CHAPTER THREE

"SUNDAY MORNING"

"Ah, good morning. Sleep well? Come, sit down and eat something. I see you're expecting a busy day."

Kim and Ron walked into the kitchen, wearing their mission clothes and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Quest was busy chopping kiwis. At the table were five place settings. In the center of the table were two serving platters, one piled high with slices of pineapple, strawberries, and bananas, the other with a variety of blueberry and bran muffins. At two place settings were large paper cups with Starbucks logos. He pulled a chair out for Kim. "Why don't you sit here?" He poured her a cup of black coffee. He handed Ron a glass of ice and a can of diet Pepsi.

"Thanks, Jonny," said Kim. "You're expecting company this morning? I didn't mean for us to impose like this." Quest's attitude seemed more cheerful this morning. She didn't object to the change, but her weirder alert began to go off.

"Yeah, thanks, man," said Ron around a huge muffin he had stuffed in his mouth. After he swallowed, he asked, "if you don't mind, what do you do around here all day, besides surf? I mean, there's no video or c.d. player, no cable, no game cube, no Internet set up…"

"In answer to Kim's question, I expect a couple of old friends of yours to show up any moment now. As for Ron's question…I still receive a nice royalty income from my father's inventions, sufficient enough for me to live here without my cluttering up the freeways. Dad sent me to Stanford, where I double majored in biochemistry and oriental languages. I then earned a graduate degree in biotechnology and wrote two books on medieval Japanese poetry. I taught at a private high school for a few years until I realized I didn't have the patience to entertain a bunch of spoiled kids more interested in buying a diploma than learning about their universe, so I quit. Now, when I'm not being a beach bum," he aimed a wry grin at Kim, who choked on her coffee and turned a slight shade of pink, "I teach Tae Kwon Do to inner city kids, do some occasional manuscript translating for the Huntington Library, among other things. The rest of the time, I surf, sail my boat, the Bandit II, and write family memoirs or Zen poetry. I manage to keep busy."

Kim heard a noise in the hallway, and suddenly leaped out her chair into her classic kung-fu stance. Ron started sputtering diet Pepsi over his muffin. Quest patted him on the back, looked up…


"No, I'm driving today, Drakken. I can't believe you; what is it with men and directions? We're somehow stuck in a traffic jam in El Segundo heading east towards Riverside, the sun's behind us, but NOOO, the brilliant Dr. Drakken insists we're just a few miles from the Hyatt Embassy in Corona Del Mar because the onboard map computer says so."

"Now Shego, it wasn't all that bad. We did get to a hotel near the coast…"

"Yeah, the Sleazeball Suites. The fat guy at the desk was stuffing his face with pork rinds, watching some porn movie, and he wants to know how many hours we'll be staying. Hours?" Grrr. "Then as I'm walking to my room, some guy drives by and says, 'hey, green jeans, how much?' Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?" Her eyes and hands started glowing.

"Just a simple misunderstanding, Shego. You didn't have to melt the owner's TV and pull his chip bag over his face. And I'm pretty sure that man's liability insurance won't cover his Lincoln being drawn and quartered by green plasma blasts."

"And the room! You know what was crawling on the bed? Not bedbugs. Crabs! Bedcrabs! There were barnacle-like things in the bathtub."

"I'm sure they're there to help exfoliate your skin pores. Just think happy thoughts. In a few more hours we'll have Quest's robotic brain research."

"Happy thoughts? Happy thoughts! I'm about this far," she shoved her thumb and forefinger in front of Drakken's face, "from making Kimmie's life a lot easier by ridding the universe of one blue, wacked scientist wannabe."

"Remember, surf and sun. Surf and sun."

"There better be lots more surf and lots more sun. You owe me major league big time." She continued to rant for the next half hour. Drakken wished he had brought his molecular reducer ray with him so he could shrink into the crack of his passenger seat.

They passed a Newport Beach city limit sign. A few minutes later, Drakken said, "there it is, Shego. Pull in front of that house with the black Jaguar and that lilac thing on wheels."

Shego parked. "Wait a second, I've seen that bubblegum machine before. It's Kim Possible and her doofus boyfriend. Argh. How much worse can this get?"

"I just don't understand how she knows…"

"She…always…knows, Drakken," Shego growled. "I'm beginning to think you have her email on your villain web-blog announcement list."

"Well, not anymore, that was just an accident. Besides, look, the front door is open, we didn't have time for breakfast, and I smell some fresh hot cocoa-moo. You can handle her and the what's-his-name sidekick, and I'll take care of Quest." They stepped into the house and followed the sounds and smells leading them to the kitchen.

"Welcome, Dr. Drakken. I've been expecting you. Please sit down. I have a large cup of hot cocoa for you, heavy on the whipped cream, I hope. And the ever-lovely Ms. Go," he pulled out a chair next to Dr. Drakken, "I understand you had a rough night of it. Here's a mango and crème frappuccino—I hope that makes some amends for my angelic city's apparent lack of hospitality. Kim, have a seat." The pairs of super-villians and teen super-heroes looked at each other and across the table, each wondering if their host was a few eggs short of a dozen.

"Now, let's have a calm, reasonable discussion. Drakken, you're here after the robotic brain research of my father, Dr. Benton Quest. I assure you, you will not find what you are looking for. But I don't expect you to believe me, and since I really don't want Ms. Go reducing my humble abode to stubble, I'll give you a free search of my house for one hour."

"Well, there is that suspicious looking locked storage closet…" said Ron.

"RON!" Kim shot a glare at him and delivered yet another two-fingered rib jab. Ouch!

"Ah Hah! I knew it!" Drakken stood up with a mad grin on his face.

Oddly enough, Quest seemed unperturbed. "Yes, the storage closet. Tell you what, Drakken. I'll leave it unlocked for you, but you really, really don't want to go in there. As for you, Ms. Go, Kim has warned me about what you're capable of doing, and I believe it's usually about now you and Kim go at it with an impressive kung-fu and green fireworks display. May I make a proposal? First, while Drakken is searching through my house, you two take it outside on the beach, and you, Ms. Go, turn off the green plasma blasts. In return for your not leveling my home and not causing serious injury to my friend, Kim, I'll give you my Jackson Pollock original hanging in the living room. I don't know what it's worth, but I'm sure what you can get for it is far more than what Drakken's paying you this weekend. Also, I understand that you are suffering from severe surf and sun deficiency, correct? Unless you two are intent on grinding sand into each other's orifices that I'd rather not know about, why not spend a pleasant hour sunbathing on my back deck? I'm sure you two have plenty of girl talk to catch up on. Meanwhile, I'll show Ron my sailboat."

All four guests looked stunned.

"Well, if that's agreeable to all of you," (they all shrugged, why not?), "Ron and I will take off now. I hope I won't be seeing you again in an hour, Drakken. You may stay as long as you like, Ms. Go."

Drakken stood up. "Come along, Shego. I'll start with the downstairs, you go upstairs…"

"Sorry, Dr. D. You heard Surfer Dude. You're on your own. The only reason I'm going upstairs is to change into something more appropriate. Well, Kimmie, do you want your skinny glutamous maximus kicked around, or would you rather have some girl talk? You could probably use some intelligent conversation, not to mention you're about as pale as a 40 watt light bulb."

"Big talk for someone with the complexion of Aqua-Fresh toothpaste. Beach towels are folded on the back deck."

A few minutes later, they sat on two deck chairs, placed about four feet apart—enough to be ready for any sneak attacks. Shego changed into a black two-piece bikini with bright green polka dots. Kim wore a solid coral one-piece she had bought at a beach shop the previous day. A couple of joggers passed by and tripped over a mound of seaweed.

They heard Drakken scream inside the house. "You want to check on him," asked Kim.

"Nah," said Shego, sipping her frappuccino. "After what I've been through this weekend, he deserves some misery. So, what's up with the dorkfriend? You guys like still steady-Eddies or something? Even by Middleton High School standards, you surely can't be that hard up for some kissy face action."

"His name's Ron, and you'll be pleased to remember that or you'll be sipping that drink through other unmentionable orifices."

"Hey Princess, lighten up! Geez, you'd think you'd be used to torment by now—I grew up with a bunch of brothers, too, you know. Does Ron know about these anger issues? You better start dealing with them—cause in the meantime, I'm going to spend a glorious hour tanning and torturing you."

"Torture? You have no idea what that word even means until you've had a couple of tweebs put a live micro web-cam in your make-up mirror. Drakken would have taken over this world and a few others by now if he replaced you with Tim and Jim. Besides, I get plenty of kissy face action…and I can't believe I just said that."

Shego snorted. "So spill—not that I really want to know the love travails of kissy face boy and his skinny cheerleader girlfriend, but it's probably a lot more amusing than Dr. D's latest wacko take-over-the-world scheme. So tell me, or I power up."

"Well," Kim wasn't sure which was weirder, spilling her guts about her boyfriend to her arch enemy, or not feeling so weird about spilling guts about boyfriend to arch enemy, "we've been talking about the M Word."

"Oh please," Shego laughed, "don't tell me you two are the last ones to even say M Word. And then, let me guess, you're planning a future discussion of the S Word. And I thought Stoppable was the funny one—you should be on Comedy Central."

Kim frowned. We were going to talk about the, um, S Word.

Shego got herself under control. "Oh, my sides hurt. OK, I'll make it easy on you, Princess. What exactly do you see in him that'd make you even think about…the M Word?"

"He's cute."

"Maybe, in the way a naked mole rat is cute. No accounting for taste, I suppose. Go on."

"He's brave."

"Comedy Central line, Kimbo. I never knew guys could shriek till I met you two."

"He scares easily, I'll admit. But he'll do these amazing things anyway, like fighting people like you even when he knows he's seconds away from being turned into plasma toast." She got lost in her thoughts, dreamily thinking about the last time Ron rescued her…

"Earth to Kim! All right, I'll give him that one. What else?"

"He can be smart and creative."

"Are you kidding? He couldn't find his way out of a one door barn with the directions glued to his hands."

"He's smart and creative in, um, more unconventional ways." He's weird, and I love that about him. "You remember his evil alter-ego, Zorpox? Well, all that brilliance is still inside him, only channeled in more constructive ways when the need arises. Put him in a kitchen, for example, and he makes those guys on Iron Chef look like fast food hacks."

"Right, Zorpox. That was scary. Go on."

He's ALWAYS there when I need him—"I've got your back, KP." She started tearing up, recalling her mom's warning to not take Ron for granted.

"HEY, Earth to Kim, again. Whatever's going on under that red hair, don't get mooshy on me. I'm not your girlfriend."

"It's hard to explain, Shego. When he finally came around to accepting his little adopted sister…when I see him playing with her, changing her diapers, feeding her, rocking her to sleep…I just look at him and think to myself, Ron Stoppable, I want you to be the dad of my kids someday."

"Stop, now you're getting me all mooshy." Shego dabbed a wet spot forming in the corner of her dark eyes. "Anything else?"

"He can dance like John Travolta, and when he kisses me, I melt like ice cream on a sidewalk."

"Now that's what I'm talking about, sister, the hottie stuff." Shego grinned. "So let's say for sake of argument that Ron Stoppable is M Word worthy. Now for the hard question: what exactly does he see in you? You have to get ten points before you're M Word worthy."

"Oh." This should be easy. "I'm cute and pretty."

"And shallow, if that's your best shot. Labrador puppies are cute; that doesn't mean I want to wake up next to one for the rest of my life. And face it, sister, don't expect your perky little bod to stay the same when you're older. I'll give you one point."

"You would know. Let's see, I'm talented."

"In what? Jumping out of airplanes, kung-fuing baddies like me, driving your little bubble car 200 miles per hour? Let me tell you something about people like you and me, Princess. What gets our adrenaline going is the rush of speed and danger. If we were guys in an alternate universe, we'd be going at each other as Top Gun fighter pilots. Your Ron may be brave, but you really think he'll still want to save the world Kimmie style twenty years from now?"

Kim thought about yesterday's conversation with Quest… "that kind of life gets old after awhile."

"I'll give you another point for the 'Fear Factor' skills. You're up to two."

"I'm smart."

"You're clearly the brains of the outfit, but you've got a lot of genetics going for you there. You're up to three points."

"Um…" Kim blanked; she couldn't think of anything. Oh my gosh, I'm not good enough for Ron!

Shego saw Kim's panicked expression and rolled her eyes in disgust. "Oh pulleeeze. OK, I take back the point for you being the smart one. You help people for no other reason besides you're a good, decent, kind-hearted person. Ron sees that in you, and it makes him want to be a better man, just for you. You laugh and joke around together, which means you both share the same weird, demented sense of humor. He LOVES you, no matter what you look like, smell like, say, do, whatever. When did you first figure out you had the hots for Ron Boy?"

"Well, there was that moodulator incident…"

"Stop, we're not even going there. The thing is, even I guessed how you two felt about each other before you did. Another minus point for being dense, Possible. So that's one, plus two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-TEN points because this ain't no math quiz, cheerleader. You're a ten because of who you are and because Mole Rat Boy loves you anyway. Don't you get it?" By now Shego was yelling. "Earth to Kim, Hello! You're lucky to have a dork head like Stoppable, and he's lucky to get a pom-pom brain like you. You deserve each other. If you were my little sister, I'd smack you one upside your head."

"That's the nicest thing you ever said to me, Shego." Kim sniffed.

"You're welcome. But don't start getting mooshy on me again. The truce is over in another half hour."

"So what about you and your love life? Jonny gave you an open invitation. Any vibes?"

"You mean that stuck-up beach hippy, Quest? No, too boring. Drakken can be annoying, childish, arrogant, self-centered, but he's usually not boring. He's kinda like Stoppable in some ways, I suppose—they're not boring. Now shut up and let me work on my tan." I wonder what mess Doctor D's gotten himself into?


"…Nice boat you got here, Mr. JQ. What was the Bandit I?"

"He was a dog I used to own. Smartest little thing you ever saw, and could cause more trouble than a porcupine in a balloon factory."

"I know whatcha mean. My buddy Rufus is like that."

"So, tell me more about your girlfriend."

"We've been best friends for like, since, kindergarten. Then she started this web site, to help people, and I kinda helped her get it going, then it snowballed. Of course, you know the gist of our missions together. Here's something I've learned about Kim over the years—never, ever, underestimate her. I know you probably think we are a couple of teenage amateurs playing James Bond. The first thing she did when we pulled up to your house was run a scan of your property. She noted the infra-red and sound surveillance cameras and had our techie connect your detection system to our communicators. We also knew the location of Drakken's rental car. There was no way they'd approach your house without us knowing. I was just shocked, seeing them stand there like that in your kitchen, but we knew they were coming."

"I'm impressed, and shouldn't be surprised. Anything else you discovered?"

"Well," Ron said sheepishly, "we also figured out you had a hidden basement with some serious computer hardware down there."

"So I gathered."

"Another thing about Kim, she's intense, like she operates on one-speed: foot to the floorboard. Once she commits to something, she can be like a micro tornado getting it done, and watch out if you get in her way. She can be a little scary sometimes, to be honest."

"And let me guess. Your job is to watch her back. You'd do anything for her, right?"

Ron simply nodded. "What about you, Jonny? Did you ever feel that way about a girl?"

"You have to understand, while you and Kim travel to some exotic locale and then go home, my home was wherever we happened to be. It was a great experience, and for what it's worth, our odd little family of sorts did love one another. Still, I grew up around a bunch of guys, and I had a hard time adjusting to the rest of the world as I got older, especially when it came to women. As Kim observed, in some ways I really am a conceited, eccentric old beach bum. I did have a fiancé once, when I was in graduate school. We got into the bad habit of assuming what we thought the other wanted to be happy, instead of just asking each other. We made each other miserable for a couple years; then we broke up. Probably the smartest thing she ever did, and the dumbest thing I ever did."

"Let's pretend you're explaining that last smart and dumb comment to my naked mole rat, Rufus."

Quest chuckled. "See, you're already a smart guy by not assuming what an old beatnik means when he starts spouting a bunch of yin yang nonsense. That's my point, Ron. Never assume, and you'll do OK. I've spent the past decade or so learning to be at peace with the choices I've made, even the dumb ones."

"So, is this leading up to something about me and Kim?"

"I rarely give advice, especially to someone like you—there's a lot more going on behind that goofy teenage persona than what most people suspect. Here's an old man's opinion. It looks to me that you and this girl have something special, the kind of thing that inspires poets. If you don't do everything you can to hold onto her, you're a damn fool."

"Yeah, I started figuring that part out several months ago."

"Like I said, you're a pretty smart guy." Quest looked at his watch. "It's time for us to head back. I'm very curious to find out what happened with Dr. Drakken." Ron noted a rather wicked and mysterious grin on Quest's face.


As soon as everyone left the house, leaving him all alone, Drakken wasted no time heading straight for the storage closet door Quest had warned him to avoid.

"What kind of idiot does he take me for?" He pulled out a portable bio-scanner. Drakken lived in a world populated with hidden henchmen and annoying sidekicks; one couldn't be too careful. "Excellent. No bio-matter signs, not even a synthodrone. Now let's see what's behind this door."

He pulled it opened, stared in shock for a moment, and suddenly screamed, "No, why does this always happen to me?"

"Warning. Warning. Danger, Mr. Quest!" said a metallic voice that rolled out of the closet on rubber treads. A pair of arms with hooks on the end extended from a round, titanium torso. Its "head" was a flattened, circular acrylic bubble. Rows of green and yellow buttons flashed on the front of its chest.

Drakken ran towards the kitchen, the robot following close behind. In a panic, Drakken found a rolling pin and started waving it with stabbing motions to ward off the snapping claws reaching for him. Where is Shego when I need her? "Stay away from me, you bubble-headed booby." Drakken dashed out of the kitchen, up the stairs. Ah, safe for now. "Shego…" he was about to yell.

But at that moment, his voice was cut short by a shrill, hyper-sonic alarm in the bedroom he had escaped into. The sound waves seared through Drakken's head, momentarily blinding him in agony. "Oh, the pain…the pain of it all," he shrieked. The alarm stopped as soon as he stumbled out of the bedroom. When he moved away from the top of the stairwell, the alarm started again. It stopped as long as he kept moving towards the stairs, down step by step, through the hallway, into the kitchen, compelling him back into his chair at the kitchen table. A thoroughly defeated Dr. Drakken slowly drank the rest of his Starbucks cocoa moo.

"Technically, this isn't fair," he said out loud to himself. "He said I could look through his entire house for one hour. I should still have 30 minutes to go to find Dr. Quest's robotic brain research. I know it's somewhere in this house. And here I am, talking to an overgrown transistor radio that escaped from a '60s sci-fi show."

"That does not compute, Dr. Drakken. I am a mobile data processing unit built by Dr. Benton Quest to assist Mr. Jonny Quest, or what you would call a butler. I am capable of encoding and transmitting radio waves—Mr. Quest currently has me dialed to FM 94.7, a local jazz station—though that is not one of my primary functions. Unlike humans, it is impossible for me to be incarcerated by the visual stimulation of audio-visual entertainment. Also, Mr. Quest already told you that the information you seek does not exist inside the house. I am a robot, thus not capable of lying about such matters."

"Now he tells me."

"He already did. Furthermore…"

"Oh, shut up. I have a headache. I don't suppose you have any medicinal pain relievers?"

"Certainly, Dr. Drakken." The robot opened a cabinet, took out two bottles. "Acetaminophen or Ibuprofen, whichever you prefer. I apologize for causing undue cranial stress, but I was instructed to activate Mr. Quest's intruder control system if you opened the door to the storage closet."

"Whatever you are…"

"Mr. Quest has programmed me to respond to the nomenclature, 'Robby.'"

"Well, thank you, Robby. At least you give me a lot less sarcastic lip than a certain teenage nemesis."

"You're welcome, Dr. Drakken. May I recommend a short nap until Mr. Quest arrives back home?"


"Five minutes to go before the truce is over, Princess. As much as I'd like to veg and continue our bonding session, I suggest we get back into our work clothes, if that's what you call those things you wear."

"Green and black leotards for the past decade, Shego? You're not exactly worrying Paris with fashion trends."

They walked into the kitchen, noticed Drakken at the table, head down, snoring. Even more bizarre was the sight of a large, six-foot robot washing and drying their breakfast plates and silverware at the sink. "Greetings, Ms. Go and Ms. Possible. Mr. Quest and Mr. Stoppable will be here soon. Please make yourselves at home while I finish up the dishes."

OoooKaaay, thought Kim and Shego as they looked at each other. They went to their respective changing rooms and returned in time to see Jonny Quest and Ron arrive in the kitchen just as Dr. Drakken awoke, rubbing his eyes and head.

"Drakken, I see you're still here and have met Robby," Quest said. "Find what you were looking for?" Dr. Drakken, for once, had nothing to say; he crossed his arms, pouting. "How about you, Ms. Go?"

"It's been real, Jonny, and I'd love to stay and chat with your talking garbage can. Dr. D here owes me about 71 more hours of surf and sun, but not around Kimmie kissy-facing her boyfriend. Also, thanks for the painting, but I really don't care for abstract paint blobs—I'm more into French impressionists. Don't bother offering it to these two, either; Maurice Sendak and Dr. Suess are more their style. That Jag outside, however…" Quest tossed her the keys. "Thanks. Dr. D, time to go. Later, Princess." She grabbed the blue lapels of Drakken's lab coat and dragged him outside. Shego aimed a couple of green blasts at the '62 Sloth and blew out the right front and rear tires. Seatbelt buckled, she whipped the Jaguar around the house; it roared down the beach.

"C'mon, Ron."

"Kim, you can let the police handle this," said Quest.

"Only if you want L.A.'s finest reduced to tiny plasma puddles. Let me and Ron handle this sitch."

"Don't worry, Mr. JQ," said Ron. "We'll have those badical wheels back in no time. It's what we do."

They ran to the Sloth. "Awww, man," Ron whined when he saw the tires.

"No big, Ron. Get in." Kim opened a console on the steering wheel. "Hmmm, let's see. Here it is: Dune Buggy Mode." She punched in the code, and the tires automatically popped off and were replaced by four others, the two in the back inflating into somewhat larger racing dune treads. The back suspension raised about 6 inches. She followed the tracks of the Jaguar and was soon gaining on it. She tapped her wrist communicator: "Hey Wade, you know what to do."

"We're ready for them, Kim. Good luck."

"Shego, they're gaining on us. What were you thinking," Drakken yelled as they dodged around volley ball nets and life guard posts.

"I've always wanted to see what it was like racing a hottie sports car on a beach. It seemed like a good idea at the time," Shego said as the lilac dune Sloth got bigger in her rear view mirror.

When the Sloth was about 10 feet behind the black muscle car, Kim tapped another quick code into the console. A pair of gold electromagnetic rings emerged next to Ron. Ron looked nervously at Kim; this time, she smiled back at him. "Your turn," she yelled. "I'll pull up beside Shego, and all you have to do is jump onto the back; the rings will help you stay on the car. Climb towards Drakken and Shego, and…"

"Yeah, I know the routine. I'm the distraction."

She clamped her hand on Ron's for a second and gave him a quick glance. "No, Ron. You're my partner. Now go!"

Kim maneuvered the Sloth next to the Jaguar to keep it steadily straight for a moment. Ron, heart pounding, jumped onto the Jaguar. Shego turned the wheels into a wicked turn, gauging a circle into the wet beach sand. Ron yelled, "help, KP," but the rings kept him glued to the car. He worked his way to the front and began yelling, thumping the front seats, and dodging Drakken's hands which reached behind to grab him. Through years of practice, Ron had raised distraction to an art form. Shego grew more and more exasperated and furious.

Kim floorboarded the Sloth and angled in front of the Jaguar, causing it to spin out and stop to avoid hitting the Sloth. She quickly backed up to Shego's side in some loose sand, and started revving the back tires. A cloud of sand descended on Shego and Drakken. "My eyes! And my hair!" sputtered Shego. "You're going to pay…" She gagged as wet sand smacked into her mouth. Drakken was in only slightly better shape, cursing to himself for being foiled again by Team Possible.

Shego and Drakken opened their car doors, clambered out, looking like a pair of wet green and blue towels that had been dragged through a sandbox. As they wiped the dirt from their eyes, they saw a dozen agents in Global Justice uniforms surround the car and lock handcuffs around their wrists. They were herded into a black GJ transport van. "You think you're all that, Kim Possible…" Drakken started to say. "Oh, shut up," muttered Shego. She figured it would take her about an hour for her to escape, but getting all the sand out of her thick raven mane…Grrr.