DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction. It was written for entertainment purposes only, and falls under the "fair use" provisions of the Copyright act. Unless indicated otherwise, all characters herein are © Disney. Since no one appears to be reading this (except you donkle, thanks!), copyright infringement lawsuits are the least of my worries.
The following morning Drakken awoke grouchy and stiff. He had not slept well at all. He looked around for a clock. It was almost 8:00. With a minimum of fuss he managed to exchange his ticket and get settled aboard the bus. After its little party last night, Trouble must have decided it had too much to drink and needed to sleep it off.
A gregarious salesman attempted to sit next to him. A malevolent glare sent him on his way.
The trip took about two hours, and gave him some time to reflect, (or, as Shego used to put it, "Pity? Party of one? Your table is ready!")."How, oh how, did it ever come to this?" he mused. He thought back to the stormy night where he lost everything he ever cared about.
Being trounced and humiliated by that freckled blond what-his-name sidekick of Kim Possible. That didn't hurt so much (only on the inside).
Eric, AKA Synthodrone 901, whom he loved like a son. Oh well, at least he didn't have to pay for his college tuition.
Shego.
He remembered being handcuffed and thrown into the padded police wagon with Shego and the henchmen. It was another routine prison transfer, of the kind they had all experienced many times before. This time however, just outside of town, the wagon and its police escort stopped. Blocking the highway was another police wagon, a real "black Maria". Much more heavily armored than the one they currently rode in.
The back door opened and what looked more like secret ninja agents than regular cops hustled Shego out of the van. Drakken, sure they'd come for him next, heard a terrible struggle outside and tried to see what was happening. To no avail. The door slammed shut and the wagon took off again. That hurt the most of all. She didn't even say goodbye.
Oh well, that was then, this is now.
Good lord, Lowerton was depressing.
Prison was awful , the bus depot was horrible, but Lowerton was worse by being, well, just that, LOWERTON. Drakken was sure at one time it was nice. Perhaps sometime in the Triassic era. The city planners didn't design it that way, the civic leaders had made a good show at one time, proclaiming it an "All American City!", at least according to the rusty, bullet-ridden sign Drakken was looking at.
"Riiiiight," thought Drakken, "where the American Dream comes to die a slow and painful death!" He smiled evilly, feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
His mood improved, Dr D found a greasy spoon near the station and ordered the $1.99 breakfast special. As he chewed eggs made by Goodyear and hash browns made from used Duraflame logs, he read the morning paper to see what was up in the outside world. Getting past the headlines about the latest Washington scandals and wars and general unrest (how much better everything will be when I am in charge)of the world, he was surprised to read that the Diablo aftermath was still front page news. He discovered that the damages totaled in the hundreds of millions of dollars. He was worth that much at one time?
Not anymore...
He then read something that made him spit his coffee all over the counter. Professor Dementor had purchased Drakken's island in the Caribbean for half of what he himself had paid, and announced plans to use it as his winter lair. The thought of that masked midget having access to all of his evil inventions infuriated Drakken to no end. The fact that most of them were boosted by Shego from Dementor in the first place was irrelevant.
Shego.
Wherever she was, Drakken hoped she was doing better than he.
The little green sports car zipped through he streets of Middleton, the blond woman behind the wheel laughing with delight. She kept it just enough over the speed limit to have fun, but not so fast that she'd get pulled over. That would be bad.
The last few months had been great, she was enjoying a freedom she had never really known before. She was her on her own for the first time in her life. She had finally got out from under her family's collective thumb, and it wasn't long after that before she was hooked up again. She hoped someday to be able to explain what happened that rainy night. And explain why contingency plans were a good and necessary thing to have in place.
Someday.
Right now, the blond was enjoying the material lifestyle.
She had just finished a trip to the Middleton Mall, where she purchased a couple of really cute little outfits from a gabby clerk at "Club Banana". Couldn't understand a word the girl said, but gabby knew fashion. She drove to a luxurious little apartment not a mile from the Possible household. The little car pulled into the attached garage, and the blond woman went inside.
Once inside, Shego set her packages down, ripped off the wig, and shook her lustrous black hair free. It was much shorter than it used to be, about shoulder length; when she got knocked into Drakken's transmission tower by "New and Improved Kim Possible with Blast-Tastic® Super-Suit", it had fried her hair royally, so much so that she had to cut most of it off. But it was growing back nicely. She went into the bathroom, removed her blue contacts, and scrubbed her face clean. "It's not easy being green" (Drakken always liked that stupid song), indeed!
Shego was pleased (after a few weeks of intense paranoia) to find out how easy it was to hide in plain sight with a little make-up and some different colored wigs and contact lenses. Best of all, she was doing it all right under Kim Possible's nose.
After she finished washing up, Shego went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. In her living room, she booted up the computer. The last few months had been nice, that delicious little emerald green sports car with the black leather interior was too perfect, too her, to pass up, but it had eaten up her contingency funds a little faster than she anticipated. Like it or not, she needed to find work, and soon. With Dr. D M.I.A. and out of the game for the time being, it was time find out what was going on with the rest of the villain community. She'd put out feelers and see if anyone needed a little "Shego-style" assistance. If things got tight, she could always hire out as muscle, but that was last-case scenario only.
Shego wasn't as proficient with the inter-web tech-hacking thing-y (damn you Drakken) as Possible's resident geek, but she was no slouch either. Knowing just how adept Nerdlinger McDweeb was at technology, Shego made sure her computer had some extra protections. Besides having clean user IDs and an untraceable address, she installed a nifty little top-secret add-on that let her know if any messages she sent out had any keywords that might red-flag the feds, G.J., or any other nosy-parker law enforcement agency interested in her whereabouts. Not that Shego was particularly worried about that, most had their hands full already processing mountains of useless Internet crap. It'd be some time before they could find her, and by the time they did, she'd have long since moved on.
Letting her green tea steep for a few, she caught up on the news. Not surprisingly, the aftermath of the Diablo fiasco was still the big story, although the antics and sex lives of certain idiot celebrities were starting to take the spotlight away. No big surprise there, either. "What we could use right now is another pretty little white girl disappearing," she thought, "that'd take the heat off." Smiling wickedly, she continued: "I've even got the perfect candidate." But if Kimmie did make a sudden disappearance, Shego knew she'd be the A-numero uno, prime USDA grade "person of interest." Scratch that idea. Team Possible would remain out of reach. For now.
Taking a sip of her soothing green (you are what you drink, she thought) tea, Shego spotted a headline that piqued her interest. "LOCH NESS MONSTER CAUGHT" it read. Reading on, she discovered that such was not the case, they'd just captured yet another of DNAmy's abominations of nature. Man, if there was a villain who could use a healthy dollop of Shego-style, it was DNAmy. Shego pondered for a moment. Her and DNAmy - it might make for an interesting partnership, strike a blow for post-modern feminism and all that. It certainly wouldn't take much to cultivate ol' Amy's festering dysfunction and make it blossom. Shego knew beneath that phony cheerfulness beat a heart blacker than her own. But the thought of having to actually enter Amy's life-sized "Brittina Dream House," sipping tea, chatting away and eating cookies with her, of physically DEALING with her in any way, made Shego throw up in her mouth a little. Besides, cloning was Drakken's thing, not hers. Shego remembered the time Dr. D tried to get into Amy's intellectual "pants" (so to speak) with his ham-fisted sweet-talk, and got the usual disastrous results."Bleeecccchhh!" she said to no one in particular, "...thank all thats unholy THAT didn't work out".
"Besides, he had better taste than that," she continued in her head. "For chrissake, he had me to..." she stopped right there. Drakken...!
" Ewwwww!" she decided. She wished Smarty Mart sold brain bleach
Shego tried to think of someone else in her little circle of "friends" that wasn't as revolting to work with (yeah...good luck with that).Moving on, Shego thought of DNAmy's object du' psychotic obsession, Lord Monty Fiske. "Never work with kids or animals," W.C Fields once said, and sounder advice was never given. Kimmie-poo was proof of the former, and as to the latter, there wasn't a flea collar big enough that that mangy missing-link could wear for Shego to even consider getting near him, let alone work with him. And that SMELL! Their few encounters in the past were more than enough. Besides, while she grudgingly respected his megalomania, his plans for greatness just weren't that lucrative, or fun. And his strange obsession with all things mystical and monkey puzzled her. There had to be something to all that "monkey magic" nonsense, it certainly seemed to be benefiting Stoppable lately, but for the life of her she couldn't see what the fuss was all about.
While on the subject of the freakishly weird, she thought for a moment about Killigan. Yeah, he was a cheap bastard, but at least he was human. Shego didn't get the whole "World's Most Dangerous Golfer" concept, she just thought it was stupid. Killigan should join forces with that new guy, the "World's Most Dangerous Cartoonist." What was his name? She couldn't remember. "Cartoons? Jeezus – even Drakken wasn't that idiotic! Most of the time..." Her mind wandered off again. Catching it, she continued:"Anyhoo, where was I? Oh yeah..." Together, Killigan and the "noob" (sounds like a TV show) could be the "World's Most Dangerous Dorks."
Speaking of dorks...she hadn't heard from Motor Ed since he busted out of prison. In his distinct "NASCAR MacGuyver" style, she recalled. Shego admitted that her tastes in men ran to big and stupid, but in Ed's case, there was such a thing as overkill. Besides, (drakken's) Cousin Eddie was a little too "trailer park" for her.
Big and stupid brought her around to Junior. He was cute, for an imbecile, and he definitely showed promise in the "evil" department. Daddy was loaded, so that was a another plus in Junior's column. Shego thought that the Seniors were her best option for work at the moment, and she decided to hunt them down. Last time she knew they were operating a series of evil time-share resorts, "Club Dread," or something equally ridiculous. She had planned on surprising Dr. D with a nice little tropical vacation after he finally defeated Kimmie. "Drakken deserved some R&R after overworking his tiny brain so..."
She sighed. "Oh, ...doodles..." she whispered to the empty room.
To be continued
