Chapter 16 – Synthohotties and cybertronics
The story so far
Drakken has secured Bueno Nacho and the right to license the Lil' Diablos. The good guys are still on an emotional roller-coaster. The bad guys are having little success in designing Synthodrone #901. Global Justice has evidence that Dementor may have acquired self-replicating synthoplasm and suspect that he is creating an AI army using Bortel's Mark II Moodulator. And Kim and Ron still don't have dates, with Junior Prom looming in just over two weeks.
Now read on …
Shego's bedroom – sixteen days to Prom Night
Shego sat at her desk staring intently at her computer screen at a declassified spreadsheet with the distinctive GJ logo as it scrolled up the screen. The document was dated two years earlier and she had found it on a United Nations server.
She had returned to her bedroom after the fiasco with the synthohottie design and messaged Bonnie Rockwaller with a request for details – and especially photos – of Kimmie's crushes. Shego was not expecting a response for a little while – it was close to the end of the school day in Middleton and the girl would still be in class. Resigned to a wait before she could do anything useful, her mind had drifted to her perennial obsession with the Phoebus Project, and what it might be doing to Drakken.
An idea occurred to the green-skinned thief. She fired up her web browser and navigated to the United Nations sitemap. From her experience of the internet, there was always an access point to behind the scenes somewhere on a website, which would be used for site maintenance. Sure enough, on an obscure page headed Legal, there was a barely-noticeable login box at the very bottom of the page. Although the login was secured with two passwords, the level of protection was nothing like GJ's own Wade-enhanced security and with her cracking tools she had not found it too much of a challenge to gain access to the underlying file structure.
No wonder these public sites get hacked so frequently if I can do it in less than ten minutes!
Most of the server content was clearly of no interest. It appeared to be a repository for declassified and out of date material – the more recent and classified material would be much better protected and kept on an isolated server. But this was exactly what Shego was looking for. According to Dr. Zaruda, the Phoebus Project had been decommissioned two years ago. If, as Shego suspected, there was more to the story than Zaruda had been prepared to admit, then she would expect there to be a bland cover story created for the benefit of GJ's paymasters. Bland or not, it might give her a clue to follow. All cover stories eventually led back to the source.
She was hardly likely to find a document titled Phoebus Project – even the bureaucrats of Global Justice were not that stupid. But she did have some clues to narrow down the search of the tens of thousands of documents held on the server. Zaruda's name for one. And the files were helpfully organized by topic. She entered the folder entitled Personnel and searched for Scientists. Sure enough, a spreadsheet popped up, which was not even password-protected. She viewed the sheet and found Dr. Zaruda's entry, which contained the helpful information that he had been a member of GJ's Special Projects Group.
Armed with this information, she searched the remaining files for a reference to the Special Projects Group, and also for SPG, knowing the brass' predilection for acronyms. But her search drew a blank. There appeared to be no reference to the Special Projects Group outside the original spreadsheet. It appeared that even a cover story was too sensitive to find its way to this server. That was in itself suggestive of a major cover-up, but didn't get her any further along to solving the mystery.
Growling in frustration, Shego pushed her chair back and stared into space. She just knew that something was not right about all of this. But she appeared to have hit a brick wall. Was she going to have to break into GJ's main server herself? The idea entered her mind only to be dismissed instantly. She would have to make her way into one of the most secure buildings on the planet in order to gain access to the server. While she prided herself on her sneaking abilities, there was no way she could achieve that undetected. She dare not blow her cover – Doctor D had been very clear about that and it was one of the few things she fully agreed with him on.
What then? She rubbed her eyes, thinking of what else she might do. Perhaps she could go back to Des Moines and interrogate Dr. Zaruda. She could wipe his memory of the event like she did last time. But zapping him for a second time would leave him with a much stronger headache that would demand medical investigation with the real risk that her plasma would be recognized. In any case she suspected that the hapless scientist knew little about what might have happened after the Phoebus device was decommissioned. He just didn't seem that devious and if she was going to break cover again she had to be very certain it would be worth the risk of exposure.
Drakken's office
After Drakken had dismissed his colleagues to go away and work on a solution to the synthohottie problem, he turned to one of the outstanding matters that needed to be resolved for his plan to succeed. Dementor had that morning correctly identified that a fundamental requirement for Project Nemesis was to achieve overwhelming military superiority across the globe so quickly that neither Global Justice nor national military and law enforcement could respond. If he were fast enough, it might not even be necessary to target GJ specifically with his nine hundred synthodrones, though he preferred not to leave anything to chance. It was true that at the time they spoke, his plan for global superiority was not yet in place. But Shego underestimated him if she thought that he did not have a strategy to achieve this.
And it was time to start making this happen. Beginning with establishing Bueno Nacho as their new base of operation now that they had secured total control of the company.
Drakken remained concerned about the impact of delays if the synthohottie could not be created in good time, but he set aside his worries as he picked up the phone and dialed a number in the US. Breaking cover was a risk, but Drew was confident that neither the receiver of his call nor any unwelcome eavesdroppers would recognize his voice through the scrambler device that Dementor had attached to all external phones.
"Hank, this is Andrew Drake … yes, that's right … good job with the Nakasumi negotiation. Excellent toy by the way."
A voice in his ear told him that Perkins was very happy with his work for Bueno Nacho to date. The lawyer was wise enough not to ask any questions about the identity of Andrew Drake and especially not about the ultimate source of the highly-lucrative instructions he had previously received.
"I need you to do something else for me," Drakken stated. "I would like you to take control of operations at our headquarters. I am expecting to relocate my team there shortly, but for the time being you are authorized to act for Bueno Nacho as Chief Financial Officer. You will need to move yourself from Go City to a more convenient location in Colorado, so as to be on-site at the office within three hours. You can expect to be contacted by a potential supplier shortly after you arrive. I will email you instructions on what to say to them as soon as we finish this call."
He had timed the call to avoid the over-fly of GJ spy satellites so that his call would not be intercepted. In truth, even if it had been the case that GJ were both listening in to the call and able to decrypt it, all they would learn was that a reclusive billionaire was passing instructions from somewhere in the Far East to his entirely legitimately-acquired company in the US. Neither caller nor company would attract any unwanted attention. Even Hank Perkins, while known as a defense lawyer for criminals, was not under any suspicion at that time. If an eccentric financier wanted to appoint a criminal attorney as his CFO, that was his prerogative.
He waited as Perkins confirmed that he would be leaving within twenty minutes before hanging up the receiver and starting to type instructions, using his newly-acquired BN email address. If the message was intercepted and decoded (unlikely as that would be), the email would appear to have been sent from BN's US headquarters and not from Tibet.
Shego's bedroom
Shego's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an incoming email from Middleton High. The subject, Crushes, made it clear who the sender was.
Annoyed that her train of thought had been interrupted, but recognizing that she was getting nowhere, Shego nevertheless clicked on the message to reveal its contents. There were four images attached, together with a document. She opened the document.
Miss Goh, you asked me for details of Kim Possible's previous boyfriends. Actually, she's a real loser. As far as I know she's only had one boyfriend since she's been at MHS, and he only lasted half a semester. I've attached pictures of the only people she's ever had a crush on as far as I know.
The first is Walter Nelson. She crushed on him for about a week in middle school, but his braces got caught up in hers when they tried to kiss. He's an even bigger loser than she is!
The second is Hirotaka. He was an exchange student from Japan for two weeks last year. Ripped and with all the moves. But he wasn't interested in her, only in little ol' me!
The third is Bobby Johnson. He was a real stud – quarterback for the football team before Brick Flagg. He only stayed one semester at the school. Possible blurted out that she fancied him once, but I think she was just jealous because Bobby only had eyes for … guess who!
The last one is Josh Mankey. A bit of a geek and nowhere as high up the food chain as the jocks but more than passable looks. The two of them were a bit of an item for a while, until he got fed up of her hanging around with that loser Stoppable, and then he dumped her!
She still doesn't have a date for the Junior Prom either!
Shego doubted the veracity of all she had read, but it was clear that Princess' love-life left a lot to be desired. No wonder she went all doolally with Stoppable when she was under the influence of the Moodulator. Those teen hormones must be sizzling like a hot grill by now. And her angst levels through not having a date for the Prom must be ramped up to eleven by now.
The Doc's plan isn't such a stupid one after all, she thought. Get the right male to her, and it would be a turkey shoot.
She turned to the attachments and opened them in a viewer. Walter Nelson was easily dismissed. The only picture Bonnie appeared to possess was one taken four years ago, a fatuous youth complete with braces.
Cupcake fancied that? No way would she still!
She looked at the other images. The quarterback was easily identified in a group shot of the MHS Junior Football team. He wore the easy smile of a jock, but Shego sensed a vacancy behind the smile.
That well-muscled body looks suitable, but the face … Kimmie wouldn't go for that today.
Shego was not sure why she was so certain about that judgment but she was. She had seen and fought Kim so many times over the last few years that she could almost plot her maturation. Cupcake might have been susceptible to a pretty-boy face last year, but now … there was something else needed.
In the next picture, Hirotaka had his arm around a cute brunette whom she recognized as a younger Bonnie Rockwaller. His Adonis-like body gave ample evidence that he worked out. And the face showed signs of a life different from the normal schoolboy. But the arrogance that shone out at her made Shego curl her fingers up in disgust.
Arrogant may have pushed her foe's buttons as a sophomore, but now …?
The last picture was particularly interesting. A young man and a very pretty blonde had posed at what looked like a fairground. She immediately recognized the event and the young man who was escorting the girl – Tania, or was it Tara? – when they met Possible and Stoppable at the Middleton Days Parade. She had noted his good looks that evening and the photo did him justice. No wonder that Kim had crushed on him. Shego focused on his face. After all, this was the one boy Possible had actually dated. His face was a good match to the image she had in her head, but it still wasn't right. There was a coolness in those eyes which belied the smile. It was as though he wasn't entirely in the moment, that he was more concerned about how he looked than about how his date was feeling.
Maybe it wasn't him that broke it off?
So where did that leave her? She decided to show the three pictures to the team. Johnson and Hirotaka might make good models for the body, while she thought she could make use of Mankey's face as a starting point. Certainly better than randomly selecting images off the internet.
Shego closed the viewer program, the United Nations file listing reappearing on her screen, reminding her of her earlier quandary. Teenage hotties could wait. She just had to be able to think through the Phoebus problem.
I can't find a file relating to the Phoebus Project. Or even the GJ Special Projects Group. Zaruda is probably useless as a source. I daren't break cover without something solid to go on.
She scrolled down the list again, willing it to give up its secrets.
If only I could get the name of some other members of the SPG. Then I might be able to find a connection to what happened next.
Until she smacked her forehead in disgust. What an idiot I am, she thought. The answer is staring me in the face. She opened the original spreadsheet again and searched for Special Projects Group. Sure enough, four names were highlighted. One of course was Dr. Zaruda. The next two were described as laboratory assistants and the names meant nothing to her.
The fourth name was listed as Dr. Jason Farnaby, neuroscientist. She'd never heard of him. But that didn't matter.
Jason.
Bourne.
She had found her connection with Toronto.
Drakken's office
An hour after putting the phone down to him, Drakken received an encrypted email from Hank Perkins confirming that he was ensconced in the CFO's office at BN headquarters and had full control of the staff. He understood Andrew Drake's instructions and would let him know as soon as he heard from the supplier in question. He confirmed the limit on his spend and signed off.
Drakken smiled and composed a second email, also using his Bueno Nacho address. This one was addressed to an Asian executive who he had not met, but who the Internet had established was in a position to agree to a proposition he would be putting to her company.
He sent the message and sat back to wait for a response. He expected to have to wait for at least an hour. His phone rang and he listened quietly until he responded curtly, "My office, five minutes."
There was a knock on the door and Shego walked in, accompanied by Cyrus Bortel and Doctor Dementor. Cyrus carried a laptop which he placed on the conference table and started up his image manipulation program.
"So what do you have for us, Shego?" the blue-skinned villain said to her impatiently.
"I've had the pictures from Rockwaller, my spy in Kimmie's school."
Her boss looked bewildered for a moment. "Remind me, Shego," he eventually responded.
"Boss, you asked me to get hold of pictures of Princess' crushes. You know, for the synthohottie."
"Ah, yes, yes," Drakken spoke hesitantly. "Good. So what have you found?"
Nobody noticed the gleam that briefly appeared on Dementor's face. Zo Drakken is not all zat at the moment! the pint-sized villain thought to himself.
Shego handed a memory stick to Bortel and waited as he loaded the images into his program. Three pictures appeared on the screen.
"Where are the rest?" Bortel asked. It was clear from the look on the faces of Drakken and Dementor that they had the same question.
Shego sighed. "It appears that, ignoring a pre-teen infatuation, Kimmie has only had three crushes in her school career. And only one resulted in a date, incidentally."
Drakken looked shocked. "So she really isn't all that, after all?"
"Seems not," his sidekick answered. "These two" – pointing to the screen – "we can use their bodies I think. This one has almost the right face." She looked up at Drakken, who appeared to be staring sightlessly into space.
"Doc?" she called gently.
Drakken's eyes opened. "Have we been barking up the wrong tree here?" he asked. "Does Possible … er … color outside the lines?"
Dementor and Bortel stared bemusedly at him.
"Vot?" Dementor asked.
Drakken looked away. "Is she … one of … them?"
"One of who?" Cyrus Bortel was baffled.
Drakken's blue face turned a sickly shade of purple as he blushed.
"You know, does she play for the other team?"
The two other males in the room stared helplessly at each other.
Shego glared at her boss. "The word you're searching for, Doctor D, is gay. And no, Kim Possible may not have had many male relationships but she is not gay." Shego had seen enough over those two days spying in Middleton to be certain that Kimmie's propensities were definitely towards boys. "Not that if she had been gay it would have diminished her in any way whatsoever, would it?" She looked fiercely at the men, daring them to disagree.
Dementor decided to take the lead before this got totally out of hand.
"Bortel," he ordered. "Blend zese pictures and let us zee how it looks."
Relieved to be excused from responding to Shego, Cyrus pressed some keys on his laptop. Shego and the three other villains watched keenly as the new image was built up. The figure that emerged looked much more natural than the grotesque images that they had created the previous day. A young man, obviously a boy and not some man-boy freak, smiled at the virtual camera. His body epitomized fitness and health and, if the tingle in Shego's loins was anything to go by, girl-bait.
"This is very gud," exclaimed the pint-sized team member.
Cyrus nodded in agreement, looking to Drakken and Shego for their confirmation.
The leader of their team nodded imperceptibly before turning to Shego.
"You're the only female here. What do you think?"
His sidekick had been looking at the boy's face. The same distancing that she had noticed on Josh Mankey's picture earlier remained in this blend. Though smiling, the expression lacked true warmth. And humor, she realized.
There was still something missing, and Shego suddenly knew what it was.
"Cyrus," she ordered. Fire up Googleplex. I need to find someone's picture."
I thought we'd given up on that, Bortel thought as he swapped out the blending program for the search engine and handed the laptop to Shego.
The woman typed in a name. Drakken peered over her shoulder. "Who is Ron Stoppable?" he enquired.
Shego gave him a look as she pressed the Enter key. No entries found, came the response. Do you mean Ren Stimpyble? Shrugging, Shego accepted the suggestion.
This time, a single entry appeared. It was an item on the Middleton Gazette website from the previous year. The summary was titled Now It's Bueno Naco! Local boy invents new meal for legendary chain.
Shego clicked on the link. A black and white photo showed a freckle-faced boy with an untameable cowlick giving a goofy smile to camera as he was presented with a large pretend check by a beaming man in an expensive grey suit.
"Capture that image," she ordered as she handed back the laptop to Bortel. "And blend his face with the other one." She scowled as the scientist zoomed in on the executive.
"Not him, you idiot. The boy!"
Drakken watched as Bortel complied. "Hey," he exclaimed. "Isn't that the buffoon who follows Possible around? Ran Fastable or something?"
Shego ignored her boss as she watched the new picture grow line by line on the screen. As she examined the new image a smirk crossed her face. She grinned at the others.
Gotcha, Kimmie!
Bhopal, India – The same time
Commercial Director Lakshma Singh looked up from her paperwork as her computer registered an incoming email from the US from a surprising server source. She opened the message, which she was even more surprised to see came from none other than Andrew Drake, a name she recognized as the mystery man who had carried out a lightning takeover of Bueno Nacho, one of the world's largest fast food chains, and was now its CEO. Singh was an avid reader of the Washington Post and had wondered about the man from the moment she learned that a reclusive billionaire had taken control of Bueno Nacho. No-one seemed to know anything about him or his whereabouts, let alone his appearance.
But the business proposition in his email, for ACME Plastics to produce miniatures of Nakasumi's forthcoming toy for distribution with Bueno Nacho's Ecstatic Kids Meals, was much more interesting than speculating on the identity of the owner of the chain.
Drake's email had been very explicit about the timetable and the delivery schedule, and that he would need a capacity and capability response immediately, after which he would put her in touch with his team that very day should ACME wish to pursue this opportunity. Fifteen thousand Bueno Nacho outlets worldwide needed to be stocked with three to six hundred Diablos each, depending on their size, in less than a week. What price would ACME consider reasonable?
Lakshma Singh was not the most senior woman in ACME India's business for no reason. An MBA degree from Wharton and six years as a management consultant for McKinseys had preceded her lightning rise through the ranks of one of Asia's fastest-growing manufacturing businesses. The offer that had been presented to her was unprecedented in both its size and time-scale, and she was instinctively cautious of anything that looked like a gift horse.
She called in her secretary and asked him to arrange a call to Bueno Nacho's headquarters in Colorado. Once the connection had gone through, Singh picked up the receiver and introduced herself, asking to speak to Andrew Drake. The voice that responded seemed to have been expecting the call, and asked her politely to hold while she transferred the call to the executive suite. She waited a few minutes before a new voice came onto the line, explaining that he was Chief Financial Officer and he had been alerted to the probability of a call by his CEO who, he was sure she would understand, was unavailable. The CFO assured her that the order was genuine and that Mr. Drake had authorized him to fax through a written and signed order confirmation once the deal had been agreed. However he needed an in-principle decision straight away else he would be forced to approach her competitors given the tight timeframe for launching the Lil' Diablos promotion.
She swallowed hard before confirming that ACME could deliver – but at a premium price. The Bhopal plant, the largest by far in ACME's portfolio, would have to be tooled up for manufacturing the models, but that could be done in a couple of days if the current production run for an Eastern European kitchen products company were shifted to Taiwan. That would cost them a few hundred thousand dollars in late-delivery penalties, but compared to the twelve million dollars in extra revenue that ACME would charge for producing and delivering around the world more than seven million Diablo models, it was nothing.
Even allowing for the retooling and production costs, and the land and air distribution bill, ACME would collect a cool profit of more than four million dollars for a mere six days work.
Hank Perkins agreed the price and informed her that payment would be half a million dollars upfront to cover retooling costs, with the rest of the payment to be made thirty days after delivery. Were it anyone other than Bueno Nacho, a company with an impeccable triple-A credit rating, Lakshma Singh might have demanded a higher upfront payment. But BN's credit rating, combined with the size of the order, and their agreement to a heavy penalty clause if there was any delay in the subsequent payment, persuaded her to accept the terms on offer.
BN's final requirement was that two of its executives be present at the beginning of the manufacturing run in order to ensure that the quality of the product as it came off the assembly line was correct in all details. This was not an unusual request and Singh was happy to agree. It was after all a chance to acquaint the new owners of BN with ACME's impressive plastic processing plant and perhaps secure future merchandising orders.
Rahman handed over the phone to her deputy to arrange for the exchange of signed documents and for digital receipt of the blueprints for the models. She herself pulled up a real-time bank transaction screen. Sure enough, within less than seven minutes, the display confirmed that the upfront payment had been received. Her last words to her deputy before he left were to make absolutely sure that the line would be ready to roll before her guests arrived within 48 hours and if he needed authority to swap out the current production line to call her day or night. He assured her of his attention to this matter.
As he left her office, Lakshma Singh watched his receding back thoughtfully. She had just made a hugely profitable deal for her company with an entirely trustworthy customer. The speed of the deal was unprecedented but everything else seemed kosher, and ACME were half a million dollars to the good already. She could see nothing untoward in what had happened.
So why did she feel the hairs rising on the nape of her neck?
Bhopal, Two days later
The enormous hopper, some 250 feet high and looking like an upturned cone, was silhouetted against the walls of the tall assembly building by the ever-present arc lights that shone in a ring around the ceiling. Had there been anyone watching, they would have been deafened by the roar of a river of red continually feeding into the top of the hopper from a wide conveyor belt. Closer inspection of the river of red would have revealed it as a myriad of tiny pellets of plastic, none more than a millimeter in diameter. But this was an entirely automated plant, the pride of the ACME PlasticsCompany, so no-one was present to see or hear the production process save a solitary shift attendant whose sole role was to be present if anything were to go wrong with the assembly line. And he was currently sitting in his sound-proofed office at the far end of the factory floor, monitoring the operational stages by computer, oblivious to the noise and the sight that had long become second nature to him.
Spiralling around the hopper, from near to the top to about 10 feet from the nozzle at the bottom, was a double helix of 2-inch diameter metallic pipework. Nondescript from the outside, these pipes nevertheless played a vital role. For within them circulated pressurized water maintained at a temperature of 125 degrees Celsius, just the temperature required to soften the plastic sufficiently to allow the pellets to become malleable but not to melt. That stage would come later.
The hopper rotated at a fixed speed of one rotation every two minutes. This speed was specifically selected to enable a steady but controllable stream of the by-now warm pellets to emerge from the bottom of the hopper and onto another ever-moving belt. As the red flow moved along the belt, robotic arms separated the stream into small piles of identical size, each pile comprising around fifteen hundred coalescing pellets.
Before the stream cooled, it passed under a heating element that warmed each pile. This time the temperature was sufficient to partially melt the pellets. The by-now glistening pile continued along the assembly line until it encountered two robotic hemispherical cups, one on either side. The cups came together, compressing the pile into a perfect plastic sphere. A continuous line of spheres continued along the belt and under a hatch into the main assembly room.
Had anyone been standing near the hatch, they would have seen a second transport belt entering the room from the right, carrying not spheres but black plastic rods.
As the two lines converged, automated arms picked up a single sphere and four rods. The arms swung across towards another belt, stopping en route to allow a glowing arc welder to heat two spots side by side on the sphere and to attach two of the rods. The arms rotated the sphere to allow the remaining two black rods to be attached either side of what now looked like a combined head and body with appendages before depositing the partially-constructed toy legs first onto yet another belt which carried it away.
The construction passed under a gantry, from which descended three arms, two of them carrying what looked like orange horns and the third which carried an orange letter D. These were attached to the head as fine paint jets added facial features, hands and feet.
The construction of one of ACME's special orders for Bueno Nacho was now almost complete. All that was required was to pump air into the solid but still flexible plastic body to inflate it to its full five-inch diameter, a smaller version of the soon-to-be-launched Nakasumi Lil' Diablo toy.
Following that final process, the now fully-assembled model continued along the line, buffeted by cold air blasts to set the plastic firmly, before joining ninety nine of its fellows as they were diverted off the belt into a dispatch box. All that remained was for the box to be wrapped with clingfilm before it, and hundreds like it, were automatically loaded onto a waiting liveried truck.
Everything was working exactly according to plan – ACME Plastics were as good as their word.
Except that, unknown to ACME, their air pump had been tampered with.
Earlier that day.
Manfred and Shego, the former wearing a dark-blue linen suit with a Bueno Nacho lapel pin and mirror shades and the latter in her Miss Goh persona, were being shown around the ACME plant by Lakshma Singh. Both were carrying expensive-looking briefcases and had politely but firmly declined an offer to look after these during their visit. The dark-skinned woman was justifiably proud of the fact that the plant was set up and ready to go two hours before her guests arrived.
As the party walked through the assembly room, Manfred asked about the throughput of the factory. Lakshma explained that once she pressed the button to start production, Lil' Diablo models would be coming off the production line at a rate, 24/7, of around 80,000 per hour. Manfred looked duly impressed, while Miss Goh paused to make another note to add to the many she had written as they had made their way along the line from the hopper.
The pair followed their host along the line and outside the building where the as yet motionless conveyor belt gave way to a loading bay. Already, one truck was parked rear-on to the end of the line, ready to take on board the first batch of boxed-up Diablos minutes after the production process started.
The redhead turned to her host and asked her quietly where the restrooms were. Gesturing apologetically to the way they had just come, she directed Miss Goh back toward the beginning of the production line. "We'll wait her for you," the Indian woman assured her. Thanking her host, Miss Goh walked back into the now empty assembly building.
Shego was of course aware of exactly where the restrooms were. She glanced up to see the position of the CCTV cameras in the assembly room. Satisfied that she was out of sight of them for the moment, she walked purposefully toward the air pump that inflated the Diablos before packaging.
Outside, Lakshma was explaining to Manfred that the first day's trucks would mostly be going directly to BN outlets within a thousand mile radius of the plant. Some of the trucks would however head for the airport, where they would be loaded onto transport aircraft that would take them to the more far-flung restaurants in North America, some of which would require three days travel to get to. Over the course of the four days of production, more and more of the trucks would be headed for the airport, until on the final day all the remaining boxes would be dispatched by air to destinations that could be reached within 24 hours. In this way, BN's requirement that all Diablos needed to be ready for distribution on day five would be met.
Manfred was genuinely impressed that ACME had pulled out all the stops to meet his boss' requirements. It was almost a shame that the payment for their services would never be made. He made a mental note to suggest to Drakken that Lakshma Singh be given some responsibility for looking after the eastern sector after his triumph.
Shego had spotted the air pump on their way through the plant as the best place to install the pieces of equipment that she carried in her briefcase. After she had returned from Middleton several days earlier with James Possible's Hephaustus tank and his know-how caught in the brain-tap machine, she had handed them to Drakken. The villain had connected himself to the brain tap machine and downloaded all of James Possible's knowledge of cybertronic technology.
It did not take Drakken long with his intelligence enhancement to figure out how to shrink the Hephaustus tank to a size where it would fit into a briefcase.
Arriving at the pump she took out a sensitive thermometer and checked the temperature of the plant in order to calibrate the tank. She knew that the plant was maintained at a more or less fixed temperature day and night, which made her next job much quicker than it might have been. The tank was designed to sample the air temperature every two minutes and adjust the internal temperature to be exactly 12.5 degrees above ambient temperature, the temperature that Dr. Possible had identified that night as the point at which cybertronic activity would take place. However with ambient temperature itself steady, she could change the setting to monitor the outside temperature only once every ten minutes, hugely reducing the strain on the battery and ensuring that it would still be operating throughout the entire production run.
Satisfied that the device was properly calibrated, Shego looked for a place to conceal the unit. This proved straightforward, as the air pump that would inflate the Diablos was a large piece of equipment and a rack behind the device would fit the Hephaustus tank comfortably, while remaining out of view to a casual observer.
The tank was filled with pre-programmed nanites. Shego had no idea what the programming meant. Her boss had spent several hours after setting up the tank with a computer. All she knew was that the programmed nanites would produce new ones in the tank. Eventually it would run out of raw materials, but the beauty of cybertronics was that only a small number of nanites were needed to become self-replicating within their host. And the air pump was a perfect way of inserting the nanites into the Diablos undetected.
She looked for and found an inlet tap to the air pump, which she quickly connected to the tank via her second piece of equipment, a controllable injector that would be used to deliver a precise dosage of nanites into the air flow.
Satisfied that everything was properly connected and concealed from view, she set a timer on the tank and pressed it to start. She and Drakken had agreed that it would be unwise to start the nanite injection into the air stream straight away. The line might be monitored when it first started up, and the slight sound of the injector could have been detected. Better to wait an hour before initiating the injection. They were aware that some of the Diablos would therefore escape contamination, but in the scheme of things this was nothing to be concerned about.
Glancing around to make sure that she was not being observed, Shego picked up her case and returned to the loading bay. Manfred looked at her and she gave a tiny nod.
Lakshma Singh turned to Manfred. "Are you happy? Can we start the production line now?"
"Absolutely," came the reply.
The woman led them to the control box and the air was filled with the deafening sound of equipment starting up.
Author's Note.
This chapter was heavily focused on the villains. Rest assured that Kim, Ron and their friends will be prominent in the next chapters, as will the team at Global Justice.
I was aiming in this chapter to mainly do two things – first to set out how Eric got his looks, and second to create a credible explanation for how Drakken managed to create and distribute the Diablos. Do let me know if I've succeeded.
When reading other excellent fan fiction, it is easy to pick up ideas and forget where you got them from. So my thanks to those writers who came up with the name of Andrew Drake (I think there was at least one) and the idea of Eric being in part at least a blend of Josh and Ron, and my apologies for borrowing those concepts. I hope I have done them justice.
Disclaimer – I have no real idea how a plastics factory works but I'm pretty certain it is nothing much like my description. In real life the Diablos would probably have been produced by injection molding, but how dull is that?
A few of the less-obvious references.
ACME, the plastics company, is a shout-out to the old Roadrunner cartoons. Bhopal is the location of a terrible chemical plant explosion, which is not to suggest that anything like that will happen in this story. Kimmie's previous crushes include Bobby Johnson, mentioned in passing in one episode (The Truth Hurts) and even then it is unclear if he really was a crush or just a way to put one over on Bonnie. I have made him a quarterback as it makes sense that he was a football player given Kim's relative shallowness in the earlier seasons.
And finally, since the last chapter of this story was posted, it was nominated for and won the Best AU Fannie award. Thanks to everyone who voted, and also to those who "liked" the story and have kept faith with it thus far.