Wedding preparations were in full swing. The bride and groom met, talked, and liked each other. The bride's father gave his blessing and didn't even attempt to poison all of us again. But for the celebration itself, we'll have to prepare a universal antidote for all the guests. Just in case. Sergei Semenovich had already managed to celebrate once: he was very proud to have been the matchmaker. And when he recovered from his hangover, he was delighted that the celebration hadn't happened yet—a reason to go on a spree again. Yes, after my help with his teeth, he positively blossomed. He started getting more enjoyment out of life. So villainous, right? It's goodness that imposes order, law-abiding behavior, and routine. We are for chaos, fun, and revelry!
Ouch, Shego, that's not an attack of madness! Don't hit me on the back of the head. I'm somewhat in control of myself. Ouch! What was the second one for? Ahem... What was I talking about? Right, the celebration. I suppose it's no secret that a gift is expected for a celebration. But what do you give a pair of future cat-spouses on their wedding day? It's a doubly unusual task. And although Cheshire is sentient, and making fun of him with a "cat" gift is a rather silly idea, I am a villain!
So, I decided to give the cat-spouses... the feline newlyweds a scratching post. But an unusual scratching post. Recalling the act of a comical, big-nosed villain with a crowd of yellow dwarves in one of the cartoons from my past life, I decided to steal the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Well, why not? An emergency site. A cultural heritage site, though. I had to fiddle with the Shrink Ray and create a similar, but larger, emitter. And so, under the cover of night, the gigantic brain flew up, shrunk the tower, the black-haired girl descended and took it, and the flying saucer flew away. What? You expected a story full of chases, failures, puns, and overwhelming success at the end?
No, no. Only heroes act that way. Real villains plan everything meticulously, have a couple of backups for any plan, and the execution must be carried out with filigree precision. The only thing is that the Soul of the World is sometimes against it, and plans tend to fail due to sheer idiocy. But I can't entrust the work to my henchmen, can I? I could only rely on my assistant.
So, everything went off without a hitch. The tower was stolen, reduced to the size of a regular scratching post, and wrapped in gift paper. Shego kept glancing strangely, first at me, then at it. That's the look that ravens usually give shiny objects, women give items on sale, and vultures give carrion. And it was difficult to tell exactly what her look expressed. Maybe she wanted some sort of domestic landmark for herself too. Or maybe, like all women, she had already planned something ahead concerning us.
But I wasn't forgetting to prepare my own mischief in parallel. The heroes were getting too relaxed. But not me. So a gift was waiting for them, too. I just found a bakery whose owner's voice sounded exactly like our infamous Leader. No, seriously, dead on.
***
Today, there was a commotion in one of the Hero Organization offices. Interns ran around like madmen; the heroes and their assistants weren't sitting still either. Today, they finally managed to intercept communications on one of the villains' encrypted channels. And not just anyone's, but Doctor Drakken's. The one who was practically undefeated until the appearance of Kim Possible. Of course, it was a little disappointing that she wasn't one of theirs. But the heroic solidarity was still much greater.
So, today, right during the lunch break, when all the work (compulsorily) fell on the shoulders of the hardworking interns, one of them managed to pick up the broadcast. Luckily, he had the sense to record everything. Because little of it made sense.
All the smartest analysts, hardened decipherers, and transcribers were now locked in the conference room and had been deliberating for about four hours. Shouts, heated arguments, and even mutual threats could be heard from behind the door, but they finally reached an agreement and were ready to give an answer.
The door burst open, and a delegate from the team emerged. His glasses were smeared with something. His hair was disheveled, there was a fresh coffee stain on his shirt, and his breath smelled of non-alcoholic beer. His eyes expressed despair.
— Well, what's the conclusion? — someone from the crowd of gathered heroes asked him. Drakken had kicked many of their butts. He'd even filmed some of them. And the opportunity to act preemptively gave them strength and zeal. So much so that it literally blinded them, making them forget past mistakes and failures.
— Friends... It's the end for all of us, — he adjusted his glasses on his nose, clearly wanting to say another word. — It looks like Drakken has finally decided to detonate a nuclear bomb.
— What?! — everyone exclaimed in response.
— We can only speculate. Neither the source nor the recipient could be tracked. No one knows of a bakery with that name either.
— Play the recording for us, — commanded one of the executives, also standing in the crowd.
— Just a moment... Here, listen, — the delegate played the requested clip and stepped aside. He looked exhausted.
— Hello, "Sweet Things" Bakery listening? — a gruff male voice said on the other end of the line.
— My respects to you, esteemed sir. It's your number one sweet tooth! — Doctor Drakken's flirtatious voice was heard, the words and tone of which stunned many heroes.
— Ah, good to hear from you, Doctor Lipskey. Calling to check on our "puffy" one? — the apparently large man on the other end immediately sounded delighted.
— Yes, yes, absolutely. I'm already eager to give my friends this sweet surprise. You've prepared what I asked for, haven't you? — Drakken inquired. The heroes were surprised by his vocabulary. He usually prefers dramatic flair and pomp.
— Oh, absolutely, our "puffy" one will literally explode everything there! — the interlocutor supported his game. — Everything will be ready today. You can pick it up closer to the evening.
— Thank you. I'll be there around six, — the recording cut off.
The room was silent. Everything was indeed too ambiguous. Drakken could, with equal probability, be ordering either a cake or the manufacture of nuclear bombs with that tone. It was completely unclear how to act in such a situation.
— And what should we do? — someone in the room asked in a panic.
— First, stop panicking. Second, all available heroes, assistants, and interns must be dispatched to all major US cities for patrols, — one of the leaders took charge of the crisis management.
Surprisingly, work got underway. Heroes could work quickly when necessary. For the next week, the Organization patrolled the streets with triple the effort. But neither Drakken nor any other villains did anything. The heroes even slept in shifts. In short, a lot of effort was expended to find the "Sweet Things" Bakery. And to find out that Drakken had actually ordered a wedding cake. It is difficult to describe in words how much they hated that villain at that moment.
***
— Oh, come on, you'll come with your wife, you'll have fun. By the way, does she even know what you do for a living?
— Nein! I not tell my wife I work as a villain. Plus, I not can leave our daughter at home, even if she agree, — Doofenshmirtz answered me when I cornered him after another villain meeting.
— Well, there won't be a problem with your daughter. We may be villains, but many of us love children. They'll understand the situation, — I shrugged. Yes, remembering the sad fate of this undoubtedly talented villain, I decided to help with his socialization and strengthen his family ties. His future divorce from his wife may be inevitable, but I'll at least try. It would be foolish not to help such a loyal and fundamentally decent person. With a history like that, it's no wonder he wanted to conquer the world. What? What history? Don't rush things, let him tell it himself.
— But what to do about my wife? I never tell her I do villainy. She clearly not approve! — he balked. And I understood him. How do you tell the person you live with and have a daughter with that the job you recently found is about wreaking havoc?
— Heinz... — I put a hand on his shoulder. — The longer you hide it, the harder it will hit you when the truth comes out. It's better to tell her now. Plus, you live happily together. I think she'll scold you, but she'll take your side.
— You think? Ach... — he sighed resignedly. Shego, silently drinking tea, shook her head. — You are right. I long want to do it, but not can make up my mind. And even now not can. I am cowardly since childhood. Since the time I work as a garden gnome, I start to be afraid of many things. And my lucky younger brother become the cause of my jealousy and complexes.
— Doubting yourself is normal. And cowards always make the best strategists. I believe you can overcome your shortcomings, because you already know and admit them. And that is already part of the path to success, — I decided to support the hapless scientist. I wouldn't have lasted one day dressing up as a garden gnome and standing motionless for five or six hours. After something like that, people usually don't even conquer the world, they destroy it down to the foundation. — Besides, you can always bring her to meet us. I promise we can work it out.
— Nein... You are right. I do it myself, — he straightened up, squared his hunched shoulders, raised his head, and his gaze was filled with determination. He rose from the armchair, said goodbye to us, and confidently walked out.
Shego and I were silent for a while longer. She sat closer, inviting a hug, and I couldn't refuse her. I thought about Heinz, his difficult fate, and the other fates intertwined with it. Little geniuses, genetically modified animals.
— Do you think he'll manage? — my assistant suddenly asked.
— I'm sure of it. A difficult childhood left a lot of scars on his soul. He doesn't expect help from anyone; he's closed off from everyone. But you'd hardly find a person in the world more loyal than Heinz Doofenshmirtz, who considers you a friend.
— I don't know. But you are right too often. It's good that we both know what we're doing, right? — she abruptly changed the subject.
— True. Although I am inclined to believe that one's line of work is no obstacle to that "true" love.
— Only snot-nosed teenagers and hopeless romantics say that, — she smirked audaciously and poked me in the side with her hand.
— Well, I am a hopeless snot-nosed romantic, — I shrugged. — What can you expect from me?
— Oh, shut up. So, what about "that" kind of love? — she inquired nonetheless.
— The greatest gift and the greatest burden. No matter what happens to you in life, and what you do in response. You will always know that you have support. Your person, — I answered vaguely. Yes, the romantic in my cynical soul woke up here from his mad, long sleep of that other world.
— If I had recorded that on a voice recorder, I could embarrass you in front of everyone later, — she smiled triumphantly. I gave her a reproving look, but she just got more comfortable in my arms. — That's why I love you.
— And I love you too, — I blurted out in response. In situations like this, you can't think for too long. Otherwise, you become an enemy. And an offended and angry woman is probably a more formidable enemy than even the Soul of the World. Shego spread into a satisfied smile, happy with the affirmation of our relationship. I, meanwhile, realized how deeply I had fallen into her clutches. And I liked it. I liked knowing that I wasn't alone. That I would always be supported. I was also happy that cats can't throw bouquets. Because with her dexterity and speed, catching one would be no problem. And I am completely unprepared for a quick wedding, despite all the love. Look at all the preparation for my friend's wedding. And for ours, it would be absolutely insane.
***
Kim Possible was sitting at her desk during the break, waiting for the start of the next lesson. In the last few days, she hadn't been bothered by Drakken and his antics, which was a mistake. Fortunately, not a fatal one. Only the pride of the Hero Organization suffered. And why do they have such a mundane name?
In any case, Ron and she were interfering with other villains too. For example, they recently had to deal with Amy Acid (a very telling surname, right?), who was inspired by Drakken's actions. This genetic-experimenter was literally cross-breeding a hedgehog with a grass snake. And what about the "manbearpig"? Seriously, who can come up with the idea of starting to cross-breed naturally incompatible species simply because you've finished collecting all the stuffed toys? Oh, there were a lot of the latter in her lair. Too many, even. But Kim, having picked up tricks from one cunning blue-skinned villain, audaciously stole one of the miniature toys. And with villainous cunning, she informed the defeated Amy about it, but didn't specify which one. Now the brilliant geneticist would be forced to sort through her collection and buy the lost one. And she would also have to track the appearance of new ones in parallel. In other words, she wouldn't bother anyone for the next month or two.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the bell for class. She looked around and saw that all the teenagers were already sitting in their places. Their faces expressed a wide range of attitudes towards the upcoming lesson: some looked like inmates serving time, and others like starving people awaiting food. Ron was closer to the former, although it was difficult to tell anything from his indifferent face.
The physics teacher walked into the classroom. Their regular instructor was ill, and so someone else was substituting for him. But Kim found the contours of his figure vaguely familiar. No, it was unlikely to be Drakken. His skin wasn't blue. And he wouldn't simply show up at her school like that. She even chuckled at her own fantasy.
— Hello, children, — the voice of the physics teacher, who was now undeniably Doctor Drakken, shattered her hopes. She wanted to try to engage him in combat again, but she wouldn't do it now without her protective suit. Besides, he was in his peaceful persona now. — My name is Doctor Lipskey, and I'm substituting for physics today.
— Hello! — the class replied in a disorganized chorus.
— So, who's the leader here... oh, I mean, the class president? — the villain asked. Kim gritted her teeth and stood up from her desk.
— I am the class president, Doctor Lipskey. Kim Possible, — Kim answered slightly annoyed.
— Right, right, — Drakken carefully ran his finger down the attendance sheet, searching for her surname. He even put on glasses for effect, pushing them almost to the very tip of his nose. — I see, I see. You have excellent performance, Miss Possible. Pass me the list of attendees with a note on who is sitting where. Excellent, now, what did you cover in the last lesson?
— The definition of force. The force of gravity, weight.
— Uh-huh... Good, did anyone actually understand anything? — Drakken changed his tone, looking over his glasses at the class.
— Yes / No! — the class answered, not very unified.
— Alright, fine, I need a volunteer. Are there any takers among you? — he asked. Silence was his answer.
— As always, a forest of hands. Fine, we'll appoint a volunteer forcibly now, — and he began to examine the class representatives.
Unfortunately, his eyes fell upon John, an athletic guy, a mediocre student, and simply the life of the party. Incidentally, John had recently started watching "Fast and Furious," and so he sat in class and honed his lines from the movie semi-aloud. Drakken walked up to him and cleared his throat, attracting attention.
— What do you love, Toretto? — the villain asked with an important air.
— F-family, — John answered uncertainly.
— That's a little too uncertain for Dominic. Four, — Drakken concluded, evaluating the student. Then he returned to the register to give him a C.
Soon, this farce ended, and a volunteer was chosen again. It turned out to be Bill, the most inveterate underachiever, a bully, and a sly one.
— Abrams, to the blackboard, — the teacher commanded.
— But why me?!
— Well, fine, then by the list, — Drakken lowered his gaze to the register. Bill sighed with relief. The villain then barked again, — Abrams, to the blackboard!
Bill resisted for a long time, backed away, and even tried to assert his rights, but Drakken put him in his place with a single threat.
— Listen, Billy, if you don't behave yourself, I will personally come to your parents today and wax lyrical all evening about how talented you are. A talent that can never be realized in a school like this, — the bully turned pale, realizing where his inspired parents might send him. — Do we understand each other?
— Y-yes, sir.
— Wonderful! Then go to the blackboard, — the evil genius rubbed his hands in anticipation.
— Sir, but why do we need this in life? — Bill asked uncertainly. Bill, who kept many teachers in fear with his physical size, but who was on a reliable leash held by the new teacher.
— Why do you ask? Why do you ask?! What if you go to the store and take a cart? But you can't find what you need. You go up to the consultant to ask. And he replies: "I'll tell you, but only if you know Gauss's formula."
— Uh... Does that really happen? — the bully was confused. Although, comparing him to Drakken, Kim could call the schoolboy a simple small fry.
— Well, of course! — the villain was indignant. It seems that now the henchmen of "Doctor Lipskey" will be watching Bill, and when he goes to the store, he really will be facing a physics quiz.
— O-okay, you know best, sir, — the big guy agreed, understanding that arguing with a lunatic was pointless.
— That's right. So, children, watch and remember. This is force, — with these words, he lightly but quite effectively smacked the big guy on the head with a pointer.
— Hey! — Bill protested.
— Don't worry, Billy, I have a state permit for the use of pedagogical violence, — he threw open the folds of his lab coat and jacket, pulling out a certificate from an inner pocket. Kim and Ron recognized Drakken's own handwriting. But the former liked order in school, and therefore did not interfere with the chastisement of the bully. And the latter had been bullied by these very thugs, and he, like a true villain, was savoring the pain and fear of his tormentor.
— So, force is a vector quantity, meaning it has a direction, a magnitude that is a measure of the influence on this body, — he poked Bill with the same pointer, — from other bodies.
The lesson continued at this pace. Drakken could undeservedly give good grades simply because he liked some of the students' remarks or quips. He even helped the underachievers to slightly improve their situation. Although they had to be volunteers for that. Then they smoothly transitioned to Archimedes' principle.
— And instead of water, how about we consider something tasty? — Drakken suggested to them, pulling various sodas out from under the teacher's desk.
In short, everyone was happy with the lesson. Even Bill, who received quite a few taps with the pointer. Because everyone got decent grades, and they drank free soda. What else do students need in school? Only to escape the lesson itself. So after the bell, everyone quickly ran off.
— Miss Possible, please stay for a moment, — Drakken said to the departing Kim. She prepared herself for another humiliation, but he simply handed her an envelope. Fortunately, having learned from bitter experience, she refused to take it with her bare hands. The villain had to open it himself and show it to the student.
— I'm invited to a wedding as a guest? Wait, wait. I don't know anyone there! — Kim protested.
— Only Shego and me. Don't worry so much; villain weddings are the most fun. Go with someone, have some fun. Many of the invited guests don't know anyone there either, — the villain assured her.
— And why did you invite me? — Possible asked suspiciously.
— Oh, you see, I found out that they hired a special person to throw the bouquets, — he explained meaningfully.
— The bouquet?
— You'll understand later. Well, are you in? — Drakken asked hopefully.
— It's strange that a villain invites me to a party and not heroes. But I agree. Who doesn't love a party? I just need to think of a gift, — the heroine agreed nonetheless.
— That's great! Well, good luck! — the evil genius immediately made his escape before she could change her mind.
Kim's thoughts, however, were occupied with something else. What to wear, what to give as a gift, and whom to bring with her? Most of the contemporary villains will be there. And that's a chance to plant various listening devices on them. In short, she could combine business with pleasure.
— Teacher's bell! — Drakken's voice interrupted her thoughts.
— Hey! Give the bell back to the bike, you scumbag! — in response to the caller, villainous laughter erupted.