Just outside the Western city limits of Middleton proper, is an enormous, sprawling estate surrounded by a high brick wall, topped with razor-sharp iron spikes and riddled with hidden surveillance cameras. The thick blanket of fog that had drowned out the entire city, oddly enough, did not even touch the estate, making it look eerily like a large, dark island in a sea of swirling mist.
At the single, two-lane entrance through the thick wall that circles the vast property is a gatehouse that is staffed 24/7 by a loyal team of heavily-armed security guards. None of them have any patience for interlopers or mischief, and are ordered to shoot all unauthorized persons and trespassers on sight. No one gets in - or out - without their approval.
Or the master's approval.
Mr. Maxwell McDougall, a wealthy industrialist whose net worth lay somewhere in the billions, owned the largest mansion in all of Middleton - and maybe even all of North America, owing largely to the local legend that his estate could supposedly be seen from outer space. True or not, the place was a literal 'Xanadu', featuring some of the finest architecture and most splendidly landscaped gardens that the world had ever seen. Most European palazzos would have been put to shame.
And he could EASILY afford a small army to safeguard it at all times.
On the third floor of the Western wing was Maxwell's enormous personal study, a lofty room that afforded a dazzling, unobstructed view of the entire city of Middleton. And in this room, standing silently and motionless behind a gigantic mahogany desk, and staring intensely out of the high, ornately-detailed windows, was Maxwell (the master) himself - nearly eight feet tall (no exaggeration), dressed impeccably in a dark suit that seemed to meld with the inky black shadows of the room, as if the very man was composed of darkness itself. His facial features were completely obscured in gloom - save for the two small pinpoints of red for his eyes - and the pale flash of moonlight that reflected across his sharp teeth as he grinned a malevolent grin.
Unlike the rest of the city, he could actually SEE the moon, tonight.
He had become so reclusive, that he had not been seen in public for just over eleven years - at least not during daylight hours. Not that it mattered. Tonight, he had finally put his plans into motion, and his dark designs would soon be brought to fruition. But not entirely by himself...
On top of his desk behind him, was an expensive sheet of pale-yellow vellum paper, upon which, written in an elegant cursive script in black ink, were four names:
Dr. Wanda Wong
Brick Flagg
Kimberly Possible
Hugh Go
"It's time for cookin' with Shego! And now, here's your hostess...CHEF SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGGGGOOOOOOOOO!"
The studio audience roared with applause as Shego, decked out in a red and white checkered apron and a white, lofty chef's hat, walked onto the set (modeled after a quaint, cutesy farmhouse kitchen), smiling, waving and blowing kisses to her adoring fans.
"Hey, guys! Comin' atcha'! Today, we're making a VERY special dish that my nan used to whip up! Why, even now, so many years later, I can still remember when I was just a little girl, sittin' on the porch swing with my dear old Nana Go! Tellin' stories, singin' songs, sippin' lemonade, and just munchin' away on THESE tasty treats!"
Smiling innocently at the cameraman, Shego pulled a lever sticking out of the countertop (bearing a red label that read "Yum-Yums"); Kim and Ron, tied up together and dangling from a single rope, were then slowly lowered from an opening in the kitchen ceiling towards an enormous, jacuzzi-sized bubbling saucepan of nacho cheese. The audience went "ooohhh!" and "ahhhhh!"
"Mmmm-mmmm! Doesn't that just make your mouth water?" said Shego, as she dreamily closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma. "I know mine sure is!"
"Shego, this is the single CRAZIEST thing that you've ever done!" screamed Kim as she writhed and struggled beneath the tightly bound coils of rope. "Have you finally lost your friggin' mind?"
"What can I say, Kimmie?" laughed Shego with a devilish grin. "We ran outta' chicken and fish and, well, you just gotta make do with what you've got on hand...so in other words...
"...YOU...IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER!..."
"Y'know, KP, I always THOUGHT I would die like this" said Ron, who had apparently resigned himself to his fate, gazing down thoughtfully at their hot, steaming dairy product doom. "But I always thought I'd be chilled and marinated, wrapped up in a tortilla and then pan-fried, before getting smothered in queso...I just think that would have made so much more sense, y'know?
Kim looked profoundly disturbed as her mouth dropped open in shock.
"Does that...does that sound weird, KP?" asked Ron.
"That's...kinda messed up, Ron..." she answered.
(you suck)
"Well, I'm gonna miss ya, KP..." said Ron with a sniff and a tear. "Sorry I never managed to bake you that special cake...you know, the one that's soaked in coffee and cream."
(you suck)
Kim gasped. "Oh no, you mean the tiramisu? Aaargh, I always wanted to try one of those!"
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty (AND stupid) little head, pumpkin!" teased Shego, as Kim and Ron were now just inches from being boiled alive in a sea of hot, gooey cheddar. "I'm quite sure that they've got tiramisu in heaven!...
...not that YOU'RE going there-"
"YOU SUCK!" screamed a voice from somewhere in the audience.
Shego's face went into shock mode. She looked as though she had just stepped (barefoot) in dog shit.
"Who... who said that?" she snarled, her pleasant 'television personality' facade vanishing instantly. "Answer me, loser! What MORON in MY studio audience just signed his own death warrant?! AND EVERYONE ELSE'S?!"
She fired up her hands with pulsing green energy and glared menacingly at the gasping and terrified audience as the camera crew began to back away in fear.
"God, I really miss Julia Child!" wailed the cameraman, as he abandoned the set and ran for his life.
"THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!" Shego screamed, as she kicked over her demo table in rage, scattering utunsils and ingredients everywhere in a thundering crash. "FESS' UP, OR EVERYONE DIES!"
By now, the entirety of her audience had run away screaming. The entire audience, that is, except for one...
"It was me!" shouted the mysterious voice, again. "And YOUUUUUUUU SUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKK!"
"I...I know that voice..." said Shego, as a wave of familiarity - and disgust - washed over her face. "I can't believe it...I just CAN'T believe it...after all these years...you...YOU of all people!"
"HEY!" called a young man with pale skin, messy black hair and piercing green eyes - looking remarkably like Shego herself - sitting down in the front row and waving mockingly. "Over here, you miserable slag! Remember me?!"
"...YOU?..." Shego cried in disbelief.
"Yeah...ME!" answered the mysterious young man with a harsh laugh. "Is that OKAAAAAAYYY?"
"I thought...I thought you were gone forever, you worthless PSYCHO!" screamed Shego. "Good God, just when I think I can move forward, you losers from the past just keep on resurfacing to ruin my life!"
"Yeah, YOU'RE one to talk!" growled the strange young man, his face and voice suddenly turning angry and bitter. "If memory serves, YOU - and your brothers - ruined MINE...not the other way around."
"That's it" she growled. "You're going in the pot, along with Kimmie and the moron..."
"Oh no!" he gasped, as he clapped his hands to his cheeks in mock surprise. "You're gonna kill me and then serve me up as the blue plate special? HAVE MERCY!"
"Hey, Kimmie!" roared Shego (not even bothering to acknowledge Ron) as she turned back to the enormous saucepan, "make some room in there! Because I'm adding a very SPECIAL ingredient to Nana Go's nacho cheese this time around...Kimmie?...Kim?...Helloooooo?"
No answer came came from the saucepan. Only the moist, gooey bubbling of liquid cheese...and a loose hemp rope floating on the surface.
"Yeah, I think your little friends have been dead for a while, now" said the young man, as he smugly crossed his arms. "But you DO realize that this is all just a booze-induced dream, right? Looks like you had too much to drink. Again."
"...UGGGGHHHHH...what...huh?"
Shego suddenly woke up from her doze and lifted her face from the table, where she had left an oozing puddle of drool. Her vision was blurry and her head was killing her.
"Oooooooohhhh" she groaned as her eyes winced from the sharp overhead lights that illuminated Drakken's "conference room" (a spare bedroom that was decorated with pink, frilly wallpaper by the building's previous tenants) on the third floor of their Middleton lair. All of those canned cocktails she'd had earlier had really done a number on her.
"Ooooohhh maaaaaannnnn..." she groaned once more. "I know I've said this a hundred times before...but I am never drinking again. Gives me nothing but baaaaaaaad dreams-"
"Shego! Did you NOT hear a single word that I said?!" barked Drakken, who was standing at the head of the long table and pointing at a crudely-drawn diagram on a dry-erase board. He had sketched a terrible drawing of what looked like a piano being dropped on Kim Possible and her sidekick from the top of a tall building (titled "Master Plan".) "This is IMPORTANT, Shego! Soaking in that new hot tub of ours REALLY managed to stimulate the genius center in my brain, and I've FINALLY come up with a plan to deliver the ULTIMATE DOOM UNTO KIM POSSIBLE-"
Shego glanced up from the saliva-stained tabletop and fixed Drakken with a scorching stare of death. He shuddered at the sight of her and felt a wave of fear well up inside of him.
"Good GOD, would you STOP YELLING, DR. D?" she barked, as she cradled her sore head in her hands. "I've got a migraine that could split a boulder in half, and you're shrieking about yet another half-baked plan that's probably just gonna end in failure? We don't even HAVE a goddamned piano!" Her voice was shrill, piercing and probably capable of breaking glass - just like Bonnie had done earlier that evening.
"ALSO!" she added, "'genius' center in your brain? You're being awfully generous with yourself!...UGGGGHHHH!" She winced as a sharp stab of pain shot through her skull. Those canned Long Island iced teas were absolutely lethal.
"I've gotta go make some coffee..." she growled, as she staggered to her feet, still clutching her head in her hand. "If I don't sober up on the double, my skull's gonna shatter..."
Drakken's angry face suddenly relaxed into a look of smug amusement as he placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward. It was probably a bad idea to tease Shego, but then again, Drakken never seemed to learn his lesson.
"My goodness, Shego! You had yourself another bad dream again, didn't you?" he asked, with a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You dreamed about...HIM again, didn't you? And I can DEFINITELY tell! Because you're not usually in THIS bad a mood after waking up, my dear sidekick!"
"I thought...that we agreed..." spat Shego, as she slumped limply back in the cheap, dreadfully uncomfortable plastic chair, "that we would never bring...HIM...up again..."
Drakken smiled evilly, obviously enjoying just how much this was bothering her. "And when you say "him", you mean a certain member of your family that you would LIKE to pretend doesn't exist, hmmmm? Now then, what exactly was his name again? Oh, yesssssss...I remember, now!"
"Don't you dare..." she warned.
"I'm gonna say it!" cried Drakken gleefully, rubbing his hands together while jumping up and down.
"Don't...you...DARE!
"DEAR...COUSIN...HUGO!" he exclaimed with savage delight, as Shego squirmed in her chair with rage. "The one that, apparently, is more powerful than even YOU, Shego! In fact, you once claimed that he was stronger than even you and all FOUR of your brothers put together-"
Shego fired a blazing green blast from her hand and set the whole table alight with emerald flames. Drakken wailed and fell backwards to the floor in terror as Shego jumped from her chair, marched across the room and then descended upon him like a category-5 hurricane.
With her hands glowing a venomous green, she gritted her teeth and snorted like an enraged bull that was seeing red. The (cheap) conference room table had now been reduced to a smoldering pile of ash.
"YOU'RE ON THIN ICE...DREW!" she exploded, her twisted facial expression bordering on madness.
Drakken gulped and let out a high-pitched squeak. It wasn't often that Shego would address him by his real name...and when she did, she was usually close to commiting manslaughter. Or at the very least, breaking a bunch of shit.
"Pl-please...please don't be mad!" whimpered Drakken, sprawled on the floor and staring up Shego while shielding his face. "I...I-I'm just repeating what you told ME!"
"I was DRUNK when I said that!" roared Shego. "I wasn't...being...SERIOUS!"
There was a long and awkward pause.
"Are...are you sure?" asked Drakken, who had a real talent for saying the worst thing at the worst possible time. "Because you...seemed serious...at the time..."
Shego hesitated for a moment before powering down her hands and then slumping down to the floor beside Drakken with a grunt. Her head was still throbbing and swimming. She sighed as her anger dissipated and was replaced with total apathy.
"You know what?" she asked, as she ran her hand through her long, thick raven hair, "I...I can't. I just can't right now. UGGGGGHHHHH!" She buried her face in her hands and mumbled a series of spicy, colorful words to describe how her head felt.
"Ummm...w-well..." stammered Drakken, trying desperately to change the subject as he frantically glanced back and forth. Shego's family was obviously a VERY touchy topic for her, and as if her do-gooder brothers weren't bad enough, there was a certain member of her extended family that she apparently hated even MORE. She had only briefly brought him up in passing - usually after a bout of drinking - a certain cousin of hers, whom, like Shego, Hego, Mego and the Wego twins, had attained superpowers - but had suffered some kind of falling-out with the rest of the family, and had struck out on his own-
"Where's the thingie?" demanded Shego, snapping Drakken out of his thoughts.
"The...the thingie?" he asked her, wide-eyed and still a little bit afraid.
"Yeah, the THINGIE...you know, for the tv..." she snapped as she grasped her aching head.
"Oh..oh-OH, the remote-control! Ha ha, of course!" he laughed nervously as he searched around before spotting it sticking out of the ashen remains of the table. He crawled across the floor and grabbed hold of the ridiculous lightsaber-shaped novelty remote control (the one that Shego hated), and then switched on the extra-large screen television set that was set flush into the wall.
"Good..." muttered Shego wearily, as the dark screen suddenly blazed to life. "At least now I'll have something to take my mind off this splitting headache...and you, Dr D...and...and Hugo-"
"-for a good time, drink Cap'n Calypso's 'cocktails-in-a-can!' Now featuring Long Island Iced Tea!"
Shego's head exploded in pain.
"CHANGE THE CHANNEL!" she shrieked. "NOW!"
"Okay, okay!" cried Drakken in terror as he rapidly cycled through channels, finally landing on the local news station. "Th-there! Let's, ah, watch some, uh, nice relaxing evening news! How does THAT sound, Shego? Some niiiiiiiiiice, lovely news?"
"The Middleton evening news, ohhhhh how exciting!" snapped Shego sarcastically. "I mean, there's just SO MUCH going on HERE, in Kimmie's hometown, the armpit of the world...or maybe even a less-desirable location on the body...like the crotch..."
"...that's right, Tom! This sort of thing is just unprecedented! Not once in Middleton's history have we ever experienced a freak weather phenomena such as this!"
"Cindy, I gotta tell ya...in my twenty years as a meteorologist, I have NEVER seen fog this thick!"
"...huh?...fog?" muttered Shego as she momentarily forgot all about her killer hangover and glanced over at the window. "Shit, I forgot!"
In the haze of her hangover, she HAD forgotten.
Just over an hour earlier, she and Drakken had breaking in their new hot tub out on the deck - under bright skies and warm sunshine - when a literal tide of cold, wintry fog had descended upon them and driven them both inside, blocking out the sun and dropping the temperature to a painfully frosty low. Now, it pressed menacingly against the glass windows outside, billowing and swirling more like thick, choking smoke than wisps of damp cloud.
"Also, Tom, were getting all KINDS of calls from our viewers reporting strange, supernatural events taking place! Tell me, what are your thoughts on that?"
"Well, Cindy, being a man of science, I really don't place much stock in these tacky claims of 'hauntings' that everyone's ranting and raving about. It's likely just people's imaginations running away with themselves..."
"GRAAAAAAAAWWWWRRRR!"
The werewolf, snarling and licking his chops in anticipation of fresh human meat, stomped his way up the concrete path leading to Barkin's front porch, the cement audibly cracking beneath each heavy footfall that his gigantic feet made. Barkin, grinning savagely while sucking down cigar smoke, held the beast in the sights of his AR rifle as the frantic Bonnie cowered behind him, still pissing and moaning and carrying on without end.
"OH MY GOD!" screamed Bonnie as she danced around in hysterics. "Like, kill it, Mr. Barkin! KILL IT, KILL IT, KILL IT!"
"Quiet" said Steven Barkin, in a tone that neither Bonnie or any of the other students had ever heard before. Not the tone of grumpy Mr. Barkin, the high-strung, overworked all-purpose teacher of Middleton High, but the tone of Lieutenant Barkin, the ice-cold, trained killer who no longer had any shits left to give.
Bonnie stumbled backwards in stunned silence, now even more frightened of Barkin than the werewolf or the zombies. Or even the inevitable wrath of her big sister when she found out about her car.
She gulped as she saw Barkin's finger begin to slowly pull back on the trigger, the sweat running down his face having smeared his camoflauge facepaint into the frightening mask of a predatory animal getting ready to kill.
Bonnie felt a VERY unusual feeling course through her brain. That particular feeling (which she would later discover was called 'respect') wasn't something that she often felt, and it usually came as a surprise-
BAM!*
Barkin fired a shot into the monster's left shoulder, stopping it in it's tracks as a spurt of black blood shot forth from the impact.
"Gotcha..." whispered Barkin. Bonnie gasped and held her breath in shock.
The creature let out an earsplitting roar of pain and hate as his red eyes blazed even hotter. He hesitated for a moment, spitting and snarling as he glared furiously at the wound in his shoulder, but then quickly resumed his attack - now even faster and more aggressive than before as he quickly closed the gap between them in wild, bounding strides.
"GRAAAAAAAAWWWWWRRRRRRR!"
"WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!" screamed Bonnie, who was now looking pretty distressed with her ruined hair and makeup. If she had seen herself in a mirror, she would have died of fright.
"Sorry, but I'm all outta' dog biscuits!" laughed Barkin as he took aim again. "And I wouldn't want a guest of mine to leave emptyhanded!" He fired another two shots into it's opposite shoulder, bringing the creature's attack to a halt once more.
BAM!* *BAM!*
Bonnie winced from the sound of each gunshot, covering her ears as the werewolf arched his head back and let out an agonizing howl.
"Had enough?" demanded Barkin. "Because I ALWAYS wanted a wolf pelt to hang on my dining room wall!" He began to pull back on the trigger for the fourth time.
"Next one's going right between your eyes, furball...but don't worry about it. You won't even feel it..."
The furious werewolf staggered backwards several steps, dripping blood onto the concrete path in black spatters as his breath came in deep, heavy snarling gasps. His eyes were fixed on the hateful Barkin with a look of homicidal fury - but there was nothing he could do about it. He was no match for this man with his strange little weapon that was tearing holes in his body.
He would simply have to find an easier target for a meal tonight. Preferably someone WITHOUT those long wooden sticks that blew little specks of metal...
With another violent roar, the werewolf dropped down on all fours and then bounded away into the mist. He let loose another howl that slowly trailed off into cold silence as the smiling Barkin lowered his rifle from his shoulders and blew a smoke ring. Victory.
"Come back soon!" he laughed. "I'll be waiting..."
Total silence. No werewolves. No zombies. Nothing. Barkin had single-handedly driven them all off like a one-man army. And for once, Bonnie was speechless. No screaming, no whining, no yammering, just blessed silence.
But it didn't last for long.
"Oh, th-thank GOD you got rid of that nasty-ass thing!" scoffed Bonnie, as she quickly slid back into her uber-bitch persona and desperately tried to save face. "I mean, I was KINDA' scared of that thing, but it was the SMELL that I just couldn't stand! I mean, it smelled ALMOST as bad as the time when that freak Ron tried cooking crabcakes during home economics class, and I swear, the WHOLE school stank like a fish market for a WEEK-"
"Stoppable's crabcakes were delicious. And you know it." muttered Barkin, without even turning around. He was staring off into the distance as he puffed thoughtfully on his dying cigar.
"Ugh, whatever" muttered Bonnie as she rolled her eyes and flipped her hair. She suddenly realized just how cold it was and began to shiver, still wearing nothing her skimpy Summer attire in the bitingly frigid temperatures.
Barkin was still motionless and silent. Something far out in the mist had caught his eye.
"Like, what're you staring at, Mr. B?" asked Bonnie in a sharp tone of irritation through chattering teeth, as she tightly wrapped her arms around herself. "What is it now? A friggin' UFO-"
And then, she saw it too.
Despite just how thick the mist was, Barkin and Bonnie both noticed something several miles off in the distance: a pale blue light that was shooting upwards into the sky.
Pale blue. And then bright red. Blue. And red. And then blue again.
"L-like, who's f-flashing the strobelights?" asked Bonnie as she shivered and shuddered violently. "Th-that can't be a police c-car...th-they're WAY too bright-"
"That's no strobelight..." muttered Barkin.
"Hmph" muttered Bonnie. "I th-think...I think that...K-Kim's house is over th-that way..."