Chapter Text
You roll your neck, trying to work out a crick earned by crawling through a quarter mile of the most labyrinthine ducting you’ve ever had to navigate. Damp, too. You’d figure it was a security upgrade by Hench Co, but that would have to include some sort of, you know, security upgrade. Or the ducting working properly. Regardless, you can’t get lost as long as you follow the sound of frustrated and megalomaniacal ranting, so you return to the task. Ron is probably somewhere behind you, but really his best trait is falling out of vents at just the right time.
Another dozen twists and turns puts you right above what could only be called a doom arena, with Dr. Drakken and his latest invention smack dab in the middle. Modestly proportioned, compared to the other inventions he’s tried in recent past. Classic death ray, looks like. Sleek, or as sleek as a ten foot 1950’s scifi mad science experiment could conceivably be. All black, with a red stripe and a big skull painted on the side. Guess you can’t go wrong with clear labelling. You limber up as much as you can in an air conditioning duct, silently, preparing for the drop. Once you hit the floor you’ll have maybe two witticisms from Shego before plasma starts flying.
With a steadying exhale you cut through a vent with your laser lipstick, sliding out into a flip as it falls to the concrete floor. Drakken shrieks when the vent clatters noisily to the floor, but regains a modicum of composure when he sees you standing there.
“Kim Possible!” He coughs a little, then an evil smirk builds on his blue face. “You know, I’ve been waiting for you.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure sounded like it, when you screamed like a baby.”
“Oh ha-ha. Yes, well, SHEGO!” He always hollers her name in the same way, and it never fails to kick start your adrenaline system. You watch him high tail it behind his death ray, giggling and wringing his hands.
You turn your head, waiting for the distinct sound of plasma crackling, or dire insults being slung your way. You already know you wouldn’t hear her footsteps unless she wanted you to. After a longer than usual moment, there’s the expected sound.
“Sweat stains already, Kimmie? Don’t tell me you lost your nerve.” She steps out from behind a pillar, far enough away that neither of you could make an effective first move without telegraphing big time.
“As if. Your ducts, however, need a hand. You could go call maintenance, but I don’t think this place will last to the next service window.”
“It’ll last long enough for me to fry you and get the hell out of this cess pit. Maybe I’ll go island hopping after this, somewhere equatorial and expensive.”
“The only place you’re going is back to prison, Shego.”
Her eyes flicker over your shoulder, just for the briefest second, and you throw yourself into a cartwheel to one side. Just in front of where you were standing is now a hole filling with settling concrete dust. Behind you you can hear the frustrated gnashing of Drakken.
You scoff, circling around Shego to the left. “You make this too easy, you know that? We’ve been doing this for years. Nothing about you surprises me anymore.”
She snarls and charges across the doom arena at you, arms bathed in green plasma. You hear the death ray charging slowly behind you with a growing, electrical whine. You take a half step forward to meet her between her lunging steps, parrying a speared hand to the side, and bring your leg up in an arcing kick. Shego dives out of the way, twisting to throw a leg at you to make room. You bring your leg down on hers, knowing it’ll result in a reset. Your legs smash into each other, making you both spin out of the impact. You settle into your usual stance, high, agile, ready to dip and dodge, and Shego into hers, low, wide, threatening power and reach. You can’t beat her in raw force, but she can’t beat you in agility.
You hear the electric whine cut out, and take mental note to dodge perpendicular to Drakken. Towards, or away from Shego, is the real question. At least, it could be a real question. You lunge forwards and handspring off Shego’s shoulder, leaving behind what is now a smoking crater. You duck low, anticipating the flung backhand, and counter with a rising uppercut. Your fist is battered to one side by Shego’s knee, so you use the momentum to do another cartwheel, this time throwing two back to back kicks towards her face. The first kick lands, but not before she uses her raised leg to stomp kick you in the chest, sending you both sprawling across the smooth concrete.
You do a quick flip to get back on your feet, cough up a little blood, spit it out, and meet Shego’s eye. She grins at you with bloody teeth, and you both charge in, a flurry of blows, counters, dodges, and plasma arcs flowing between the both of you like a rehearsed dance. There’s a few tags here and there, weak double feints, a series of rabbit punches, an underestimated dodge, but nothing major. Neither of you could really hurt the other, not anymore. You’re too used to fighting. Years you’ve been doing this, and nothing has really changed. First they went straight, worked for Global Justice, then Drakken took one too many comments poorly and went right back to it after a month. Shego went off the grid for that month, then showed up again, more tanned and just as aggravating.
The ranting and raving of Drakken actually penetrates the little bubble world of your fight, and you hear something about Shego blocking the shot. Guess it’s time to dodge again. You’re almost disappointed to be deprived of something so comforting as a fight to the death. You cartwheel backwards, and Shego springs back just in time to get sprayed by concrete dust.
“You almost hit me!” She sounds both infuriated and nigh hysterical, understandably. “You almost hit ME!” It’s nearly a question, punctuated by a flung bolt of plasma flashing over at Drakken.
He ducks and whimpers, then hollers back. “Well keep out of my sights! I’m trying to hit Possible!”
She snarls and throws another bolt of plasma his way before turning back to you. “Can you believe this guy?”
You shake your head. “His aim hasn’t improved in years, I totally can.”
Shego laughs, short and sharp. “Yeah, I guess you would know best.”
You both settle into your stances again, this time uncertain of how to approach. She can’t pin you down without putting herself in the way, you can’t get in close without risking getting pinned down. Stalemate.
That is, until a thunderous crash and rending of metal distracts all three of you. Ron, as predicted, comes crashing precipitously down, ensconced in all sorts of debris. He lands, exactly as usual, directly on the death ray, throwing the aim up into the ceiling, and throwing Drakken off of the small platform it sits upon. The two of them go down in a heap right as the death beam fires harmlessly up.
Or at least you thought it was harmless, your ears twig immediately to the sound of more rending metal. It’s not above you, though, it’s above-
You turn and dive without thinking, arms and legs pistoning to shove as hard as you can, throwing all of your momentum right out. You land face flat on the floor, rewarded with an indignant squawk from Shego. Then, you’re rewarded by a ton of twisted and smoking metal landing on your legs. Better than Shego’s head, but you triage the screaming pain quickly as two major lacerations and a broken tibia. You’re pinned, too. The building around you rumbles in that typical way underground layers tend to. You sigh and lay your face back down on the smooth concrete floor, then pull your laser lipstick out.
You delicately aim the laser at the bit of girder pinning your left leg to the floor, take a deep breath, and then feel it snatched away. You look up at Shego, who stands over you with a disappointed grimace on her face.
You go to speak, catch your breath, cough, then try again. “You’re really going to kill me like this?”
She rolls her eyes at you, reaches over, and simply plucks the girder off of you. “No, princess. Royalty deserves a proper execution, this is no fun.”
Right. Superpowers. Then you’re struck with more pain than you were expecting. You look and see Shego cauterizing your cuts with a bored look on her face.
She looks up at you for a second. “This never holds long. You’ll still need stitches, and soon. Anyways pumpkin, I have to go pick up my idiot before this place collapses. Yours will be here in a second. Till next time.” She sounds exhausted, almost ashamed. “Oh, and the death ray wasn’t my idea of fun.” She shrugs in a ‘what can you do’ way, then hops over the platform and sends Ron scurrying your way.