A few more chapters to go~! (wow I can't wait to be done with this arc) before getting to other fun things ;3
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49. Whose Side – 12
"That's enough fun for one evening," sighed Drakken as he locked the door behind them. He made to head for the kitchen when he paused and called over with uncertainty, "Uhm. Shego? Does your friend know how to pick locks too?"
"How should I know?" Shego sighed as she flopped down on the couch. "I barely know her anymore."
"You two seemed to know each other well enough," grumbled the unhappy blue man. She almost thought he looked a shade bluer, and would have taken a closer look had he not glanced her way. "Do you think she would be so insubordinate if I took her on?" It sounded more like he was thinking aloud to himself, but Shego sat up and glared over the back of the couch at him.
"Do you need your head checked?" she shot. "One minute you don't want her here, the next you want to keep up the charades with her?"
"So I'm conflicted!" he spat back, crossing his arms as he sat himself down in a bar stool to face her. "She would be useful…but I don't need another hired hand to pay. And I don't need you two killing each other—"
Shego's lip curled in disgust and she snapped, "She's just trying to impress." But impress who? Her brow furrowed and she chewed a nail as she considered. Maybe Priscilla did want to get back on good terms. And maybe she did want to be in Drakken's good favor. But if the rumors at Buckley's Brew were anything to go on, she'd be leaving soon enough when the headhunter Miss Hatchet took Chester back to LHU.
"Shego?" She blinked up at him, realizing Drakken was standing beside her. His arms were still crossed and he was frowning to the door, nodding toward it. "Miss Kimbley—"
She groaned. There wouldn't be a moment's peace with Miss Priss around, the rapping at the door timed to an unsynchronized beat with both fists, making it impossible to ignore. "I don't wanna give up the couch," she grumbled.
"She's not staying the night," said Drakken sternly, standing by his decision.
"Don't count on it. She has a way of getting what she wants." Pinky nail between her teeth, Shego considered just how the girl might get her way. To begin with, Mickey had graciously brought beer along for the henchmen, who were now getting boozy on the hillside and unfit for driving or any other hench-duty to escort the interlopers away. She hadn't seen the jeep either, now that she thought about it. She wouldn't put it past Priscilla to make Mickey walk up the mountain or at least hide her wheels, and the pizza had been a little cold—
"If you two need some privacy, just say so," laughed Priscilla through the door, interrupting Shego's runaway train of thought. Her face burned, but at least her hands didn't – not in reflex, anyway.
She glared at Drakken. "Answer that before she starts using her imagination," she hissed.
"Do I have to?" he whined.
Maybe it was a mistake letting the release flare in a raised hand, the flames threatening to consume her as they were hard to recall once Drakken had jumped back and crossed the room to answer the door.
"I really need a chain on this," he groused as he unlocked it.
Priscilla must have been leaning against it, because the second he twisted the handle the door came flying open, the young woman stumbling in head over heels with a shriek. A hint of a smirk twitched on Shego's lips to see her blunder, but she smoothed it out and fixed a jaded glare on the unwelcome guest.
"Nice of you to drop by," she sighed, and rose from the couch. "Guess you wanna hang out or something, huh?"
"That's a start," snorted Priscilla as she clambered upright. She dug into the fanny pack at her hip, pulling out a smoking pipe and giving it a wiggle between her fingers. "Let's say we put aside our differences and call a truce," she began.
Drakken plucked the paraphernalia from her hand as he headed out the door, announcing simply, "I'm confiscating this."
Shego almost barked his name, displeased to be left alone with Priscilla. Both of them glared at the door before their gazes met, and Priscilla's cross demeanor melted and she was perky again as she bounded up to the couch.
"Not like I didn't bring a backup," she laughed, procuring her so-called backup as she flopped down on the couch. "Light me up?"
"You're not smoking a doobie in here," Shego hissed.
"What is your problem?" Priscilla snipped back at her. "You'll do it with Mickey and everyone else, but not me?"
Shego hugged herself and glared past Priscilla to the door. "I just don't wanna get high right now," she dismissed.
"You'd change your mind if you took a couple puffs." Priscilla reached into her fanny pack, but it wasn't to put her drug away. She pulled out a lighter instead, but before she could flick it, Shego had lurched forward and ripped it from her hand. "Hey!"
"Not in here, you don't," Shego snapped, scarcely refraining from destroying the lighter in her plasma lest it explode in her hand. Her own fire was one thing, but she wasn't altogether impervious to other fires.
"If that's how you wanna play, bring it," challenged the blonde, jumping to her feet to glare up at Shego and make a show of gesturing to herself. She had to be joking.
"I'm not playing—"
Shego didn't get to finish dismissing Priscilla before the pink-clad girl took an overdue turn to lunge at her. She was caught off guard by the body slamming into her, a knee in her gut and fingers clawing her hair to yank her head down. It was reflex to hold the lighter out of reach in a rough game of keep-away, and sure enough it was what Priscilla was grappling for as Shego tripped backwards over the coffee table. They came down with a clamor and frenzy of limbs kicking and shoving at one another, Shego's head hitting against an end table and knocking the lamp off with a shatter.
She didn't know where the lighter had gone, but she was sure Priscilla hadn't gotten it or she would've let up. Using her size and training to her advantage, she flipped the squirming girl over onto her back, putting all her weight into pinning her.
It didn't feel like a real fight in the slightest, not when the extent of it was a bit of hair pulling and shoves that might not leave a bruise. Priscilla's bark was worse than her bite when it came down to a scuffle.
Faced with a situation so alike the many times before when roughhousing with her siblings and even Priscilla back in grade school, Shego didn't really pause to think through her options – though in the back of her mind, she knew beating her up wasn't one of them. She could blame it on growing up with a family of brothers, but it was hardly any excuse for snorting back phlegm and letting the string of consequential slobber ooze menacingly toward the squirming girl's face.
The disgust was worth it for that brief moment, and hearing her scream almost made her laugh.
The door flew open with a bang.
Shego's eyes cut up to Drakken.
She blanched. She wasn't sure if she'd sucked it back up or if she'd lost it somewhere on Priscilla's person, but either way she scrambled aside and wiped her mouth off on her wrist.
Drakken's wide-eyed look of concern gave way to confusion. He took in the coffee table out of place and the busted lamp and the two young women putting distance between each other, and his eyes settled back on Shego before he turned back out the door. "I didn't see anything," he decided, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
Shego realized she'd been tensed and her fists balled up when Priscilla cleared her throat. Her glare darted to her when she had the cheek to utter, "Uh…so where's the broom?"
With a roll of her eyes, Shego skulked away to fetch it from the crevice it was tucked into between the fridge and wall, practically chucking the broom at Priscilla. She unplugged the busted lamp with a yank and scowled as the troublemaker began sweeping up the mess. She looked shamefaced enough, but Shego didn't buy it that she was actually ashamed.
"Can't you trash your own place?" Shego grumbled.
"Between you and me, that place is already a dump," Priscilla laughed feebly. She leaned heavily against the broom, hands folded atop it and chin rested on her hands, and cast a sidelong glance toward Drakken's entertainment system. "And there's no TV, not that I had packed any tapes to watch."
"You came here for the TV?" She didn't buy that either.
Priscilla shrugged. "Well, I can't let you have this all to yourself." She finished cleaning up the mess, but was hesitant to approach Shego again. Her glance flicked to the collection of movies. "What do you say?"
"I say go fuck yourself—"
"That's sweet, but you're not getting rid of me," said Priscilla with certainty as she flopped down on the couch. She reached over for the blanket Shego had used the night before, which Drakken had neglected to put away, and pulled it over her lap.
Shego didn't like how quickly the intruder was making herself comfortable in her usual spot. "What about Mickey?" she blurted.
"We can get him in on this if you want." Priscilla shot her a broad grin. "Make it a snuggle sandwich – unless you're thinking of a threesome—"
The pillow on the armrest was smacked across Priscilla's face to shut her up. "That's enough out of you," Shego decided. She weighed the consequence of popping in a movie to give the girl what she wanted and going back to the lab to linger near Drakken instead. She rubbed her temples, knowing the nuisance would only follow her to seek her entertainment wherever Shego went.
Going back to her apartment where she could just lock Priscilla out was sounding a lot more appealing now.
Dragging her hands down her face, Shego heaved a groan and turned for the door. She ignored the whine of protest behind her as she escaped into the lab, leaving Prissy unattended.
Drakken was slouched in his chair at the supercomputer, though not a single light on the mainframe appeared to be on. As the overhead lights dimmed briefly, Shego wondered inwardly if the backup generators couldn't produce enough juice to power it.
He jumped slightly as Shego leaned against the desk, but grunted and looked back down to an address book, the entries handwritten and some scratched out in ink. She glanced to the door to his quarters quickly before whispering, "What are you looking for?"
"Henchco," he grunted. "I need a new catalogue."
She reached over to check his wristwatch, Drakken jerking in reflex when she made to push his sleeve up to check the time. "It's late," she noted. "Do they pick up after hours?"
He groaned and slumped back, not seeming too happy to have his plan thwarted so easily. "First thing in the morning," he decided. "How's the leech?"
"I'm fine, thank you," chimed Priscilla unhappily, appearing on Drakken's other side and mirroring Shego's posture.
The man nearly fell out of his chair in alarm, his hand slamming down over his heart as if that could steady it. "Don't do that!" he barked, and turned his glare to Shego. "And you! Stop leaning on that too. The computer is not for sitting on!" He shooed the both of them off, jumping up himself. "What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be painting toenails and nose-deep in magazines?"
Shego bit her lip, suddenly remembering the burnt magazine remnants she'd left in the sink during the blackout. She didn't mention it though, not that she had the chance to anyway.
"Alright," said Priscilla, hands up as if in forfeit. "I get the sense I'm stepping on toes here just trying to hang out with my BFF. I can take a hint."
"You give yourself too much credit," muttered Shego under her breath with a roll of her eyes. She ignored the frown Miss Priss shot her way.
"I'll see you out," announced Drakken, gesturing pointedly toward the door to exit his lab. Priscilla was reluctant to follow the silent command. He cast a glance toward Shego, giving a nod to indicate he wanted backup, or at least to not be left alone with the woman. She couldn't say she wanted to leave him alone with her either.
Priscilla went abnormally quietly, walking along as if a prisoner behind Drakken. Shego stayed close behind her in turn, ready to grab her if tried to pull a fast one. She really expected the nuisance to vanish and bolt deeper into the lair to hide in it like the rat she was, and she only breathed easy once they were stepping out into the cool night air.
Shego pulled the collar of Drakken's coat a little snugger under her chin. Distracted briefly as she breathed in the smell of him there, she found herself wishing they didn't have guests and that she and Drakken were just going for a walk for fresh air. Sadly that wasn't the case, and she wondered bitterly if they'd have a moment of peace again so long as Priscilla was apt to sneak into the lair.
She jumped and Drakken yelped when Priscilla raised her fingers to her lips for an ear-piercing whistle. Up on the hillside, the rambunctious men were still gathered at the picnic table. Shego squinted at the sight of henchmen huddled around Mickey above. She recognized bets being made when she saw it, money exchanged between the observing men when Mickey won against his arm wrestling opponent.
The behemoth Mickey had been pitted against rose and glared at his back when the guest hopped up to begin the hike down the trail in the dark. A line of henchmen followed after Mickey, the beanpole Bobby close by with the lamp.
Even at a distance, Shego could hear the jubilant shout of disbelief, "He beat Lars!"
"Whoa!"
"What a champ!"
"How is that possible?"
The excited babbling followed Mickey down the hill to the blacktop.
Drakken grunted and crossed his arms, shooting a quick scowl at Shego. "Nice to know your friends get along with my friends," he grumbled.
"He totally cheats at arm wrestling," whispered Priscilla with a note of resent, though Shego had her doubts he'd need to fall back on any special gifts against the average henchman. He'd seemed muscular enough anyway.
"Did he almost tear your arm off or something?" Shego laughed, taking Prissy for a sore loser. It would be just like her to overestimate herself in a match against him.
Priscilla rolled her eyes.
The gaggle of men reached the blacktop, Lars among the last of them. The man made a gruff sound to request attention, gaining it as simple as that. There was a brief moment Lars glared across at Mickey and the other henchmen stepped back from them just to be safe, but after sizing him up Lars thrust out an arm – not for another arm wrestle, but for a handshake. "Good match," he said decisively. "If brawns was all you had, you'd make a good henchman. But you don't seem the type."
Mickey seemed awfully reluctant to shake the man's hand, and even Shego picked up on the displeasure in his voice when he agreed simply, "I'm not."
Priscilla groaned in disgust and impatience. "Let's get a move on, Mickey!" she called, already stalking off for the gate. "Time to fly."
The young man gave a curt nod to the crew and a wave as he turned away for the woman who seemed set on treating him as her own personal henchman. "Ciao," he called back to the henchmen. As he passed by the duo waiting at the door to the lair, his eyes settled briefly on Shego before they darted to Prissy's back. "See you around, Shi," he muttered in lieu of a goodbye as he stuffed his hands safely in his pockets and shuffled off toward the woman.
They were barely out of earshot when Drakken looked to Shego and jabbed a thumb in their direction. "How tight are they anyway?" he wondered.
Shego grimaced and cocked her head. "What?"
"Are they inseparable?"
"Why—"
"I'm just wondering if they're a packaged deal," he said coolly, watching a pair of tipsy henchmen trail after them to let them through the gate and presumably guard it after.
"You're not hiring Prissy."
"No, but that man might make a good addition to the crew." He gave his chin a thoughtful stroke.
"Didn't you hear him? He's not interested in becoming a henchman." Shego rolled her eyes and turned away to retreat back inside.
Drakken's musing chatter followed after her. She couldn't help smiling as he playfully suggested areas a boy with a relaxing aura could aid in, like if he could charm a bubble bath or defuse tiffs between henchmen. She didn't admit to it, but she liked the idea of Mickey Goldsmith joining his little legion a lot more than Priscilla Kimbley, even if Drakken was only entertaining the idea in jest.
As she lay back across her own bed that night, the idea of Prissy taking up residence at the lair still troubled her. She pulled the blanket over her shoulder, wishing she were sinking into the couch cushions instead, but was determined to keep her claim on the spare room. If Priscilla was signed on under Drakken, would she live at the lair? Meanwhile, Shego would still be stuck with the shabby studio apartment living as Shilo the barista, visiting Drakken in any spare free time.
She squirmed at the very notion of the other girl being around more than her, readily available to take orders and embark on whatever tasks Drakken may assign her.
As the clock on her nightstand ticked away, she made note to upgrade to a digital. Shego turned to her other side, but it wasn't enough to shake off the dread weighing on her.
Priscilla didn't have any training. She'd never even taken karate – as far as Shego knew anyway. She really wasn't very good at fighting. But she didn't need to be. She had invisibility to give an opponent the slip every time. She didn't need to force entry to steal anything when she could just walk right in – just like she walked right into the lair time and time again.
Maybe she did have what it took to play the villain game.
Shego rolled over and stared up at the stalactites. She tried to exhale pointedly to breathe out her worries and quash them, but she still found herself shifting and groaning.
She didn't dare look at the clock when she threw back her covers and rolled out of bed. Keeping her nerves contained beneath her skin, Shego navigated out of the room, relieved to find the dim lights in the hall on to light her way so she wouldn't have to herself. Still, she wrung her hands as if it could keep her fire smothered as she made the walk across cold floors to Drakken's quarters.
The door was unlocked. She hoped that meant he'd upped the security and wasn't worried about any prowlers entering.
The room was dimly lit when she slipped inside. She would have been happy to sneak over to the couch to collapse in it and call it a night, but her attention strayed from the couch to the man in the recliner next to it. Drakken had replaced the lamp, which he read by now. The glare of the lamp reflecting off his lenses wasn't enough to hide his glance up at her as Shego crept in.
She doubted he'd spread out the blanket and placed the pillow on the couch for himself, and tried not to let the flip of her stomach get the best of her as she took her regular place. Drakken went back to reading without saying a word, and Shego tried to make herself comfortable without uttering anything either, but eventually her gaze strayed back to him. He was reading no ordinary book, as it was a binder with many colored tabs, and what she could see of the contents were various degrees of worn.
She opened her mouth to ask what he was reading, but he answered without another glance up.
"Research papers," he said simply with a flick of his wrist. He pulled another binder from the end table and opened it too across his lap, cross referencing and comparing and frowning deeply to himself. Shego realized she was staring when his gaze met hers briefly and he grumbled, answering her unspoken question again, "Botanical—"
Her chuckle cut him off and she saw his blush coloring his cheeks. "Still? With the flower things?" she mused. The strange capsule with the orchid growing inside came to mind. He hadn't pulled that out of nowhere – it was something he had been tending to for a while. Where had it gone? Shego made a mental note to browse the storage rooms sometime.
She didn't mean to go pushing buttons but evidently she'd pressed the right one to break the dam, because Drakken was suddenly talkative and overflowing with chatter.
"Oh, but there are a number of reasons to graft and hybridize and genetically manipulate!" said Drakken, enthusiasm winning out over any embarrassment for his interest in the field. "Even cloning! The properties I could extract and harness! Just consider it! Terror tomatoes and snapdragons that really snap – and it doesn't stop with plants either, Shego. Fungus too! Among other organic matter. The sky's the limit!"
"Alright, alright, tone it down, Doc," chided Shego, subduing her own smirk before he could spiel off about beanstalks and world domination with noxious weeds or some such. "You're gonna wake up the whole lair."
He reeled in his own burst of energy and turned his attention back down to the papers with a shrug. "I'm just brushing up," he said, putting a lid on his gusto.
Shego hummed and let her attention drift away from him. It was then that something caught her eye, peeking out from beneath the stereo system. She would have forgotten all about the lighter had she not spied the lost item, and she couldn't help giving the rest of the room a subtle search from where she lay, almost hoping to spot the joint lying around too. Priscilla had likely picked that particular item up though, she decided with a small disappointed sigh.
She chewed her lip for a moment before a sleepy idle curiosity slipped out. "Hey, Dr. D?"
Drakken grunted and flipped a page.
"Would you ever wanna get high with me sometime?" She propped herself up on her elbows to study his reaction as Drakken's brow furrowed and he lost focus on the papers before him. An uneasy swirl rose up from her belly and she felt stupid for even asking. He'd turned it down before, and hadn't seemed enthused by paraphernalia. But she'd rather relax and share a few laughs with him than accept Priscilla Kimbley's company or stoop to tracking down the junkie Nate and his dog.
Shego was fidgeting with a loose thread on the pillow case when a stupefied utterance cracked out of Drakken.
"Uhh…sure. Sometime," he said. "When we don't have anything better to do than sit around and get stoned."
"We don't have anything better to do right now—," Shego began if only teasingly, but Drakken jumped to his feet, grappling for the binders full of research papers he nearly dropped.
"Goodnight, Shego," he said quickly, spinning on his heel. He failed to find the correct spots for the binders in the bookshelf behind his chair, so stood them up on the edge instead to be placed later. He shuffled out of the room quickly.
Shego barely managed a goodnight to his back before she fell face-first into her pillow with a groan. Berating herself would have to wait until later.
Thankfully she didn't remember later because she was out like a light and the new day began with Drakken yanking the blanket off her, same as yesterday.
"Come on, you couch potato," he groused impatiently above her.
Shego already had her arm thrown up over her eyes and wasn't budging.
Drakken sighed. "I didn't want to have to do this."
She didn't know what she expected, but she knew in the next instant that should have gotten up at that final warning. It was the touch of something unfamiliar on her stomach that was distinctly not a hand – she would have much preferred Drakken's hand – that made her jolt upright with a gasp when it began to crawl. The writhing thing sank tiny hooked claws into her shirt as it fell into her lap.
Her voice cracking as she shrieked in alarm wasn't as humiliating as her graceless backpedal and tumble over the armrest to get away from the live rat Drakken had so kindly dropped on her. A ball of plasma was coiled in her palm and hurled at the rodent before she could stop to think better of it.
The rodent survived, scurrying to safety at the far end of the couch.
The couch cushion did not.
"Shego!" Drakken snapped, swooping in to scoop up the rat. It squealed and clawed in protest against his gloves. "What was that for?"
She heaved for breath, unsure what to do with herself now that this wasn't a fight situation after all. Her hands were still hot with plasma desperate for release, and her eyes darted to the smoking hole left in the middle of the couch, beginning to really burn now as the residual heat turned the singed edges glowing red. She grit her teeth and stormed off for the kitchen. "You're one to talk!" she shouted over her shoulder, and thrust her hands under a stream of cold water.
The remnants of the magazine in the sink from last night served as yet another reminder of the danger she posed. Accidents and reflexes happened, but she couldn't help the wave of unease knowing she was having more trouble than usual controlling Lady Fate's gift. She had to glare back at Drakken just to distract herself from internally listing off all the reasons she was a fire hazard.
"Where did you get that thing anyway?" she hollered as he made for his bedroom, toting the rat and the burning cushion. She knew he threw at least one into the moat in his room, because she heard the splash.
Rat in hand, Drakken returned to the kitchen to dig in the trash can, remnants of the busted lamp clinking around as Shego raised her brow in confusion at him. "One of the henchmen thought he'd keep a secret pet from me," he explained. "Unfortunately I don't know where this thing has been or where it came from so it's of no use to me." He pulled an empty pickle jar from the garbage and forced the struggling rodent into it. "Do you know of anyone who'd like a rat?"
"That needs air holes," Shego noted with a shake of her head, but Drakken was already on it, pulling open a drawer for a dual-sided bottle opener to punch a few holes in the lid. Shego didn't blame the rat for sticking its nose through the first opening for fresh air.
Fire finally recalled, Shego eyed the jar and the little black and white rat doomed to smell of dill pickles for the foreseeable future. "I could let it go at Prissy's," she grumbled, already wondering if it could survive in her backpack until after work when she could make the journey out to the trailer park. "Then again, place is such a junk heap it probably has enough rats running around for her to make friends with."
Drakken hummed pensively and tapped the glass. A smile cracked across his face. "I think I know what to do with it."
"You're not throwing it in the river."
His smile fell. "You just tried to obliterate it!" he balked.
"That's different. That's mindless violence, not premeditated," Shego dismissed, heading for the door.
"For the record, I wasn't going to kill it!" Drakken defended.
"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed, waving it off. Maybe he was being honest. He could have disposed of the vermin already if he'd planned to. "Catch you at the van."
"Lux is driving you," he called before she could shut the door.
Shego paused and looked back to Drakken curiously, studying him up and down. She didn't have to ask why he couldn't drive her. He'd evidently had other things on his agenda, because he was back in his white lab coat, big ugly rubber gloves back on. But she glanced to the clock and decided she didn't have time to question him on what he'd been up to this morning. She had to hurry or she'd be late – and Buckley had already let her off with a warning yesterday. And even if she wasn't worried about Buckley, she couldn't give the interloper the opportunity to take her place.