The Lair of the most cunning villain, a couple of hours earlier
When Kim fell asleep, dropping her face right into the salad in a completely Russian way, I involuntarily relaxed. Truth be told, I was horribly tired, and I wouldn't have been able to handle a fight with the heroine on top of that. I turned my gaze to the indignant Shego. For some reason, she was angry at Kim and clearly ready to strike the sleeping girl, which I really didn't want. So I summoned Norman and instructed him to take the kids back to their hometown. However, I am one of the most prominent villains here, right? And so, Norman laid them out one on top of the other, like a loving couple. In the park. At night. I'm curious: when Kim wakes up (and I had no doubt she would wake up first), will she blush first or get angry?
Cheshire swaggered into the dining room. Curse it, I completely forgot about him, so distracted was I by this villainous choir and Possible's appearance. The cat deftly jumped onto one of the chairs, intently watching the butler carry the heroine and her friend away, and then licked his chops at the sausage slices on the table. Ugh... I don't even want to imagine what a human consciousness inside a cat's body is like. A daily struggle with instincts, with the beast within. Instead of thinking about that, I'll just stick one of my "fairies" in there and then question him. Of course, I'll only do so with his full voluntary consent. But you know these little devils: for a jingly coin and praise from the "boss," they'll do anything.
— I see you've had a busy day-meow, Drew? — my mentor and friend finally hooked a piece of sausage with his paw. Yes, this strange, sensible being was one of the few I could call that. Despite all his eccentricities, he was a reliable comrade. At these words, Shego looked strangely first at the cat, then at me, and then pouted completely childishly.
— Too much has piled up. Who knew that those videos of heroes coming to me and the "shows" I put on for guests would come back to haunt me like this? Imagine: coming up with an act for the World Evil Holiday. Are we sure we're not in school right now? And do they choose one of the League members as the Grinch for Christmas? — I asked, slightly irritated. Seriously, I had promising evil schemes right now, and here I am coordinating all the most prickly personalities.
— You're meow-rong to laugh. Because the Grinch is actually chosen every year. Look at your position differently: repu-meow-tation. A villain who can, albeit coercively, unite others deserves respect. For almost all previous years, they never achieved anything worthwhile. And this time, meow-sense, everything is so organized! — Cheshire licked his chops, either from the fatty piece of sausage or from his own words. A different question bothered me.
— Listen, why does your collar translate... with meowing? Is it broken?
— Because I'm a meow-cat! I should be meowing, — my friend stated nonchalantly.
— You don't have that "feline accent" in class, — I countered. It didn't bother me at all, but it just sounded desperately funny. You simply cannot take a meowing cat seriously as a former scientific genius.
— Persona. Image, — the... cat declared, clearly parodying someone. At the same time, he looked at me as if I were a fool who had forgotten something elementary.
It should be clarified that both the job of overseer... choreographer, and this teasing, didn't come out of nowhere. I had indeed created an analog to a villainous YouTube for our nuclear-powered laptops, where all my colleagues shared various things. Besides the spontaneously arising instructional videos like: "How to assemble a perpetual motion machine using potatoes, a prosthetic leg, and enriched uranium at home," a direction set by me also emerged. All the heroes' biggest fails, the best welcoming speeches, and other theatrical moments. And while villains used to do this purely for their own sense of aesthetics, they were now beginning to absorb my methods. So much so that I would have to record a lecture series on "Villainous Conduct Towards Heroes." The League pays for them with Evil Points no less than for ordinary crimes. In short, everyone found out about my love for the beautiful. And now I'm something like a freelance choreographer.
— Luckily, this intensity will soon subside, — Shego decided to support me.
— I don't think-meow the work will greatly diminish, — Cheshire argued, once again dragging a piece of sausage with his paw. He could have asked for it to be handed to him, but "Persona, Image!". He is a cat! I taught him too well, much to my own dismay.
— At least I'll be able to focus on my own projects. Right now, all my strength goes into regulating team relationships and directing the performance.
By the way, after the date with Shego, a wave of inspiration washed over me. Remember my crazy impulse to "steal autumn"? Damn, they might actually choose me as the Grinch... Ahem, let's not get distracted. So, I couldn't succeed in one swift go. I had to consult with mad scientist biologists and botanists. Initially, the plan was simple: prevent the leaves from turning yellow and falling off. We ask the main questions of the Russian person: who is to blame? And what to do? The culprit is chlorophyll, which gives plants their green color. Its destruction due to lack of light, nutrients, and poor temperature conditions leads to the predominance of chromoplasts, which provide the other colors. Okay, but how to prevent this? Light is too complicated. Although the project for a manual weather regulator did cross my mind. Temperature? Also a miss. I'd have to install so many heat guns that they couldn't be hidden. That leaves only nutrition. I tasked my bright colleagues from another field with developing a kind of super-nutritious preservative substance. They promised to have it ready by the end of this week.
You might ask: "Drakken, why all the hassle?" Well, besides this mischief, I pursue another goal. Endangered species. I'm certainly not a Greenpeace activist. But if there is an opportunity to save a millennium of evolution, then not taking advantage of it is a sin. I hold the position that humanity, though living by consumption, should not openly pollute and destroy ecosystems. And how is such an act *not* villainous? All these fat cats only demonstrably care about Red Book species to maintain their reputation. But new factories are being built. Cars are being manufactured. This world, though not an exact copy, is repeating the path of my past. I'm unlikely to completely change anything, however, a shift of a couple of degrees from the "current course" in the long term could change the future world into one unfamiliar to me.
Also, I disliked certain social movements. Vegans... No, I'm not a prude. I respect vegetarians and their choice. But veganism is overkill. One of the vegan principles states that animal products are obtained coercively, without the animals' "consent." Of course, there are those who made their choice for another reason: compassion for animals and growing ecological problems associated with the emergence of numerous factory farms.
But for some reason, they all forget that nobody asks plants for permission. That is, animals must be consulted, but owners of chlorophyll must not? Unacceptable. And so, my next target will be some large hydroponic farms.
I also couldn't let go of the idea of the "Yarn." For this, I had to think through a lot. Not in physics and mathematics, but in philosophy and metaphysics. My sidekick was incredibly successful in helping me with this. Through joint reasoning, we concluded that the main tenet is: "Good always triumphs over Evil." There's no arguing with that. Attempts to localize the action of this probability manipulator within one country improved the situation but didn't solve it. The recoil hit me even harder. Then we changed the approach slightly. I built this apparatus with the initial goal of causing minor troubles and misfortunes. Do you sense it? How many "negative" words. The Soul of the World has a very clear distribution into good and evil. The closest human analog would be black and white. But what if one became conditionally "grey"? If misfortunes are balanced with positive moments. The main thing is not to overdo it, or the villainy won't exactly work out. In general, ideas emerged, and they could be implemented... But we weren't in much of a hurry.
I must admit, I had long noticed that I was drawn to my sidekick, and now I tried to spend more time together. We often relaxed, rehearsed together, and now we are conducting scientific work together. I really didn't want to lose this moment of togetherness.
I caught myself silently drawing my fork across my plate, lost in thought. Shego was sitting next to me, studying something on her smartphone. Judging by her similarly thoughtful gaze, she was examining new green clothing. Cheshire had already left for his feline business. He walks alone, heh-heh. The main thing is not to tell him about that cat principle. That cartoon wasn't here. My sidekick turned her emerald gaze on me, clearly demanding attention.
— Why does Mister Cheshire call you Drew? — she suddenly asked, making a funny face with her eyebrows: one raised up and the other down.
— His Catship is a good friend of mine, — I shrugged, understanding what she was hinting at.
— Hmm... I see, — she drawled, and then declared — I want to, too.
— Of course, Shego. I thought you didn't need permission for that? Do you remember how quickly you switched from formal to informal communication with me in dialogues? — I asked, chuckling slightly at the memory.
— I was nervous and embarrassed, — she gently nudged me with her fist. One could deceive themselves with her appearance all they wanted, but I had seen her crush concrete blocks with her blows, having "stolen" stamina beforehand.
In fact, I had very strong suspicions that her ability not only restored energy in cells but also created a certain excess in them that could lead to enhancement. This theory was voiced to her. She pondered it then. And after that, all our henchmen scattered in fear at the mere sound of her footsteps.
— You're spacing out again, Drew, — she was clearly trying out the new form of address. And judging by her satisfied face, she liked it. Well, whatever keeps the child happy.
— You're right. By the way, it's late. And tomorrow I still have to write a script...
— The script can wait, — she stated, grabbing my arm. She even put on a regal look, of course, — Let's go watch Possible's face-first fall into the salad instead.
— Not a bad idea! — I replied, and we headed to her living room. Because only there was a screen almost the size of the wall. I don't know what her disagreement with Kim was, but Shego derived physical pleasure from the latter's failures.
Meanwhile, in the US Department of Internal Affairs
Not so long ago, a complaint against a villain came to the police. What's unusual about that, one might ask? Citizens constantly complain about these disturbers of public order and peace-breakers. Villains have long been a cause of bureaucratic hell for many agencies. Their very existence brought problems that required a lot of attention.
Only this complaint was unusual: it was from a heroine. According to her, the villain had quite casually admitted to the crime. Of course, many culprits were identified. But what to do with villains? They usually don't even notice the police. And calling in the army at every sneeze would be throwing the entire state budget to the wind. So all that was left was to rely on the heroes.
And now, one of the villains quite calmly appeals to the criminal code, sending the heroine to the police. No one blamed the girl, of course; she's only 14, still naive. But what to do with the villain was unclear. On the one hand, he could have just as easily failed to notice the forces of law and order. And on the other hand, Drakken showed himself open to dialogue. This dialogue, however, was similar to a conversation with a psychiatric ward regular, but the police were used to that.
This complaint went from the very bottom to the very top. Everyone just kept passing it up, since no one had instructions for such a case. Better for the boss's head to ache than to be yelled at later for taking initiative. In short, when the complaint landed on the Interior Minister's desk, a solution was found immediately. Send a "dead man walking." Figuratively, of course. Villains never killed negotiators. They humiliated them, imprisoned them, but didn't touch them.
The "dead man walking" was found quickly: it was one of the proactive police sergeants. He was too obviously trying to publicize all the high-profile villain crimes. Well, so what if a whole mountain disappeared from the map after playing around with some collider. No need to trumpet about it immediately. The mountain, by the way, was kindly piled back up by the same villains.
The Evil Lair, a couple of days later
Shego walked through the corridors, humming some catchy tune contentedly. Lately, everything in her life was going well. A dream job; a good salary that allowed her to want for nothing; a man she liked who reciprocated; tasty food and stupid, but obedient henchmen. Of course, heroes coming here to the Lair tried to encroach on this order in her life almost every day. But she would be a complete fool and wouldn't have what she had if she didn't know how to defend it. Yes, life with three brothers quickly teaches you to fight to the end, whether it's for the bathroom in the morning or for sweets in the refrigerator. Sometimes she personally sent the most energetic heroes back when the doctor... No, not like that. When Drew wasn't looking.
She nodded contentedly. Still, despite all his oddities, the mad scientist was an incredibly loyal and reliable person. He could have replaced the old butler, the former heroine, and the crowd of migrant workers with much more qualified personnel hundreds of times over. But he didn't. Although he did think about hiring lab assistants and research assistants. On the contrary, he constantly sought to help his people. Of course, almost everyone acts like that lately. But only on the surface. In the world of triumphant capitalism, everything is driven by profit. And few would be able to resist making a profit if the only question was changing staff. And these qualities in him were endearing.
He also knew how to appreciate any action, any aspiration, regardless of the outcome. Often, the latter was lamentable, as when the henchmen failed to download the lab journal for the new "dishwasher." And so they just smashed the computer and peed on it, like some gremlins. Neither for themselves nor for others. But Drew didn't blame them. He yelled, of course, but mostly for show. He was never stingy with gratitude and praise. "Anyone can do that," you might think. But Shego lacked attention as a child. Because the boys were raised strictly, and the guidelines for raising girls were apparently forgotten. Hence, the attitude towards her was much the same. No, her parents were not bad at all. She just lacked approval for her achievements. Maybe that's why she became so prickly and sarcastic?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the beep of the "smart phone," as Drew called it. A truly convenient thing. Maps, access to the "web," many other functions. Just create the necessary program for that function. Which, of course, is not easy. But compared to playing with probabilities with reality itself, it's no longer so impressive.
The beep signaled a trespasser. He was standing on a police patrol boat, having turned off the engine. The trespasser himself was also dressed in a police uniform. Shego was simply choked with indignation at such audacity. The police! At their place! She would throw him out now, and then, using her boss's access to the League's supply sources, she would order deep-sea and marine mines. Lately, all the trespassers have been brazenly sailing up to them. Was it for nothing that they covered the air defense?
But she was not destined to kick out the trespasser. Drew was already personally meeting him at the pier, having given all the necessary commands. Shego hurried to join him. After all, no matter how brilliant a scientist he was, and no matter how many aces he had up his sleeve, there is always someone who can deal with anyone. And she had to be close by. It didn't matter when, just close. She was ashamed to admit it, but she was happy about her physical superiority over Drakken, at least. He might be smarter, his personality might be much more pleasant, but at least there was that. Besides, it is proven that a woman's heavy hand reduces the number of potential arguments in a relationship.
She arrived at the pier just as the patrol boat was docking. Shego immediately positioned herself next to her boss, taking his arm again. He still couldn't get used to her appearances and such contact. But he approved. And the girl herself liked physical contact. Maybe another effect of her power? Or maybe her upbringing played a role again.
— Greetings, Mister Drakken, Miss Shego, — the officer saluted them. He looked about thirty. Powerful brow ridges and an equally powerful square jaw, protruding slightly forward. Luxurious but greasy mustache, long sideburns, and tousled greasy hair — all this, combined with a well-developed musculature, created the impression that they were facing either a pirate or a romantic poet who had quit opium and switched to raw meat. Human.
— Oh, I understand, Sergeant, you are completely unfamiliar with etiquette, but it's not at all necessary to call me "Mister." When addressing me, you can simply fall to your knees and touch your forehead to the ground, — Doctor Drakken was clearly offended. After all, he was incredibly proud of his scientific achievements. Shego soothingly stroked the scientist's arm.
— E-er... Beg your pardon? — the Sergeant even smoothed his hair to better comprehend the phrase.
— Alright, so be it. I graciously permit you, Sergeant, to call me Doctor Drakken. Well, a simple bow with every address will be quite sufficient.
— E-er... — if he started "e-er-ing" one more time, she would tie him into a knot and send him drifting back in a garbage bag.
— Doctor Drakken, Miss Shego, — he bowed nonetheless. Although he clearly intended to start asserting his rights immediately after the greeting. — Sergeant Garrison. Wait, stop. Why am I bowing to offenders at all?!
— Because even for an enemy, one can find a moment for a gesture of respect, — Drew said with dignity.
— I! You! — the Sergeant began to stammer with anger, having been thrown off balance earlier.
— Come inside with us. After all, it's not convenient to present accusations on the pier. Although wait, I hope you brought them in writing, otherwise I won't accept them and will be forced to send you back, — it seemed that if Shego wasn't holding his arm, he would have rubbed his hands in anticipation.
— Knowing your evasiveness, I prepared everything in writing. In several copies, — Garrison said menacingly, as he thought.
— Oh, wonderful, excellent! Let's hurry! — she expected anything but even more joy.
Soon they were seated in her living room. For some reason, Drew liked everything here immensely, and his approval made Shego even prouder of herself. Now it wasn't just a living room where they periodically held philosophical discussions or watched something together, but also a negotiating room.
— So, what am I being accused of? — Doctor Drakken finally asked, once everyone was seated. Sergeant Garrison took an armchair. The villain and his sidekick sat on the couch. Shego sat as close as possible. As if they were a couple. Well, they were practically a couple already, just a little more pressure was needed... Ahem, it's all for psychological pressure, yes.
— You are accused of... — the police officer began energetically, but was interrupted.
— Wait, wait. What if you make something up? Better give me the text of your accusation, — Drew suddenly announced. Shego nodded in agreement.
— Ahem... that's fair. Here, take it, — he handed him the printout.
— A... C... C... U... — the mad scientist began to read one letter at a time, pulling his glasses from his lab coat. He read very slowly.
— Can't you read?! — the Sergeant exploded.
— Sergeant, we are already convinced of your terrible manners. Please don't worsen the impression even more, — Doctor Drakken asked, looking over the tip of his nose, which his glasses had slid down to. — And besides, I lost my place. Now I have to start over.
— Fine, fine, read. Read carefully, because you are facing four life sentences!
— No spoilers, please. I'll find out everything myself, — Drew replied nonchalantly, returning to the text. — A... C... C... U... S...
For three minutes, Drakken painstakingly read one letter at a time, like a young child who had just learned to read. The Sergeant squirmed in his chair from a mixture of anger and anticipation. Shego was glad that she wasn't the one being subjected to another session of brain-draining. At some point, Drew suspiciously fell silent. Even the Sergeant, who was already mentally celebrating his triumph, didn't notice right away. They were distracted by a snore that came from under the glasses, which had slid back down his nose.
— Doctor Drakken! — the Sergeant yelled angrily, jumping out of the armchair. In response to the sudden noise, the mad scientist reflexively pulled the Shrink Ray from his lab coat pocket and fired at the officer. His reaction time would have made other cowboys envious.
— Huh? What is it? Did I fall asleep? — Shego was ready to swear he was truly sleepy. But she knew his acting talents too well. He looked at Sergeant Garrison in surprise, whose height for the next two days was about 1.2 meters, and then at the Shrink Ray in his hand. Drakken bashfully hid it away. For better effect, all he needed was to shuffle his foot awkwardly.
— WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?! — shrieked the dwar... the proud police officer, who, despite his short stature, confidently stands guard over order.
— Don't worry, it will wear off in two days. But now you can buy a fake beard and order beer by the barrel in bars. You'll introduce yourself as the proud dwarf Garrison Shortleg, — the mad scientist reassured him. The officer, meanwhile, switched to outright ultrasound. Shego hit him a couple of times with fireballs from her power, and he collapsed back powerlessly.
— Shall we continue? — Drew asked enthusiastically. — Only, I think I lost my place again when I dozed off... I'll start from the beginning, I guess. A... C...
The Sergeant literally whimpered. Shego, with the greatest difficulty of her life, maintained her composure. But her lips were still betrayingly trembling. Doctor Drakken continued to torture the keeper of order... with order and meticulousness.