Chapter Text
I stood before the mirror again, getting dressed. Shego stood behind me, huffing with displeasure. It was like the first time, as if a hero was coming to see me for the first time. Well, unlike those costumed clowns, I had high hopes for Kim. She might be self-taught, but she has a natural talent. Plus, she has a damn computer genius helping her. What's his name... Wade, I think? That guy is incredibly good. I swear, if I hadn't brought programming experience from my previous world, he would have hacked my systems in a couple of minutes. Luckily, I wasn't sleeping then and was able to react promptly. Honestly, I didn't know I had such holes in my security system. Talent. Prodigy! It's even a shame that he's exclusively on the "bright side"; we villains would definitely find such a person useful.
So, having suffered defeat, this little genius was forced to retreat. To retreat, only to shamelessly hack the Organization's databases a few dozen minutes later. And those fools didn't even notice! It's like a revolving door: villains are snooping around, then assistants of other heroes. Although I like his determination, maybe all is not lost?
— Drakken, do we really need to prepare our outfits so meticulously? — the skepticism emanating from Shego seemed palpable.
— Don't start, my devoted assistant; we must be irresistible. Especially when a rising star of superheroics is rushing to see us! — I replied, adjusting another suit with green patterns. Honestly, at first, it was just my whim, but Shego likes them so much, and we look so harmonious together that I couldn't resist and ordered a couple more from Sergei Semenovich. We're practically a criminal duo! Like Bonnie and Clyde! Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde! Like Biba and Bobba! *Ahem*... Something went off track there.
— I don't understand what you found so special in her? — the dark-haired beauty grumbled, — Just another upstart. "Kim can do anything," how arrogant! And we've taken down plenty like her. By the way, why a costume again?
— If cats looked like toads, we would quickly understand how disgusting, cruel, and cunning these animals actually are. But there's a nuance. Style. That's what people love and remember. A magnificent scoundrel is forgiven their negative character, — I remarked importantly, turning to my assistant who was pondering my words.
— But there are Sphynx cats; not everyone likes them, — she suddenly observed.
— Sphynxes, my dear, are the embodiment of Evil! Many have a nasty disposition, just like all cats, but they look horrendous. Although I like them. Set a reminder to buy a Sphynx!
— Why do you need a Sphynx? — Shego sighed wearily, making a note on her phone. Yes, I finally got tense and got smartphones for myself, Shego, and Norman. My assistant, an energetic person, proudly carried it around for almost a week, beaming with happiness, — After meetings with Mr. Cheshire, you'll have a runny nose and watery eyes all day.
— Just imagine: heroes come to see me, you greet them with a mocking phrase, and I, having been facing away from them until then, turn around dramatically, stroking this embodiment of Evil! — I dreamily described my thoughts to her, — And as for the allergy—we'll figure something out!
— Drakken, we are not getting a Sphynx for our base just because of your whim.
— Oh, please, Shego, just look how horrid they are! — I tried to use the same tactic as a famous Cat. My assistant faltered perceptibly but quickly recovered.
— No, — she's a damn rock! How could she resist?
— Eh, alright, you're right. A pet, like a migrant worker. You have to feed it, water it, take care of it so it doesn't break anything. Only in a more complicated version, — Shego just smiled in response and patted me encouragingly on the head. Apparently, for the right thoughts. Hmm, I wonder if she'll object if I turn all our henchmen into cats? I should ask Cheshire how he managed to concoct whatever he did to himself.
I rubbed my recently bruised elbow. Yes, despite the horrific effectiveness of the "Yarn of Fate," it had to be turned off. Otherwise, not only heroes but also villains themselves start trembling in terror at my very name. How did this happen? In fact, this week was quite eventful. But let's take it one step at a time.
***
I had just left the Evil Ruler's office (he could also use a course with Cheshire), lost in deep thought. The Yarn had performed exceptionally well. So well, in fact, that the villains themselves asked for it to be turned off, as it not only disturbed the heroes but also them. They simply arrived at meetings with villains very tired, without their usual swagger and theatricality. Information about my manipulations somehow leaked to the public. I suspect some hero left presents at my base. And now the Geneva Convention prohibits manipulations of probability. I, by the way, am also banned by the convention.
And I wouldn't care if it weren't for my colleagues. And it started to affect me noticeably too. Recently, I noticed I've been bumping into things more often. I dug into the "Yarn's" settings to figure out what was going on and discovered that they had spread to myself. And I couldn't edit it in any way. And that was frightening.
I suppose it's all about metaphysics. And what's so special about it, you ask? Let me share my thoughts. Look at the world around me. There is very little cruelty here. Even industrial injuries are very rare. So, some metaphysical philosophers have identified such a concept as the Soul of the World. A kind of pseudo-living entity, endowed with aspirations and feelings, but lacking a full intellect. And this Soul regulates everything happening within its sphere of activity. And I, having likely perished in that world, was drawn here due to a worldview suitable for this reality.
In other words, everyone here plays by the Rules. Heroes don't kill or punish villains, and villains don't arrange exterminatus. I, with my invention, slightly stepped outside these rules. For which I received a metaphysical "slap on the nose" from the World in the form of expanded probabilities concerning myself. By the way, this opposition can often be observed in my colleagues. Many of them try to enslave this world in every way. Well, these classic 5G towers, neuro-programming chips, etc. And there's always a hero who will undoubtedly win. And if he can't, something will definitely go wrong.
And while I played by the Rules, my antics were stunningly successful. So I turned off the Yarn, as I was frankly afraid to hand it over to my colleagues for refinement. Not all of them adhere to my life's position. And I'm sure if they got my device, they'd find a way to outsmart the World Soul. Oh, a quarter! See? A reward for the right thoughts.
Eh, but I had such hopes for this wonder! Just imagine: a zipper coming undone at the most crucial moment; ubiquitous sticking threads or the peculiar itchiness of wool clothing. Ouch! Almost tripped. Well, alas, for now, the "Yarn" will go for refinement. Perhaps, if the global action is removed and replaced with a localized one, it will be permissible. Eh, here's the flip side of genius scientists.
***
A couple of days after my return from the League's headquarters, I discovered It while rummaging through various databases and stolen lab journals with my grabby paws. An Ionic Cleaner. This device turned all organic matter into pure energy, and I realized I needed this baby.
Norman is no longer young, and someone has to wash the dishes. And I decided that we would have a fancy dishwasher. It's only a matter of time before my colleagues discover it, and then predictably steal it. Well, then you know the scenario: an attempted world domination; "valiant" heroes, reacting suspiciously on time; good triumphs over evil, and all that. But I'm different! This device will serve me well.
So, I ordered my little fairies to steal it. Speaking of them. I liked the public's reaction to the appearance of my uncouth, rough vandals in pink tutus so much that I decided to make it my permanent calling card. Of course, I'm against cross-dressing, but for every "public appearance" in such an outfit, they received appropriate compensation equal to the quarterly salary of an average person. I had to pay for the image. Besides, although I could have hired more qualified henchmen (my reputation was truly villainous now) and even planned to do so, I couldn't give up these imps, who reminded me of my homeland in this foreign land. Sergei Semenovich got so into his vampire theme that he's out of the question. And these little devils are now literally basking in the attention. And after a raid, they always snatch something for their boss.
Of course, not everything went smoothly, but my diligent and not-so-smart henchmen still delivered the Ionic Cleaner home. The research institute they broke into at night, however, was engulfed in flames. I don't know what kind of rationalist tried to mix "colored flasks" to ruin all the local research, but among the reagents, there was something very flammable. Good thing no one was hurt. If my new dishwasher had been damaged, they would have been scrubbing dishes for an eternity.
You might say, "Drakken, why do you need this thing when you could have made a normal dishwasher?" And I'll tell you. I'm a villain! And my dishwasher should be appropriate, villainous, and preferably incredibly fancy. Image, reputation. Besides, why should I waste my time when I can just... I meant, get external investment. Not the most voluntary, alas, but such is the fate of investors.
Now the kitchen door was locked no worse than my labs, because my fairies might get curious: "What's this thing the boss ordered us to steal? Gotta push the buttons and stick our heads in." In short, for their own safety, if the code access was entered incorrectly, pepper spray would be sprayed into their eyes from a hidden dispenser. By the way, I decided to adopt it myself as a last resort weapon. What? Self-destruct buttons? No, no, no, I can always restore my possessions, even if heroes try to break or confiscate them. But if neither my Freezenator nor my Shrinker (yes, I decided to rename it so as not to be under the sword of Damocles in the form of a platypus) can handle it, then I'll have my ace in the hole. A pepper ace. Just imagine: a hero triumphantly kicks away my invented cannons, and then—bam!—a burning cloud penetrates all his mucous membranes. What a cunning weapon.
***
Kim looked through the binoculars again, then checked her PDA. It wasn't entirely clear where Wade got the data on Dr. Drakken's base location (he kept changing the subject or staying silent), but the photo he found didn't match reality at all. Not at all! The photo showed a gloomy, but quite modern tower on a lonely island off the coast. Of course, the dark tones and orange windows left no doubt about its owner's worldview. But what stood there now… Painted coal-black, sheathed in countless spikes, piercing the very heavens, the tower loomed over the island like a spider. And that huge eye, blazing with orange, seemed to survey the surrounding waters as its undisputed domain.
No, Kim certainly knew about the eccentricity of villains. But to this extent! And she was also terribly annoyed by Ron's calmness, who was screaming as if he were being slaughtered alive when she told him they were going here. Even Rufus, the naked mole rat, who was her best friend's pet, reacted more calmly. Although he was surprisingly intelligent for a pet, nonetheless. Now Ron was just eating.
— Ron! Can you stop eating? And where did you get the food?! — the red-haired, green-eyed girl couldn't hold back and snapped at her friend.
— I'm just eating my stress, Kim. Besides, we've been riding here on jet skis for so long and spent so many calories that I simply must replenish them, — Ron replied phlegmatically, crunching on something suspicious that looked like nachos, — And I thoughtfully brought the food with me. Who goes visiting without a gift, anyway?
— Ron... We're going to a villain's lair, not visiting! Damn it, just look at this tower! — To emphasize her point, she even pointed at the black spire. The Eye seemed to wink approvingly, — Dr. Drakken stole the Ionic Cleaner from a secure laboratory and is surely already setting it up to destroy all life! All over the world, Ron!
— T-to a v-v-villain? — her friend froze, still not bringing the nachos to his mouth. From fear, he began to stutter, — I-I don't want to go to a villain! We didn't agree to this!
— Ron, I told you about this this morning, when Wade managed to find out something, — it seems her loyal companion's brain simply preferred to erase this traumatic memory to continue functioning normally.
— Even if so, Kim, why are we charging at one of the most... um... effective villains of our time? Maybe we should start with someone simpler. You know, petty thugs and stuff? — Ron was evasive. Kim gave him a reproachful look. Rufus, poking out of her pocket, did too.
— Ron... there's no time, he's already stolen the Ionic Cleaner. It's only a matter of time before he sets it up and starts wiping all living things off the face of the earth, — Kim's gaze returned to the tower. For some reason, she imagined that this terrible eye was nodding approvingly at her.
— Eh... Well, wherever you go, I go too, you know. But you'll owe me a week of lunches at Bueno Nachos! — Kim never understood her friend's love for Mexican cuisine, but she agreed it was a paltry price. After all, despite all his cowardice, Ron was her loyal companion and often provided invaluable support on missions. She had been a hero for almost a year now, but she had never fought real villains. Only petty robbers, pyramid scheme fraudsters, and hooligans. However, her more experienced hero colleagues had mixed feelings about villains. But they all agreed on one thing: all villains are quite insane.
Her PDA's melody distracted her. Such devices were very expensive now. The internet was just beginning to spread its web across the world, but everything connected to it was popular. And what did Wade even build it from?
— Wade, speaking.
— Kim, hi! Rufus wishes you well too, — the little genius greeted almost everyone. The little animal nodded admiringly.
— Hey, what about me?! — Ron indignantly exclaimed.
— Oh, Ron, you're there too? Your screams could be heard all over Middleton, so I thought you weren't going...
— Wade, let's get to the point, — the girl interrupted him.
— Sorry. I must say, this Dr. Drakken is either a competent manager who hired a lot of specialists, or a very unusual personality. I've tried to hack his security systems more than once. But only now have I managed to make even the slightest breach. I've disabled the surveillance systems, you can swim, — the guy on the screen reached out somewhere to grab a glass of soda.
— Thanks, Wade! Is there anything else we need to know? — Kim waved to her friend, and they began to gradually increase the speed of their jet skis. It became difficult to hear over the noise, so she held it to her ear like a phone.
— Yes, Kim, I managed to get the energy consumption charts for his base. Judging by them, the Cleaner has been activated a couple of times already. I think you should hurry, — for a second, Kim imagined what horrific things Drakken could do, but she pushed the thoughts away. It was more important now to deal with the villain as quickly as possible, and she could indulge in depressing reflections later.
— Got it. Talk to you later, Wade! — she put the PDA in a zippered pocket and sped up.
*Ten minutes later*
They left the jet skis on the beach and were already making their way into the villain's lair. So far, they had managed to remain unnoticed, but the rooms were mostly utilitarian at this point. From the inside, by the way, the design was completely ordinary, albeit minimalistic. The bare walls were a bit oppressive, but Kim walked forward confidently.
Soon they came out into the courtyard, right to the entrance of a voluminous tower. Kim carefully opened the door to avoid making a creak. Inside, a spacious hall awaited her, where someone was cleaning... cleaning? In general, a man of Central Asian appearance, dressed in a pink ballet tutu. With wings. Damn, why do they look so cheesy?!
— Huh?! Who's here? The boss said not to let anyone in! — he suddenly perked up.
Kim boldly showed herself, already preparing to stun the strange guard. But her friend's hand on her shoulder stopped her.
— Uh... We're Dr. Drakken's guests! We just got lost while walking! He invited us to help him set up the Ionic Cleaner, — Ron joined the conversation. It should be noted that he wasn't even trembling with fear; instead, he looked very confident. The "Fairy" gave them a VERY suspicious look. But then broke into a smile and nodded understandingly.
— Ah-ah-ah, well, you should have said so. The boss only allows the most... P-r-o-f-f-ficient ones to use the cleaner! — he returned to his work.
— Ron, did you understand anything? Because of his accent, I missed the whole point, — the red-haired girl whispered to her partner.
— Honestly, me neither. But it looks like we've been let through, — he shrugged, as if confirming his words.
They slipped further. Barely orienting themselves by the technical plan (Wade, thank goodness you were born a computer genius), displayed on the PDA, they ascended higher and higher. To the heroine's great surprise, there were no lasers or turrets shooting at intruders. Only one door with a suspicious neon sign "Secret Passage," which Ron almost walked into. And who would fall for such tricks?
Finally, they reached the fourth floor, where the lab was supposed to be. At that moment, Kim didn't particularly think that they could have been teleported a hundred times. But luckily, when Ron opened the massive doors, there was indeed a laboratory in front of them.
— And who has graced us with their presence? I hope you brought gifts, uninvited guests? — a male voice met them, echoing through the room. Ron gave his friend a reproachful look. She responded in kind.
— And who do we have here? Ron Stoppable and Kim... What's your name again? — the male voice continued, adding a sudden question for himself.
— Possible, — another, female voice, whispered very loudly, — You rehearsed, Doc!
— I just got nervous; after all, I'm a scientist, not a fighter, — Dr. Drakken, obviously, replied in an equally loud whisper.
— Hey, usually criminals say the opposite, — Kim said, genuinely offended. Ron, on the other hand, shone like a polished quarter.
— Really? Well, alright, — Drakken cleared his throat, — And who do we have here? Ron Possible and Kim Stoppable!
Kim winced as if she had eaten a whole lemon. She expected a quick fight, but unexpectedly stumbled into a verbal duel.
— Enough chit-chatting, Drakken, what about the Ionic Cleaner? — she finally interrupted the bickering.
— Miss Possible, I sincerely don't understand your indignation, — replied an elegant man in a lab coat over an embroidered green patterned suit. He came out with a girl dressed in black and green. The latter smirked maliciously. Kim looked at her uniform, then at Ron's. Of course, the general style was discernible, but for the most part, they were dressed haphazardly. The villainous duo, however, looked very harmonious. And that was infuriating.
— Admit it, Drakken, you stole it? — the Possible one asked maliciously. The dark-haired assistant smirked triumphantly and took the villain's arm. He grunted in surprise, for which he received an elbow to the ribs, but managed to maintain composure.
— Yes, I stole the Ionic Cleaner. You see, my butler is quite old, and it's physically difficult for him to wash so many dishes.
— What?! — Ron and her partner exclaimed simultaneously. Kim, however, continued, — What are you talking about?!
— I'm speaking the pure truth, Miss Possible. Besides, you broke in like this, and you're being rude. How unsightly, — the mad scientist shamed her. She was about to explode with an answer, when he continued, — If you wish, you can come with us and see for yourselves that I'm using it as an advanced autoclave and dishwasher simultaneously.
Kim looked distrustfully at Drakken and his assistant. And turned to Ron, seeking support.
— Listen, Kim, if we can avoid a fight, why not try? — her friend suddenly blurted out. She just sighed heavily.
— Alright, lead the way.
The villains left the laboratory and headed downstairs. The heroes exchanged glances and hurried to follow them. Soon they approached an armored door, next to which hung an electronic combination lock. Dr. Drakken demonstratively closed it with his whole body and entered the combination.
— Please, — he obligingly opened the door and invited the heroes... to the kitchen. There was a lot of various utensils, and the ingrained smell of food stimulated the appetite. In the corner stood the Ionic Cleaner, half-mounted into the wall. A glow emanated from it.
— Oh! It's almost finished, — the villain remarked and approached what was apparently a new autoclave. Or dishwasher. He pressed something and took out a perfectly clean plate, — Here, look.
Kim took the plate skeptically and examined it with disbelief. Crystal clear. The plate was so clean that her greasy fingerprints were left on it.
— See? Convinced? — the villain grumbled. His assistant snorted disdainfully.
— Fine... But you still stole it! — Kim found a retort.
— And that's a different matter. And it's regulated by the criminal code, not by heroes, Kim Possible, — the mad scientist's assistant retorted, pronouncing her name syllable by syllable, as if savoring it.
— And what do you suggest?! We just leave and report you to the police?! — Kim erupted. All the preparation. Hacking. The trip here on jet skis. And she'll be home late, and tomorrow she has school.
— Well-ll... — Drakken drawled thoughtfully, — Yes?
Silence fell. Which was broken a couple of seconds later by a crunch from behind. The company turned to see Ron chewing on something from a mixing bowl. Noticing the gazes directed at him, he stopped, and then blushed as if caught in something shameful.
— Take some food with you. You still have to swim back. By the way, my henchmen towed your jet skis to the pier, — the villain offered surprisingly kindly. Kim and Ron just nodded, stunned.
Leaving the villain's lair, full but not very happy, the heroine pondered. "Maybe he's not as bad as they think? Maybe it's not too late to bring him back to the side of good?" - these were her thoughts. Although she would still report him to the police. And that snake, who was lurking nearby, unexpectedly annoyed Kim. And not just with her behavior. On some subconscious level.