I Do Not OWN Kim Possible
WARNING: This story contains extreme "character death" and extreme language. Read at own risk. You've been warned.
The Final Battle
Shego stared across the rooftop at the Buffoon. He stared back her. In her heart she knew only one of them would leave this place alive. The Buffoon it seemed had come to throw his life away. She would help him. She recalled how it had all began.
Two Months Ago
Drakken had hatched another plot. Built a new contraption. What they were she had had no clue. Nor did she care. Soon there would be princess to fight and that was enough for her. The bitch had arrived just in time as usual. At first it had been fun. She had got in a few good blows and had the upper hand. Then that bastard moron the buffoon had went and ruined it all. He had pressed that goddamn self-destruct button, again. They had all fled the lair, same as they had done dozens of times.
But this time Shego had swore it would be different. She was tired of Drakken messing everything up with that insanely idiotic button and she was pissed at the princess more than usual. She had hit the nearest bar, grabbing a half dozen bottles of vodka. Sitting in the hovercraft she had watched Kim Possible's house, drinking the vodka straight from the bottle. Seeing the bitch arrive home she had smiled. She could remember clearly how good that smile felt. There would be one last fight with no buffoon and no button. The lights in the princess' room had lit up and Shego had lit up her fists and poured out her rage at that room. She recalled every time the little bitch had beat her and had felt it burn inside her. When she stopped the house had been nothing but ruin. Nothing was left standing. Certainly not Kim Possible.
She had felt good and turned her thoughts to the Buffoon. It was he who, after all, kept pressing that damned button. On her way back to the new lair Dr. D. was building she'd stopped at his place. A few well placed bolts of plasma had sent it up in flames. Not quite the ruin that princess' grave was, but she was certain that he was now history. She hadn't bothered to make sure he was home. After all, she'd thought, where else would a loser like he be.
Dr. D. hadn't been too pleased with her actions. She hadn't really cared. There was no one now to get in the way of their world domination. She'd convinced him to start a new lair, to hatch a new plot.
She recalled how good it had felt reading the newspaper the next day. The front-page headlines had screamed, 'Kim Possible Dead.' She had nearly had an orgasm. Reading she'd found out that not only had the bitch been home that night but her entire family as well. Both her parents and those idiotic twin brothers of hers had died with her. It was awesome.
Flipping the pages she'd found news of another fire on page twenty-three. This time three people had died, Mr and Mrs Stoppable along with their adopted daughter Hanna. She'd frowned at that. There had been no mention of that bastard buffoon. She'd fumed but remembering how she'd burned that bitch princess to ash she'd cheered up.
One Month Ago
The lair had been built, the plot hatched. In minutes the world would be theirs. Dr. D. had already announced his ultimatum to the world and things were falling into place. They were no longer minutes from ruling the world, they were seconds. Soon, she'd thought, the only obstacle to her owning it all would be getting rid of Drakken. She'd tolerated his stupidity for so long that she burned inside with the need to burn him. To see him bleed and hear his screams. She'd needed his genius to build those doomsday devices but after the world was theirs, he would ... The thoughts that filled her mind made her feel warm and tingly inside.
Warning, self-destruct in three, two, one, ...
Her comet enhanced body had allowed her to survive the blast. Drakken had been dead. That didn't really matter. She could always find someone to take his place. There was just one problem. That bastard buffoon was alive. The self-destruct message had been in his voice. How someone as useless and stupid as he was had managed to get into the lair and reprogram the self-destruct like that she didn't know. She didn't really care. She just wanted him dead. She didn't think that would be a big problem. Princess had been the fighter, not him. She would, when she found him, make him pay. He would die slowly, very slowly and with a lot of pain. Just thinking of how much pain she would cause him as she burned his flesh from his body, layer by layer, helped her deal with the pain coming from her own badly damaged body. That blast had hurt.
Things didn't turn out that way. She'd hunted him like the rat he was. It had taken her a week to corner him. Longer than expected. She'd walked into the warehouse she'd traced him to, tossing plasma to drive him out. He'd been nowhere to be seen. She'd walked deeper and deeper into the warehouse. She'd felt something graze her ankle and only her superhuman reflexes had saved her. She'd tossed herself backwards, away from the blast. The warehouse had been a trap.
That the buffoon would even think to fight back drove her into an insane fury. Outside the warehouse she'd started to blast it to the ground. A high caliber slug had shattered her elbow. She'd fled. He'd not only set the trap but had waited outside, at a safe distance, just incase she'd survived. Her body had healed, as it always did, and she'd resumed the chase. In her dreams she could smell his burning flesh, hear his screams, ... She loved those dreams.
She'd finally found him. Here in this city whose name she didn't know, on top of a building that dwarfed those around it. She would make those dreams come true. She walked towards him. She could already hear his screams in her ears, could smell his flesh... So why wasn't he running?
She picked him up by the collar with one hand. As a guy he was so pathetic. Short, no muscle. A poor excuse even for a wimp. She lit her other hand and held it close to his face. There was the smell of hair burning as the wind caught his hair and blew it into the flame. The smell made her smile a devil's smile. His eyes were staring straight into her hers. Why wasn't he squirming? Why wasn't he screaming? Why wasn't he trying to run? Where was his fear? She wanted, needed, to see his panic. Oh well, she thought, there will be plenty of that when his flesh burns.
Eyes unblinking he lifted his left hand and slapped something on her wrists. She blinked in shock, realizing how stupid she'd been. She'd picked him up by his collar, leaving both his hands free. Voltage ran through the cuffs and she'd screamed. The shock making her drop him. When she looked back up she was staring at the barrel of a gun. The shots rang out, one by one, seven in all. She'd screamed as the first one took her in the stomach. But then she was twisting and rolling on the ground, evading them, or at least most of them.
Her body was tough. The voltage from the cuffs would have killed anyone else. That first bullet would have killed a normal person. She wasn't anyone else. She wasn't normal. She was Shego. She poured her strength into her hands and plasma burned around them. It burned her too, some. But the cuffs broke and fell to where she was twisting and rolling. Two more of the bullets hit her. One in the thigh, and another in her chest. They couldn't have been normal bullets to have done the damage they did.
The shots stopped and she stood up. She'd stared at the buffoon again and he'd stared back. They both knew as hurt as she was she wasn't down yet. There might be three holes in her. Her hands might be nearly useless with the flesh burned from them. But she was Shego.
She charged him. He calmly pulled something from a pocket and tossed it at her. She flung out her hand to knock it aside. To her superhuman reflexes it had seemed so slow and she didn't want to stop her charge to dodge what she saw was a grenade. To her shock it didn't get knocked away. Instead it stuck to her. Then it exploded. There was more pain. The explosion knocked her back twenty feet and caved in the section of the roof she'd been standing on. Her left arm was shattered.
She stood up. The buffoon also stood up. He'd been knocked to the ground by the explosion of his own grenade. He took two more of those things from his pocket and tossed them at her. She'd dodged them with ease.
He was out of tricks. She could see it in his eyes. He backed away. She followed. Slowly. Enjoying his fear. It was so delicious. So intoxicating. He came to edge of the roof, there was nowhere for him to go. Except, she thought with sadistic glee, to the grave as she tore the flesh from his body. Her hands were too badly burned to use plasma to peel the layers from his flesh like she'd wanted to. She could still slice it off though. She reached out and let one steel hard fingernail run down along his cheek. The blood ran down. She licked the fingernail and looked into his eyes. The fear in them was gone. He was smiling.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back with him. She'd been tricked, she realized. She struggled but as strong as she was she was hurt, badly so. He only needed to hold her for a second, just one brief second, to pull her back with him, over the edge of the roof, where over sixty floors below the ground was waiting for them both.
Such a fall would hurt. It wouldn't kill. She was Shego. Air resistance would slow her speed to a hundred and ninety kilometers an hour. She could survive that. Or so she thought. She didn't count on the fence with the razor sharp wire on top. Her neck ripped through the wire, then the fence finished the job. Her decapitated form thrashed around for a few seconds and lay still. Even Shego couldn't survive that. Beside her was the corpse of Ron Stoppable, the one she'd called buffoon.
End of Chapter.
In the Zorpox sitch we see Shego and Drakken test their levels of evil. Drakken, a ground yard bully. Shego, the evilest of the evil. This is the real Shego.