Chapter 7
The flashes of blinding light surrounded them, the photographers overly anxious to get the shot of the year. Reporters jammed microphones under their noses as TV cameras were thrust at them, nearly hitting others in the head. Where was the security detail to keep these rabid dogs at bay? Oh, right. They had ditched them; old habits die hard.
Then there was shouting and shoving and the masses were parted by the hand of Moses and stiff blue uniforms flanked a path through the waves of humanity. The guards escorted Shego and Dr. Drakken to a small café-like area, similar to the kinds inside large hospitals, that was on the bottom floor of the building. The other villains were all there, sipping lattes and eating (or gorging) on cookies or brownies. The whole scene was rather ludicrous: DNAmy fawning over a stone Monkey Fist, Dementor is his usual helmet ranting to no one in particular, Camille transforming from Bonnie back to her normal persona… all of the villains sitting there in full regalia sipping coffee like any soccer mom on a Wednesday afternoon.
Drakken immediately ran for the counter hosting a myriad of (probably stale) confections. "Oooh, look at those brownies! They have fudge frosting… and sprinkles!" Shego sighed, what had she really expected of him? That he would develop some sort of dignity? But then, she supposed, mocking him would be no fun if he had dignity.
She walked over to the counter and ordered a medium coffee, black. The girl behind the counter stared at her for a second, disbelieving that a female had just come in and not ordered one of the confusing "Fretalian" options written in curly script on the wall menu. Shego dropped her money on the counter impatiently, startling the girl into action.
Noticing that Drakken was still pressed to the case of baked goods, she viewed the room. Every villain steadily ignored her, continuing on in their chatter. She was suddenly hit by a sense of unease… a feeling that only increased when Drakken trotted over to Dementor with a pastry and latte in hand, and plopped in to an empty seat and Dementor instantly began talking to him. Abandoned by Drakken… and isolated from the other villains both by choice and now even more so by an event that had almost been completely out of her control. After all, one thought of saving one's life before they thought of long-term social consequences. She had antipathy for most of the other villains in any case, and them for her, but she had managed to get along with Junior and Motor Ed had never missed an opportunity to hit on her (how she loathed the man).
She took her coffee and stepped outside through a door. Leaning against the wall she gratefully pulled off her heels. At least it was nice outside. Maybe there was some credibility to that Karma thing. She stood there, gratefully soaking up the heat from the sidewalk where her feet just stretched past the boundaries of shadow.
Her mind drifted back to the ceremony which hadn't been as long or tedious as she had feared, and it had even avoided being hackneyed. Although, she supposed there were no clichés for a super-villain saving the world. That probably also explained the lack of anything truly poignant- the whole situation was too awkward. No matter how sincere their thanks, those dignitaries probably had every security detail they had scouring the grounds for some kind of doomsday device. She should have planted a fake bomb just to freak them out. Villains never used bombs; they were just so messy, it went against the Book of Evil, and it really jacked up your jail time and the severity of your sentencing. Still, it would have been funny to see them all scrambling around panicking.
Still, there had been three speeches: one by the American president, one by the head of TNA(AOADN)TO: The North Atlantic (And Other Areas Deemed Necessary) Treaty Organization, and one by the governor of New York (that was where the final battle had taken place). All three were extremely meticulous in remembering their political correctness and not mentioning much of their villainy other than that one "rescued souls" and "new-found integrity" comment. That was one politician who would be slammed for being too religious.
"And now, we ask Andrew Theodore Lipsky to step forward to receive the Knowble Prize." There was a smattering of applause and she saw Dr. Drakken look around nervously before standing up. He took a step forward before he stopped and turned back towards her. One gloved hand was extended towards her and she looked at him in surprise. He nodded, suddenly seeming sure of himself. As soon as she stood he dropped her hand, but she didn't mind. She didn't do weird touchy-feely polite social graces things like that. She followed him a few paces, but let him approach the dignitaries alone.
It had felt odd, standing there on the stage. She wasn't used to being in the limelight. Hego and Mego and taken it all during the Team Go days, and as a thief you generally weren't posing for shots and accepting interviews. She was a thief, a mercenary, a saboteur: all professions that stayed in the shadows, not the flashes of cameras. So she had hung back, watching as Dr. Drakken, once again looking unsure and timid, had a large gold medal hung around his neck.
As the weight rested on his neck, he nervously stepped up to the podium. He was worried about his speech, realized Shego. The king of monologing and ranting was worried about speaking in front of a crowd. How ironic. Even if he did do something horribly egregious it would probably just slide by. The world was still too much in aftershock to be mocking their savior.
As he walked to the podium she looked out at the audience. The villains were scowling, although Lucre seemed happy. And stupid as he waved about one of those foam #1 fingers. Dr. Betty Director sat glaring with her agents and Shego carefully avoided meeting the stare. And then there was Team Go, all of them looking bored. What the heck were they doing here?! But it wouldn't do to create a scene now… (Since when did she think like that? Something must be wrong with her.) The rest of the audience seemed slightly distracted. No doubt they had noticed Drakken's hesitant attitude and were steeling themselves for a speech flawed by vacuity at best.
Then she realized how terrified he had to be, giving a speech for something against everything he had stood for during the past 5, 10, 20 or so years, and to a crowd that was clearly not that receptive. She would have never given it a second thought. With her attitude her speech would have been "Thanks. I deserve it. Now we can all go home." However, this was the pinnacle of his career. He was being internationally recognized, and he was being glared at. Even in being awarded he was shot down.
Since when had she started seeing things from other people's point of view? That implied that she actually cared which, of course, she didn't.
Still she offered him a small encouraging smile, and made a small gesture towards the podium with her hand. No matter what it looked like, the world was his oyster at the moment (hopefully one with a pearl). Saps all across the world would probably being hanging on every word he said as it was broadcast across whatever forms of news distribution were up and running. He had won for once… and she was happy for him.
It was an odd feeling, being happy for someone else. But she had no time to contemplate it because she was suddenly jerked violently to the side as that darn vine sprouted from Drakken's neck, wrapping them both in a death grip like some kind of python. Her hip bumped awkwardly against his leg and her head jerked to be met by his face. She wasn't being this close to people (hand to hand combat didn't count) and it was unsettling. A small awkward, apologetic smile mirrored on each other's face, and she began to try to pry the plant off and Drakken commanded it angrily to release them. A few embarrassed chuckles and they straightened their clothes, and Drakken gave his speech, the audience now paying rapt attention to the figures on stage.
That moment had just been too weird. It hadn't even been unpleasant… just embarrassing because it had happened up there, on stage. She peeped back through the door and watched Drakken say something huffily to Dementor. The Doc wasn't really unattractive… but he was annoying, childish, egotistical… the exact same qualities as her brothers. So why didn't she hate him? Why had she stuck around with him for four and a half years? It just didn't make sense.
Shego didn't like self-examination or whatever it was called. She normally knew what she wanted, who she was mad at, and what degree of violence would get what she wanted for the least amount of effort. She was recalcitrant to the point where she didn't need or even want guidance from herself, just her eyes as a targeting system. Psychology was a waste of time. It was much easier to slide down to the concrete, pull her skirt up a tad to expose the rest of her calves to the sun and listen to the hum of traffic. She just wished she had a magazine.
