Ron's Worse Nightmares
Return of the Super-Villains
By Pat Squared
Global Justice had underestimated Shego again.
Global Justice took a page from the former Soviet Union and built their latest Ultra-Maximum Security Prison where Mother Nature would do the guarding.
Antarctica was great and all. Imagine Siberia with a thousand mile ring of ice-cold water around it.
Outside the wall, the unprotected human body, not yet acclimated to the sub-zero temperatures, would begin to suffer the effects of hypothermia within a couple minutes.
The staff lovingly told Shego that the interior was kept at thirty-two degrees Centigrade. Being raised in the United States, Shego did not think in terms of the metric system. Therefore, she spent a few minutes recalling the conversion formula and came up with ninety degrees Fahrenheit.
This prison was a high tech bio-dome. Instead of volunteers from the scientific community like the other bio-domes, Global Justice was using convicts as guinea pigs.
Shego once read in passing that England once used the colonies as a dumping ground for its petty criminals. Transport was what they called it.
This must be in preparation for the time they send our kind into space.
Shego wondered if Global Justice would ever thing of that when the technology is ready, and if so what will the revolution look like in a generation or two.
The prisoners were put in a pseudo-primitive environment, given some quickie survival classes by an instructor, and told that they had to make their own shelter, catch and prepare their own food, and make their own clothing.
Shego's days consisted of sleeping on a hammock she stole from one of her fellow inmates, netting some and cooking fish, letting the other prisoners know that she was not to be trifled with, and plotting her escape.
Shego cursed the perversity of fate.
Here she was a former heroine, now working for an incompetent mad scientist who had to hire her to steal all his doomsday devices. She did not know whatever perverted bitch of fate decree that she would be stuck with Dr. Drakken.
Shego had no romantic interest with the blue skin freak. Not even the moodulator could get her over his mama's boy attitude, bad teeth, and perpetual stink from lack of bathing.
Shego had been on this perpetual funk since she was sixteen.
At fourteen, she had enough of Hego's bossy ways and ran away from home.
It was either steal or whore herself out to survive.
Having worked on the side of law and order for a couple years, Shego already mastered the basics of breaking and entering and more importantly how to fence the high end loot. Besides sleeping with strangers was not her style. Despite the form fitting costumes and rumors traded among perverts on the web, Shego was a sexual conservative.
By the age of sixteen, she had stolen and successfully ransomed back the crown jewels of England, five pieces of art from the Louvre Museum in Paris, and hit the diamond exchange in Tel Aviv twice. The only place she did not steal from was China. Not because she did not like Chinese artifacts, but the fact that the Westerns stole most of the good stuff before Mao laid down the law and the fact that the Chinese would not pay her ransom demands.
When she was eighteen, Kim Possible made her debut. Soon, like clockwork, Shego would have a fight with the red head teen and Ron Stoppable would then manage to activate the self-destruction device. Why did Dr. D insist on placing one on every machine ... hello ... stupidity in action?
It was simple. The one ting this placed lacked was a hospital that could perform emergency surgery. Shego simply staged a false escape attempt, ensure that the prison guards shot her multiple times, and faked a coma. Global Justice came through. Most other places would just perform New York style CPR (kick her in the ribs and tell her to die) and then pronounced her dead, but Global Justice had her medivaced off the ice.
The surgery and recovery was painful, even for Shego. The doctors keep digging into her flesh with a variety of sharp implements eager to generate more medical bills for Global Justice to pay. The armed guards outside her room began to relax, thinking that Shego was now an invalid.
Quietly slipping out of a German operated hospital in Argentina, what actually the hardest part of the escape. The nurses were dutiful and arrived on a Teutonic-engineered schedule to check her vital signs. Shego selected the nurse carefully.
Shego knocked out the appropriate nurse, stripped her, put on the uniform, put the nurse into her bed, inserted the IV's. Shego grabbed the painkillers. She knew that she was already hopelessly addicted to the stuff, but would have to wean herself off of them later in the privacy of her own lair.
Walking out of the hospital was easy. Getting the lonely Global Justice agent to give her a ride to his apartment was just the icing on the perfect escape. He looked like his only girlfriend was the hairy palms of his hands.
Shego wondered which was more of a shock – Thinking that he would actually make it back to home plate, or his finding out that his girlfriend Nurse Ratchet enjoyed making him dance as he attempted to dodge her plasma blasts.
It took three weeks for her to return back to the United States, two of which were spent in Rio enjoying the Christmas in summer with Herr Frederick Hoffman, a vineyard owner in the Czech Republic.
Shego sexual antics were limited to an alcohol-fueled one night stand with Senor Senior Junior, but Junior could not get the idea that it took more than money to get Shego to the alter. Thankfully, she did not end up pregnant despite it being in the middle of her fertile period.
Besides, he believed in animology and he was fixated on Kim Possible because he was some kind of yellow turd.
Herr Hoffman was different. He was an older gentleman ... old enough to be her father. However, he was young enough to perform in the bed, yet old enough to be dignified. He did not belittle her or acted as she was not his equal. He did not ask questions, but merely listened.
Shego once heard once of the henchmen describe Mrs. Possible as a MILF, or Mothers I'll Like to F... The thought of a young guy chasing after a forty something year old once sicken her. Now she understood why some were attract to more mature partners. Young guys, like Junior, where wham, bam, let us do it again. More mature partners might not have the recovery time, but they acted like ever intimate moment was a blessing.
Shego wondered if her attraction was based on the fact that she was yearning for a father substitute. However, she quickly cut off the line of thought. She was never into incest.
During the two weeks as Hoffman's lover, Shego both enjoyed the physical aspects of the affair and the fact that someone actually thought of her as wife material. Shego did not have to put on the tough girl act that made millions of perverts on the web believe that she was a battle axe lesbian.
Shego considered just quitting the crime game. She had enough money to ensure that she and any kids she had would not run out of money until the grandkids of their great-great-great-grandkids were old enough to collect their retirement. She had dozens of alternate identities that would stand up to everything but the most detailed of background investigations. However, she had some debts of honor to pay back before she could leave the world of villainy behind.
She promised that she would help Dr. D success at least once before she retired.
So Shego reluctantly promised to visit Frederick during Holy Week, instead of returning with him immediately. She had four months to wrap up her life in villainy, before retiring to a vineyard. The thought of growing old and making babies did not seem so not her anymore.
It was January 7th, when Shego landed in Las Vegas on a chartered private jet. Customs and immigration were not too suspicious. What kind of terrorist flew around in private jets and had a staff waiting for her arrival in Sin City?
As Fraulein Freda Dresdner, the heir apparent to Dresdner, Inc., she had a multi-million dollar account at the Bellagio, a standing leasing on a penthouse suite, and a reputation as a power to be reckoned with at the craps tables. What the folks at the Bellagio did not know was that Dresdner's alter-ego Shego learned that her powers included a weak form of telekinesis. Shego could roll hard eights all day.
After taking a couple hundred grand off the tables, she would retire to the spa and plan the ultimate capstone to a career in villainy.