CHAPTER 20 - Monday, 4 days before Prom Night
Author's Note: Well I'm back and raring to go after a long stopover in Writersblockland. I will release Chapter 21 in two weeks and Chapter 22 two weeks after that. My grateful thanks to Drumboy100 whose enthusiastic chapter-by-chapter reviews have inspired me to get back on the horse. PS Read her writing, it's outstanding.
Plot reminder: Drakken's StD plot is almost ready, and Kim is absorbed with hottie Eric. Shego, determined to find out more about the Phoebus device, flew to Toronto and was captured by Jack Hench, for whom she now needs to recover the EMA in order to obtain the antidote to her poison. Drakken and company are preparing to relocate to Bueno Nacho HQ while Ron feels like a spare wheel and hates the management changes at BN. And Global Justice is growing worried about the implications of the Mark II Moodulator.
Tibet
Drakken watched as his inner circle of confidants filed into the conference room and took their accustomed places at the long table. Glaringly absent was Shego, who normally sat directly opposite her boss, with Manfred and Dementor facing each other and flanking Drakken.
"Where is Shego?" he questioned the others.
If Shego had hoped that her absence without leave would go unnoticed she was mistaken.
Manfred looked around at the blank faces and decided to respond.
"She was delivering your synthodrone to Middleton," he explained. "She should be back sometime today."
Privately he was surprised that she had not returned yesterday, but he was not going to share his opinion. Drakken had been showing signs in the last few days of being under increasing stress. It was perhaps unsurprising given the imminent start of whatever his plot was supposed to be, but no-one wanted to hear him ranting any more.
Drakken looked upset.
"Let me know the minute she arrives – I want to speak to her," he insisted.
In truth, Drakken was for the first time in several weeks feeling uneasy about Project Nemesis. It was not the project itself that bothered him – he remained supremely confident that all the pieces would slot into place and he would emerge victorious. No, it was rather the question that had never concerned him before – what to do when he won? Specifically, how do you go about actually ruling the world?
He realized that in all his intricate planning for Project Nemesis he had omitted to include plans for its aftermath.
The topic had started to emerge in conversations with his team. Manfred had suggested that the Indian woman at ACME Plastics would make a good regional manager. He'd excused himself and disappeared to his computer to look up what a regional manager actually did. All that had done was to confuse him further with references to profit-centers, supply chains and matrixed management structures.
And then a couple of days ago, Dementor had casually mentioned that they really ought to be preparing to issue ration cards to the defeated nations, to avoid mass starvation when global agriculture was disrupted. Mass starvation? He had thought. No-one's going to get hurt! I want to scare these people into submission not kill them. And had gone to bed dreaming of shaking fists and famine.
He had hoped to mention his concerns to Shego today and her absence unnerved him. Although he still found himself frequently frustrated with his sidekick's snarkiness, she was the one person whose opinion he truly valued and who he fully trusted. His recently-enhanced smartness had made him appreciate that much – though not all – of her bad behavior was actually in his best interests, stopping him from making disastrous mistakes and aborting his more ridiculous plots. Somehow he knew that she would be able to explain to him what he needed to do once his plot succeeded.
He looked up at the others. He'd have to pass on that one until he could speak to Shego. Meanwhile, he could not afford to show any weakness, especially to Dementor who he still didn't entirely trust.
"First things first," Drakken declared. "Our readiness for Project Nemesis." He looked at Manfred.
The security chief cleared his throat. "We now have eight hundred fully-functional synthodrones ready for deployment, with a further one hundred to maturate in the next 36 hours. I have chartered a cargo plane in Bueno Nacho's name to transport them to Colorado by Thursday. Three hundred will be transferred to BN headquarters to secure the building while six hundred will travel in stasis chambers to BN in Middleton in readiness for an assault on Global Justice headquarters and to secure other key sites in that town. They will arrive just before we do."
"Good," Drakken responded. "Tell Perkins to do what he can to discourage Possible and Stoppable from hanging around the Middleton BN this week without raising suspicions. And to let us know immediately if anyone is enquiring about the Diablos." Perkins of course remained none the wiser about the synthodrones coming his way or the true nature of the Diablos. The operation remained strictly need-to-know.
"And the status of the synthodrones?" he addressed his question to Dementor.
"Zey are all programmed wiz weapons training and hand-to-hand fighting and ready to go," Demenz replied. He did not mention that they were no longer vulnerable to knife attack, and that neither Drakken nor Manfred were any longer included in the circle of trust which provided protection from synthodrone attack. However he realized from Manfred's response that he could not wait much longer before taking action against Drakken. Once the synthodrones had been moved to the US, events would be out of his control.
Drakken considered the state of play. The synthodrones were all but ready for action. But while they would prove to be perfect shock troops there were insufficient of them to take over Washington, let alone the world. For that, he would be relying on his cybertronic plastic toys, now close to global coverage. And for once his plans had back-ups that were as ingenious as his main plan. As soon as everything was ready at Bueno Nacho headquarters, he would discard this lair, relocate and commence his operation.
With Team Possible already distracted, and to be taken out of the picture right at the start of the action, the single biggest factor in his previous defeats would be neutralized. He'd worry about the aftermath later. The world would undoubtedly muddle along while he figured out regional managers and who should be president of Drakkanada.
Drakken allowed himself a smile. For once things were going to plan. He could not see what could go wrong now.
So why did he feel so uncomfortable when he should be reveling in his imminent success?
ooOooOoo
The others left the room while Drakken stared into space. A migraine was starting to bother him and he decided to go and lie down in his office-cum-bedroom until it passed. There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he took a couple of Tylenols and lay on his bed.
Shego, where are you?
She ought to have been back by now. Eric is functioning autonomously now. And in any event we can direct his actions from here.
Mass starvation? It's not my fault if people aren't organized properly!
Drew closed his eyes.
His mother appeared before him. Her body was covered in blood. She reached out a hand and he shrank from her touch. It was to no avail as he stared at the red, sticky substance as it dripped from her hand onto his face.
Do you really have it in you to win this time? You're too soft, Drewbie, too soft. You can't even stop a pair of school kids with a hairless rodent.
He cowered before her wrath.
And you let that green-skinned vixen walk all over you. Look, you don't even know where she is now!
A red cloud of rage descended over the villain.
And now you're worried about a bit of collateral damage! You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, Drewbie.
I'm not a monster!
His mother looked at him piercingly.
They're all laughing at you. The kids, Shego, the Possibles, your college associates, Global Justice, Dementor. The whole world is laughing at you!
I hate them! I hate them all!
So what are you going to do about it?
He was going to beat them. Every single one of them. He was going to crush his opponents into the ground and make them watch helplessly as he takes over the world. And especially Kim Possible. She would pay dearly for the years of humiliation.
I'll grind her into the dust, mother, he promised. Rip her dreams of love from her bleeding heart. Her defeat will bear witness to my triumph.
She looked at him with scorn.
That's not enough. They'll find a way to undo everything you achieve.
Unless you remove them … permanently.
His vision blurred as his mother leant forward and kissed him on the lips, a stream of blood pouring from her mouth dousing his face. He gagged.
You know what you have to do, Drewbie.
No.
No!
It's them or you!
Drakken looked haunted.
His mother gave him a look of extreme displeasure and vanished.
Tibet – the same time
Unknown to the occupants of the briefing room or to anyone else in the lair, the missing thief had returned several minutes earlier. Shego's arrival had not been observed by the security team as she had entered the lair covertly with the help of the Personal Force Field. She knew that her entry would coincide with the daily debrief and hoped fervently that she could collect the Electron Magneto Accelerator and return to Toronto in Dementor's hoverplane without anyone noticing.
On her way back to Tibet she had realized that she could not simply ask Drakken for the EMA. Her side trip had been strictly unauthorized, and she could not afford to spend time arguing with him and explaining how she had managed to get herself injected with a lethal poison. Even if he was supportive, time was short, he would want to meddle and the lives of her and her brothers were at stake. Better to sort out this situation herself. She had maintained radio silence to preserve security and to avoid awkward questions she was not yet ready to answer.
And so it had transpired that while the team was pondering her absence, the green-skinned villainess was phasing her way into Dementor's laboratory through the wall, intent on purloining the EMA in order to meet her enforced obligation to Jack Hench. Forty hours – well over half her deadline – had already expired as she had had to travel from Toronto using conventional airlines (thank goodness she could get some sleep!), but to return she would use Dementor's much faster hoverplane – sitting unused in the lair's hanger – gaining valuable time. Time that she needed to ensure that she obtained the antidote she needed to take before it was too late. And time to surprise her hosts with a premature arrival.
Entering the lab, she looked around but at first sight there was no sign of the EMA. However, she knew that Dementor had used it to boost the output of the flux capacitor needed to power the improved Phoebus device. As far as Shego was aware it had not been used since. She spotted the Phoebus cap propped up against the far wall. Making her way across the laboratory she lifted the device onto the workbench.
The front panel was open, and dangling cables made it clear that the EMA – a device the size of a shoebox - had been removed.
Shego suppressed a moment of panic as she looked around the room. Dementor was a neat worker and there was nothing obviously out of place. Yet there must have been some reason for extracting the EMA from the Phoebus device.
Perhaps Drakken had taken it for his own purpose?
Shego rocked back and forth in indecision. Should she look in Drakken's office? Time was running out and she could not afford to be wrong again. Gambling that she would have spotted the EMA by now if it were here, she left the room and silently crossed the corridor, phasing into her boss' workspace and skirting the bed.
Sitting on his desk was what looked like a mass of electronics wrapped in gold foil. And thank heaven, the tell-tale shielded wires of a power booster were running through the device.
No idea what this is for, but my need is greater than yours Doctor D. Don't worry, I'll get it back for you when this is all over.
It was the work of a few minutes to locate the position of the EMA, disconnect and remove it, reconnect the cables and replace the gold foil to conceal the absence of the device.
And just in time, as she heard footsteps approaching the door. Shego phased out of the room mere seconds before her boss, a glass of water and pills in his hand, walked in.
She leaned against the corridor wall, breathing heavily at her narrow escape. She was feeling light-headed. A symptom of the poison her unpowered body was fighting? Fear that Jack Hench would deny her the antitoxin when she returned. Or guilt at deceiving her boss?
She shook her head. There was no time to waste on worrying. She had to get back to Toronto.
But first she had to borrow the hoverplane while remaining unobserved. Getting past security at the hangar entrance was child's play for someone with a personal force field. And she had had a whole day's traveling to figure out how to avoid observation once in the hangar. Despite her lack of plasma power she still had enough martial arts expertise (from a former stay in Yamanouchi) to be able to put the guards to sleep without them realizing afterwards what had happened, which would avoid any memories of Shego firing up the plane.
Once in the air, she activated the hoverplane's stealth mode and flew away undetected from the mountain lair. She would make Toronto overnight.
The only risk was that someone would notice the absence of the hoverplane. It was a risk but Shego hoped that any concerns would be overtaken by events.
Global Justice HQ
Candace Du, hair tied back, looked through the microscope at the chip that had been extracted from the Mark II Moodulator remote control. She turned her head to the GJ techie standing beside her.
"What am I looking at?" she asked.
"Can you see a set of parallel wires to the left of the chip?" She looked again and nodded. There were hundreds of wires, each much thinner than a human hair.
"Watch what happens when I apply a current."
From a purely scientific point of view, what happened next was fascinating. The wires started to vibrate, each with a different frequency, creating a complex pattern of undulating standing waves that looked incredibly familiar.
That looks like an EEG trace, she thought. An electroencephalogram, the device used to map and record brain waves. A tool she as a psychologist was intimately familiar with.
Can Du closed her eyes, the better to marshal her thoughts.
Based on Kim's experience of the Mark I Moodulator, the remote control acted a bit like a TV channel-changer. Press the red button, it sends a signal to the moodulator to switch to angry mode, press the pink button, the signal changes to love and the moodulator responds accordingly. The remote control is essentially a passive device instructing the moodulator to trigger changes in the limbic system powerful enough to magnify existing raw, even faint, emotions of love, hate, sadness or laughter.
But suppose the remote control were to do more than that? Suppose it did not simply tell the moodulator which mode to be in.
Suppose it actually generated brain wave patterns?
Then it could produce an almost infinite set of responses, not limited to raw emotions. It could create new feelings – of hate, love, empathy, joy or anything else a brain wave pattern could imprint on the mind. And the more unformed the mind, the easier and deep would be the imprinting.
If her reasoning was correct, she had identified the crucial difference between the first and second generation of moodulators. The Mark II Moodulator, unlike the Mark I one, could create feelings and not just amplify existing ones. Indeed, it could create any behavior for which a brain wave pattern existed.
And the remote control was no longer a passive device. It was the key element. While the disc that was attached to the target only had to direct the incoming wave into the brain. Much simpler than Mark I to manufacture in a lab.
Candace opened her eyes and picked up the phone.
"Doctor Director, I need to speak to you."
ooOooOoo
"So you think this remote control can generate brain waves and transmit them to a moodulator? Which merely acts as a pathway to the brain to imprint the signal received?"
The psychologist nodded. "I don't yet know how it does it, but it seems to contain a battery of chips that, when electrically stimulated, create wave patterns that I am convinced are equivalent to brain waves."
"Can you read the patterns?" the GJ chief asked her.
"Not yet, but I've got a team playing around with the voltages and comparing the results to known brain wave patterns."
Elizabeth considered this.
A thought struck her. She looked back at Can.
"Could this device program AI nanobots?"
Can Du nodded. "Yes I would think so. A newly-formed neural network would be particularly susceptible to broadcast brain waves as there is no preexisting mind to imprint over."
Elizabeth suppressed a shudder.
"So Dementor could use this Mark II device to program complex emotions and human-like behaviors into a synthoplasmic artificial soldier, extracting some of the nanites to imprint others. He'd only need one exposure to be able to empower dozens, even hundreds, of his creations."
This is how Dementor is creating his army!
Can Du's face showed her consternation as she contemplated the implications of her boss's comment.
Her boss interwove her fingers while she pondered her next step.
"Doctor Du," she ordered. "You are to drop all other projects until further notice. I need you to figure out the pattern of brain waves generated by this device, and develop a counter-measure. This remote control may be the only way we have to be able to neutralize the programming of an attacking AI."
"Yes, ma'am," Can responded, picking up her file and leaving Elizabeth Director to her thoughts.
How did Dementor get so smart? Even given his possession of Cyrus Bortel's device, he's never been known to advance a plot this thoroughly! Does he have a new partner? Or …
For the first time, she wondered if they had been looking for the wrong villain.
Middleton that evening
"What do you think, Mum?" the redhead asked Anne Possible as they made up platters of vegetables in the kitchen.
Anne Possible smiled at her agitated daughter, her eyes flicking to the large bunch of roses that their guest had presented her with on his arrival. The sound of laughter came from the dining room next door as their dinner guest regaled James, Tim and Jim with stories of his previous schools.
"Well, he certainly seems to be a hit with your father and brothers," she murmured.
"Yes, but what do you think?" the girl pleaded.
"Kimmie, it doesn't matter what we think, it's what you think that counts," her mother responded diplomatically.
Kim's face fell. Anne relented. "But from what I've seen, he's just about perfect."
Not to mention the first boy I've met since I married James that has made me drool. Kimmie is a lucky girl.
Her daughter's face lit up. "He is, isn't he," she exclaimed. "Mum, how do you know when you've found The One?" She emphasized the last two words.
Anne looked with surprise at her normally-considered daughter. "Kim, you've only known the boy a few days! Don't you think you're being a bit hasty?"
"But it feels so right, Mum."
Kim looked dreamily through the doorway at Eric's profile. The boy caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and turned towards her, giving her a beaming smile. Anne watched her daughter melt into a puddle of hormones. The room suddenly felt too warm as both women responded to the raw physicality of their guest.
Anne shook herself free of her near-trance and caught her daughter's eye.
"Kimmie," she said with a slight tremor in her voice. "What matters is not if he's perfect but if he's perfect for you." She emphasized the last two words. "And if he is," indicating her husband, "then you'll just know if he's the one."
She picked up the dessert plate and walked towards to the door. Turning to Kim she said, "Let things take place naturally. You have a lifetime ahead. Choose wisely."
And with that, Anne left the room, leaving behind a thoughtful girl. Until she heard her father call her. "Kimmie-cub, Eric says he wants to ask you something."
Kim followed her mother and sat down beside their guest. Eric turned to her, giving her another of his scorching smiles. He took her hand in his, a solemn look on his face.
"Kim, would you do me the honor of being my date at the Prom?"
Weeks of angst about the food chain, about Ron and Tara, about insults from Bonnie, about having missed the boat and her fear of being alone were swept away as she flung her arms around her date while her parents looked on approvingly and her brothers pretended to throw up.
Eric laughed happily as he hugged her close.
James Possible slapped him on the back. "Congratulations, son. Make sure you treat her properly. And have her home by eleven."
An hour beyond her normal curfew? Even Daddy is happy about Eric! It must be fate.
Today was officially the best day ever. Well at least until Friday!
And as Kim settled herself in the crook of Eric's arm she could not help but picture another "yes" with the man beside her.
Later that evening, after a comfortable conversation fueled by a delicious meal, Eric said goodbye to the Possible family. The love-struck girl watched from the porch as he made his way towards the center of town. Eric looked back and waved once to the assembled family as he disappeared from view.
James and Anne looked at each other and at their daughter as Kim walked back towards the house.
"Remind you of another couple?" she said quietly.
He smiled. "Yes but we were older." His smile dropped. "I hope Kimmie is ready for adult emotions. I don't want to see her hormones overcome her better judgment."
He gave Anne a look of mock severity. "And don't think I didn't notice your blushes when Eric arrived."
His wife had the grace to look away with embarrassment. James put his arm around her.
"If you're feeling that way I know a fun way to end the evening," he whispered.
Anne looked up as a young man, head down, walked past their house across the road towards his own. She could not help a feeling of regret. When was the last time Kim had spoken of her best friend?
In her bedroom, Kim relived the evening in her head. She was feeling sensations new to her and her nightgown felt tight over her chest. She picked up her Kimmunicator and called Wade. After the call she climbed into bed, clutching her Panderoo to her chest. Kim fell asleep almost immediately.
Bueno Nacho that evening
Ron sat moodily in his usual seat in Bueno Nacho, slowly digesting a naco washed down with a large soda. He no longer felt welcome there after his altercation with the new manager, but a naco was a naco and he wasn't going to get his Tex-Mex anywhere else. Even though Rufus had been banned from the premises on the grounds of health and safety.
But this was little consolation to the young man. He was no longer recognizing his life. BN was a different place: surly manager, Ned gone, no curly straws, kids' meals. A sign that had appeared on the door to the stock storage area saying "Absolutely no entry – violators will be fried." And worst of all, these creepy Li'l Diablos which just shouted out "bad road".
And Kim was a different person. He'd thought that her crush on Josh Mankey had affected her personality when she was with him. But this attraction to Eric the Hottie was on a whole different level. In the space of a few days she had transformed into a crushing sheep.
I'm losing everything I ever cared about, he thought.
Then there was Tara. Now completely unattainable. Yet he couldn't bring himself to wish her anything but happiness with Josh.
He finished his meal and headed for the door before Lars could thrust a diablo on him. The manager turned and saw him, turning puce with rage.
"Don't come back, Stoppable," he shouted after the boy as Ron slipped out of the building. "You're not welcome here anymore."
Which pretty much summed up his life at the moment.
Ron was walking past the rear of the building when he heard what sounded like a swarm of angry bees. He stopped, puzzled, as he tried to identify the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from a shed behind BN. Walking up to the shed he spotted a window just above head height. He stood on tiptoe and was able to see into the structure.
Dozens of Li'l Diablos met his eye. He would have sworn that they had turned to face him, but he now recognized the sound. Humming, just like he thought he'd heard the other day when he was given a diablo. But multiplied.
Why is a kids toy humming? I thought they were just made of plastic?!
Oh how I wish I could show this to Kim. She'd know what was going on, he thought.
But his best friend was rather preoccupied at the moment.
Just then, Ron saw Lars emerging from the back door of the building. He hid in the shadows and watched the manager walk up to the shed and check the locks. The man glanced left and right before pulling out a phone. Ron strained to listen to the conversation.
"Yes sir, two hundred left. No, everyone's taken one apart from the odd troublemaker. No, I've not seen Possible recently. Stoppable was still hanging around but I've got rid of him. Thank you, sir. Friday you say? Okay, I'll be ready."
Ron's heart pounded as Lars returned to the fast food establishment.
That was a very odd conversation. And at ten in the evening? Who was Lars speaking to? And why were he and Kim mentioned?
What has Bueno Nacho got to hide?
And the biggest question of all – what's happening on Friday?