A Kim Possible Story
A job fair. That's what it essentially was. Hench Co - this upstart company who's whole marketing strategy was to make crime appear as much like temping as possible - had rented out a small convention center, set up tables, and actually invited goons and thugs to submit resumes to leading men-of-evil.
I shook my head. No, not evil. It was best not to think of them that way if I was going to make a name for myself. They weren't 'evil' and I was no longer 'good.' They were just ... eccentric employers, and I was going to be temping for them.
Shego the Temp. That did not have a good ring to it. I was definitely going to have to negotiate a proper title that wasn't 'Thug #6' or 'Goon B.' Did criminal masterminds like being given the hard line by their prospective employees or should I just appear as nebbish as possible?
No, I couldn't do nebbish if I wanted. If I'm not going to be myself, I might as well go back to being part of Team Go. And that was certainly not going to happen.
The person in line in front of me - a tiny looking kid with a black cloak and yellow tights - finally stepped through the security gate and it became my turn to be vetted by a stunningly muscular man barely fitting into a pinstripe suit. I guess Hench Co's thoughts were if you're going to go big, you might as well go all the way.
"Name?" said the brick wall in a suit that could give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money.
"Shego," I said plainly.
"Got a last name?" asked the giant.
"Nope," I said with a curt shake of the head. The guard was wearing sunglasses, but the strange twist of his head made me think he was rolling his eyes. I couldn't imagine why. It's not like the boy wonder that used to be in front of me gave his real name.
I blinked. "What?" I asked. "Is my name a reference to something?"
The guard squared himself off against me in a show of imposing strength. Another girl my size might have been intimidated. But I've wrestled my brother down and he had the advantage of meteor-infused super strength. I gave the man a raised eyebrow instead.
"Who referred you to this event?" said the guard.
"Referred me?" I said with a frown. "Nobody. I came on my own."
"Nobody gets in without an approved reference." The guard lifted one arm and spoke into his sleeve. "Background check," he grunted. Less than three seconds later two of this guy's twins showed up and pointed in the direction of a small tent set up outside the convention hall.
"Please," the first twin said with a nod of his head.
I stared at the trio for a second, then at the tent. Then I looked back at them. They seemed to flex their muscles at me as if encouraging me to try something.
I couldn't really let them do a background check on me. Even way out here in Middleton people have probably heard of Team Go, and my look is not exactly off the shelf. It seemed I was at an impasse. Either I let these Hench-men take me into their tent and find out I'm a former hero, or I needed some other way of proving I had a right to be here.
I sighed. I really wanted to make a good impression here, maybe get a few offers, mull them over, take the one most likely to lead me towards a pile of cash larger than the Great Pyramids. Getting thrown out of the event for not passing a background check was less than a good impression. It was downright humiliating. I couldn't let that happen.
I cracked my knuckles and planted my feet. Then I introduced the bodybuilders to my Green.
I woke up in darkness and stuffed in a dumpster of some sort, or at least it smelled that way. It thankfully wasn't full of much else other than broken down boxes and paper wrappers, with the occasional paper coffee cup for good measure. It was dirty, but not messy, so I managed not to be disgusted with myself for where I ended up. Just disgusted that I had just lost a fight.
I could see an outline of light shaped like a rectangle and presumed that was the lid. I adjusted my position and kicked upwards towards the shape. My heel impacted something that immediately gave way and light flooded in as the lid on the dumpster flew off and to the side. I threw myself over the edge and into slightly cleaner air.
I landed a little uneasily but quickly straightened. I vaguely remembered having taken an extensive beating but it looked like I'd slept off most of the recovery. Not for the first time I thanked that rainbow meteor that gave my slightly-better-than-average healing. And, of course, my Green.
The day had ended it seemed, as I saw darkness above the top of the convention center. The light I was standing in was courtesy of a row of street lamps staggered through the alley. The muffled noise indicated that the convention center was still buzzing with activity. Activity that I doubted I'd ever be allowed entry into now, thanks to my ill fated attempt at showing moxie.
I wonder if anyone ever really got any job from only moxie.
I sighed and considered whether I should go it alone, without funds, without connections, without - most importantly - a fence to dispose of stolen goods. It sounded like a lot of work that I wasn't happy to be facing. But I wasn't going back to Team Go.
I heard a man's heels approaching from behind me and I turned with my fists held ready for a second round.
"Woah!" the man - the notably small man - looked startled and backed up a half-step. "Hold on! I don't want to fight!" The voice was nasal and just a touch raspy, and his silhouette had a slight hunch to it.
I kept my guard up and caused the Green to light up so I could get a better look at the newcomer.
He was a strange looking man with a scar, dark eyes, receding hairline, a pony-tail, and wearing a fully buttoned long coat that went to his knees.
The man rose his hand to cover his eyes briefly from the light and then slowly lowered it. He stared with intense eyes at the glow from my hands.
"That is incredible!" he said exuberantly. "How does that work?"
I narrowed my eyes as the strange man. He was smaller than the Austrian quarterbacks from before, but not overly small. In fact, he was probably the same height as me, not that I'm particularly tall. He was, however, obviously weak. His hands were tiny and his arms were only a hair larger.
"I just does. What do you want?" I demanded.
"Ah! Well, I saw your little... nnngg, 'demonstration' at the convention and I wanted to talk to you," said the man. He wrung his hands as he spoke, like he was desperately squeezing the words out of them.
"Then talk," I said. I didn't like the way this guy looked. I couldn't imagine what he would offer to a villain as a goon. He wouldn't be able to beat a Pixie Scout in an arm wrestling match.
"Yes, well, I was in a... um, similar situation as you last year and thought I could offer some... assistance," the man finally spit out.
I lowered my arms slightly but kept the Green going in case this guy pulled out a gun or something. "Assistance? You gonna vouch for me to get in?"
"Uh, no, I can't do that, as it turns out." More hand wringing ensued. "'Probation,' you know how it is."
I could imagine.
"Well, so I thought I might do for you the next best thing," said the man. "If you're interested, that is."
"Interested in what?" I asked. "Get to the point!"
"Work!" said the man with a chirp. "I mean, if you're looking for a job, I'm looking for a... bodyguard, as it were."
I stared, then blinked. "What?" I said, unable to contain my disbelief at this situation. He wanted to offer me a job after getting thrown out of the convention? What was this, some sort of losers club? "Who are you?"
"Oh!" the man said suddenly, then began patting down his pockets frantically. He eventually reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small card. He held it out. "Drakken. Doctor Drakken."
I let the Green die out on one hand and took the rectangle. It was very plain, and simply said 'Doctor Drakken' on one side and beneath that it said: 'Evil'.
Great. I've been offered a job by an asylum escapee. I slowly looked up at the man. "'Evil.' Really?"
"Of course," said this Drakken. "Why would you be here if you weren't?"
"I didn't think anyone thought of themselves as actually evil," I said, legitimately confused.
"Why not?" said Drakken with a frown. "Why dance around the issue? The world works, but it would work better if I ruled it. That's pretty much the definition of evil, isn't it?" He narrowed his eyes at me. "If heroes can call themselves good, I'll call myself evil." Then he smiled.
It was a halfway decent wicked smile, actually.
I let the Green die out completely on my other hand, shrouding the man in darkness again. "Do you have a plan?" I asked. "You know, for taking over the world?"
"Oh, yes, several actually," said Drakken gleefully. "I can't wait to see which one works."
I laughed briefly. That was a pleasantly anarchist point of view. Maybe this guy wasn't so demented. Or maybe he was demented in the right way.
"Okay, say I was interested, how well do you pay?" I asked, putting my hand to my chin.
"Er, a little here and there," said Drakken. "I have a trust fund I can pull from until we get established."
I shook my head. "Um, no. I get paid regularly or I don't work at all. This isn't a charity."
Drakken grumbled. "Well, I can probably manage a salary. But it won't be big at first."
I shrugged. Some money was better than none, especially if I was going to be a bodyguard instead of a thief. Speaking off... "And I won't be called a 'bodyguard.'"
"Eh? Why not?"
"Because I'm not one," I said plainly.
"But you just took on eight guys three times your size and nearly won!" said Drakken loudly.
I smiled. I'm glad it looked like I nearly won when I was pretty painfully losing.
"Well, what would you want to be called?" asked Drakken, shaking his head.
"Just Shego. That'll do," I said. I crossed my arms and the flash of white business card caught my eye. Should I press it? Oh, what the hell. Being bold was working so far. "Oh, and I'll want a contract."
"A contract!" said Drakken like it was a curse.
"Signed and notarized," I said. "Can't be too careful these days. I have some provisions around clones I need to be firmly in ink."
"Baah!" grunted Drakken as he began pacing in the dark.
"Do we have a deal?" I asked, holding out my hand without turning on my Green.
Drakken paused in his pace and stared at me. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"
"Go ahead if it'll make you feel better," I said with a shrug.
Drakken mulled it over for another few seconds then stepped into the street light and grabbed my hand. "Fine," he said.
I quickly pulled my hand from his grip and stared at his face. "Good god! What's wrong with your skin?" He was blue from head to toe! What the hell was that all about?
Drakken looked bored and rolled his eyes. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a stupid story I'll tell you some day. Suffice to say, don't go to the pharmacy on Tuesday."
I stared. Maybe this wasn't a great idea.
I blinked. I hadn't actually heard this story before. I felt a little embarrassed that I had never even bothered to ask. I just supposed that Drakken pulled Shego's name out of phone book one day and then became evil partners. That was a silly idea, of course. They had to have met before becoming a team, I just had never really given it much thought before.
I haven't given much though to Shego at all over the years, honestly, and starting to think if that was maybe a great tragedy.
"So you didn't know what he was planning at first?" a sharp, accusatory voice said. District Attorney Edward Brock was a tall, African American man with short, graying hair, and an impeccably well tailored white and tan three-piece suit. Nothing was out of place on him, and every motion of his large hands seemed deliberate and graceful.
From behind the desk of the prosecution, Brock stared at Shego, who was sitting in the witness box, with just a slight pinch between his brows. Accusatory, as I had said before, with just a touch of impatience.
"I don't think he knew what he was planning at that stage," said Shego with a smirk. She was dressed to the nines as well. A dark green suit with lime pinstripes, a black scarf, and expensive heels. She looked more like she was about to go to an expensive dinner than being questioned at trial. Though I'm not quite sure what else I would picture her wearing.
The jury hadn't seemed as impressed as I was. Her femme fatale look had drawn envious glares from some of the younger jury members, and the older ones seemed skeptical of her flippant tone. At least, that how I read the situation. Maybe they were just good at masking their intentions.
"People confuse 'Mad Scientist' and 'Evil Genius'," said Shego, motioning with her two gloved hands. "He was definitely more of the former and much less of the latter."
"What do you mean by that?" asked D.A. Brock.
Shego smirked. "I can't even count the number of times he's sealed up half of his tools in some machine he was elbow deep in. Or the times he'd lost the hovercar. Or locked himself out of his lair." She shrugged. "Somehow he could build a machine that made it rain but he couldn't figure out how to show up on time for a meeting, or get the wrinkles out of his clothes, or even cook a proper meal."
"And that's where you came in?" asked Brock.
Shego looked off into the distance for a couple seconds. "Sure, in a nanny sort of way. I kept his battles with toast from burning down the lab with all my stuff in it."
"So, would you say, without your help, he wouldn't be able to get much accomplished?"
Shego looked at Brock with mild surprise, then smiled broadly. "Oh, come on, Eddie, you have to do better that."
Brock looked to the judge, an Asian woman with shoulder-length dark hair in her mid-fifties. "Your honor?"
Shego didn't wait for the judge to respond. "No, I wouldn't say that, actually. What I would say is that his determination for world domination would have driven him to eventually succeed regardless of my role in things. I just kept the workplace tidy so I didn't have to live in a sty."
"But you helped in his terrorist activities, did you not?" asked Brock.
"Objection!" One of the three almost identically groomed and dressed lawyers sitting at the defense stood up. This one had a goatee. I've forgotten his name so many times I've taken to calling him Curly since he sits last in the row of stooges from Hench Co. "Leading the witness, your honor. The prosecution has not established any terrorist activities that Doctor Drakken was conclusively involved in."
"Sustained," said the judge. She hadn't looked up. This whole trial she'd been mostly taking extensive notes and only looking up at the two bands of lawyers when absolutely necessary. I assumed she was taking notes, anyway. She could have been playing minesweeper for all I knew.
"You assisted Doctor Drakken in his bid to take over the world, as you yourself called it?" said Brock, at a speed slightly slower than normal so we'd all hear his amendments.
"I acted in line with my contract with Drakken," said Shego, diplomatically.
"A contract that you mostly forced onto him," said Brock. He picked up a stack of papers and held it up. "Which is entered as evidence AE."
"It's a necessary safeguard when dealing with mad scientists," explained Shego. "You never know when they might steal a hair sample and start giving you siblings."
Brock lifted his head. "Ah, yes, the 'clone' addendum you were insistent upon. Why is that?"
Shego's brow furrowed and she looked genuinely angry for the first time since stepping into the courtroom. "It's not relevant to this discussion," she growled.
She seemed to startle her lawyers, and Moe stood up and called "Objection! What... uh, where is Mr. Brock going with this? What's the relevance of asking about this addendum?"
"Your honor," said Brock. "The contract specifically defined the terms of Ms. Shego's relationship with Doctor Drakken, a relationship she has just admitted she designed herself. If we are ever going to establish her accountability to the events of May 11th, then we need to know exactly what she was, and was not, obligated to do."
The judge paused in her typing and clicked her mouse in various rhythms for over a minute. Then she looked up and stared Moe. "Overruled." Then her head dipped down and she started typing again.
"Shego?" continued Brock. "Why clones?"
Shego stared back, her angry scowl barely contained by tight jaw. "I had a previous experience with clones that I did not want to repeat," she said. "So I wanted no chance of it happening again."
"What experience was it that this addendum was attempting to avoid?" asked Brock.
"A bad one."
"Your Honor, may I treat Ms. Shego as a hostile witness?" asked Brock.
"Proceed," said the judge without looking up.
Shego narrowed her eyes as the lawyer approached her.
"Are you referring to the incident that occurred five years ago with a Go City criminal named 'The Mathter'?" asked Brock.
Shego growled audibly. "You did not ask about this in pre-trial!"
"Ms. Shego, you must answer the question," insisted Brock.
Shego flicked her eyes towards the judge once then settled back on Brock. "I've dealt with clones more than once," she said. "One of those times was with The Mathter."
"But you didn't say you had previous experiences, just an experience," said Brock. "So which time is the one that bothers you? Is it not the incident where you were 'multiplied' by The Mathter not more than three months before you quit Team Go?"
Shego grew still and she studied Brock carefully.
"Ms. Shego, you will answer the question or I'll find you in contempt of court," said the Judge, again without moving her eyes away from her screen.
"I was indeed multiplied," said Shego slowly. "And I greatly wanted to avoid it happening again."
"Because you didn't get along with your clone," said Brock.
"In a manner of speaking," said Shego.
"And what happened to her?"
Shego hesitated for a few seconds. Kim had never seen her speechless before.
"She is no more," said Shego, evenly. "And yes, as you implied, I grew tired of Team Go after that and eventually ended up at that HenchCo convention I already described."
"So it was this incident with your clone that led you to become partners with Drakken," Brock said.
"It preceded it," Shego said sharply. "It is not the cause."
"But it was the cause of your need to have a contract to govern your relationship with Drakken, was it not?" asked Brock.
"Sure, yeah," nodded Shego.
"A contract you drafted yourself."
"That's right," said Shego.
"And it was then, in accordance with that contract you wrote yourself, that you were in Middleton on May 11th, obligated to assist Drakken in his terrible plan. Isn't that right?"
"I... obligated isn't exactly-"
"You executed that contract in good faith, right?" interrupted Brock. "You expected it to be honored so that your rule about clones would be held. And it was."
"Drakken... did not involve me in any cloning experiments," said Shego, guardedly.
"So you intentionally specified the activities that were acceptable, and they included the events of May 11th?" said Brock.
Shego swallowed and was frowning deeply. "I did," she finally admitted. As Brock turned to walk back towards his chair, she rose her voice. "But I had no idea what he was planning."
"And did you stop him as soon as you did know?" asked Brock.
Shego looked away.
"I withdraw the question," said the lawyer with a smirk and headed back to his chair.
There are times when you want solitude. I've always been a bit of a loner. Even sharing a lair with Drakken felt like a crowd at times. Back on Team Go, it was like living in Grand Central Station, always someone doing something loud or obnoxious. And with the Wegos, there was any number of extra twins running about.
But after this morning's session of 'The Trial', I really wished I wasn't locked up alone in a silent section of the courthouse jail. The silence was maddening. Even the occasional buzz from the electronic locks on the fire doors was a welcome sound.
Thankfully, just as that prison of quiet was getting to me, the heavy doors into the jail opened, and a short, redheaded girl in a simple blue skirt suit walked in. I moved up to the bars of my cell and looked out, pressing my forehead against the metal.
"Hey, princess," I said with a breath. I was glad to have anyone to talk to.
She looked at me with concern. Her brow was creased with worry; the sides of her lips were turned slightly down. I wondered what part of the testimony had bugged her. Maybe it was the part where I lost a fight with a bunch of HenchCo thugs.
"Are you alright?" she asked cautiously. I guess all of it bugged her.
"Sure, for a girl on trial for assisting in the end of the world." I shrugged and tried to smile. I'm not sure how convincing I was.
"You didn't... I thought it seemed like..." she started sentences twice but finished neither.
"Spit it out, pumpkin. It's not like I can do anything to you from in here."
She frowned just slightly and a bit of the defiant girl I knew surfaced. "You actually can. It's not like these bars can stand up to your 'green.'" She waved her fingers like quote marks at the moniker I used in court to refer to my power.
I smirked and finally felt some of the tension that had been following me for the past few weeks melt away. "Not if I want a fair trial I can't. Obviously I could light up every cop and SWAT team member they threw at me if I wanted, but I don't." I sighed. "I want to be here. I want to see this through."
"Why?" she asked somewhat desperately. This was the question I had been waiting for from her for months. The question I'm sure she stayed away to keep from asking. But now it seemed too tempting to ignore.
Ah, Kim Possible. You can do anything but control your own impulses.
"I let something terrible happen," I said with all seriousness to her. "It's not right to let that go."
"You've never taken - uh, I mean, you've never bothered with a trial ever before," said Kim. I had a guess at what she'd just edited out of her sentence, but I let it go.
"I didn't just steal a bunch of tech from companies that could build more, or help protect a plan to do something stupid that was hopeless from the start." I leaned over to look at her straight in the eyes. "Innocent people died because of something I did. A lot of them. Many times more got hurt. This isn't something even I can brush off, princess."
Kim screwed her face up in a look of sheer horror and then turned quickly away. "Oh, now you choose to be honorable." She crossed her arms and leaned back against the bars of my cell. She shuddered as if she was barely keeping something in. This was very atypical for the hero, and I admit, I had no idea why it was happening.
I stepped behind her and gently placed my hand on her shoulder. "It'll be alright," I said. I'm not even sure why I said it. It probably wouldn't be. And there was no way I believed it would make her feel any better. That was just... what you said when people were upset.
She shook her head quickly, flinging her strawberry-scented hair against the bars and briefly into my face. "You're not going to get a fair trial," she said angrily.
I sighed. "No, probably not," I said. It was true, there was a upper limit on the amount of tragedy humans could reasonably ignore and I had left that in the dust. There was no chance at all that jury out there was going to be impartial in their verdict.
"They're going to blame everything on you," she said.
"With Drakken gone, they hardly have anyone else," I said.
She looked down at her feet, staring silently. I turned around leaned against the bars as well. We were almost back to back.
"It's not right," she finally said.
"Oh, come on, Kimmie," I said softly.
"I can't let them do that to you," she continued.
"Don't do this," I quietly pleaded.
"For all the things you've done wrong - and you've done things that deserve punishment - but you're not responsible for this!" She slammed her fist back against the bars between us.
I swallowed as the cell rattled and then spoke clearly once the sound died away.
"You cannot get in the way of this trial," I said. I closed my eyes and shook my head.
"Why not?" Kim said sharply.
"Because they need it," I said. I felt her move behind me, probably to turn around. "They want to see me burn. They need to see me burn in order to deal with what they went though. They won't be able to move on without it." I grabbed onto the bars behind me. "Without their revenge."
"Who is they?" asked Kim. I could hear her anger clearly. "Why do 'they' get a say?"
"Because they're everyone," I said. "There are no picket lines in front of this courthouse asking for mercy. There are no kind words in the media. They need to crucify someone. And if it's not me, it'll be whoever stands between me and them." I opened my eyes and looked up at he window in the back of my cell. "It'll be you."
"It's not right."
"Of course it is," I said, a small smile returning to my lips. "What is 'right' or 'wrong' but what we say it is? If everyone out there says this is the way it should be, then it should be this way."
"No. I can't just let this be or I'll be the one who let evil happen."
My eyes widened at that. It wasn't just the words, it was the sound, the tone of her voice, the conviction. In an instant, I could see the future. Her future.
I turned and looked into her fierce eyes and nearly flinched. "Do not go down with me," I demanded.
"You can't stop me," said Kim.
"I can," I said quickly. "I can plead out to everything, even to Drakken's things, now before you do anything. End the trial. The people don't get their show but they get the blood they want."
"I can still try to affect sentencing," said Kim.
"Don't!" I shouted. "Don't make me fight this. Don't force me to fight justice!"
"This isn't justice!" said Kim loudly.
"This is all that's left!"
Her jaw dropped at my words and I thought, for a moment, that I had broken her. But her scowl returned after half a minute.
"Who are you?" she asked. I hadn't really expected that response and was thrown for a moment.
"Pleading to be punished?" said Kim. "Talking about honor? Justice? I would never have thought I'd hear this from you."
I shrugged and put on a weak smile. "Things change."
"No, not like this," she said.
"I've never been involved in something so big, it changes your perspective," I explained.
"So much so that you want to die for false justice?" scoffed Kim. "I don't buy it. Something else is going on."
"Nothing is going on," I insisted, but she wasn't even focused on me anymore. Now I was really starting to get worried.
"Is someone blackmailing you?" asked Kim, a little surprised at her own words.
"No," I said clearly.
"Was someone you cared about in the destruction?" asked Kim. "Is there even anyone you care about?"
I had to remind myself silently that I wasn't still under oath.
"Nobody I knew was in the destruction other than Drakken," I said.
"Were you and he...?" she trailed off.
"Ugh, no," I said. "Drakken was... Drakken. I don't think I've ever, even in my darkest days, entertained anything romantic about him. He's... Drakken."
"Then what is it? Why are you doing this?" asked Kim. She pointed her finger at me. "Explain why you changed."
"I never changed, this was always who I was," I said. Which was so dangerously close to the truth I probably should have stayed quiet.
"Then what was all the years of stealing and fighting and kidnapping and arguing and-"
"A game!" I shouted at least to shut her up. It worked. She was startled but didn't look convinced so I pressed on. "It was a game to me, okay? Play villain with bad guys, fight the good guys, put on a good show, then kick back at the end of the day with a drink. All in good fun."
"I got pretty badly hurt in your game," said Kim.
"You recovered," I pointed out. "I was careful."
"You also got hurt," she said.
"I can take a beating better than most," I said. "But this? What happened last year? This is no game. I should have noticed sooner. I didn't. I got sloppy."
"You made a mistake," said Kim, confidently.
"How easily you say that," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You want to believe everyone is a hero in hiding. My game was breaking the law, don't forget. This was just the coda."
"So what? You don't care about that, why care about this?"
"It's different," I said.
"It's not! All I see is that suddenly you feel remorse without any explanation. You didn't make Drakken do this, you simply failed to stop him soon enough. Why is that mistake so much worse than the others?"
I stared back. I wished I could tell her everything. I wished I tell her who I really was. But I couldn't. I had made promises. "Because the game has to end. And it should have ended before lives were lost."
Kim looked at me strangely then shook her head and turned to the side. She seemed to be chewing on something mentally.
"Please don't let me be your downfall," I pleaded. "Let this one mis-justice go to preserve what's left."
She grunted something and then started walking towards the door to leave. She didn't give me a second look until she got to the buzzer to request he door be unlocked and hesitated.
"Why couldn't you just lie to me?" she asked. "Tell me you did it with joy and hoped to get away with it. Tell me anything to make believe you actually deserve the monkey court out there?"
Oh, Princess. I have been lying to you. Just not enough, apparently. "Who's to say I haven't been?" I told my lips to smirk at her. I know I did. But it didn't happen. I think I just looked desperate.
She looked at me blankly. "I do," she replied. Then she hit the buzzer and was admitted through the door.
It closed loudly behind her.
"I know your intentions are good, but maybe this is for the best?"
I looked at Wade on the screen of my Kimmunicator with the same skepticism I believed I gave Shego. It was preposterous that everyone thought I was so simple minded. Did they think I fought evil for six years on a whim?
"She's hiding something," I said back. "Something is wrong with all of this and we have to find out what it is."
"Something controlling Shego into throwing a trial? That's... got to be something huge." Wade blinked and shook his head. "I can't believe it hadn't already been discovered by the Feds or Global Justice."
I smiled at him. "You're better than all of them, so see if you can find what they missed." He nodded back. "And see if you can't find me a ride to Go City."
"Go City?" asked Wade. "What for?"
"I need to talk to her brothers," I said.
Author's Notes: NaNoWriMo starts in a few days... that sounds like a great time to start a new story I'll never finish! /sarcasm
*sigh* I do honestly wish I could finish the stories I write. I guess I'm just not very dedicated to my craft...
For the record, the genesis of this story comes from a synopsis I wrote but never published called 'Tears from a Rose'. It steals some ideas from other incomplete tales I've started to write, and comes with a heavy dose of mood from some music I've been listening to. Specifically, parts of this chapter were written to 'Breathe Again' and 'Chase The Sun' by Sara Bareilles.
Oh, and "Edward Brock" is not Venom. I hadn't actually realized what I had done there until I was editing...
Let's see if we can get a second chapter out at least, shall we?
Please leave a review if you've enjoyed this so far!