Kim Possible Porn Story: Confessions of a Teenage Heroine – Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I
only own my villainesses and Shego’s parents.

“…and
now, after an intricate pattern that has been programmed into each of
your go karts that will make you dizzy beyond comparison, you will
all collide with each other, setting the explosives off and blowing
you to pieces,” Mischief said in a typical alto villain voice
and then gave a deep, throaty laugh, “Get it? Go-karts? And
you’re Team Go?”

“Yes,
A+ on the bad villain pun, A- on the monologue; the explaining could
have been a bit less confusing, but it seems like the boys got it,”
I assured her.

“Let’s
go through the checklist; she always forgets something,” Mego
stated from the other side of the lair.

“I
don’t always
forget!” Mischief whined like young Simba.

“We’ve
been on the same “best-plan-ever” for weeks because you
keep forgetting something,” Hego said. I sighed.

“Monologue,
bad pun, and evil laugh check. Vehicles in working condition?”

“Yep.”

“Explosives…explosive?”

“Yep.”

“Pattern
in order?” She glanced down at her computer.

“Yeperooni.
What about your guyses’ restraints, tight enough?”

“Yeah.”
We all said, though we could all get out if we really wanted to. But
Mischief…well, she was more of a big picture villainess than a
detail-oriented one. Her plans were practically self-foiling, but we
came anyway to help her self-esteem.

She
rubbed her hands together, delighted with her own ingenius.

“Let’s
get this go-kart rolling, then,” she said like the Fonz,
pressing a button.

The
go-karts didn’t move an inch. I sighed.

“You
forgot to put gas in the karts, didn’t you?” She slammed her
head down on the desk.

“DANG
IT ALL TO HELSINKI!!” She screamed like Jasmine from
Aladdin.

We
were so going to be late for school.

&

“Thanks
for fixing my bike,” I said to Hego as we pedaled to school.
Getting out of our restraints was easier than I thought, and
apparently Mischief couldn’t be late to Mr. McQuarry’s class one more
time.

“I
got around to it,” he shrugged it off, “But where’d you run
off to this past week?”

“Surprise-party-turned-saving-Disneyworld
thing. Don’t ask,” he snickered.

“Oh,
I know about you and your friends going under cover. It’s all over
Youtube, not to mention the news. Disney is being praised for
Goldie’s, I mean Aurora’s,
self-defense lesson. Something about breaking stereotypes and female
empowerment or something.”

“Oh,
goody. She’s going to be a joy for the next couple of days.”

“I’m
already preparing on some sort of revenge plot.”

We
stood there and waited for traffic. He glanced down at his handlebars
and then at oncoming traffic, a small frown on his face.

“Did
something happen while I was gone?” I asked gently.

“Yeah.
You just missed a visit with Dad,” The glowing man told us to
cross.

I
sighed. I was grateful I had dodged that bullet. The only thing me
and Dad did lately was argue. Not that I wanted to feed my brothers
to the dog, but it was better their awkward silence then me exploding
like Spaghetti O’s cooked too long without a cover (not that I’d know
anything about that…).

We
didn’t talk anymore about Dad. Hego, hero to the core, was a tad bit
uncomfortable with the fact Daddy Dearest was in prison for murder.
Mom nor Dad ever talked about it much, either.

&

I
glanced at Tigress. She was looking at me like, “What is that
crazy girl planning now?” I was planning something that was
going to save me the humiliation of being ran over yet again.

The
woodshop class were bringing in a wide piece of board for a door for
the set. It sat in the back of a pick-up truck at just the perfect
angle. I circled around, and then went as fast as I could up the
board, shooting into the air.

“YEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”
I yelled, sailing over her car.

My
stunt would have been great, except I hadn’t really thought about the
landing. The bike gave way from under me, and I went crashing to the
hard cement. Tigress and Golden Arrow both burst out laughing.

“You’re
not War Hawk!” Tigress yelled at me. I sighed. At least she
hadn’t run me over.

Someone
kneeled beside me.

“oEstas
bien?” Jesus asked me. Are you okay?

“Si,
si, claro,” I said quickly, embarrassed. Yes, yes, of course. I
got up and brushed myself up, “oQue tal?” I asked. What’s
up?

“oPodemos
hablar durante almuerzo? Tengo algo muy importante decirte,” I
pursed my lips. He had said something along the lines of talking
during lunch, he had something very important…to tell me? Shoot, I
should’ve gone on to Spanish II.

“Claro,”
I said. He smiled.

Tigress
has some amazing predatory instincts. She can tell when I’m trying to
land a hot guy from miles around. So, she obviously scented fine
Jesus. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, snatching Mischief by
the sleeve.

“What
do you want from me?!” She bawled like Mike from Monsters Inc.

“You
are going to translate for me to Jesus,” she hissed. Apparently
someone had told Tigress that French was the language of love, so she
was spending her foreign language credits in French class.

I
put my bike away. Not like I wanted to let Tigress have him, but I
also didn’t want to make a scene (I know, how unlike me). Jesus
looked curiously at Tigress and Mischief, not as scared as I would’ve
imagined from someone who didn’t grow up in Go City, but not exactly
at ease. I don’t blame him; Tigress was smiling at him.

“Okay,
Mis, tell him “Hello, I am Tigress and I’m happy to finally get
to talk to you”. Don’t screw up,” Tigress hissed. Mischief
waved.

“QHola!
Ella se llama Tigress y come bebs,” Wow, I may have only taken
Spanish I, but I knew that was an inaccurate translation. She ate
what?

Tigress
was oblivious to Mischief’s freedom of translation, even with the
shocked look on Jesus’s face and Mischief’s small smirk.

“Tell
him he’s extremely cute and tell him that I don’t mean to be
forward.”

“Te
pareces al vmito de un mono y hueles a caca,”
Jesus’s eyes widened. Tigress must have taken it as a good surprise.

“Ask
him if he would like to go to the Sadie Hawkin’s dance with me.”

“”oQuerras
ir a prenderle fuego a los nios de Sadie Hawkin conmigo?”
Didn’t “fuego” mean “fire” and “nios”
“children”?

Jesus
cleared his throat.

“Perdnenme,
pero tengo que ir a mi siguiente clase. Adis,”
he walked away. Mischief turned to Tigress.

“He
says he’ll get back to you,” she said, not slipping out of her
Spanish accent. Tigress frowned.

Mischief
giggled as she came over to me.

“Okay,
now what did you really tell him?” I asked.

“I
told him, “Hi, I’m called Tigress and I eat babies. You look
like monkey vomit and smell like feces. Would you go set fire to
Sadie Hawkin’s children with me?”.” We both burst out
laughing.

“Why…?”

“First
of all, you like him. The only reason she’s interested is because of
that. Second, and more importantly, no one demands me to translate,”
she said like the Rock.

Whoever
said there’s no honor among thieves obviously doesn’t know my
friends.

&

I
scanned the lunch room, trying to find Jesus. I didn’t see him in the
lunch line. Maybe he was already sitting down…

“Shego,
to the principal’s office, Shego,” the intercom announced. I
sighed and went to Mom’s office.

There
I found my mother, sitting in her chair, looking rather ticked off.
Across from her was a team of all-guy camera crew and a female
reporter who wasn’t a stranger to Botox.

“You’ve
got an interview,” Mom grunted, “Show them the conference
room.”

An
interview? Since when? Man, miss one Team Go meeting and you’re lost.
I motioned them to follow me. I was going to kill Hego for this. He
knew what I thought about publicizing Team Go, that nothing good
could come from it. Why was he doing this?

“You
need my brothers, ’cause I can go track them down,” I offered as
we sat down. The reporter shook her head.

“Oh,
no, it’s all right,” she said, “We already interviewed
them.”

Terrific.

“I’m
guessing Hego set it up?” She nodded, “That explains why I
was late. He never tells me anything,” she laughed.

“It’s
really no problem,” she assured me. This woman was a little too
accomidating for my taste.

We
chatted as we waited for the camera crew to set up; how I was, how
she was, wonderful weather we’ve been having for early December, etc.
It didn’t too long for them to get ready, and before I knew it I was
smoothing down my hair and clothes as the camera man was counting
down.

“So,
Shego, what’s it like being a crime-fighting superhero?” Good,
one of my practiced questions.

“It’s
a lot of fun, actually. You go all over the world, meeting new people
and experiencing new cultures, all the while keeping the world safe.
It’s really cool,” Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. That
doesn’t sound at all like the Shego we know and love. And you’re
right. If it was me talking, it’d be more like, “Duh,
it’s cool being a superfreak. I fly in a jet all over the world
because I’m “saving the world”. Really, all I care about is
kicking butt, making sure my brothers don’t kill themselves, and the
exotic foods and habits of other countries.”

That
would not go over well with Hego. I had to be the supportive, loving,
upbeat superheroine that everyone expects. Sometimes, I wonder if Kim
feels pressured to be that image, too.

“Being
a superhero must be a challenge while you’re still in high school,”
she continued. I laughed. No flippin’ duh.

“I
guess it’s not exactly a typical high school experience,” Guess?
“There’s some mountains to climb, like scheduling your extra
cirricular actitivies around saving the world. The main one is
attendence and getting out of class. You’d be surprised how few
teachers let you out of their class to go save the world.”

“Some
of your nemesi have hench girls your age,” Uh oh.

“Yeah,”
I agreed.

“Do
they go to your school?” Big uh oh. This wasn’t a practiced
question.

“Yeah,
I see them around, have a couple classes with some of them,” I
admitted.

“I’m
sure there’s a bit of tension there,” she pressed.

What
was I going to say?! If I told the truth, Hego will kill me. If I
lied, though my friends would forgive me, I’d hate myself for it. I
had other friends; I just wasn’t very close to them and-

“Not
as much as you would think,” I finally said, “Off-duty,
they’re pretty decent girls,” Ah ha! Compromise!

The
reporter didn’t look satisfied.

“Surely
there’s some conflict, being in such close quarters with your arch
enemies.”

“Well,
yeah, sure. Tigress and I are at each other’s throats constantly.
Just ask the principal. But super powers, touring the world,
fighting… it’s kinda weird not to get along when you’ve got such
major things in common, you know?” There went that superheroine
image, right out the window. Like she was ever going to last.

“Do
you ever hang out with them outside of school?”

“Oh
yeah, all the time. We’re just like normal girls when we’re not
working. Going to the movies, riding our bikes, hanging out at the
mall,” Though that last one was only on rare occassions. If they
saw something they liked, more often then not they’d steal it, which
usually ended in some good-vs-evil fight and… Well, it’s like
taking an alcoholic into a bar, “We even have sleepovers
together.”

“You’d
think there’d be a lot of conflict between a hero and villains,”
she commented. I reflected on the Disneyworld fiasco.

“Yeah,
there’s tons of conflict. Almost like we’re trying to convert each
other to our side of the law. But hey, it’d be pretty boring if you
got along with everyone all the time.”

The
door to the conference room opened.

“Hey-o,
Shego. Your mom-o doesn’t want you-o to be late-o to class-o.
Again-o,” Golden Arrow warned.

“Are
you trying-o to speak-o Spanish-o?” I asked. She smiled.

“Si-o,”
she glanced around at the crew, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,
we were just finishing,” the reporter announced. Apparently, I
wasn’t going to get a long segment.

I
grabbed my back pack and followed Golden Arrow out.

“They
didn’t even recognize me,” she pouted.

“No
offense, but your half-tiger sister kinda overshadows you.”

“Yeah.
Guess what we found out about Metaphor during lunch today.”

“She’s
a vegetarian?”

“No,
funnier. She can’t stand the words “fondle” or “moist”.”

You’ve
just gotta wonder how that
bit of information came up.

It
was hilarious because as we walked into the hallway, you could
immediately see the rest of our friend group. All of them except War
Hawk were crowded around poor Metaphor, practically screaming
“FONDLE!” or “MOIST!” or “MOIST FONDLING!”
in her ears.

“Come
on, guys. Leave her alone!” I laughed, pushing them away from
her. They teasingly pushed back.

“Goody
two shoes!” They chided me. We laughed, pushing at each other as
we stumbled along to our next class.

&

Jesus
tried to catch me again after school, but I was whisked off to play
practice before I could figure out what he had to say.

Being
somewhere between a minor and a major character sucks. You might
be needed, but mostly you aren’t and just sit around bored. Hego
thankfully wasn’t a major character, so we pretty much farted around
like siblings most of the time. But today was the day Hego and War
Hawk had been dreading; the gazebo scene with Rolfe and Liesel.
Neither one of them looked infatuated with the other as the drama
teacher Mrs. White went over the scene’s choreography.

Me
and Mischief who, for once, wasn’t needed were doodling all over our
scripts. Actually, we were really listening in on Hego and War Hawk,
hoping for some hope. All we heard was the following conversation:

“Ow.
Stop digging your nails into me! You’re like Tigress!”

“You’ll
drop me!”

“Geez,
War Hawk, you should know by now I’m a little stronger than the
average guy.”

“Doesn’t
mean you aren’t going to drop me.”

“Do
you honestly think I would drop you on purpose?”

“I
don’t know. You’re
the one who said he’d rather die than be in the same room as me.”

“You’re
the villain, not me. And when are you going to let that go?”

“Not
for a loooooong time. You really hurt me when you said that,” I
glanced over the top of my script. Hego had paused in his spat, but
he looked confused instead of sorry.

“Maybe
we should try this another day,” Mrs. White finally intervened.

I
went to War Hawk’s side just in case my brother hurt her again. She
did look hurt, but not near-tears hurt.

“You’d
think a guy would learn after being hit by a mallet in the
chimichangas,” she muttered, half-heartedly smirking.

My
heart skipped a beat as Hego came after her. On his own.

“I
didn’t think that, that Tigress… Do you actually like
me?” He gave a disbelieving chuckle.

“Metaphor
wants to meet you at the park at eight tonight. Said she wanted to
cash in her favor. Wear all black,” she passed on the message to
me. She turned to where Mischief was sitting, glaring daggars at
Hego, “Need a ride home, Mis?” She asked.

Mischief
shook her head slowly, never ceasing to glare at Hego.

“Actually,
Chloe, I think I need a ride home,” I told her. Hego stared at
me. We always biked home together.

But
there was only so much idiocy I could take from him.

&

“I
am really getting sick and tired of watching Tigress run you over day
after day,” she explained as we stood in the park. She threw me
a ski mask, “We’re going to go steal an engine for your car.”

“Isn’t
this more a favor for me than you?” I asked as we slipped on the
masks.

“Let’s
just say I owe your mom,” she muttered.

We
got into her sleek black sports car. She glanced over at me and
noticed that I wasn’t exactly pulling at the bit.

“Look,
it’s not grand theft auto…”

“We’re
stealing an engine. That is pretty much the heart of the car, right?
So, it practically is
grand theft auto.”

“I
think you’re just scared of getting caught,” she purred. I
whirled around.

“I’m
not scared! I’m just considering the options if someone were by
chance walking around and-“

“Bawk,
bawk, bawk, bawk,” Metaphor flapped her arms like wings.

“Listen,
I am not chicken. But if Hego-“

“BAWK,
BAWK, BAWK, BAWK!” She crowed louder.

“I’m
just saying-“

“BAAAAWK!”

“Listen
to me-“

“BAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWKKKKK!!”
I folded my arms, leaning back in the leather seat.

“Why
don’t I just shut up and go along with this plan that’s bound to end
horribly for me?”

“Now
you’re getting it,” Metaphor praised, patting me on the head.
She started the car and pulled out of the parking space, “Golden
Arrow’s already scouted it out for us. It’s at a dealership at the
edge of the city. We go in, pop the hood, disconnect the engine, put
the engine in the trunk, drive to your house and drop it off. Golden
Arrow will come by this weekend and install it the right way. No.
Big. Deal. Hey, you might even get a taste for villainy.”

“This
is what this whole favor thing is about, isn’t it?! Converting me to
the dark side?!” I exclaimed. She snorted.

“Noooo!”
She said sarcastically.

The
rest of the drive in silence. I was not opposed to the thought of
stealing an engine; it was a heck of a lot easier than asking Betty
for an advance on my paycheck or, worse and probably least likely to
actually work, ask for a loan from Mom. It was the fact of being
caught again that I wasn’t crazy about. Betty would probably suggest
a life sentence, throwing in that I gouged her eye. Not to mention
what Hego would do to me. I didn’t like asking for forgiveness, and I
hated admitting I was wrong (even if I didn’t mean it).

Metaphor
shut off the headlights as we drove silently into the lot.

“This
is bound to fail,” I muttered.

“You’re
such a pessimist, Shego. Never thinking anyone’s plans are going to
succeed,” she scolded.

“Well,
I’m kind of a hero, so forgive me for not believing in a villain’s
plot!” I hissed. She turned the car off and grabbed a small
toolbox out of the glove compartment. Tools of the trade, as my
mother would say.

We
got out and went to a truck that looked almost identical to mine. She
popped the hood and set to work. I glanced over her shoulder,
watching her work.

“Need
any help?”

“I’m
good right now, thanks. I just need help carrying it,” I leaned
against the bumper.

“Should
we worry about security cameras?”

“Artica
covered it,” Wow. Pretty much everyone was in on this. And only
Metaphor and I would get the credit in the end.

Without
any alarms or sirens or lights going off, we disconnected the engine
and hauled it home. It was way too easy, I remember thinking the
entire time. And it had been.

&

“QShego!”
I turned around, just about to go to play practice. He grabbed me by
the forearm, “Necesitamos hablar. Ahora,” Something about
it being necessary to talk. Now.

He
pulled me aside, aside being to a secluded shaded area. He took a
deep breath and then began.

“Escuche
cuidadosamente. Soy un espa de Espaa que ha sido enviado para
pedir ayuda al Team Go. Nuestras fuerzas no son suficientes. Hemos
sido atacados por un villano que se llama el Matador. yl est
tratando de asumir el control el mundo, comenzando con Espaa. Qyl
debe ser detenido!” I
barely caught a word he said. Something about a matador and Spain? I
shook my head.

“Yo
no comprende,” I admitted. I don’t understand (a very useful
phrase to learn if you take Spanish in high school, especially if all
the teacher speaks is Spanish). He sighed.

“Sgeme,”
he said, pulling me along.

“oMis
hermanos?” I asked. My brothers?

“oPodras
llamarlos, por favor?”
He asked. I shook my head. He acted like he was speaking into a
phone.

“Oh!
Call them!” I cried. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed War
Hawk’s number. Two rings and then she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Can
you tell Hego to round up the boys and get out here? I think Jesus is
a spy.”

&

Needless
to say, there was a lot of confusion. Such as the fact Jesus had his
own jet plane, and that none of my brothers understood Spanish past
“Hola”, “Gracias”, and “Adios”. Making
me the translator, and I only knew half of what Jesus was saying. I
realized I’ve taken body language for granted until now.

We
landed in an European country we had not been to before, next to a
very private, business-y building. A Hispanic man came out, his hair
the color of pepper and his brown eyes soft and kind.

“QTeam
Go! QGracias a Dios!”
He exclaimed. He shook each of our hands in turn, “Soy
Julio Quizas, y bienvenidos
a Espaa. Estamos
tan agradecidos para su ayuda contra el Matador. yl ha estado
asumiendo silenciosamente el control de Espaa por varios meses
ya…”

“Perdn,
Sr. Quizas, pero nosotros no hablamos espaol bueno. Nosotros
hablamos ingls,” I explained quickly. Pardon, Mr. Quizas, but
we don’t speak Spanish well. We speak English.

“QAy!”
He said exasperantly at Jesus, “QUsted me dijo que podran
hablar espaol!”

“QBien,
Shego lo habla!”
He exclaimed, pointing at me. The boys exchanged glances.

“What’d
he say about a depot and a bar?” Wego 1 asked.

“Forget
about that. I wanna know why Shego keeps calling this guy Mr. Kiss
Ass,” Mego said very bluntly.

“It’s
“Quizas”, with a “Q”. Gutter mind,” I
hissed.

“I
am not good at English,” Mr. Quizas apologized with a heavy
accent, “Please help us. There is a… villain who calls himself
the Matador. He is attempting to take over the world, starting with
Spain,” That made a lot more sense now.

“No
problem. Where is he?” Hego asked.

“In
the center of town,” Mr. Quizas said, pointing down the road,
“He is planning something. Jesus, aydeles,” he commanded.
Jesus nodded and signaled us to follow him.

It
was a beautiful city made up mostly of tall brick buildings baked by
the sun. The alley ways we walked down were narrow, and far more
people walked rather than drove. They talked amongst themselves, only
occasionally glancing at us.

“They’re
all speaking Spanish,” Mego complained. I stopped and stared at
him.

“That
has to be the stupidest comment that you have ever said,” I told
him.

“Aren’t
we in Spain?” Wego 2 asked.

“I
think that’s why it’s a stupid comment,” Wego 1 answered.

“How
am I supposed to know where we are? I don’t speak Spanish,” Mego
griped.

“You
watch the Discovery Channel and look around to see if you remember
it,” I muttered. Jesus straightened, and then pulled out a
phone. He talked quickly and rapidly into it.

He
motioned us to hurry and quietly follow him. We snaked our way
through the crowds. Moving shadows mirrored us, complimenting our
every move as we went on. Did other cultures besides Japan and China
have ninjas, I wondered.

We
came to what had to be the center of town. The streets were wide
enough for cars to pass through and there was a large fountain right
there in the center… Which some guy appeared on top of in a poof of
smoke as soon as we came into the area.

He
had a large, beaten-up sombrero that had paper clips and feathers
dangling off of it like a lame fishing hat. He was dressed in an old
bull fighter’s uniform, the sequins hurting my eyes as they reflected
in the sun.

The
citizens ran screaming and scattered. The strange man laughed when he
saw us.

“oAs
pues, ustedes piensan que usted pueden detenerme? Soy el Matador, y
ustedes no son nada ms que suciedad bajo mis pies. Con
esto…” he held up a
remote control of some sort, “QAsumir el control del mundo!”

My
brothers and I exchanged glances. You know, it would be nice if the
villains spoke English, at least, or had a translator.

There
was the grating sound of gates rising up from all of the alleys that
flowed into the center. Jesus glanced back at the alleyway we had
come from. His eyes widened.

“El
encierro…” He muttered. He turned to us, “QCorrer!
QCorrer!” He shouted. My eyes widened.

“Run!”
I yelled to my brothers.

We
scattered, not sure where to run or what we were running from. The
shadows came out of hiding, launching themselves at either what was
coming for us or at the Matador. The sound of hoofbeats reverberated
off the walls, sounding like a whole herd of something, coming at us
from all angles. And then, I saw their cold black eyes, their dark
smooth hides, their rippling muscles just underneath. And their bone
white, sharpened twin horns.

“I
thought the Running of the Bulls was in July!” Hego yelled over
the sound of their hoofbeats.

“Like
villains pay attention to the time of year!” I yelled back,
dodging out of the way.

That
was all I could do. The only bull I had ever really seen was Tuffy at
the fair. He had been there every year at the exotic animal barn of
the fair since I can remember. I had fed bread to him (with
permission from his owner, which my father had bowled with) and
laughed as he accidentally licked my hand in his eagerness. But Tuffy
was behind a cage, and Tuffy didn’t get angry in the least, so I
never thought about how huge Tuffy was and how that weight could
easily crush me. Hiding behind Hego was starting to sound like a
really good option.

Half
of the Spanish ninja/secret agent men were fighting the Matador, who
had amazing dexterity and balance. The other half were luring the
bulls away, laughing and yelling, “QEl encierro!” to each
other. I watched as the Matador accidentally hit a little joystick
thing and then glanced at the bulls.

The
bulls all swayed slightly to the left. My eyes widened.

“The
bulls are microchipped!” I exclaimed. Not like that was anything
new; most villains were control freaks. It did explain a lot.

Jesus
turned to me.

“oQue?”
He asked. Aw, crap, why couldn’t Hego have heard me and figure out a
way to tell them.

I
pointed at the remote, and then at the bulls, multiple times. He
nodded.

“QSi!
QYo comprende!” Yes! I understand! He started to yell at his
amigos rapidly.

That’s
when I caught sight of the twins. A group of bulls had them and their
multiples cornered, all escape routes cut off. They weren’t that old
then. Seven, I think? Anyway, I flipping had a heart attack.

They
say that a mother, in that moment of adrenaline when she realizes her
child’s in danger, has the strength to lift a car. I had the strength
to wrestle bulls, or at least push them out of my way.

“WEGOS!!”
I shouted. They retracted their multiples.

“Shego!”
They called at the same time.

I
scooped them up, one under each arm, and ran like a cheetah on speed
with rocket boosters locked onto its paws. I blasted any bull that
dared cross my path and crashed down the door into a small shop.

“Stay
here, you hear me?!” I snapped. They nodded submissively.

“Wish
Hego would have gotten the red glow,” Wego 1 muttered. I shut,
locked, and practically welded that door closed.

The
moment of adrenaline passed as I realized they were safe.
Unfortunetely, my super human strength vanished and the bulls were
staring right at me, slightly ticked at being shot with green plasma.
I screamed like the gender I was and ran for it.

“Run,
Shego, run!” Mego yelled sarcastically, sounding like that
person from Forest Gump.

But
I wasn’t fast enough for one bull. I screamed even harder as I was
lifted high into the air, a bull’s horn where the good Lord split me.
It went deeper and deeper in, and I screamed harder and harder, tears
coming to my eyes. After an eternity, the bull tossed its head,
sending me flying into a brick wall. I was unconscious before I even
realized the bull had let go.

&

I
moaned as I woke up. You’d think hitting a brick wall would be the
worst of my pain, but the sharp stab coming from my rectal region was
ten times more horrible than my headache.

“Shego?”
Hego asked, leaning over me. I gave a low whine, clenching my cheeks.
It only increased the pain. I whimpered.

“Shoot,
that’s gotta be one of the worst injuries ever. I mean, seriously,
there was so much blood coming out they thought you bursted an
artery,” Mego snickered.

“I
want morphine,” I muttered. I glanced around, “We’re back
in Go City?”

“Yeah,
you’ve been out for awhile. After the bleeding stopped, both from the
attic and the basement, they transferred you in a helicopter. Oh, and
Spain is grateful for our success in defeating the Matador,”
Hego added. I sighed.

“Spiderman
saves the mayor’s daughter and gets the key to NYC. We stop a maniac
and one of us gets injured in the process, all we get is Spain’s
gratitude,” I groaned.

“We’re
not Team Impossible,” Mego reminded me. I glanced over as the
door opened. Mom was laughing, shaking her head.

“Only
you, Shego, my daughter. Only you could get a bull’s horn to rupture
a vein in your ass, not to mention tick off your nerve tissue,”
I smirked. That was my luck.

“If
Jesus doesn’t go to the Sadie Hawkin’s dance with me after all this,
I’m going to be soooooooo ticked,” I said.

They
kept me in the hospital overnight, and I was released the next day
with butt meds and instruction not to sit as much as possible, and no
physical activity. My friends got a kick out of it, saying the exact
same thing as my mom, “Only you, Shego. Only you.” How was
I going to explain that one to my teachers?

The
P.E. teacher was the only one who really made a stink out of it, but
after a visit to my mom’s office, she was convinced I wasn’t forging.
The really interesting reaction came from Dr. Lipsky. He looked at
the doctor’s note, then at me, then at the note, then at me.

“You’ve
got to be making this up,” he insisted. I shook my head.

“It’s
the real deal.”

“A
ruptured vein…in your butt?”

“Truth
is stranger than fiction, Dr. L,” Golden Arrow said, coming up
behind me.

“I
could not
make this up,” I said, laughing. Dr. Lipsky smirked.

“I
guess you really couldn’t. Okay, I won’t force you to sit down for
fear of hurting…your butt,” he couldn’t help but crack up as
he said it. I smiled. I have to admit, it’s hilarious.

As
long as it doesn’t happen to you.

&

“Well,
to begin today’s meeting, after a whole month Shego’s butt has made a
full and complete recovery,” Hego announced. My brothers
applauded me. I made a big show as I sat down in my chair. You know,
you really take sitting for granted, too, “And, as a side note,
making “The Hampster Dance” our theme song would infringe
on copyrights,” There was a collective “awwwwww” from
the rest of the group, “I know, I know, I was heartbroken when
the people on Yahoo! Answers told me that, too. Mego, didn’t you say
you had something?” Mego puffed up his chest.

“As
a matter of fact, I do. I have discovered the first Rubix cube,
created by the Egyptians roughly in the BC area,” he pulled out
from behind his back a bronze pyramid, decorated with intricate
markings and hieroglyphics. We all “ohhhh”ed and “ahhhh”ed
appropriately.

“Did
you get this from the mission in Cairo?” Wego 2 asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where’d
you get it from?” Hego asked. Mego pursed his lips.

“I
may have found it among the possessions of a certain villain.”

“You
stole from a villain?”

“That
can’t be considered stealing if it’s an already stolen item!
Besides,” he tossed the pyramid up and down, “I’ll give it
back to the Smithsonian. That is, after I’m done with my paper on the
Rubix cube.”

“For
what class?” I asked, swiping it from him.

“Hey!”
He whined. I twisted the levels around.

“Aren’t
Rubix cubes supposed to be…cubes? Isn’t that the point of matching
everything up?”

“Be
careful with that, Shego! It’s an ancient artifact, probably the only
one still so perfectly preserved,” Hego scolded me. I sighed,
tossing it back to Mego.

“Whatever
class it’s for, I doubt the “history of the Rubix cube” is
a legitimate topic for your paper,” I warned him.

At
the back of my mind was the fact that, now that I could sit and not
irritated my tender nerves, I could finally drive my truck. My
truck!! With its new parts and interior courtesy of the villainesses
(a Get Well/Sucks to be You gift), I was all set. Tomorrow was going
to rock!

&

I
woke up the next morning, the thought of driving my truck in my head.
I swung my legs over and prepared to stand…

…I
fell four feet to the ground. I gave a small, surprised sound…which
sounded like a high pitched squeal. I grasped my throat. My voice was
strangely high this morning. I glanced at my bed. Since when did I
have a bunk bed?

“Sweetie,
are you all right?” I heard a familiar male voice call. What was
Avarius doing here, calling me sweetie? I glanced around my
room…only it wasn’t my room. It was still familiar, though.

I
ran to the vanity. War Hawk’s lavender eyes were staring back at me.

&

Whoa,
this chapter was NOT supposed to be so long. Oh well, guess I got
carried away. Special thanks to charis-chan for checking my Spanish
grammar and word useage. Jesus would have had pretty bad espaol if
it wasn’t for her. I greatly appreciate it. And, as always, please
review.