Author's Note: Surprise everyone! Chapter 3 of It's Good To Be Bad. Special thanks to my new beta reader Clecky. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this new chapter. And as always, write a review, get a response.
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In the past, Team Possible had never been particularly picky about ever setting up any sort of 'headquarters' or regular base of operations. Bueno Nacho. Their tree house. Anywhere convenient for the two to meet seemed to satisfy the need adequately.
However, that had been before their ranks had swelled by several hundred.
Since the tree house probably couldn't contain that many without bursting, that had left only one option.
"So, good news or bad news first?" Kim asked as she bit into her lunch salad.
"Whutverh," Ron managed to get out around a mouthful of cheese and toppings.
"Well, the good news is that, by my count, we now have upwards of four hundred loyal minions ready and willing to do our bidding," Kim double checked the paper and clipboard at her side as she gestured at the half dozen largest, scariest mutants selected as their personal guard to watch over their booth while they ate.
"Mmhmm. Super." Ron wiped off his mouth before unwrapping yet another imitated Mexican delicacy to satisfy his gorging. "Bad news?"
"Well, two things there. First, the new minions aren't exactly going to light any bulbs with their brain power, if you get my meaning." In order to demonstrate her point, Kim took a spare plastic knife that she wasn't using and casually tossed it across the floor before tapping the shoulder of the scaly freak at her side. "Go get that for me."
The half man, half gator, mutated in a horrible freak accident involving a light socket and potato salad, immediately walked over, picked up the lunch knife, and continued to stand there with it in hand.
"Why isn't he bringing it back?"
"Because I didn't tell him to," Kim rolled her eyes at the frustration of it all. "The mind control shampoo does exactly what Drakken wanted it to do. It makes everyone obey whatever commands they are given. The problem is, they don't do anything else. I didn't actually tell him to bring it back to me, so he'll just stand there until I tell him to. I'm still waiting for them to realize that we never ordered them to breathe, and then all pass out."
"Ahh," Ron wiped some spare cheese from his chin. "So unless we want to micro-manage a couple hundred henchmen, we're going to have to put up with a lot of statues following us everywhere."
"Exactly," Kim nodded, even as she held up an empty bottle of the shampoo. "Plus, I figure we only have so long until this shampoo wears off, and they all start fighting over just how to turn our corpses into decorative lawn ornaments."
Ron simply growled in frustration as he took the bottle from Kim's hand. "We did end up diluting ten bottles of this stuff among several hundred gallons of water. I suppose we might have a day or two before it wears off."
"Well, can't you just make more?" Kim asked, trying not to ponder whether or not she and Ron could single handedly take on an entire army of several hundred villains at once. "Drakken was so concerned about government regulations, he actually wrote the ingredients to his shampoo on the side of the bottle."
"Basic chemistry, Kimberly Anne. There is a world of difference between a list of chemicals and a complex chemical formula. I could try guess-working it, but I need to get started right away."
"Guess that means we're moving ahead with stage two," Kim agreed as she stood up.
"I thought we were on stage B?" Ron glanced at her with confusion on his features as he rose after her.
"B? Which one is stage B?"
"It's the second stage," Ron clarified.
"Then why don't you just call it the second stage or stage two?" Kim asked exhaustedly.
"Because stage B sounds cooler?" Ron offered.
"Uh… can I get you two anything else?" The shivering Ned asked from behind the Beuno Nacho counter as he and the rest of the staff nervously eyed the restaurant full of monsters, cyborgs and henchmen. There were also hundreds more visible outside through the front window, each one standing perfectly at attention, decorating the restaurant like statuesque displays.
"No, we're leaving," Kim assured casually as she raised her hand to snap her fingers loudly. "Come on everyone, follow us. We're moving out."
"Oh, and can someone pay the bill?" Ron asked, leaving a few dozen of his mind controlled henchmen behind. They awkwardly pretended to search for their wallets among their persons before looking to each other with sheepish grins.
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The convention room floor was absolutely silent, save for the few occasional droplets of water that seemed to fall with unnaturally loud echoes. The four stood silently, completely unsure of how to react to what they saw.
"Looks like we got a clear case of a ten eighty-seven. Unauthorized use of the fire suppression system," Barkin stated, trying his best to sound expert in front of his Miss Go.
"Ten… eight… what?" Drakken tried and failed to repeat, uncomprehendingly.
"In English, sweetie," Shego requested politely as she placed her hand affectionately upon Barkin's shoulder.
"Someone pulled the fire alarm."
"What?" Drakken was still confused.
Rufus scampered down from Shego's shoulder to sniff a small puddle of water at her feet before turning his head away in disgust. "Yuck!"
Shego knelt down, allowing a small bit of water to soak her gloves before bringing her hands up to her nose. "I know that smell."
"Hey, that's my shampoo!" Drakken declared as he sniffed at the puddle as well.
"They must have poured it into the water system and then flooded the whole convention floor. Instant shower, instant mind control." The events of the last fifteen minutes crystallized in Shego's mind.
"Grr. Why didn't I ever think to do that?" Drakken growled in frustration.
"Freeze! Nobody move," The authoritative voice was immediately followed by the sounds of weapons clicking at the ready. The four uneasily turned around to see a whole troop of well-armed men in matching uniforms and body armor with the GJ emblem on their clothing. Their weapons were all trained on the three persons and one naked mole rat who were huddled together in the center of the room.
"Arrrhh! It's the fuzz! I can't go back to the poky. They institutionalized me once; I can't let it happen again," Drakken cried frantically. "I'll never survive."
"Well, well. This is quite the catch," The front agent slid back the visor of her helmet. Rufus was astonished to recognize the familiar face of Dr. Director herself. "Dr. Drakken, Shego…" At this, her gaze settled with some confusion upon Steve Barkin. "And who are you?"
"Uhh, I'm the principle," Barkin explained uneasily.
"Hmm, teacher themed super villain," Dr. Director concluded. "Never heard of you."
"Uh, no actually, I really am a principle," Barkin insisted meekly, his eyes wandering across the assemblage of weapons aimed at him.
"A wonderful principle," Shego interjected, all too happily.
It was then that a small, squeaking coming from the floor and a tugging at her leg caught Dr. Director's attention.
"Naked mole rat?" Dr. Director paused to examine the sight, before suddenly remembering. "Rufus! What are you doing here?" The agent picked up the tiny pink figure within her gentle grasp, bringing him to eye level. "Why are you with Drakken, Shego, and this Principle villain?"
"No, I am a real principle!" Barkin exclaimed in frustration.
Rufus tried to frantically explain anything, but his rodent speak (or squeak) failed to communicate his message properly. Dr. Director could clearly tell that something was urgently wrong with the tiny rodent, however.
"I think I can explain everything," Shego offered with a raised finger as she meekly smiled at the guards as they approached her.
"You'll get the chance," Dr. Director assured. "I'm taking you all into custody."
"Oh no, not the slammer again," Drakken cried as an agent handcuffed his wrists behind him. "I can't do more hard time. I'm too fragile."
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Senor Senior Senior spent several more long minutes gazing over the plans in his hand, attempting to hide his annoyance at his son constantly reading over his shoulder. He sat, composed, at the end of a long table in one of his dining rooms. The large windows to the side overlooked the ocean surrounding his island home. As he had done at least twice now in the past few minutes, he looked up to cast a suspicious glance at the authors of this plan who sat at the opposite end of the table before returning to the piece of paper in hand.
"What do you think?" The first of the pair asked.
Senor Senior Senior merely raised an eyebrow while maintaining his best poker face, one that had saved him millions in the past during his expensive weekly card games. "Most impressive, though I do have several concerns."
"Such as?" She asked with a raised eyebrow of her own.
"First, I cannot help but notice that this villainous plan of yours is written in crayon on the back of a Bueno Nacho paper placemat," Senior indicated as he gingerly held up the front of the placemat to show the kids' maze. Apparently someone had already tried, and failed, to find their way to the Naco in the center.
"Stupid maze," The second grumbled beneath his breath, before the first cut him off.
"We worked with what we had on hand. Surely you're not about to let a little thing like materials get in the way of an excellent opportunity- like the one that we are ready to drop in your lap."
"Ahh, but Miss Possible, in the world of business, presentation counts for everything," Senor Senior Senior countered as he handed the plans to his son. "Which of course brings me to my second concern: namely, that it is my two arch-foes and long time teen nemeses that are apparently handing me a plan for world domination."
Kim and Ron looked knowingly at each other as they sat at the long, formal table within the Senior home, across from their hosts.
"You know, this maze really is quite difficult to navigate," Junior noted aloud to himself, prompting a wide eyed groan from his father.
"Thank you!" Ron interjected, vindicated. "See, I told you it was fixed," he told Kim, who also groaned aloud.
"We're getting distracted," Kim decided to bring the focus back to the business at hand.
"Yes, we are," Senior agreed in his most pleasant business mode as he rose up. "In spite of my concerns, the plans that you have brought me are most impressive. Therefore, I think I will take them to make use of them for my own evil needs."
"You mean steal them and take all the credit for yourself?" Ron accused, apparently unsurprised by this treacherous development as he too rose from where he sat. "And what are we getting out of this?"
"Why, I shall allow you and Miss Possible to walk out of here alive," Senor Senior Senior clapped his hands, prompting a series of hatches to open up all around the room. From each opening in the walls, laser cannons sprang forward, quickly locking laser sights on the two former teen heroes.
"Ooh, how exciting," Junior clapped and skipped in place as Team Possible looked down upon themselves and the dozens of separate red laser lights that tracked their every movement as they shifted slightly where they stood. "I love it when we get to do evil in the house."
"I think we've gotten off the wrong foot here," Kim assured, her voice still smooth as ever as she finally rose to her feet. "It's obvious that you don't think we are serious about turning bad. You probably think that this is just another Team Possible sting operation."
"On the contrary," Senior assured her. "I sincerely hope, Miss Possible, that both you and young Ronald are quite genuine in your efforts to engage in villainous pursuits. Merely consider this a bit of villainous advice from someone who is something of an expert in your new chosen field," Senior modestly indicated himself. "Never, ever trust a villain."
"Don't worry," Ron said casually.
"We don't." With that, Kim reached down to her wrist Kimmunicator, activating it. "Now."
For a minute, the Seniors stood in silent anticipation.
"Is there something that is going to happen soon or…?" Junior asked, still tense.
"Just wait for it," Kim muttered, annoyed.
Sure enough, a small sound was finally heard within the silence from off in the distance. It persisted a few seconds longer, growing steadily louder from all around and yet nowhere before Senor Senior Senior was finally able to recognize it. "Attack choppers."
Both Seniors glanced over to the nearest full window to look out over the horizon. Sure enough, a wave of mysterious black helicopters was approaching their island home. The two quickly rushed across the room from one window to another, only to find that they were being surrounded on all sides.
Dozens of matching helicopters finally came to a stop directly over the island of the Seniors. Senor Senior Senior's sharp eyes were able to notice the weapons housed beneath each of them as they slowly came down towards the house.
"Those are our men aboard those attack helicopters," Kim explained smugly. "And if we tell them to, they will fire on this island. Your house, all of us; they will fire on everything that moves and doesn't move, and they won't stop firing until they are out of ammo. And then, they will probably dive the helicopters into a kamikaze run on whatever rubble is left and the remains of the four of us, just for good measure."
"You cannot be serious," Senior stared in wide-eyed shock at the two teens that he had thought knew so well.
"Oh really?" Kim pressed a button on her Kimmunicator, and sure enough, the helicopters began firing. The Senior's home shook and rocked with explosions off in the distance and overhead.
"Alright! Alright! Tell them to stop!" Senior pleaded.
Another button pressed and the fire stopped.
"I think you'll find, Senor, that we didn't come here to take 'no' for an answer." Kim crossed her arms in triumph, satisfied that her point had been made. "You're going to help us, Senor Senior Senior, for the same reason that a donkey with a stick tied in back and a carrot tied in front always goes forwards and not backwards."
"Father, are they bribing us with carrots?" Junior asked, clearly confused by Kim's analogy.
Senior seemed to ignore his son, his hard gaze fixed intently on the new Team Possible. "Go on."
Satisfied, Kim nodded to Ron, who pulled a map out of his pocket and spread it out across the Senior's table, revealing it to be a basic geographic map of the entire world.
"You get first pick," Kim explained simply.
"I beg your pardon?" Senior turned back to the teen.
"The continents," Kim replied with a grin. "You can have first pick of which one you'd like. You may even choose now if you want. However, I might suggest you wait until afterwards. You know, just to see which ones are left."
Both the Seniors stared at each other in wide-eyed shock before looking back down to the map and then back up to the two young teens before them.
"What do you need?" Senor Senior Senior asked finally.
"First, I need to use your kitchen," Ron insisted to the confused faces of both Seniors.
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Agent Frankston had been at the job less than three months now, and had already distinguished himself with an impressive reputation for interrogation. Now, he was being given the task of breaking the infamous Shego. It was exactly the kind of assignment that could make the career of a promising, up and coming young agent.
Or at least it would have been if she wasn't being so darn helpful.
"I'm serious. You should totally comb your hair back. It would look just adorable on you with your eyes," She gushed as she remained shackled in her seat.
"Uh, Shego…"
"Oh please. Just call me Miss Go. I only go by Shego when I'm out with my brothers. Have you ever met them?" She asked, ever so sweetly.
"N-no. I have not."
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"Alright, I confess," Drakken broke down in sobs. "I did it. I was the second gun man on the grassy knoll. I am the Lindberg baby. I did the crop circles. I am so sorry." Drakken curled up on himself, crying.
The interviewing agent, one Agent Sattler, completely overwhelmed at the confession, closed the door behind him to sit down and ask his first question. "Uhh, could you please state your name for the record?"
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"And just how long have you gone under the alias, 'the Principle'?" GJ Agent Williams pursued.
"Uh… I've been teaching for eleven years now," Steve Barkin explained.
"And you've been associated with Dr. Drakken and Shego for how long now?"
"I hired Miss Go last week."
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"Now see, that's your problem?"
"What is?" The agent asked, deeply interested.
"You talk too much about your job," Shego explained. "You need to let her tell you about herself. Make her feel interesting."
"Well, I asked her a couple of questions about herself, but she always gave such short answers. I just figured she was being shy," The agent explained sincerely. "I tried warming her up a little, you know, open up to her."
"And that's sweet, really," Shego explained as she jumped up in her chair, still handcuffed to it, so that she could sit closer to Frankston. "Let me ask, are you two going out again?"
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"I'll never crack, you hear me!" Drakken insisted defiantly. "You can question me, you can sweat me, you can even torture me. I'll tell you nothing. I am not some mere common criminal; I am the great and brilliant Dr. Drakken. Do you hear me?"
The agent tried to maintain his aura of authority and professionalism as he looked back down at his first question. "And how do you spell that again?"
"Oh, it's D-R-A…"
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"Honestly man, your technique was all wrong," Steve Barkin insisted.
"Really?" The agent asked, suddenly finding himself recalling his training.
"Absolutely. You're trying to slap the handcuffs on a suspect, not work out the tension in his wrist muscles. You need to grab by force, twist their arm around so they've got no leverage. Here, let me out of these cuffs and I'll show you."
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"Ok, so how does this sound?" Agent Frankston asked, as he looked down at his note pad and began reading aloud. "Your eyes are as blue as the deep water of a pond. Your hair smells sweet as pollen carried in a spring wind."
"Ooooh, that's good. She'll love that," Shego cooed with a wide smile. "But it has to flow. Let's take it from the top."
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"It's not easy being me, you know," Dr Drakken insisted as he took another sip of his coffee, his shackled wrists allowing him to bring the cup only so high. "I'm under a lot of pressure. I mean, you have no idea how tough it is to be respected in this job."
"Sounds like it," the agent agreed as he continued writing on his pad.
"After my first battle with Kim Possible, it all just stopped being so much fun. The first time everyone heard I'd gotten beat by a teenage cheerleader, and I actually got messages on my answering machine of nothing but people laughing. They'd fill up the entire tape, which is just plain rude!"
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"Now, you grab the wrist like so," Barkin demonstrated to the young agent, before slamming him with minimal force against the wall. "Then you back him into this corner or against a wall so he's got nowhere to run."
"Uh-huh," the agent replied, in spite of his face being pressed against the wall of the interrogation room.
"Now, it's important to spread their legs apart. That way they can't try to run."
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The small rodent continued to squeak and squeal at Agent Sno. The naked mole rat held a great deal of urgency in his tone and mannerisms, and clearly, whatever was troubling it was of concern to everyone else as well. There was just one problem.
"Why am I interviewing a rat? I don't speak rat," The agent demanded aloud, rhetorically.
"Hey!" The naked mole rat protested before biting down on the agent's hand in anger.
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Sitting behind her desk, Dr. Director continued to work diligently at the mountain of paper work that had piled up in the last five minutes. Of all the endless duties that were her responsibility as the head of Global Justice, this one, more than any others, she dreaded.
It was when another of her agents came in to deliver his report that she looked up with a sigh of relief.
"So, what have we learned?"
"Uh… well sir, err, ma'am," The agent vented his collar, suddenly recalling expressions about shooting messengers. "It seems Agent Frankston has left early to call his girlfriend, Agent Williams is apparently locked in handcuffs and seems to have lost his key, Agent Sno thinks he may need a tetanus shot, and Agent Sattler suspects that Drakken has issues about his mother and is going to need a lot more coffee."
Dr. Director merely stared at the agent, dumbfounded.
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"Honestly Dr. Director, I haven't heard so much as a peep from either Kim or Ron in hours," Wade Load insisted over the video monitor. With the presence of Team Possible's pet rodent and no Team Possible, Dr. Director had only thought it sensible to find out what he might know about the situation.
The senior agent stared at the young boy on the computer screen before her before turning her gaze back to the video monitor and the four suspects in her custody.
"Alright," Dr. Director said finally. "Start over and tell me everything."
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"Mmm," Senor Senior Senior licked the delicious sauce from his lips as he sat at his extravagant marble dinner table within his home, a look of contentment on his face. "I must confess, young Stoppable, you cook an exceptional meal."
"Oh aye," Killigan chipped in, finishing off the last of his plate. "The lad do make a mean haggis."
"Righteous," Motor Ed agreed, as he wiped the last of the barbeque sauce from his face. "And those ribs were seriously ripped. Seriously."
"Quite so," Dementor commented as he too rubbed his stomach, which was swollen with amazing cuisine. "I am particularly impressed you did not try to poison us."
"As am I," the representative of Rodeghan Industries, having identified himself only by the name of Long, neatly tucked his napkin back down upon his lap. "But what do you want? I can assure you, if this some plan between you and the Seniors to catch us in the act, and then hand us all over to Global Justice…"
"I can assure you, we want nothing of the sort," Kim insisted as she rose up from her seat, standing before the assemblage. "What we want is to present you all with an opportunity that is going to make you all the undisputed lords of this Earth."
From there, Kim went in to her sales pitch. With the help of Senor Senior Senior, she had refined it somewhat. Needless to say, it was clear from the looks of her audience that it had been quite worth the effort. Kim calmly discussed the final goal, and the steps that would be taken to reach that goal. She never hurried to explain anything. She took her time, moving around the table, answering any and all questions. When she was done, a silence lingered about the table.
"Obviously, this is more than Ron and I can handle alone," Kim cast a longing, almost lustful smile at her boyfriend who had remained silent this whole time, before turning back to her guests. "And that's where you all come in. Senor Senior Senior," the older man nodded slightly at the acknowledgement, "has agreed to provide financial backing for this operation as well as making his island home our temporary headquarters."
Kim moved to where the representing Knight of Rodeghan sat.
"Rodeghan industries will be able to help with some of the technology that we need, as well as provide skilled man power to help with construction. At present, they have a project going on which I believe is dubbed Project Atlantis."
"How do you know about that?" The man in formal business attire asked with a raised eyebrow. "That project is still highly classified."
"Regardless, the project is still in its infancy. It can easily and efficiently be converted for our needs," Kim explained as she continued around the table. "Duff Killigan: quite possibly the finest expert in munitions and explosives on the planet." The large golfer nodded gruffly, looking pleased by the recognition. "You will be in charge of leading our men in the field to retrieve any… additional components that we may require, as well as handling the organizing and proper equipping of our men. You will effectively be our new general."
"Ooh. Now ther' be a task to my liking," Killigan rubbed his hands together eagerly.
Kim continued around the table. "Motor Ed: an expert in the field of auto mechanics and holding several advanced degrees in engineering. You will be assisting with certain aspects of the construction, as well as handling all transportation needs. Obviously, we have several specialized needs that you will need to begin work on right away."
"Righteous, Red. Way righteous. Seriously!!" Motor Ed jumped up, doing an air guitar. Everyone winced.
"This, of course, leaves us with Professor Dementor," Kim indicated the yellow skinned scientist who had sat patiently at his seat with his arms crossed the entire time. "You will be needed for a certain, private assignment that we will discuss with you later."
"I zink not," Dementor insisted, drawing surprised glances from all around the table. "Zis is absurd. Vhy should we believe that Team Possible, ze world famous Team Possible, who has thwarted all of my most brilliant schemes, vould now vish to destroy the vorld? Vhat proof do you offer that you are truly evil?"
At this, all eyes glanced back towards the two teens, who simply shrugged.
Ron reached beneath the table, slowly rising to his feet with a small, whimpering brown puppy in hand. It looked up helplessly, quivering.
Ron proceeded to hand the tiny canine to Kim, who simply took it, holding it out at arm's length. She then let loose and drop- kicked it, knocking it over the table and across the room to crash into a table in the next room.
With astonished looks, the assembled villians glanced back at Team Possible as they stood there with unflinching looks of amusement on their faces.
"They really are evil," Junior whispered in hushed astonishment.
"So," Ron crossed his arms. "Any other questions?"
