32. Never trust HenchCo technology, even in a free demonstration. Steal it - err, outsource it - and bring it back to your lair, so you can work on it on your OWN terms! If that freckled nuisance didn't get in the way, the world be yours. . .
"Kim Possible!" Drakken hollers. "You think you're all that -"
His unbearably hip catchphrase cuts off to a strangled gasp as the explosion rings through the lair. Drakken thrusts himself at the floor - or maybe that is the shock of the explosion, throwing him down. In either case, he stays there, hands tight around his head, teeth gritted and stinging, and waits for the entire Alpine range to collapse around him.
When it doesn't, when the floor stops vibrating under him, Drakken lowers his hands, stretches his neck, looks around. Kim Possible, the buffoonish child, and their mole rat have disappeared. For the first time ever, Drakken feels her absence like an orifice, like a mutant third ear he has no idea what to do with.
She's flown the coop. And the clouds above him remain gray, but a pale, metallic gray, not the ponderous gray that would indicate they were armed with tornado conditions. Which can only mean -
"The Mega-Weather Generator!" Drakken cries. He starts to leap to his feet but hits an invisible force field instead - or it could be his own dizziness, which feels like a thousand doorbells going off at once between his temples.
Sure enough, the Mega-Weather Generator is crushed, destroyed, its parts strewn across the floor in mechanical carnage. Even though Drakken is only its surrogate inventor, the loss pricks his heart.
Drakken turns, pawing at the floor, frantically searching through the smoke before it hits him what he's searching for.
The Attitudinator.
And it's gone. Kim Possible must have taken it with her, not trusting it in his hands. Which means he can never again be -
Drakken yanks off one glove to confirm it. The blueness is back. His happiness is gone.
There goes my last chance.
Sniff.
Shego rises and folds her arms. "Okay, why did any of us think that was ever going to end any differently?" Her eyes skip over to him when she says "any of us," and Drakken doesn't miss the knife concealed in her voice. That means she's talking about him.
"Because I am an evil genius of world renown," Drakken replies with another sniff, a haughty one this time, "and that child is no more than a -"
"'That child' was a thousand times better at this than you've ever been." Shego quirks an eyebrow his direction and kicks a piece of Mega-Weather-Generator refuse out of her way, as though it means nothing and she can treat it however she wants.
Kind of the way she pinched the strings of his apron before she dropped him to the floor of the synagogue.
"Only because he had my evil in addition to whatever raw talent he might have!" Drakken shoots back. Even being bragged about doesn't help his evil any. It lies in his stomach like an old meatball.
Shego sighs heavily. Meaning she doesn't feel the need to dignify what he said with an answer. As if she has any room to be exasperated after what she put everyone through today.
In that instant, Drakken hates her for ditching him. He hates Kim Possible and Chickenpox the Destroyer or whatever that two-bit hack of a villain called himself and his ex-best naked mole rat friend for getting what they wanted and leaving him to deal with his life. He hates HenchCo for being complacent in the whole matter and not even bothering to reimburse him for his troubles. He hates himself for willingly surrendering the first peace he felt in ages.
And, in some small way, he hates himself for being upset over any of those things.
What kind of supervillain is he? Drakken groans, reaches for the corner of his desk and squeezes, gripping his fingers bloodless. If only he had the Attitudinator, he would be able to turn himself either completely good or completely evil, instead of this unhappy crossbreed!
Returning to evil - it reminds him of that time he was plucked out of a toasty warm Jacuzzi, dragged away from it, and tossed out into the snow in his swimsuit, just because he wasn't technically a paying guest at that hotel. He's shaking, in shock, hardly able to breathe.
"Well, Shego," Drakken says crossly, "I certainly hope you have learned your lesson."
An eye-roll. "And what lesson would THAT be, Mr. After-School Special?"
"Never ditch me!" Drakken shoots to his feet again, and this time he doesn't fall over, just wobbles, and he even manages to jut his chin farther at her. "Agreed?"
Shego pauses and then slings herself across the arm of a chair, bringing a new definition to the phrase idle threat. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna ditch you for Stoppable again."
It's not a promise. It will never be a promise, Drakken thinks in a daze. He drops back to his bum and parks his elbows on his knees and holds his cheeks.
His evil convulses inside him, nauseating and overwhelming him. It's like getting a flu shot, Drakken tells himself - absolutely, one-hundred-percent necessary, but miserable for the next few days. Once it wears off, though, he will be protected from the viruses that seek a haven inside him. If someone as wonderful and deserving as Drakken doesn't get a haven yet, viruses sure shouldn't.
What was I thinking? That I'd use the Attitudinator to take all my evil back out? Drakken shakes his head, achy and full of doorbells. No, he should have used it to drain himself of all good. Once that was gone, he would have no more fears, no more doubts, no more regrets, no more hesitation.
There would be nothing left to turn inside-out.