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graycardinal8 • Evil Has Membership Cards?
“Wake up, Kimmy! We wouldn’t want you to miss your excruciatingly painful demise!”
“Five more—” Kim tried to roll over and hit the snooze button, but for some reason her body wasn’t moving. And there was something wrong with her mother’s voice . . . “Shego!” she said, suddenly wide awake. “How about we skip the demise and get right to the part where I drop-kick you into next Tuesday?”
“I’d rather skip the excruciating pain,” came Ron’s voice from farther down the conveyor belt to which Kim found herself secured. “Hey? Where’s Rufus?”
“Right here,” replied Shego cheerfully, reaching backward to hold up a Plexiglas cylinder with a few air holes punched in its top. Inside, the little pink mole rat was chattering angrily. “All set with a prime ringside seat for your slicing and dicing.”
“Don’t forget the sugar-coating,” put in Dr. Drakken, from somewhere beyond Kim’s field of vision. “The sugar-coating is very important. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “Kim Possible is already so ridiculously sweet that she probably doesn’t need it.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Shego advised. “I hear Kimmy’s been walking on the spicy side lately – getting a taste for the real hot stuff. And I’m not talking about habaneros, if you know what I mean. Right, Kimmy?” She favored Kim with a conspiratorial leer.
Ron spoke before Kim could react. “I hope that made sense to you, because I’m, like, totally confused.”
“So am I,” Drakken said. “Shego, would you kindly explain yourself?”
“Go for it.” Kim, who was having no luck whatsoever in freeing herself, found herself in the rare position of agreeing with her arch-enemy. Also, it sounded like a good way to stall for time. “And be sure to include the part about offering me a blank-check favor in trade for doing some light reading.”
“You did WHAT??” Drakken’s tone was shocked. “Please don’t tell me we owe a professional favor to the – the bane of my very existence.”
Shego threw Kim a severely annoyed glance. “All right, I won’t. We don’t owe dear sweet Kimmy anything; the deal was strictly between her and me. Except little Kimmy here isn’t so sweet and innocent anymore. I didn’t think you had it in you,” she said, turning to gaze down at Kim with a slightly awed expression. “I went through sixteen keyboards in an hour working on the big Dave/Artie sex scene after reading those comments. You’re good!” She paused, realizing what she’d said. “In a depraved, evil sort of way, I mean.”
“I bow before the queen of Narbonic slash,” Kim said wryly. “Or – I would, if I weren’t a little tied up just now.”
“Nice try, Beta Goddess,” Shego said, chuckling nastily. “But there’s only one way you’re getting off that conveyor belt in one piece, and you know what it is.”
Kim laughed right back. “The day I need a favor from you to get out of one of Drakken’s death-traps – well, let’s not think about that right now.”
“In that case, Kim Possible,” Drakken cut in, “prepare to meet your doom – I left all the design details on today’s trap to Shego!”
Uh-oh, Kim thought silently. “Do tell,” she said aloud.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Shego said. “Item: one conveyor belt, leading to the vats where chopped fruit is candied and sent on to be stirred into the fruitcake batter. Item: ninety-six incredibly sharp one-point-five inch steel blades, stabbing down on said conveyor belt in incredibly intricate computer-controlled patterns, dicing the fresh fruit into hundreds of uniformly sized pieces and incidentally doing the same to two supremely annoying pains in the rear. Oh, yes, and item: your precious techno-geek can watch the whole thing live on Kimmy-vision.” She gestured upward; following her pointing finger, Kim saw the Kimmunicator high overhead, cabled securely to the underside of a catwalk, with Wade’s face peering worriedly out of it. “One false move from that thing, and I’ll blast it into lovely green sparkles before any of you can stop me.”
“I don’t know, Kim,” said Ron, sounding worried. “I say maybe we do need a favor from Shego to get out of this.”
Kim tried to sound reassuring. “Hang in there, Ron; it’ll work out. What I want to know is – why fruitcake? It’s not like anyone actually eats it.”
“That, my dear,” Dr. Drakken said, “is the beauty of my scheme – they don’t need to eat it. I’ve added a special formula to the candying vat so that the candied fruit will give off an undetectable timed-release mind control gas after it’s delivered. We’ll merely send dozens of special fruitcakes to world leaders across the globe, pretending to be from their grandmothers – and once they’ve been exposed to the gas, they’ll all be mine to command!” He launched into a gleefully triumphant mad-scientific laugh.
“But what about us?” demanded Ron.
“Oh, we’ll send fruitcakes to your families, too,” Drakken said airily. “I’m sure at least part of you will be home in time for Christmas. A very small part.”
“Eeeuuwwwwwww,” Ron said feelingly. “And I don’t even like fruitcake!”
Kim, meanwhile, was still wriggling in her restraints to no effect – and the micro-lasers Wade had built into her outfit didn’t seem to be working, either. Shego eyed her prisoner, clearly amused, and produced a plastic bag full of tiny metal disks which she dangled inches above Kim’s bound right hand. “Looking for these? Kind of hard to power a micro-laser without batteries.” With an effortless toss, she flipped the bag into her hand and made a fiery green fist, causing the energy cells to flare and evaporate in a shower of sparks.
“Not to worry,” Kim said, trying not to let her face show her growing alarm. “I was wiping the floor with you long before I got fancy hardware.”
“And I’ll be wiping what’s left of you off the floor in just a few minutes,” Shego retorted. “Oh, you could play your Get Out of Death Free card – but I’m thinking when word gets out that the great Kim Possible had to beg me to save her from her own inescapable doom, the saving-the-world gigs will kind of start drying up. Of course,” she added thoughtfully, “you could always reform and start playing on our team. Anyone with the taste to appreciate The Bad, the Worse, and the Fuzzy can’t be all goody-goody . . . .”
“You wish!” Kim said – then paused, her eye caught by a split-second flash from overhead. She glanced up at the Kimmunicator, acknowledging Wade’s tiny, quiet expression, then took a deep breath. “Besides, I don’t have a Get Out of Death Free card.”
Shego blinked. “Huh? Okay, color me confused. I may be a card-carrying minion of evil, but I’m honest – you gave me the beta, you get the favor. Unless you’d rather be fruitcake chow . . . .”
“Evil has membership cards?” Ron piped up. “I didn’t know that!”
“Not now, Ron,” Kim told him firmly. Then she looked Shego in the eye. “That beta came from my mother – which means you owe her a blank-check favor, not me. You want to take bets on what she’ll ask for if she finds out you turned us into fruitcake?”
“Your – mother?” Shego’s expression was completely stunned. All the green highlights had washed out of her face, and the energy-auras around her hands had vanished completely. “You didn’t read--?”
“Not a word,” Kim told her. “Slash is so not my thing.”
Shego was shaking her head in disbelief. “Your – mother.”
“Enough!” That was Dr. Drakken, pushing Shego aside and angrily striding forward into Kim’s line of sight. “We’re wasting time. Activate the fruit conveyor! And goodbye forever, Kim Possible!”
Machinery rumbled to life, and the steel chopping blades flashed downward.
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