An Evening with the Finest Call
Chapter 2
Some time later at the studio of Real Justice...
Breaking and entering—both Kim and Shego did their fair share of it. Usually in the hero/villain business, some kind of security got involved. Armed androids, alarms connected to the “proper authorities,” infrared lasers, steel doors, patrolling henchmen, landmines, keep out signs—something served to make infiltrating a bank vault or criminal’s lair interesting.
However, on the scale of interestingness, Adrena Lynn’s new digs rated a negative four. In fact, about the only thing interesting was the slightly ajar door which sported a nicely decorated welcome mat.
“I don’t like this,” Shego muttered, peering around the darkened studio. Her senses reached and reached but found only silence and stationary shadows.
“You think I like this any more?” scoffed Kim as she ducked behind some props.
“Well excuse me, Possible.”
“You’re excused.”
“Bite me.”
“You wish.”
“Bitch.”
“Shut up, Shego.”
“No, you shut up.”
“No, you shut up.”
“Very original, Kimmie.”
“Very original, Kimmie.”
“Don’t make me barbeque you.”
“Don’t make me barbeque you.”
Brow twitching, Shego took a swipe at Kim, a swipe the red head easily dodged. “You want help or not?”
“Not if you’re going to keep up that attitude.”
“Like you’re any better! Little miss perfect isn’t as innocent as she looks!”
Arms folded, Kim turned her head away. “I’m only defending myself! You’re the one who always starts it. Every time we meet it’s always you throwing the first punch or comment.”
“Very mature, Possible. I like the whole entire ‘she started it’ whining business. I can see how you belong with those airhead cheerleaders.”
“And I can see how you belong with Drakken.”
Shego opened her mouth to retort but couldn’t counter. Drakken was quite slow, and honestly, hanging with him took a toll on her reputation, self-esteem, and overall intelligence. The slight hesitation brought a triumphant smile to Kim’s face.
“Oh my, I am so hurt.”
The voice decidedly did not belong to either Kim or Shego. In fact, it sounded like Drakken’s. Seeing as how Drakken stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the studio, the voice did belong to Drakken.
“Shego,” the super villain continued, “you’re a disappointment. What good is a sidekick if she doesn’t even defend your honor?”
“Can it, Dr. D,” said Shego, still seething from her various exchanges with Kim Possible. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Being a super villain, of course. I’ve finally come up with the ultimate plan to take over the world!”
“Oy, this better be good...”
“It is, my dear Shego,” preened Drakken, “I’ve built the Broadcasting Cerebrotron!”
A cricket chirped in the background as everyone blinked in confusion.
With great patience, Shego dropped her hands to her side and mumbled the mandatory sidekick line, “What does it do?”
Unperturbed, Drakken forged blindly ahead. “I’m glad you asked because it also brings me to another important point: you’re fired!”
Fired? “Wait a second, you can’t fire me,” blurted Shego, “I’ve broken you out of jail too many times! I’ve stolen too much for you! I’ve even stuck by you when you worked with Monkey Fist! MONKEY FIST!”
“Very true,” Drakken allowed, “But you’re a has-been! You’re the sidekick of yesteryear! I want you to say hello to all my little friends!”
With a grand sweeping motion of his arms, the studio lights turned on, revealing Adrena Lynn standing behind Drakken.
Shego balled her fists, green fire, ready to incinerate, crackling from her hands. “You’re firing me and hiring HER?”
“Not just her,” corrected Drakken, “But her.”
He pointed to his left and out came another Adrena Lynn.
“And her.”
Another leapt out of a garbage can.
“And her.”
Another walked out of the bathroom.
“And her, and her, and her, and her, and her, and her...”
He rambled on and on, each time an Adrena Lynn popping out of another random place. By the time Drakken got done, Adrena Lynns lined the studio wall, each peering around the others in approval.
“FREAKY!” all the Adrena Lynns cackled in unison before breaking down in laughter.
“Clones,” Shego spat, “You’re dumping me for a bunch of clones?”
“I have a sidekick who is willing to be cloned,” Drakken said, folding his arms, “She’s rich so I can pay her less. She already has medical and dental insurance. And the best thing? She treats me with respect!”
Oh, this had to be a new low. Drakken dumping her for Adrena Lynn? Miss I’m Named After a Hormone? And why? Because she didn’t need health insurance?
“Have you gone insane, Dr. D?”
“No, I’ve gone the way of the Cerebrotron! It’s brainwashed all of the stupid local inhabitants into incompetent crime fighters! With her TV show, Adrena puts me into everyone’s living room so I can work my genius!”
“But why didn’t it work on me? I saw her crappy show too!”
“My, my,” Drakken shook his head, “How the mighty have fallen. And people said you were the smart one! Don’t you see? Crime fighters need criminals to capture. Anyone who isn’t with the masses gets thrown in jail! I’ve made it so people I find dangerous will not be affected! That way, those roving idiots will eliminate my competition for me! Meanwhile, they worship Adrena Lynn and cling on her every word. All we have to do is give them a target and they will destroy it! Pretty soon, the Cerebrotron will have reprogrammed the masses enough that we won’t even need this Real Justice show any more! By that time, my word will be law!”
Throughout the rant, Kim took the time to sneak off, climb up to the rafters, tie a piece of rope around a girder, and generally prep for the upcoming battle. Choosing the lull in Drakken’s speech to strike, she swan dived downwards, slamming her shoulder against the aforementioned villain’s stomach with a resounding thud.
The amalgam of hands and feet rolled about a short time, finally ending with Kim Possible seated atop the chest of a passed out Drakken.
“Well,” Kim smiled, dusting imaginary lint off her shoulders, “That was easy.”
“Not so fast!” yelled a host of nearby Adrena Lynns. They surrounded the red head and pounced all at once. Hey, one-on-one Adrena had no chance against Kim Possible, but twenty-on-one odds favored the reality TV hostess.
From her backpack, Kim produced a large spray bottle of soda and blasted her attackers with it. She expected moans, groans, and screams of “Heeeeelp! I’m melting!” but instead, she got a plethora of coughs and gasps. The good news? She didn’t get throttled to next Sunday. The bad news? Soda merely soaked the clones.
“Funny. I remember soda working much better last time.”
Then all hell broke loose. Those clones not stunned by the soda barrage leapt in to attack. Kim grabbed the rope she swung down on and did her best Tarzan imitation only to glide gracefully into more Adrena Lynns. Meanwhile, Shego disappeared under a doggy pile of clones, flashes of green flames growing more intermittent as time passed.
Yes, everything’s possible with Kim Possible, and yes, Kim lay claim to some awfully flashy moves, but Jackie Chan she was not. A lucky blow to the temple knocked her for a loop, allowing the clones to rally themselves, press their advantage, and get cameras to film a Texas sized ass whoopin’ of the great Kim Possible.
One of the Adrena Lynns strutted in front of the cameras, which were far away from most of the action in order to avoid any “mishaps.” “If you’re just joining us, I, Adrena Lynn, want to welcome to this very special edition of Real Justice. I am proud to bring you all you freaky viewers at home the capture of Middleton’s most dangerous criminal, Shego! On our bust, we also found out the dastardly damsel was aided by none other than supposed crime fighter, Kim Possible! Freaky! I mean-”
A loud roar of rage—followed by an eruption of green fire—to the side signaled Shego’s escape from under the doggy pile.
“That’s it! I’ve had it! No more nice Shego! The next clone to touch me gets their face ripped off!”
A bunch of Adrenas decided to test the threat, and even with her best effort, she couldn’t keep her promise. Block, block, block, dodge, punch (Ouch), kick to the shin (What a cheap shot), block, push, fall, block, block, punch, punch, kick, boot to chin, fist to stomach, kick, block--yeah, Shego wasn’t happy. To make her day worse, three of the Adrena Lynn clones picked her up and rocketed her into the studio wall.
Groggy, she failed to see the same thing happen to Kim... which wouldn’t have meant jack-squat to Shego if aforementioned red head wasn’t heaved into her. Credit their resiliency though because despite the jaw-shaking, ear-ringing, gut-busting collision, the two didn’t black out.
“Bleah,” groaned Kim as she rolled off of Shego, “My entire body hurts.”
“Big baby.”
Argh! “Like you’re not hurt.”
“I am, but you don’t see me crying about it.”
“Give me a break, tough girl. I doubt you’re hurting more than me.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.”
“Who was the one at the bottom of that doggy pile?”
“Who crashed into Drakken from the ceiling?”
“That ceiling? Kimmie, Stoppable’s pink rat could stick that landing.”
“Leave Rufus out of this!”
“Fine, Stoppable could stick that landing.”
“Leave Ron out of this!”
“Touchy much? Maybe it’s because you’re a whiner.”
“Must be shameful always losing to this touchy, whiny baby of a cheerleader, isn’t it Shego?”
“I don’t lose to you!”
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
“Ahem,” an Adrena Lynn coughed, “Hey, like, totally filming here. Nobody wants to see two no talent villains freakin’ out on each other. They want to see me, Adrena Lynn, and REAL JUSTICE!”
Shego’s right eye twitched. “No talent?” she hissed.
“Villains?” Kim asked incredulously.
“What are you going to do about it? There’s two of you and a hundred of me.”
By happenstance, Kim noticed the windows boarded up. Not a great revelation mind you, but the combination of shoddy craftsmanship, duct tape, and half-hammered, half-bent nails set off some alarms in her head. The job was horribly done, as if whoever did it raced against time or wasn’t concentrating. What could ever possess someone to splurge so much on a nice studio and drop the ball on something as simple as boarding up windows?
While Kim mused, Shego went ballistic. Large fireballs encased her hands; her eyes seemed to smolder with burning plasma and hatred as she rose to her feet. “Come a little closer and I’ll show you what I’m going to do about you, your clones, and your two bit show.”
“Freaky,” Adrena scoffed, not a hint fearful, “You’re almost good enough for my camera. Like, almost.”
A wide burst of green flames erupted from Shego’s arms. For one brilliant moment, the studio’s insides grew bright enough to blind. Kim, lying a hair behind her nemesis, felt the unnatural heat threatening to scald her if she even inched toward its mistress. The vortex of destruction lasted only a few seconds, and like it was never there, collapsed into nothingness.
All around stood Adrena Lynns in various states of charred-ness. The ones in front were blackened and blinking like Wily Coyote after one of his Acme rockets exploded. Others had frazzled hair, puffs of smoke coming from their mouths, and definitely ruined clothes. Those in the back remained as pristine as they day they were cloned.
Exhausted, Shego dropped to her knees. Sweat beaded off her forehead and dripped onto the heated ground--droplets of perspiration hissed into steam. About ten Adrena Lynns crumbled into ash, but the others, only a handful of them tagged by the flames, got irate, oblivious to the devastating attack of a few seconds ago.
“Shit... there’s too many of them...”
“And we’re going to kick some freaky Shego butt!”
And boom went the dynamite. Errr, rocket shoes actually. Hold on! This’ll make more sense if it’s stopped, rewound, and played.
While Shego and Adrena got into their impromptu staring match and time kept on slippin’, slippin’ , Kim clicked her heels together Dorothy style and pulled her shoes off. From the back popped rocket boosters, any world-saving teenager’s best friend in a tight situation (Well, except for Ron who hurt himself real bad with these things once, but he was the exception.). Oh, and some cool little skates ejected out the bottom too! Aiming the footwear at the two other poorly boarded up windows across the studio, Kim let the projectiles fly, fly like an eagle to the sea, to the revolution baby!
And boom went the rocket shoes, busting through two by fours and duct tape like eight hundred watts of bad seventies rock music through the thin walls of a university dormitory. Kim turned and wretched the boards loose from the window closest to her. Before she could even say “Gosh, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” a bunch of shrill cries of “Freeeeeaky! I’m melting!” reverberated through the studio. Taking a hint, Shego raised her tired hands to the roof, summoned the very last of her reserves, and cut a gaping hole in the ceiling.
More sunlight tumbled into the studio; more Adrena Lynns disappeared into gooey, chewy, semi-fruity puddles of clone sludge. They disappeared until one of them, the one furthest from the fight and holding a camera, remained.
The real Adrena Lynn ran out the door. Kim was about to give chase when Adrena’s surprised yelp, followed by the knocking of a skull on cement, stopped her. Carefully, she tip toed over to one of the demolished windows to check out what happened.
Adrena Lynn lay sprawled out on the ground, unmoving but still breathing. One of Kim’s rocket skate shoes lounged on its side a little too innocently. Hmph, so she tripped on the shoe and knocked herself out.
Hey, when you’re good, you’re good.
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