" Shego! " yelled Drakken, greedily clutching some sort of gyroscope-like device. "Why must I always ask you to do something about this teen? Can't you take the initiative for once?"

"Ok, I'm on it, Dr. D," she irritably replied, and somersaulted over the mad doctor's head to land right in front of Kim, ready for battle. "There's a TV on in the lobby," she chattily informed the teenage hero. "I was watching Agony County." She swung at Kim, missed, swung again. "I hear they're canceling it at the end of the season."

"Crazy network," Kim said, countering each of Shego's blows, "they cancel all their shows at the end of three seasons." She spun, did a handstand, kicked the villainess in the chest, sending her flying against the wall. "I'll miss it when it's gone."

"There's always fanfiction," Shego snarled, triggering her plasma blasts. "Not that you'll be writing any."

"...fanfiction," Shego snarled, triggering her plasma blasts. "Not that you'll be writing any."

Kim put her hand to her head, muttered "Déjà vu!" and turned to face her adversary, wondering where Ron had gone. Hadn't he been here just minutes before?

And the fighting continued. As always. Sometimes it seemed like her whole life was nothing but a fight.


The living room was delightfully cozy, furnished in truly the height of fashion. A giant TV filled most of one wall; two viewers sat together on a couch, eating popcorn and watching the evening news.

The newscaster was particularly haggard this evening, biting her fingernails, looking furtively around the set. Suddenly realizing the camera was on, she croaked out "Tonight it's…..it's..." Behind her a giant image of Duff Killigan's face appeared, followed by an aerial view of the Hawaiian Islands, volcanoes choking on huge jet-propelled golf balls. Seeing this surrealistic landscape, the woman began waving her arms, yelling directly into the camera: " It's ch- chaos! Chaos!"

An off-stage voice clearly muttered "Calm down, Summer – "

"CHAOS!" She lunged at the camera, eyes red, teeth bared. There was a moment of static, several unintelligible outcries, then a commercial.

And another.

And another.

Some fifteen or twenty ads later, the news returned. The man behind the newsdesk began stiffly, unprofessionally reading the teleprompter, his voice a nasal whine, shirt buttoned incorrectly, toupee a lopsided nightmare. "Well, we, ah, at KXKVI are certainly, er, sorry about that. Summer Gale will, uh, be back tomorrow, we hope. If the medication works. It's been a tough couple of weeks for all of us. Er, ah, I'm Bing Crosby – not that one – and our top story tonight is still: Supervillain Scourge! From Duff Killigan's not-so-miniature golf course, formerly the Hawaiian Islands, to Frugal Lucre's hostile takeover of SmartyMart, villainy has been the, uh, order of the day. For days," he improvised, and chuckled, proud of himself.

The two viewers laughed, more at him than with him.

A familiar young woman's face was projected behind Bing Crosby, who seized the moment to add some misplaced drama to his dismal narration. "And the world is still asking: WHERE – IS – KIM – POSSIBLE? It has been TWO WEEKS since ANYONE has heard from the legendary young crimebuster. We now go LIVE to GREGG GREATMAN in Possible's home town, MIDDLETON, COLORADO."

"He ees a mere piker, "commented the middle-aged woman, between handfuls of popcorn. "Your presentation would have been a thousand times more eempressive."

The man beside her laughed. "Not everyone can pull off ze LOUD VOICE, mein liebling. It is a GIFT! Der Bingle should go back to ze crooning. I quite White Christmas liked."

"He's not that Bing Crosby, dear."

"Oh. There ist another?"

On the giant screen a reporter stood outside a home, microphone in hand, hair glued into a pompadour, a toothy, too-white grin affixed to his face. Knocking on the door, he announced " I'm Gregg Greatman, live in Middleton, and I'm about to stick a microphone in the faces of two grieving parents and ask them troubling questions, such as 'What do you think has happened to your daughter' and the ever-popular 'Some people are saying that she's let the whole world down. How do you feel about that?'"

When there was no answer, Greatman knocked again, harder.

Still nothing.

Greatman unleashed a fusillade of knocks. "No one ignores Gregg Greatman! My callous reporting almost won a Pulitzer, you know!" he snarled, not noticing the motorcycle that had just pulled into the driveway of the Possible home. "I would have won, too, if not for the lawsuits."

A hand reached out from behind the reporter, grabbed the microphone; the camera panned to reveal a blunt-featured behemoth of a man. " I'm Steve Barkin," he slowly rumbled, "one of Possible's high-school teachers and an ex-Marine. I've been watching this travesty, and I've seen a lot of stupid things in my time, but this one pretty much pegs the meter. I think Gregg here needs a lesson in empathy. " The reporter tried to cut and run, but Barkin effortlessly restrained him without even dropping the microphone. "I highly suggest you cut for a commercial."

An ad for the next Agony County episode swept across the screen, not quite in time to blot out the first punch. Immediately afterward Bing Crosby returned, apologizing to the viewers: "Sorry, there've been some, er, technical difficulties with that report from Middleton. Maybe we'll have that later in the program. But don't hold your breath. And now – " His eyes went wide, obviously staring at something beyond the camera. "NEWS FLASH! It looks like the infamous DR. DRAKKEN and his sinister sidekick SHEGO have just BROKEN INTO THE – "

A blinding green flash, a dark screen. Some clicks and pops, a few flashes, a woman's voice. "Don't tell me you didn't bring needle-nose pliers. Everyone knows you always need needle-nose pliers – " A second later an evilly revolving spiral took over the airwaves, as the voice of Dr. Drakken intoned the hypnotist mantra: "You are getting sleeeepy… Sleeeeeeepy…Sleeeeeeeeee – "

The man on the couch looked away with a grimace. "Drakken. Alvays vith ze mind control. Hypnotism. Zat dog vill not hunt. Turn it off. Vatching his silly spiral vill a headache be giving."

The woman snapped her fingers; there was a tiny spark and the television blinked off. "Let us adjourn to the lab for some real entertainment. Wonder who she ees fighting now?" Another snap, another spark, and a secret door opened in the wall.

"Your talent has zaved us a fortune in ze buying remote controls!" They walked down the spiral staircase; the helmeted man laughed softly.

"A Euro for your thoughts," said the woman, electricity arcing through her Bride of Frankenstein bouffant, eyes invisible behind her goggles.

"Zometink I read very long ago. 'Down ze zeven hundred steps, to ze Gate of Deeper Slumber.'

"And here ees our little deep sleeper now."

The lab lights clicked on, revealing chromium walls and electronic panels. In the centre of the room was a large cylinder, surrounded by hoses and cables, flickering with its own ominous illumination. Suspended in that fluid-filled cylinder was a young woman, her trademark red hair gone, a thick cable connected to the back of her head. Other tubes and wires were fastened her body at various points. Her eyes were closed; there was no sign of life except the rising and falling of her chest, breathing the oxygen-rich chemical solution.

A sane person would have been revolted and appalled; Electronique tittered with glee. "An utterly eevil revange!"

" Kimberly Anne Possible. " Professor Dementor snorted in annoyance. "Here is ze girl that always would ze vorld be zaving – bah! Killigan, Drakken, Fiske, Hall, Shego, not even you and I could her defeating do." He smiled at his electrically charged companion. "But together VE HAVE TAKEN HER FROM ZE PICTURE OUT! "

"Your application of the Wachowski theorem was a work of eeevil genius. This ees why the world treembles at your name."

Ah, but vithout your imaginative innovations, ze device vould never have been more than a curiozity! Ze day ve met, it vas in heaven ordained!

"Or the ahther place..." They both laughed. With another snap of her fingers, Electronique activated the massive monitor screen. "Computehr! Show us the subject's current dream state."

"Immediately, Electronique," the synthetic voice buzzed in reply. The villains sat down to watch the show. It was always a lot more amusing than the news.


" Shego! " yelled Drakken, greedily clutching some sort of gyroscope-like device. "Why must I always ask you to do something about this teen? Can't you take the initiative for once?"

"Ok, I'm on it, Dr. D," she irritably replied, and somersaulted over the mad doctor's head to land right in front of Kim, ready for battle. "There's a TV on in the lobby," she chattily informed the teenage hero. "I was watching Agony County." She swung at Kim, missed, swung again. "I hear they're canceling it at the end of the season."

The lithe young redhead staggered back, shook her head, ignoring her opponent. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Are you all right, Kimmie?" There was concern in the older woman's voice.

"Where's Ron? Ron should be here." Her eyes were wide with fright; was she going insane? "We were together. Somewhere else. And you weren't with us. Neither of you."

"Look, maybe you should lay down for a while. We'll just skedaddle and see you later. "

Drakken was dancing with rage, pumping his fists in the air. " Shego, finish her! What, are you her mother? Finish the job! "

"Sorry, cupcake, but he's calling the shots." She lunged at the girl, fists radiant with plasma. "Maybe you'll feel better after I knock you out."

Kim had no choice but to continue fighting. As always.

Sometimes it seemed like her whole life was a fight.