“So what do you tell them?”
The Crooked Hook: Providence, Rhode Island
July 10, 2007: 10:28PM
A middle-aged, heavyset man with a handlebar mustache grinned, taking a swig from his glass of whiskey. “I tell them that I’m a traveling salesman. So far, I haven’t had any problems.”
“Gee, Bob, and you’ve been in the business for how long? Don’t tell me…six years?” an equally large man with sunken cheeks responded, leaning up agains the bar eagerly. His whiskey glass more or less full.
“Yep,” Bob said proudly, leaning back in his chair at the booth, soaking in the music. Classic country songs by Tim McGraw and Faith Hill were the selected tunes for the tavern that evening. Good times. “And what do you tell your family, Carl?”
“Oh, um, heh,” Carl said, forcing a smile. “Don’t have one anymore.”
Bob turned around, looking into Carl’s shimmering eyes. “Wow, I’m sorry—I didn’t know that. What happened, man? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“D-don’t mind at all. During the whole, uh, Li’l Diablo’s thing, I kinda freaked. Usually, you try to relocate them somewhere safe. Like, say he wants to raise the ocean level, well that’s a family vacation to La Rinconada…”
“Peru. Highest city in the world.”
“Yeah, but anyways, when the big guy wants to launch a global attack on the world, I-I mean, where do you bring your family then? I told them everything, and well…” Carl put his glass down and leaned his head up against his hands.
“That’s rough, man,” Bob frowned, squirming a little as he watched his fellow colleague break down right there in front of him. “Uh,” he grunted, reaching out towards Carl, placing a rough hand on his shoulder. “You can do it.”
“What?” Carl asked suddenly, his shock completely overriding his sadness.
“We’re not there yet, are we?” Bob asked before retracting his hand. Carl shook his head. He took a swig from his whiskey, then looked up at the television screen above them. “Well would you look at that?”
A brilliant, orange explosion tore through a helicopter. Two shadows descended from the blast, falling quickly, and then stopping for a moment. A parachute, perhaps? They continued to fall, and then finally came into clear picture. A girl with auburn hair and emerald eyes, confidently making her aerial descent, holding onto a cowering elderly man in a tuxedo with one strong arm. Her blond-haired brown-eyed companion was a little less calm, holding her free hand, and using his other hand to shield his eyes from the drop.
“There they are,” Bob mused, smiling at the screen.
Carl sat up in his chair, folding his hands neatly together. Those two kids. He was well acquainted with both…at least with their fists. He looked away from the screen, down at the stain covered tabletop.
“Yep. That’s them alright.”
Yamanouchi Ninja School: Yamanouchi, Japan
July 14, 2007: 3:28PM
“First, to defeat your enemy, there are two things you must know…”
THWACK! Two hands smacked against a wooden staff, two hands that nearly made contact with Master Sensei, a short man with many years under his belt. Sensei twirled the staff, knocking his two competitors away: Kim Possible and her partner, Ron Stoppable.
“Knowing seventeen different style of martial arts is not one of them,” Sensei said bluntly, watching the passing clouds overhead. Kim looked over at Ron, and gave him a quick nod, and ran off to her left, circling around Sensei.
Which one is that again? Ron thought, Aw man, can’t we use hand signals or something… He sighed and ran forward, leaping into the air, somersaulting his way into a dropkick. But once again, his attack only met wood, not flesh. Sensei flicked his staff upwards, launching Ron into the air, tumbling backwards into Kim.
“Ron!” Kim whispered, jumping back to her feet, dragging Ron up with her. She turned, staring him down for a silent moment. Ron bowed his head, that stare was not something he could ever deal with, especially in a fight.
“Watch my six!” Kim shouted, charging towards Sensei.
“Wait, is that your front or your behind?” Ron shouted back, checking his watch-less wrist. “Aw man.”
“You must know your enemy,” Sensei began, blocking each of Kim’s punches and kicks with his staff, almost thoughtlessly. Kim grimaced back, moving faster, her usual patterns falling off standard into something more erratic. Finally, one punch made it past the staff, but missed its target completely. Sensei slammed his pole forward into Kim’s chest, knocking her flat on her back.
“And you must know yourself,” Sensei ended with finality, his body still as ever.
Kim looked up at the ancient warrior, jaw hanging open, fishing for a comeback. That’s it? Know ourselves? She pushed herself back to her feet and finally found the needed words for the given sitch. “With all due respect–”
“Wooooow, Sensei,” Ron said excitedly, “That’s some bon-diggity advice right there! Who’s got it going on? That’s right! Sensei does! KP, did you bring a pen?”
Rolling her eyes, Kim ran forward, swinging again at Sensei. His staff moved up, blocking each of her blows and as usual, only Sensei’s arms moved. Her bare hands and feet were both beginning to bruise and take in splinters from the rough wood so she finally changed up her style; her hands reached out and grabbed the pole.
A flicker from underneath Sensei’s magnificent beard. Perhaps a smirk. Finally, the man decided to move.
She turned both of her arms to the left, flipping the staff from a horizontal position into a vertical one, throwing Sensei off of the staff and into the air. He flipped mid-flight, landing on the ground gracefully, unharmed. Kim readied the pole as Ron continued to watch from twenty feet away.
Suddenly, Sensei was on the move. For a man who had previously fought so gracefully and nimbly, he was now more like a tank; his steps heavy, his force relentless, and his determination terrifying. His fists pounded towards her. She managed to block the first two strikes, but his next strike snapped the staff in half, and the second blow knocked her right back to the ground again.
“Okay, Sensei!” Ron shouted with false bravado, nervously clapping his hands together. “Great game and all, but uh–”
Sensei caught the fallen pieces of wood and launched himself into the air, the splintered ends of the wood aimed at Kim’s head.
“Sensei?” Ron squeaked, his eyes widening.
No signs of Sensei stopping as he rocketed down.
A flash of blue.
Suddenly two blue-tinged hands were clutching onto the wood inches above Kim’s head. Sensei looked up, his eyes finally unearthing themselves from underneath his droopy eyebrows. Ron’s brown, friendly eyes that Sensei had grown accustomed to over the past two years were now sapphire and angry.
Ron tossed the halves of the pole off to the side, and then smashed both of his fists into the ground. His legs swung up, nailing Sensei in the chest, sending him rocketing across the campus. Thankfully, one of the bamboo walls halted his flight, but wasn’t strong enough to stand tall and collapsed on top of Sensei.
“Oops,” Ron sighed as he slumped over, the blue glow around him fading. He felt a familiar touch brush against his right shoulder. He looked up and saw Kim looking at him with that understanding gaze of hers.
Hana Pond: Yamanouchi, Japan
July 14, 2007: 5:02PM
“I messed up, KP,” Ron sighed, watching the clean water wash over his feet. He looked over to his right, waiting for a response from Kim. Usually she was a bit faster on the uptake, this time she was looking off into space. Ron looked away from her quietly, gazing back into the river, the same stream that he had brought his adopted sister to after Sensei dropped the “Han is the ultimate weapon bomb.” He felt the same way that he did that day; burdensome and disappointed.
“We all make mistakes, Ron,” Kim responded finally, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Sensei was hoping for a reaction from you.”
“Yes, Ron,” Kim replied, turning to face him. “He needs to know just how powerful you are, now he does.”
“You’re probably right,” he mused, getting to his feet and stepping into the stream only ankle deep in water. “KP, maybe we should—uh…how do I say this?” he asked himself, rubbing the back of his neck, looking up at the overcast sky.
“We’re not breaking up, Ron,” Kim replied flatly.
“But Kim!” Ron started, turning towards her, hands in the air. “This has happened before! And it’s only happened when you’re in danger. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but y’know, I…I care about you, KP. You’re my whole world, and whenever something bad happens, I start freak fighting, I–”
“Ron,” Kim interrupted, her voice sharp. He paused, looking at her, a little hurt. Kim held her disapproving frown for the moment, and then let it sink into a smile. “You just have to learn to control your power. It’s going to be okay.”
“I dunno, KP. You’re about to go across the world for college to do——ehhhhh…” Ron groaned. He wasn’t supposed to bring that up. At the end of summer, Kim was flying to Europe for college at a prestigious university, but with an undeclared major. It was weird. KP always had a plan. It was weird that she was leaving so much behind to do the “to be announced.”
Kim frowned. Ron quickly recovered.
“And I’m going to Lowerton Community College to also——ehhhh!” Ron joked. He flashed a smile. Kim forced one back. Good enough. “I’m just worried what it will be like using my powers when you’re gone.”
Kim got up and stepped to where Ron was in the stream, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Silence. She was hoping for some joke about how evil monkeys are for bringing him into this monkey magic situation.
“Kim,” Ron started, his voice quavering. “I hurt them. Warmonga and Warhok, I really hurt them. They’re gone now, and I—wow, I sentenced them.”
They had never gone in-depth into the Lowardian Sitch. She knew what happened to the two warlords, she saw the explosion the ship made when it connected with the two alien bodies. But he had looked so calm after the boom; she had always assumed it was a non-issue for him. Regardless, it was something that was doomed to eventually come up, and it was not going to be a fun conversation.
“Ron, you did what you had to do. You had to take out a ship that was about to crash into the Earth. A lot of people would have been hurt–”
“KP, stop. Please,” Ron sighed, “You’re only saying that because it’s me, I know how you feel about the whole killing thing.”
Kim stepped away from Ron, surveying the waterfall yards away from them. She knew how they could have gotten around it, but was it the right time to say? No but she couldn’t just not tell him. “If we had more time, we could have maybe used those alien walkers to our advantage. Drakken’s plants could have made a trip-line between walkers, making a giant net for the ship to pass through, hopefully it would be enough to at least slow it down into a non-explosive entry.”
Kim folded her arms together and frowned. Ever since what happened with the Lowardians went down it had been really tough. Things changed fast. Because of Ron’s newfound powers, they have been tasked with so many more missions. All of them were so much more intense than anything Drakken or Dementor had thrown at them. One week they’re handling hostage situations in New York, the next week they’re undercover spies in a war. Getting Ron up to speed had been so hard. His relationship with Kim made it even more complicated. Maybe it would be easier if they weren’t together? No. She was being selfish. This was hard on her too but she had to be strong for her Ron.
Kim tensed up, suddenly noticing the hurt expression of Ron’s face. She did it again.
“But Drakken was out of sight, and I was unconscious. It was you versus two aliens who could give Steel Toe and Pain King a run for their money. There weren’t many options left,” Kim forced a smile.
Ron looked to the water; he hadn’t even considered any of that. He could only remember wanting to save Kim. Now it all seemed so obvious.
“Hey, what about that ‘Great Blue’ Warmonga was looking for?” Ron asked, granting the Great Blue the honor of air quotes. “We could have helped them find him in exchange for leaving us alone.”
Kim spun around, one fist in the air. “One,” Kim started, raising her index finger. “I doubt they had good intentions with that search, and two,” she raised a second finger up. “Ron, you’re probably The Great Blue they were talking about.”
“Ooooooooh! Why didn’t anybody tell me?!” Ron screamed, clutching his head. “Man, I thought that—wow. I’m the guy they were looking for? And I threw them into a spaceship? Some welcoming!”
“Ron!” Kim said, her voice slightly raised. Ron quieted down. “Killing is bad, and there’s almost always a way around it. But that day there wasn’t, and you saved the world. And that’s good, now we just need to figure out your powers so something like that doesn’t happen again.”
Ron nodded his head slowly, lowering himself onto a rock sticking out of the water. “If I was The Great Blue, how come they didn’t realize that was me?” Ron pointed out.
“Uh, maybe because Warmonga mistook Drakken’s shampoo ad to be the makings of The Great Blue. These guys weren’t the brightest we’ve ran into,” Kim snarked, sitting on a nearby rock across Ron. Finally, she could relax. She knew how to work this part of Ron.
“Yeah,” Ron said, smiling at his girlfriend. “We haven’t heard from Drakken in a while,” he noted matter-of-factly. “Wonder what he’s up to. Probably some take over the world vanity project.”
“Ron,” Kim rolled her eyes, “Drakken and Shego are reformed. You saw the U.N. Conference.”
Drakken and Shego. Proof why heroes shouldn’t kill people. Sure, they had fought for years against one another as arch-foes, but now they had finally had their change of heart. They saved the world, and they had the resources to continue doing that. They had been off the grid for the past few months but they were probably taken a vacation from everything. Although with everything that had been happening lately, it would be really nice to have them fighting alongside Team Possible…
“Oh come on, KP,” Ron sighed, beginning to list off their crimes, raising a digit for each act of evil. “Canceled Naco Night, tried to steal Christmas, stole Felix’s wheelchair, uh…he melted that cheese covered building.”
“Oh Golly No!” Kim interrupted in her best Wisconsin drawl, “That building was actually made out of pure Wisconsin Swiss,” Kim explained, remembering the Cheese Flood incident too well.
“No way! That’s even worse! Cheese is not just something you can waste, KP.”
“Riiiiight, you need it to drench all of your Nacos.”
“Exactly!” Ron cried out, “Thank you! Someone finally gets me.”
Kim laughed. That was her Ron. There was a bumpy road ahead, what with all the training Sensei had for them, but for now, they could rest. So not the drama.
“Through Big Daddy Brotherson, we were able to find great connections to other businesses, and we learned some great silly games to use as training exercises!”
“It Was a Tuesday tested really well with audiences for your memoir.”
“Ooh! Nyergh. Mm…”
“And the money we got from the Drakkanada copyright went to—”
“We sold that?!”
Drakken’s Lair: The Atlantic Ocean
July 15, 2007: 6:13AM
Drakken looked up from his blueprints and stared at his longtime Villainy Consultant, Hank Perkins, credited with such delightful schemes such as Hank’s Gourmet Cupcakes. Getting the Peace Prize from the U.N. had been such a drag. No more thievery…er…outsourcing of equipment for this bad doctor anymore.
Everything had to be done legit, meaning he had to bring the temp guy back in. Hank Perkins had done wonders for Drakken before so he seemed like a good fit. Although Hank didn’t fully understand Drakken’s so-called vision.
“Well, Doctor Demenz offered us a three million dollar deal for the name,” Hank chirped up without being fazed.
“Demenz?!” Drakken cried out. “He knew if I couldn’t rename it Drakkanada then there was no point in me taking over that country! Think Hank!” Drakken slumped over the table before him. On it was a hologram of the evil lair he currently resided in. It looked like a giant lantern. The new lair was built at the bottom of the ocean. Drakken glared at the project, then looked up to Hank.
“The whole point of this scheme is to annihilate the East Coast!” Drakken cried out.
“Well, by our estimations, the United States has more value to us than Canada, we just have to go back to our mission statement and rethink–”
“I WANT DRAKKANADA!” Drakken screamed, kicking the table. Immediately, he started rubbing his temple.
This was it. The time to shine.
Carl, our mook friend from the bar, looked away from his monitor and over to Drakken. He had heard about the Drakkanada sale at the water cooler the previous day and you wouldn’t believe how long it had took him to think of a good Drakken pun.
“What about Kazdrakkenstan?“ Carl asked casually, knowing that it was an awesome name for a country.
“Ooh!” Drakken cried out as visions of grandeur immediately filled his brain.
“Sorry, Carl, but you have to be in the Writer’s Guild of Mooks to work above-the-line here,” Hank said coolly.
Carl forced a smile and nodded. He should’ve known. Hank always had a workaround to everything.
Hank smiled at Carl a little too long. Something felt off. Carl raised his eyebrow at Hank and at that moment he finally saw Hank break that precious character of his.
No one else saw it, but Hank narrowed his eyes and that friendly smile turned into an evil smirk. Hank knew what Carl was up to. Blast you, Hank. Leave it to the temp to ruin everything.
“Oh another union thing?” Drakken moaned. “Fine.”
Meanwhile, the doors to the meeting room slid open. A hunched over Shego, wrapped up in a bathrobe, passed by the center table, and went straight for the coffee pot. Drakken watched her eagerly with a smile as she passed through, hoping she would say “Good morning, Dr. D!” for once.
The U.N. thing had probably hit Shego more than anyone. She couldn’t find any freelance work anymore now that the whole world knew her part in the world saving scheme. Both she and Drakken needed to prove just how bad they really were by doing what they do worst: Getting back at Kim Possible and her…buffoon…for working with them to save the world. And maybe conquering Europe.
Seeing Shego gave Drakken confidence. He raised his hand over the hologram of the generator, and then looked to his mook colleagues. “And now, my friends, I present to you our greatest triumph!”
“Drakken, these guys gotta take a lunch break soon,” Hank said, pointing at his watch.
“But they’re not Union!” Drakken cried out.
“Stevens is,” Hank frowned. They needed Union guys so they could get money from everyone’s dues, but it definitely had caused some problems.
Stevens, a longtime member of Drakken’s, finger-gunned at the bad doctor, “Sorry, Doctor D-Diggity-Dawg.”
Drakken shook his head. “We’ve gotta lose Stevens. Anyways, world domination yadda yadda reigning supreme blah blah all that but she’s not.”
Drakken slammed on the hologram and a brilliant tidal wave burst from the generator. It surged across the ocean waters, coming in fast towards the East Coast, but before it made contact it puttered away into nothingness.
Drakken blinked and threw his hands in the air, about to erupt into one of his infamous tantrums when something amazing happened.
Shego passed by Drakken, tossing her now empty mug towards the thug at the sink. Still fatigued from her night’s rest, her eyes remained half-open as she neared the table. She poked the blueprints of the generator, and dragged one piece of the scanned image to a lower part of the machine. Her hand rose and smacked down on the hologram. This time, the wave it generated was reading at a solid 9.6.
The devastation the coastline suffered was brilliant.
“Good call, Shego! High-five!” Drakken exclaimed proudly, raising one hand, all five fingers splayed out when—
Nothing. As usual, he was left hanging. Not surprising.
“Can we turn the heat up, Dr. D? It’s freezing in here,” Shego groaned.
“Uh, Shego,” Drakken replied, twiddling his fingers. “Heat’s expensive, and–”
“Oh, now she has to go off and make a scene.” Drakken smacked his hand against his forehead, all heads turned to him. “Don’t you have a lunch break or something?”
Stevens wiped his forehead. “Phew, for a second there, I thought I was going to have to dock you a meal penalty—“ Drakken immediately turned, his icy gaze burrowing into Stevens’ mind. “Um, hah, yeah, that was a joke, I would never, um…”
Stevens trailed off, walking away to lunch with the other mooks. Hank looked at them, then took a step closer to Drakken, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Can I offer you some advice?”
“No,” Drakken grunted, gently removing Hank from his shoulder.
“The greatest barrier to success is the fear of failure. Your issue with Shego, if I may, sir, is you let her fall out of line. Treat her like the Chief Operating Officer of Random Mayhem that she is and you act like the Executive of Evil that you are, and you could really get her to–”
Drakken opened his mouth to say something when he spotted a better opportunity: that one mook. What’s his name again?
“Oh, Brian!” Drakken called out. All of the minions turned around; they were used to not being called by their real names. “Um,” Drakken blinked. “The guy who came up with Kazdrakkenstan.”
Carl stepped forward. “No problem, sir. The name’s Carl.”
“Charles?” Drakken asked, raising an eyebrow. I didn’t know we had a Charles…
“Hm. Nice to meet you, Jimmy,” Drakken hurried, “Walk with me. Talk with me.”
The two turned around and headed towards the door. Carl turned around at the last second and narrowed his eyes, offering a smirk to Hank. Hank’s posture finally snapped as the hungry little temp hunched over, grinding his teeth like some kind of monster. The metal door slid open and shut behind Carl and Drakken as they entered a new wing of the evil lair.
The West Wing: Drakken’s Lair
July 15, 2007: 6:17AM
The two emerged into an open space, a hallway that wrapped around the entirety of the base. A glass wall separated them from the outside world, giving them an amazing view of the ocean floor around them. Not far out enough for the ocean to drop into the Abyssopelagic level; they got to look at pleasant blue waters.
“How am I doing?” Drakken asked, resting an arm against the glass.
“With what?” Carl asked plainly. Super villainy was a tough job and held a lot of pressures; people who ticked off their bosses usually ended up facing death rays or unknown trap doors.
“Y’know…” Drakken started, his teeth grinding. “Eeeeeevil…” he muttered, trying to be discreet.
“Oh! Oh! I…” Carl shouted, catching his volume and bringing it down. “Yeah, boss, you’re completely evil. I’m shaking, really!”
“That’s good,” the bad doctor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Shego always throws me off, not that I’m interested in her, mind you.”
“Of course,” Carl said dryly.
“I’m glad we’re on the same understanding, Jimmy.” Drakken turned to face the glass again.
“It’s Carl,” Carl uttered with aggression. Not usual for Carl. Drakken turned back, his right eyebrow arched upwards.
“Ah, I’m enlightened,” Drakken drawled, walking past Carl. “That was fun and all, but I think I left my Bunsen burner on at the lab.”
The doors slid open and Drakken took his first step back into the meeting room.
This is your chance, Carl. C’mon. Speak up.
“You know what would be really evil, boss?” Carl asked, forcing a smirk that was very unlike him onto his face.
The doors snapped shut.
“What?” Drakken asked, looking back to Carl.
“What if you set up two earthquake generators, but the one here was a dud?” Carl explained, his arms crossed.
“What–” Drakken started.
“Bring Kim Possible and the Buffoon here, then set off the actual generator where it will hit them the hardest.”
“Um…Global Justice Headquarters?” Drakken stuttered, his body tensing up.
“No. Middleton, Colorado, y’know, where the two of them live. Hide it in one of your timeshare labs.”
A very heavy pause passed between them. Drakken wasn’t sure how to react. On one hand, he wasn’t aware that his men were capable of stringing together a sentence. On the other hand, the plan was so deliciously twisted. On the other other hand, there was a way to go about doing these things. And this was a little…dark.
“What is wrong with you?” Drakken finally spat at Carl, fuming. “Sicko! Lure them all the way here just to destroy Middleton?” He whipped out his phone, beginning to dial a number. “I’m getting you a therapist, kid!”
“But it’s not a bad idea,” a cold, female voice replied. From around the corner came Shego, geared up in her uniform, plasma radiating off of her hands. “I like it. Sure it’s dark, but it gets the job done. What do you think, Dr. D?”
“No way,” Drakken pouted. He looked from Carl to Shego warily. They both looked pretty confident in the new plan. “Oh come on!”
“It’s a good plan,” Carl sneered.
“Alright, you’re doing way too much talking,” Shego muttered and threw a plasma bolt at the goon. He jumped backwards, narrowly evading the blast that knocked chunks out of the floor.
“But–” Carl started.
“See, the reason I get away with it is because he has a crush on me.” “I do not!” “Shut it. You? Last time I checked, Dr. D doesn’t have a thing for gross looking ape-men. Now do one hundred laps around the base,” Shego said. Her eyes narrowed and the goon was suddenly out of there, running as fast as his legs could carry him.
While completely breaking the spirit of Kim Possible and the buffoo—Ron Stoppable, in addition to probably killing them afterwards, was something that he definitely did not want to accomplish as an evil minion, it was his out. The job would be over, there would be no more reason to keep fighting. He could leave. He could rebuild his family.
The nightmare was almost over.