Notes: Here's a little piece of drabble I whipped up at a moment's notice. Don't really know where I'm going, so if you have any suggestions, I'm more than glad to listen!
An Evening with the Finest Call
Shego sat on her bed, flipping through a random fashion magazine and ruining her diet on some greasy, high sodium, high fat chips. The evil villain business ground to a screeching halt in the last few months, and surprisingly, it wasn't the fault of one dreaded, goody-goody Kim Possible. Seemed like everyone with spare time and a pair of cargo pants was getting into the world saving act nowadays, and well, that just made for bad business, especially when "business" was stealing things and trying to take over the world.
Why, just in the past week she had to fend off her good-for-nothing-except-good siblings, a rabid pack of soccer moms calling themselves M.A.U.D. (Mothers Against United Delinquents), a bunch of independent contractors from Global Justice (apparently, Cajun chefs qualified as international crime fighters now), and a surprisingly well trained tandem of attack poodles belonging TV personality Prichard Simmeons.
Shego let out a bitter sigh and continued to idly page through her magazine. At least Drakken was still paying her. And speaking of Drakken, "That neurotic nitwit hasn't called since Monday," Shego muttered, "Wonder what kind of trouble he's got himself into."
But before more wondering could progress, three figures dressed in ski masks and SWAT team outfits crashed through her very expensive, handcrafted, Italian stained-glass windows. While their entrance was synchronized and stylish, their landing wasn't. Thug number one crashed into thug number two, resulting into a tangle of legs and arms that tripped thug number three, depositing the aforementioned thug face first in front of a shocked Shego.
Of course, the shock didn't last very long. Her peaceful countenance gave way to an angry scowl as green flames erupted in her clenched fists which, by the way, burned the magazine she was reading to cinders. She hauled the fallen interloper to his feet—at the same time lighting his vest ablaze—and threw him into his recovering compatriots. Grunts, groans, and shouts of pain emanated from the ground before the trio very suddenly got their act together and sprung to their feet.
"Get out," Shego sneered, "I don't want to know who you are, what you want, or how you got past my security system. Out I say!"
Without batting an eye, thug number one roared, "We are the-"
"Xtreme Extremes: Justice Makers of the NIGHT!" finished thug number two, making some sort nonsensical arm waving motion that was suppose to be cool.
Thug number three finally realized where the fire was coming from (himself) and began rolling on the floor to put it out. A moment of silence hung in the air until the two previous thugs broke their stance to check on their friend.
"Awww, geez, Mike," whined thug number one, "you're suppose to say 'Battling evil to the Xtremes!'"
"Shut up Ben! You're not the one on fire! And what are you two doing standing there? Help me!"
"Definitely, yeah, uh-huh, Mike definitely needs some help," stammered thug number two.
All the while Shego went ignored. Normally, she'd be seething, but today, the bumbling crime fighters allowed her enough time to search under her bed for that grenade she'd been saving for a rainy day. With a pull of the pin and a toss in the three amigos' direction, the explosion sent them flying out the way they came in.
Grenade: $100. Carpet replacement: $5,000. Stain glass window repair: $20,000. Putting those wanna-be heroes into orbit?
"Priceless," Shego chuckled.
So there were char marks on her wall. So the carpet was a bit singed. So the windows were shattered. All of that could wait; today was her day off. For the moment, Shego just wanted to rest her racing nerves and relax before she had to set about repairing her home and fuming over ever increasing harassments by random "justice makers."
Plopping back down on her bed, she turned the TV on after realizing her magazine was a pile of ashes. Immediately, an annoying voice greeted her.
"Freaky!" exclaimed Adrena Lynn, turning back to camera. "If you're just joining us, welcome to my freaky new, number one hit show: Real Justice! Every week, people can send in tapes of themselves fighting freaky evil villains, and if your battle for righteousness is awesome enough, you will be invited to come with me on my weekly, Adrena-Lynn-style bust of megalomaniac masterminds! Come on people! Explosions! Espionage! EXTREMES! This is the first and only show that offers extreme, freaky, reality-based justice! Do some good in the world and I, Adrena Lynn, will make it worth your while here on…"
"Kinda quiet isn't it?"
Kim Possible, full-time student, part-time secret agent, dejectedly dipped a nacho in some cheese and nibbled at it. "It's been too quiet, Ron."
The field portion of Team Possible—Kim, Ron, and Rufus—sat at a very empty Bueno Nacho getting what would've been a well-earned recharge before rushing off to save the world. Only today, there was no world to save thanks to everyone and their mothers (literally) trying to out-do each other to get on that good-for-nothing, fake-stuntwoman Adrena Lynn's stupid reality series. As soon as criminals showed their faces, scores of people would descend on them in a frenzy to score the more stylish capture. Didn't matter if the enemy was Duff Killigan or a cutpurse. In fact, Lower, Middle, and Upperton had turned into some of kind of vigilante-run zone resembling a wild west saturated by self-proclaimed lawmen. All this, of course, put Team Possible on the back burner seeing how no one bothered going on the website anymore.
Which was all very, very ironic to Kim Possible.
"I thought I'd enjoy a few months off," she sighed, "But I don't."
Ron just dug into another naco and turned the conversation to more happy thoughts. "KP, you can start doing stuff you never have time for!"
"Like what? I have all my homework done, the cheerleaders somehow became their own vigilante squad, the Tweebs are suddenly everyone's gadget makers, Monique and Wade are caught up in this Real Justice scam too, and every other store in town is closed because everyone is ditching work to look for criminals."
"Well," said Ron, scratching his head, "At least crime is down. You might not like Adrena Lynn, but you have to admit she's done a good job making the world a safer place."
And that put Kim deeper into her depression despite the positive results. "Yeah, can't fault her for that, but I have a feeling she's up to no good, as usual."
"Just enjoy the days off then!" Ron cheerily pointed out. "You can like… umm… uhhh…."
"Do homework? Baby-sit the Tweebs? Hang out at Bueno Nacho more?"
All of which seemed like terrible ways to spend the day. Kim didn't need to say this for Ron to get the message and he was appropriately speechless. Taking that as her cue, Kim slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Ron."
A faint "See ya, KP!" faded into the background as she walked, her feet on autopilot and navigating her in the general direction of home.
Why be this annoyed at NOT having to save the world? Ok, because that phony Adrena Lynn was the one up to no good--that point was well established in Kim's mind. She couldn't be doing any of this out of the kindness of her black heart. Besides, did wanna-be stuntwomen with penchants for saying "freaky" have hearts? No, they couldn't. And that left Kim with her original, and now only possible, explanation for her recent depressive funk.
Adrena Lynn was stealing her thunder despite being exposed on the air as a fraud.
What a travesty! What an injustice! What-
"-the hell!" grunted the woman Kim just bumped into.
"Sorry," Kim reflexively said, extending her hand out to the fallen woman, "I wasn't watching where I was... was..."
Long black hair? Pale skin? Green outfit? Annoying scowl? Individual qualities formed together to paint one name for Kim.
"Shego?" she blurted in surprise.
"That's right Kimmie, and don't you forget."
All thoughts of courtesy and helpfulness thrown out the window, Kim dropped into her fighting stance and backed away from her nemesis.
"What do you want?" she cautiously asked, ready to strike. "Another one of Drakken's schemes? Training Junior again?"
Shego further narrowed her eyes. "If you must know, I was about to get a bite to eat before I throttled that good-for-nothing Adrena Lynn to death, but now that you're here, I'll settle for kicking your scrawny little butt."
As she tried to digest what Shego said, some few thoughts didn't compute in Kim's head. Could it be that both Kim Possible and Shego were actually in agreement about something?
"Wait, wait," Kim said, "You're after Lynn too?"
"Too?" Shego snorted, "What do you mean 'Too?' I'm the evil villain who's getting her style cramped by that... that... freak! What does an altruistic busy body like you want with her?"
Kim was about to fire back her own scathing retort when the ground began to shake. Both women glanced at each other briefly before turning their attention up the street.
"Did you feel that?"
Shego nodded slowly. "Awww shit..."
At first, Kim and Shego could only feel them. Then, they could hear them. Thousands of voices all shouting catch phrases and supposedly witty barbs designed to strike fear into evil doers. Thousands of footsteps thundered across the concrete like a herd of cattle.
Finally, the viewers of Real Justice appeared, each decked out in their own humiliating costume. Some brandished guns, others held melee weapons, still some had unintelligible gadgets spouting smoke—all had cameras.
There was Jimmy and the Drive-Bys, a group consisting of Jimmy and his drive-thru cohorts at Bueno Nacho. There was the dreaded Bonnie Rockwaller and her Cheer Squad, pom-poms, mini-skirts, and dance routine in tow. There was Brick Flagg shouting nonsensical sports idioms like "Fourth and goal on the field of justice!"
Let's not even get into the other football players.
And all of them trained their eyes on Shego... until Josh Mankey—dressed as Monkey Man, the Man of a Thousand Monkeys—declared, "That's Kim Possible with Shego! They must be working together!"
Kim raised her arms in a universal sign of "Please stop! You're making a mistake!"
Shego, meanwhile, took off running. Following a barrage of laser beams from a cluster of store clerks, Kim followed Shego's lead.
A hop and a skip there, a little kick and a punch, and soon, our duo stood on the roof of a building, legions of vigilantes clambering after them.
"Any bright ideas, Possible?"
Surroundings? Air conditioning grate, random garbage can, and umm... the ledge.
Shego followed the red head's line of vision and frowned in disapproval. "No way am I going to hide in the trash or crawl through a maze of dirty ducts."
"Just follow me."
Ten seconds later, the pack of hunters scrambled onto the roof. There was the ledge, a now open air conditioning grating, and a bunch of noise rattling from it.
"Forward, Drive-Bys!" shouted Jimmy, "They're escaping into the building!"
Like a can of sardines, everyone tried to cram into the much too small grating. Feet, arms, weapons, and various other objects backed up the ventilation but they still piled on with no regard for human life.
Shego glanced at Kim as they hung from the ledge. "You think the trashcan will fool them for long?"
"Long enough. Come on, let's get out of here and find out what's going on."
"Wow. Took you this long to realize that the entire state's population is acting strange?"
Twenty minutes later at a random Middleton Park...
"Where's your tech genius now, huh? Oh yeah, what about Stoppable? My God, Possible, who taught you how to sneak like that? And in THOSE shoes? You're practically a walking disaster! Puh-leez, get with the program and try to be stylish. Besides, why do you good guys have the worse fashion sense? That shirt does absolutely nothing for your figure and the cargos? Don't even get me started on the baggy cargos."
Enough was enough. The two had tried really hard not to be seen, sticking to side roads and generally being very stealthy. Obviously, something (namely Adrena Lynn's show) warped the minds of everyone in town. With Wade in on the act and Ron not your stealthy kind of person, Kim decided against contacting the rest of her team, instead choosing to rely on Shego since they did have a common enemy.
But Shego made things difficult by running her mouth nonstop. Everything was fair game with her and her voice became a constant drone of insults, unwanted critiques, and unyielding boasting. Then there was also the issue of her being a backstabbing crook who didn't work well on the side of good. The run-in with Team Go still lingered in Kim's mind.
Yup, enough was enough.
"So not the drama, Shego."
"Oooh," Shego cooed, "Getting saucy. Why Kimmie, I didn't know you cared."
Arrrgh! Shego could be so... so... Shego! She embodied arrogance, evil, and selfishness in one tight, voluptuous, aggravating package! That mouth of hers! That attitude of hers! That...
Wait a second.
"Did I say voluptuous?"
"Dirty thoughts already?" Shego smiled, sidling up to Kim in a most seductive manner.
To that, the red head clobbered her companion's arm with a stiff punch. "Mind on problem," hissed Kim, attempting to hide her embarrassment. "Do you know where Adrena Lynn is?"
Shego rolled her eyes. "Duh, her studio. Where else do you think people mail their videos to?" After a moment silence, she added with a touch of amusement, "Shego: 1. Kimmie: 0."
Of course with extra emphasis on the zero.
Great. Now she kept score. Kim suppressed yet another sigh, something she found herself doing an awful lot tonight. "Fine. Let's bust in and make her famous."
"Can't you come up with something better than that?"
"What's wrong now?" Kim snapped.
"First of all, she's already famous. Much more than you I might add if this Real Justice garbage is any indication. Second, 'busting in' anywhere is so 90's cliché. Are we on Cops or something? And-"
"SHUT YOUR FREAKIN' PIE HOLE BEFORE I SHUT IT FOR YOU!"
Shego blinked once, twice, three times. "Shego: 1. Kimmie: 1."
At least the score was even.
- To be continued...