pretty much par for the course at this point, and it still left him without much else to do. The fact of the matter was he'd ingested almost all of the information he felt was worth his time, and he'd already used most of it to invent something. Sure, when he found a way to make cats immune to hydrogen cyanide, he'd have a thing or two to say to the quantum physics community, but he was running out of cats, so he decided he ought to think out his next idea a bit more fully, and thus far nothing had come to him. And he wasn't nearly bored enough to read up on the driving regulations for Colorado. Such was his state of lethargy that he barely even batted an eyelash when he and the rest of the Internet suddenly learned that Dumbledore was gay.
Then he saw something that nearly made him fall out of his chair.
A window opened on the screen directly in front of him, bearing with it a message:
WADE
CANT TALK. PARACHUTE A NO-GO. HELP. PLZ & THX.
-KIM
For a moment the tech guru was too stunned to do anything. At last, he leaned forward and began to type furiously.
Meanwhile the meanwhile which so rudely removed us from the scene which we had previously been following until this meanwhile so rudely removed us from that scene our red-headed heroine was still, as one might imagine, occupied in the task of plummeting to her doom, and checking her cell phone for new text messages every five seconds. Finally, her efforts bore fruit:
Kim,
Check your backpack for a small green capsule. Crush it in your hand. Should work.
Spending no more than a few seconds questioning how Wade managed to sneak new, miscellaneous gadgets into her backpack and why he never bothered to tell her about them beforehand, she extracted the desired capsule, a thing about the size of an egg, crushed it, and was rewarded for her trouble by being instantly immersed in a bubble of green goo.
The experience of being in a bubble of goo (green or otherwise) was one of the stranger ones in Kim's recent memory, the time the latest nanotech armor she had field-tested steel-plated her hair excluded (Wade's automatic rust-inducer had almost made up for melting her car's left wheels fixing that one. Almost.). She still felt like she was falling, but also as if she was being simultaneously buoyed up. The goo was definitely liquid, but somehow it didn't appear to actually be getting her wet, and she couldn't move through it very freely either. The outside of the bubble pulled inwards around her right hand, the one which had held the capsule, resulting in what was almost more of an apple shape than a true sphere. Her arm was stuck straight out at her side, but by moving it, she discovered, she could actually twist the entire bubble around, theoretically allowing her a sort of controlled rolling when the bubble was on the ground.
Kim barreled into the earth with all the force she had acquired falling from what would have been considered a safe height (with a working parachute) were it not in the middle of a thunderstorm. And suddenly she was traveling in the opposite direction, bouncing back up, maybe a hundred feet into the air, with no more of a jolt than that of a car stopping suddenly. Maybe Wade was right after all; she could totally see bubble travel being the way of the future.
Finally, after much bouncing, the bubble came to rest. Kim unclenched her hand, and, as quickly as it had expanded, the bubble sucked itself back into her open palm, reforming into a perfect egg-shaped capsule in an instant. She gave her head a quick shake—even though there was no moisture left behind in her hair or clothes (including what had been there before from the rain, interestingly enough), she couldn't shake the feeling that she should be completely soaked. She didn't have long to ponder this, however: the dark sky overhead was only too pleased to help resolve her confusion, and within moments she was completely soaked.
Wonderful, the teenager thought. Now when I get home I can be the subject of another parental debate over whether there's any correlation between wet clothes and catching a cold…Well, maybe I can dry off before then…
Looking up at the sky, somehow she didn't think that was going to happen.
Her gaze sweeping slightly below its original subject, Kim found herself staring at the immense building she was there to infiltrate. Somehow she'd managed to land barely inside the outer wall, easily 10 feet tall and painted in a "No, we really don't want you coming in here," shade of white. A large, grassy yard spread before her, and then, with no warning, the building itself plunged upwards from the ground, stories heaped upon stories, yellow light streaming from the windows, piercing the darkness only to be reflected and refracted by the thousands of droplets of falling rain.
Yeah, this was the right building. She could tell by the dramatic narration and the sudden, inexplicable organ music. E minor, not a good sign.
Fishing her more preferred mode of communication out of her pocket, she asked, "Wade, what's the sitch on this place?" Wade stared back at her from the screen, barely repressing a grin. "…What?"
"Plz & Thx?" Wade offered in his best vocal chatspeak. Kim glared at him. "Okay, okay," he said through a slight chuckle. "Good news is that, since Drakken only took over recently, he hasn't had time to add any of his own security measures."
"Bad news?"
"They aren't… really necessary." A blueprint appeared on the screen to confirm the statement, showing, among dozens of other traps, a trip wire not five inches from her left foot. Carefully, Kim backed towards the wall, giving herself a bit more room.
"Any ideas?" she said.
"Well, you could try the whole diving out of a plane bit again and see if you can land on the roof this time," Wade shrugged.
"So not helping."
"I thought you liked jumping over stuff." Another glare found its way to him. "Sorry, been kinda bored here."
"Okay, next time Ron goes on vacation you're on sidekick duty."
"Ahahah…hah…hah… Yeah, that's pretty funny, Kim."
"Note serious face."
"…Man, you get cranky when Ron's away."
Kim rolled her eyes and shut off the Kimmunicator. Okay, so if she were being completely honest with herself, he was… partly right. Well, mostly right, actually… her mood hadn't been the best since Ron left to spend a week with some distant relation or other (that she didn't have a name wasn't her fault; Ron barely had any idea who it was himself). She'd sort of been hoping that the news of a new Drakken scheme would provide a welcome distraction, but when Wade told her what that scheme actually was the welcome bit had more or less gone out the window. Come to think of it, it wasn't very distracting, either. She kept hoping for Ron to suddenly show up and lose his pants or something.
Right, that came out wrong. The pants thing was just… a staple of their adventures together, and really more embarrassing than anything. That was her story, and she intended to stick with it, in spite of Monique's comments that she was, "so far in denial she'd better watch out for dead Pharaohs."
Deciding that was a line of thought best left alone, at least for the moment, Kim went back to examining the blueprint Wade had sent her. The security was pretty tight… The most logical choice would be to just go above it, get a bit closer and then grapple to the top of the building, but apparently the designers had even thought of that: the building's walls were designed to send an electric shock through anything that latched on to them, and for all the other things it might be able to do, her grappling hook definitely couldn't shield her from 10,000 volts.
Well, that still left her with one idea. It was reckless, dangerous, and probably doomed to fail. In other words, she was pretty much going with that one.
Taking a deep breath, Kim hurled herself into the air. She somersaulted over the trip wire (apparently connected to a series of concealed flamethrowers), cartwheeled between a set of saw blades that rose from the ground, gnashing together like some monstrous set of teeth, flipped hand over heels through what was a rather high-grade crisscrossing grid of lasers (she'd seen enough to identify them by quality), and finally, still in midair, fired her grappling hook at the building. The hook tore through the air, rain spraying off of it as it ripped apart countless falling droplets. At last it snagged on the edge of the roof, and the cable connecting hook to pistol went slack for an instant, then snapped taut. With a sudden jolt to her arm, Kim was flying towards the building.
Right on cue, the telltale blue sparks of an electrical current began to shoot down the grappling hook's cable. The sparks flew down the wire as she raced up it, the two locked into an unavoidable collision that drew closer with each passing millisecond. At the last instant, she released the handle of the grappling hook, thrusting it out to one side just as it exploded with crackling blue lightning.
Still hurtling through the air, now on nothing more than her own momentum, Kim tore her spare grappling hook from its holster, firing even as she drew it like an old-fashioned gunslinger. The second hook implanted itself into the wall right beside the first, dragging her up after it with another arm-wrenching jerk.
Rain relentlessly drove itself into her face, but still Kim stared, unblinking, watching for the blue sparks' inevitable return. She didn't have to wait long. They came faster this time, so fast that they were almost upon her. It was now or never. Along with a last, lingering doubt, Kim tossed aside her second grappling hook. Curling her legs nearly into her chest, Kim's feet found the handle, and she pushed off of it, launching herself upwards with even greater force. A strange tingling traveled up one leg as the shower of sparks from the doomed instrument grazed her foot, but she paid it no mind. The rooftop was there, just above and ahead now, and coming closer, closer…
Kim Possible vaulted over the rooftop, clearing it by a good half-foot. She landed a few feet in from the edge, stumbling forward a bit as the law of inertia rose in protest of her sudden stop.
Thinking back on it, it was a real shame that, after all that, she hadn't managed to stick her landing. Doubly so since, after staggering forward a few steps, a hole had abruptly opened beneath her, sending her plummeting into the depths of the building.
Kim fell into the pitch-black darkness of the trapdoor's waiting maw and at once found herself in what was, as near as she could tell, some sort of chute. It was a very Drakken-like touch… only, as Wade had said, there hadn't been time for him to install something like this. That thought served only to fill her with a growing sense of apprehension as she slid towards whatever fate awaited her at the end of this particular trap.
It was a fairly short trip; mere seconds later the chute deposited Kim on the floor like so much damp, world-saving laundry.
Ow. Kim pried herself off of the ground, peering around through strands of hair that had draped themselves across her forehead and into her eyes. It was, not surprisingly, dark, though not quite so much as the chute had been. As she forced herself upright—with far more conscious effort than she was used to—Kim began to be able to make out a few general shapes. She appeared to be at the end of some sort of table, which was framed on either side by a series of chairs, themselves filled by dark figures whose features she couldn't discern. At the far end another such shadowy figure stood, outlined against a window (as much as possible, under the circumstances).
"Kim Possible," an all too familiar voice said. "We've been expecting you."
"Dr. Drakken, you do realize that you're facing in the wrong direction, right?" a second voice, male, like the first, asked. "Miss Possible is over there."
"I'm not facing the wrong way, I'm just being indifferent!" the first voice exclaimed in its slightly nasally manner.
"Well, I can't see a thing. Let's get some light in here."
"No, no, no! It's only proper to confront one's arch nemesis in an appropriately dramatic way!"
"I agree with Drakken, this low lighting is stimulating," a third voice added. "Can't you just feel how it makes the atmosphere abuzz with tension?"
"Kiss up."
"Who said that?"
"Argh! Fine, we'll get the lights already!"
There was a clap, and suddenly she could see. Well, actually she was nearly blind for a few seconds first as her eyes adjusted, but after that she could see.
She had been right about the table, made of some dark, no-doubt expensive wood, and in the shape of a long oval with squared-off ends. The men sitting at it all wore plain, black suits and ties. Several were characterized by thinning hair, while others were merely beginning to show signs of graying, but they all looked to be at least 40. In spite of the room's sudden illumination, their faces somehow conspired to remain shadowed, as if repelling the light by sheer force of will.
The man at the end of the table, dressed in a flamboyant yellow tuxedo which clashed horribly against his blue skin, had no such command of light and shadow, though his face did wear a rather unpleasant smirk.
"Kim Possible," he addressed her once again, "you stand before the men who have absolute control over your destiny, who wield supreme authority over every aspect of your being." One yellow and blue arm swept out to indicate the seated men. "Welcome to the Council of Nine. Welcome, Kim Possible, to Disney."
"What's your game, Drakken?" Kim demanded with as much bravado as she could muster, given that she was about ready to collapse, and the fact that her arch foe had just more or less declared himself God.
"My game? Oh, it's quite simple. Kim possible…" the mad scientist took a deep breath, allowing dramatic silence to fill the room. With the force of an explosion the blue man thrust a single, pointing finger towards her, shouting at the top of his lungs, "You're fired!"
"…What?"
"You're over! Done! Finished! You've reached the end of the line and you're at the end of your rope! You're all washed up; you're about to bite the big one and also to give up the ghost! Your number is up, you've cashed in your chips, and it's time to pay the piper! You've said your last 'What's the sitch?' grappled your last hook, fought your last crime, and danced your last dance! You have no chance to survive make your time, and all of your base are now belong to us! In, short, Kim Possible, you are to cease to be. You will be gone! No more! Expired! An Ex—"
"Dr. D, when you say 'in short,' you're supposed to summarize," a sarcastic voice called from… somewhere. Kim had actually been expecting to find the second half of her arch nemeses lurking in the shadows somewhere, but looking around, it didn't seem like she was even in the room.
"Shego! You're interrupting my moment of triumph!" Drakken said, shaking a fist at the ceiling as a substitute for the unseen speaker.
"Lot more than a moment, there."
"Shego!"
"Look, what Doctor Pierce here is trying to say is—"
"Never mind! Kim Possible, you are about to be cancelled! Along with all associated characters, properties, logos, and merchandise."
Well… that was new. What would that… mean exactly? And anyway… "Wouldn't that include you?"
"What? No! Obviously it… well… um…" Drakken stammered as the logic of the statement hit him with all the force of a freight train named failure.
"She's got you there."
"Oh, be quiet!"
"Well, to be fair, she is right," one of the seated men said with a shrug. He was one of the younger ones, with short, dark hair and a slightly largish nose. "If you cancel Kim Possible™, you'd basically be canceling yourself as well."
"You could try for a spin-off series," another added, "but that didn't even work for MASH, so..."
"It was still a good plan, Dr. Drakken," a third council member said, his voice practically projecting a wide grin across the room in spite of his concealed face.
"Rrrrng! Fine!" the blue scientist waved his hands in the air as if erasing the whole matter. "Maybe I can't cancel you, Kim Possible, but with ultimate control over your fate, you'll be helpless to stop me! I can do whatever I want! This world is my plaything! My—"
"Alright, no!" One of the room's pure gray walls burst inwards, leaving a hole large enough to admit a person, which it proceeded to do. "No more synonyms! Enough already!" Shego shouted, walking into the room. As was customary, she was clad from head to foot in her black and green harlequin patterned jumpsuit. "We get it! You don't need to keep going on and on about this! It's really annoying!" This berating went on for several more seconds, as was also customary.
"Not to interrupt or anything…" Kim interrupted, "but how exactly does this plan work if I just take you both down now?"
"Oh, I don't think you want to do that…" Drakken snapped his fingers. "You see, we were fortunate enough to entertain another guest just before you… if you would."
Kim whirled around just in time to see the room's double doors burst inwards. Two large, muscled men now stood in their place, filling the gap the doors had left almost completely. Both were dressed in tuxedos, with black, hooded cloaks draped about their shoulders. A pair of evenly spaced, circular protrusions distended the hoods, which completely concealed their faces. But it was to the man, well, teenager, that they dragged between them that Kim's attention was drawn.
He wasn't exactly tall, and was a bit on the scrawny side, especially next to the juggernauts who were lifting him up by the ropes that bound his arms to his sides in order to move him into the room. Another set of ropes around his legs and a gag in his mouth completed his prisoner attire, worn over a black t-shirt and gray cargo pants. His face was crowned by shortish, blond hair, and defined by freckles and a pair of brown eyes that were trying to put up a brave front. Failing, but trying.
"Ron!" Kim gasped. "You… you… you got here before me?" Whipping out the Kimmunicator, she said, "Wade… there'd better be a good explanation for this."
"Uh… well, it was supposed to be a surprise…?" the computer genius offered. "There was faster transport where Ron was, and I figured this was important enough that both of you should definitely be there, and besides which, you've been kind of… irritable…"
"And you didn't tell me that he got captured because…?"
"Ah… yeah… to be fair, you did hang up on me last time…"
"…Wade, we're so going to have a nice, long chat about this when we get back."
"Oh, Miss Possible," Drakken redirected her attention. "I hate to interrupt this touching… well… this… some-adjective-or-other whatever it is you're doing," he amended, "but I think it's about time you were leaving."
"This is low, even for you," Kim said, eyes narrowed. "Holding Ron hostage like this…"
"Hey, don't look at me," Shego said. "This was all Drakken's idea. I was in favor of just shoving him out a window and seeing how you reacted when you got here."
Kim stared for a moment, eyes wide. Her entire body seemed to freeze—she wasn't even sure if she was breathing.
Shego smirked.
"Miss Go, you know our censors wouldn't allow that," the man with the large nose said. "You can't actually kill someone on Disney property, certainly not seeing as you yourselves are our intellectual property."
"Well, you know. Some other time then," the pale-skinned villainess said wistfully.
"Mouseketeers! Show our guests to the door," Drakken ordered.
"Dr. Drakken," one of the men seated closest to the mad scientist rose from his seat. White wisps of thinning hair wreathed his head, and he spoke with a tone of authority lacking in all the others, even (especially?) Drakken himself. "If I may make a suggestion… Why don't we show them the S-Chamber on their way out? Show them what awaits those who oppose us."
"An excellent idea. Mouseketeers, make it so." A hand, enormous and with a grip like steel, clamped over Kim's shoulder, forcibly steering her away from her long-time foe.
"Wait." The cloaked man clutching her shoulder jerked gave her a painful jerk, and they stopped. Footsteps approached and Kim turned, guided by the monstrous, frying pan-sized hand, to come face to face with Drakken. It was as close as they had ever actually stood to each other, with Drakken's tendency to avoid hand-to-hand combat. Kim glared at him with an expression fit to send lions running, but the mad scientist just grinned. Leaning in close, until only inches separated their faces, he looked her in the eye and said, "Kim Possible. You think you're all that, but we'll see how much longer anyone else does!"
Kim and Ron staggered out of the building and into the night. The door slammed behind them. Rain pounded down all around them, but in their condition, they scarcely noticed.
Ron's bonds had been cut as soon as they had passed through the room that the Disney executives had called the 'S-Chamber.' There had been no need for them anymore: the teenage crime fighters had been shocked into compliance. They had gone the rest of the way willingly.
"They… they were that evil, even before Drakken showed up…" Kim stammered, eyes still wide. She could still hear it somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a chorus of the damned, the Devil's own music repeated over and over again, slowly chipping away at sanity, at all memory of happiness: "It's a small world after all… it's a small world after all…"
"KP, are you alright…?" Ron asked.
"Huh? Oh… fine… it's just… been a rough night." It had been.
They sat down on the steps of the immense building. Worse than anything they'd suffered that night was the knowledge that they had failed so completely, that their every action had been predicted, that they had been allowed to know what Drakken was doing, because at this point there really was no way to stop it. Well… okay, that wasn't worse than the lingering effects of "It's a small world," but it was a close second.
"Ron… did Drakken just… win…?"
"I… I don't know, KP. I mean… we've always beaten Drakken before…"
"He's never been in charge of the show before. How can we go up against that?"
"I don't know."
The teenagers' shoulders sagged in unison, utterly defeated.
"Hey, where's Rufus?" Kim asked, suddenly.
"Oh, hey, yeah, he should be in my pocket… Rufus?" Ron asked. Reaching into a side-pocket, Ron withdrew the much-beloved naked mole rat. The two crime fighters stared in shock as the pink animal squirmed in his owner's opened palms. His arms and legs were bound together with twine; his teeth were taped down to prevent him from opening his mouth. Someone had finally thought to tie up Rufus separately.
To Kim, this seemed like an omen of things to come.
Disclaimer: No cats were harmed in the making of this fanfic. Naked mole rats were treated as humanely as circumstances allowed.
Ending Note: Hey all, Duo here. Going to keep this one relatively short (well… as short as I ever make things) and get right to listing the potentially obscure references here, in as close to being in order as I can.
Wade's bit about making cats immune to hydrogen peroxide: This is a reference to the famous "Schrodinger's Cat" experiment. I'm nowhere near qualified to explain it (that's what Wikipedia is there for), but the general idea is that you lock a cat in a metal box with a container of hydrogen peroxide, which is deadly, and a switch triggered by radioactive decay, which isn't entirely predictable. Therefore, after a certain period of time, it's equally likely that the switch has been triggered or hasn't been, and the cat is said to be simultaneously alive and dead until you figure out whether it's one or the other… I believe it's actually something of a sarcastic suggestion regarding how quantum physics looks at certain things, but again, I only have a rudimentary understanding. Point being, making the cat immune to hydrogen peroxide would invalidate it, even if that would be missing the point of the experiment entirely.
The Bubble: This was loosely inspired by Jimmy Neutron's "Bubble-Travel" device from the original Jimmy Neutron movie. As a further homage, what Wade is implied to have said about bubble travel (through Kim's thoughts) is a take on Jimmy's line from that scene, "Bubble travel is the way of the future!"
"I thought you liked jumping over stuff.": Okay, so Kim only ever says this (to my limited knowledge) when Wade was actually with her, and his dialogue sort of implies that he hasn't actually gone with her on a mission yet… I dunno, pretend it came up at some other point or something. Also: don't think too hard about when exactly this is set. It's in Season 4, before "Graduation," somewhere. I may get more specific as time goes, or even change my mind about it being before Graduation, but for now it's in that unspecific timeframe.
"So far in denial she'd better watch out for dead Pharaohs.": This is a reference to the fact that Pharaohs were apparently sent down the Nile in funeral boats leading up to their entombment.
You have no chance to survive make your time, and all of your base are now belong to us!": A reference to Zero Wing, one of the most referenced… things ever. Seriously, most of you probably know this one. Note that Drakken actually misquotes the "All your base" line—this is deliberate, because really, he would, wouldn't he?
In, short, Kim Possible, you are to cease to be. You will be gone! No more! Expired! An Ex—": A vague reference to Monty Python's "Parrot Sketch."
"Look, what Doctor Pierce here is trying to say is—": Shego calling Drakken "Doctor Pierce" is a reference to Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce of MASH fame, who had a habit of going on extremely amusing lingual-based rants. MASH may have been a bit before Shego's time, but whatever. It's timeless! Timeless I say! Seriously, MASH is just hilarious (and some of the dramatic bits aren't half-bad either), go watch it if you haven't.
"You could try for a spin-off series but that didn't even work for MASH, so...": Reference to MASH's spinoff "AfterMASH" which didn't do nearly as well, probably because it lacked the vast majority of the cast (I mean, really, after 11 years, can you blame them for deciding it was time to call it quits?) and also couldn't really make fun of the army and such.
Harlequin patterned: For those who don't know, Harlequin is, in this usage, a diamond, checkered pattern, which is more or less what Shego's outfit is like, though most harlequin patterns use regular-size diamonds, and Shego's sort of…shapes them however it pleases in various parts. Also, incidentally, harlequin is used to refer to a jester and a shade of green which basically is the color of Shego's outfit. Harlequins are also a kind of opera character (named after one particular such character) who are typically servants, especially to "vecchi" or "aged" male characters, who are themselves usually antagonists. They're known for being comic relief-type characters and interfering with their master's plans. Coincidence? I think not!
"It's a small world after all… it's a small world after all…": Obviously this refers to the fact that Kim and Ron were sent through the "It's a Small World" ride or whatever it's technically called. I really just wanted to say that if you say this in a hoarse, cultist chant-type whisper, it's hilarious. Try it sometime.
Oh, and as a last note, Ronstoppable (dot) net's kpcrusader gets credit for inspiring me with this idea. He made a comment about writing a fanfic where Kim goes up against an evil corporation that would sort of be a metaphorical stand-in for Disney, and I was like "…Dude. Drakken likes evil businesses. What if he -took over- Disney!?" I don't think that qualifies as stealing his idea or anything like that, but I felt I should credit the guy for the inspiration (also for being one of the most scarily yet awesomely devoted fans I've come across in any fandom).
Aaaand that's all, folks! Oh, wait, that's Warner Bros., not Disney. Oh well. Till next we meet, upon the field of… me… writing things…yeah.