As Kim and Ron levelled with Wade, a cultural revolution (at least in his own mind) was taking place across town in Dr. Drakken's secret lair - the one with the sign that clearly read "SECRET LAIR" - located conspicuously right next to the gigantic double billboard that advertised leak-control diapers and a new fried chicken joint called Uncle Jessie's.

Drakken, who had suddenly become enamored of the fine arts, had taken a sabbatical from crime and mad science in order to "find his soul again", via postmodern expressionism. In the main chamber, he had erected a studio (or grand salon as he now liked to call it), where he now worked tirelessly on canvas after canvas, churning out what he saw as groundbreaking statements in texture and rhythm, but appeared rather more like the frantic scribblings of caffeine-addled toddlers.

As Drakken labored over yet another sure-to-be masterpiece, Shego reclined leisurely on a bamboo-patterned patio lounge chair while flipping through a travel magazine, occasionally looking up at Drakken with a sly, mocking expression.

"He actually believed me...ha!"

"Shego, I am REALLY enjoying my time off!" said Drakken, exuberantly, as he feverishly splattered oil paint everywhere with a palette knife just like a raving madman. "I'm telling you, these new, exciting creative avenues are JUST what I needed!"

He proudly stood before an enormous, six foot-by-eight foot canvas that was set flush against the wall, alongside an overfilled caddy of paints, liquid mediums, brushes and other sundry materials. He wore a paint-splattered apron (monogrammed daintily with "D L" in cursive script) across his chest, and on his head, of all things, he was wearing a small pyramid-shaped hat, held in place by a piece of string tied beneath his chin.

Just for her own amusement, Shego had enthusiastically informed Drakken that she had "read somewhere" that wearing a pyramid on one's head would vastly improve one's artistic prowess. Not wanting to be left behind, Drakken then fashioned himself a paper-mâché pyramid (not a very good one) and proceeded to wear it on his head every waking second - even in the loo. "My creative juices...are becoming rivers...", he had said. Since then, Shego had been nearly unable to stifle her hysterical laughter over his absurd appearance. She just couldn't believe that he had actually fallen for it.

She lazily turned the pages of her magazine as she sipped a mojito from a tall Collins glass - her third one today. "Now..." she said to herself in a dreamy, faraway voice, "where's the furthest place in the world away from here..." She got her little red pen out and tried her best to narrow down her options...Mauritius looked gorgeous...but then so did the Cayman Islands...and Cape Verde...AND the Seychelles...decisions, decisions...

"Maaaaaaaybe" she said, with a devious grin, "I'll shut my eyes and spin the globe...and wherever my finger lands, that's where I'll head off to..." She wondered what exotic locale she was destined to visit...replete with swaying palm trees, white sand beaches, crystal blue waters, a hulking Norwegian masseur named Sven who would be eager and willing to grease her up with sunscreen...but then her face quickly soured.

"Of course...knowing MY luck, my finger will probably wind up on the Great Pacific Garbage Patch...but even then, that's STILL better than THIS dump..."

"Did you say something, Shego?" asked Drakken, his face covered with multi-hued splotches of paint.

"Yeah, I said this place is a dump and I wanna' get outta' here" she answered matter-of-factly, without even looking up from her reading.

"Well, I don't see YOU taking a proactive stance in beautifying our surroundings!" said Drakken. "Not like me..."

Shego glared scornfully. "Never thought I'd say this, but you're a better mad scientist than you are an artist...and that's saying a LOT."

Drakken's face was colored with deep, deep offense. "So...Shego...what exactly are you alluding to-"

"I'm saying that your art sucks" spat Shego. "It sucks most righteously. All of the pyramid hats in the WORLD wouldn't make you a master, let alone an amateur."

Drakken looked furious, his blue-tinged skin beginning to flush purple as he grinded his teeth in wrath.

"I mean, what even IS this?" said Shego as she dropped her magazine, rose from her chair and marched over to the far side of the chamber where Drakken had hung his latest creations.

"This one looks like a burning coconut crashing into Mt. Fuji - if Mt. Fuji was ORANGE. And THIS one looks like you dipped a chihuahua in Pepto-Bismol and then stamped it all over the canvas...and this one-"

She stopped short; her eyes widened and her lips curled back in ire as she noticed, for the very first time, one of Drakken's more...unusual works. She stood before a canvas featuring the portrait of a young pale woman with long black hair and lurid green eyes who looked awfully familiar. The face was WAY out of proportion, with enormous nostrils, a pronounced overbite and an unusual, pained-looking facial expression that looked as though she had just stepped on a pile of Legos.

But that wasn't even the worst of it; she had also been depicted completely nude.

"Dr. D...did you...paint my portrait? Without my permission?" she asked coolly, without even turning around to face him.

"No no no no NOOOOOOO!" cried Drakken, waving his hands nervously. "No, no, she - the one in the painting - was...inspired by you..."

"DIDN'T I SAY NO CLONES?!" bellowed Shego. "ESPECIALLY ONES LACKING APPAREL?!" she continued, as she angrily fired off a caustic blast of luminous green energy, incinerating the canvas to a smoldering pile of ash.

"THAT WASN'T A CLONE!" roared Drakken, angrily.

"IF IT LOOKS LIKE ME, THEN ITS A CLONE! THOSE ARE THE RULES!" she screeched.

"I'll have you know that portrait probably would have been worth a GREAT DEAL one day!" protested Drakken.

"Yeah, long after you'd DIED...sold for ten bucks at a community garage sale...and after a LOT of bartering."

As Drakken fumed, she strolled back to her beach chair and insinuated herself back into her comfy position of repose, wriggling with pleasure as she watched him sweep up the cremated remains of his ruined masterwork with a broom and a dustpan.

He sighed audibly. "Now, Pablo..." he mused out loud. "At last...now I know how you felt when you went through your...'blue period'..."

Shego rolled her eyes and snorted as she picked up her magazine and resumed where she had left off, skimming the pages slowly and diligently until suddenly, she halted with a jolt as she reached the halfway point, her emerald eyes swiftly lighting up like freshly broken glow sticks.

"Hey, Doctor D...speaking of blue, have you seen this?"

"Eh?"

He quickly wheeled around as she spread the magazine's mid-section wide and held it up for him to see. At the periodical's center was the Middleton Museum of Nature and Science's advertisement for the exhibition of the Neptune Diamond - a full two-page spread with vivid photographs and extensive commentary from Mr. McDougall himself.

"My...word...!" said Drakken in awe as he gazed at the diamond's image - even in still photographs, the gemstone possessed an incredible, mesmerizing quality like no other. In a flash, he'd zipped over to Shego's side for a closer look as she read off the particulars in a tone of interest.

"Silas McDougall" she said, thoughtfully. "Name sounds vaguely familiar. Have we ever robbed this geezer before?"

"No, Shego, I don't believe we haaaaaaaaaaave..." said Drakken with a wicked grimace as he rubbed his hands villainously, practically drooling over the diamond's ethereal image. "What a deliciously MARVELOUS and unexpected diversion!"

"Looks like they're gonna kick off the show in three days" said Shego, as she continued to scan the fine print. "From June 15 through July 15...9 am to 5 pm- HEY, would you QUIT drooling all over me, Doctor D?! GROSS!"

"In three days, eh?" said Drakken, still salivating like a rabid animal. "My, wouldn't that diamond look lovely on my bric-a-brac shelf right next to my potted succulents and novelty Snowman Hank figurines!"

"WHAT?" blared Shego as she briskly rose from her seat and aggressively pressed her face up against his. "Hey, you got to keep the last artifact that we stole! "

"Well, I don't like it anymore!" snapped Drakken.

"Hey, it's not MY fault that you swiped an 'antique' Ming dynasty doorstop made from a yak's thighbone! You seriously believed that was the most VALUABLE knick-knack that the museum of antiquities had to offer up?"

Drakken's face was twisted strangely with half anger, half embarrassment. "And I guess it's ALSO not your fault that Commodore Puddles buried it somewhere...even though I'm quite sure that a certain someone put him up to the task..."

At that moment - speak of the devil - Puddles himself wandered into the room. Trotting nonchalantly past Drakken and Shego, he made his way across the floor towards Drakken's latest painting, an absolute disaster of a piece with the working title "Mysterioso". He sniffed curiously at the paint-splattered canvas, growled viciously, lifted his hind leg and then proceeded to piss all over it.

"Aaaaaaand the critic has spoken! Good boy!" laughed Shego as Drakken quietly smoldered. "Hey...I think that shade of yellow really did your painting some good, Dr. D...oh wow...WOOOOOOW...looks like Puddles had a LOT of water today...bwaha ha ha haaaaaa!"

Drakken, his arms crossed, his jaw painfully tightened, glared angrily at the poodle, who now looked incredibly pleased with himself.

"You know, Puddles...in some cultures, they EAT dogs..."

Somehow, Puddles actually seemed to understand Drakken's vague threat, because in response, he squatted down with a look of cheeky insolence and did something even worse.

"BAD DOG!" screamed Drakken.

Shego continued to laugh disdainfully at the whole spectacle. "Y'know, Doc, maybe the yard's just too small...I mean, if he didn't crap HERE, it would probably be in your bedroom...not that I'D have a problem with that..."

"NEVER FORGET WHO COMMANDS!" bellowed Drakken in an obviously forced authoritative tone. Puddles, who was now gleefully rolling around in his own mess, couldn't have cared less about who was (supposedly) in command.

"Yeah, whatever Doc" scoffed Shego as she continued to gaze upon the diamond's photo, a strange, frightening green fire kindling in the depths of her eyes.

Drakken spun around, flustered and exasperated.

"Shego, why must you always be so...so...UNPLEASANT?!" he wailed, desperately.

"Drakken, Drakken, Drakken, it's a gift!" said Shego, in a syrupy sweet voice while wearing an exaggerated, mocking smile. "Some people are born with a talent for music, some with an aptitude for math...but me? I'm just a TOTAL, subzero-cold bitch. And...its...FANTASTIC!"

Drakken looked shocked and a little bit hurt.

"Shego...when that comet gave you your powers...did it take away your...HEART? Your FEELINGS? Your EMPATHY? You...are...so...incredibly...CRUEL!" He clutched his chest tightly and swayed around aimlessly, acting like some scenery-chewing soap opera actress reveling in her big scene.

"Yeah, yeah Dr. D" said Shego, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time that day as she began to carefully trim back her nails. "Yeah, I guess that comet sure did a number on the six of us..."

"That's right!" said Drakken, self-righteously. "That comet sure DID do a number on the six of you-wha...SIX?"

"Uh-huh. Six"

"Ummmmm..."

Drakken began to clumsily count his fingers. "Okay, now, there's...Shego...that's YOU, a-and then ah, um...Hego...Mego and ummmm...the Wego twins...right?"

"Uh huh" said Shego, obviously not interested in the slightest.

Drakken's face looked stunned and senseless as he scratched his head in wonder, unknowingly smearing white paint into his black hair. "But...Shego, I thought it was just you and your five brothers! You mean there's a SIXTH sibling that's running around out there with crazy superpowers?"

Shego began filing the nails on her opposite hand. "Nuh uh, not a sibling, a cousin. Not too sure what the weirdo's up to these days, though from what I gathered a couple years back, he was doing odd mercenary jobs in...'troubled' parts of the world - the sort of jobs that no one wants to do...things not even I would do...ugh!" She shuddered violently.

Drakken suddenly looked strangely excited, his little dramatic episode having vanished completely. "So, Shego, just out of scientific curiosity, what sort of, ah...what sort of POWERS does he have, hmmmmm?"

Shego jerked her head around to face Drakken eye to eye, her countenance contorted with irritation and spite. "Good God, why do you CARE?" she snapped. " MAN, like my BROTHERS weren't BAD enough..."

Ignoring her completely, he continued to press her for information. "Are his powers like YOURS? All green and burn-ey?"

"...burn-ey?"

Drakken narrowed his eyes and smiled crazily. "Does he...have a name?"

Shego sighed, slapped her forehead and looked as though she was going to be sick. "Hugo. As in the bad hurricane from 1989."

"REALLY, now?" said Drakken with great interest. "Soooooooo, little Shego, Mego, Hego, the Wegos and Hugo were spending a DELIGHTFUL afternoon in their little treehouse...when all of a sudden, CALAMITY STRUCK, and-"

"No, the little dork wasn't allowed in our treehouse" said Shego, now sounding very bored. "He was on the ground playing in the mud when the comet hit. Still wound up mutating like the rest of us did, though. Imagine that."

Drakken's face went into shock mode, his eyebrows raised so high they practically disappeared beneath his pyramid hat.

"Why...why wasn't he allowed in your treehouse, Shego?"

"Because he wore glasses. THAT'S why. MAN, I gotta start taking more zinc, my nails are getting SO brittle..."

"You...you're serious?"

"Yep. No four-eyes were EVER permitted on the premises. House rules."

"And...you and your brothers...have no dealings with him at ALL these days?" asked Drakken in astonishment.

"Dealings?" she asked as she continued to view the museum advertisement with hungry eyes. She simply could not tear herself away from that photograph. She was utterly enthralled.

Drakken stood by with bated breath. Shego smiled maliciously as she tore out the ad from the pages and held it up before her rapt gaze.

"I deal with mad scientists" she said, still grinning. "And mad scientists who think that they're somehow artistic geniuses just because the chorus of voices in their heads tell them so."

She gave Drakken a condescending smile as he fidgeted nervously.

"I deal with obnoxious teenage 'heroines' and their buffoon sidekicks" she continued. "I deal with morons, idiots, dullards, dunces, blockheads, buttheads, palookas, fools, twits, dimwits and nitwits. EVERYDAY. EVERYWHERE."

She gently placed the ad at the foot of her chair and looked Dr. Drakken directly in the eyes.

"But I don't deal with psychos."