Kim slowly slumped to the ground unconscious. Her friend (but was he really her friend?) rushed to her to catch her. I stood and awaited developments. Shego did too. Ron's gaze shifted from the heroine to me. I slightly shook the taser in my hand, as if offering it to him too. He shook his head negatively, then hoisted his friend onto his shoulder.
— Well... Should I go then, Doctor Drakken? — the boy asked uncertainly.
— Go on. Norman will drive you. If I understood correctly, my defense system shot down your choppers? Though, you could stay. The lunch offer is still valid.
— N-no. Kim said she was staying over at a friend's place. She needs to return today, — the Sidekick refused. — And I was the one who confirmed it. They'll question me if anything happens.
— And why do they ask you for confirmation that Possible is staying with a friend? — I inquired. Well, really. What trusting parents she has. By the way, for some reason, the heroine's surname made my brain suspiciously "itch." Not the usual migraine yet, but its first warning signs. It seems I was somehow connected to her family in the past.
Why did I stop distinguishing between my former self and "that" Drakken? It's just so much simpler. Both morally and physically. Seriously, many villains suffer from various psychological disorders. Therefore, a consultation with a psychotherapist can be arranged at almost any time to ask for professional help. And if not to cure the ailment, then to suppress the process. Bipolar disorder, split or even triple personality, schizophrenia. Unfortunately, many of these pathologies do negatively affect the workflow. How can one work productively, fend off heroes, and terrify the whole world when every step needs to be discussed with two other different geniuses in one's own head? And each has their own opinion, however perverted.
So, I was advised to "accept myself." I had to weave verbal lace, claiming I had memory problems and difficulty associating with my past self, but I think I was believed. Perhaps accepting Drew, as my true self, even if slightly different, allowed some new memories and knowledge to return.
— Oh, I have a special relationship with her! — he wiggled his eyebrows. My expression didn't change, but Shego couldn't miss the opportunity for an extremely skeptical look. Ron hesitated. — Just a very old friend of hers. Her whole family knows me.
I nodded in satisfaction, accepting the answer, and then gestured to Norman to prepare our flying brain. I ought to make some modifications to it, but I just haven't gotten around to it. Ron dragged the heroine after the butler.
— Hey, Ron! — I called after him. He turned around. — Don't miss your chance.
— Yeah, if only it were that easy, — he grumbled unhappily, but I felt that the support was welcome. I watched them go for a while. My assistant stood beside me.
— "Don't miss your chance?" — she quoted me, playing with her eyebrows sarcastically, as if doubting my expert opinion.
— Exactly, — but I'm the boss here; I won't be easily broken. Someone has to be the authority, right? My assistant merely snorted in response and walked away with a flirty gait towards her own quarters, as if hinting at what I had in mind. What a tease...
***
I must admit, I was currently experiencing a certain creative and ambition crisis. It all started with a simple friendly chat with Cheshire, but that homegrown philosopher managed to sow insecurity in me. So now I'm sitting in Shego's living room with her. She's watching another TV program that won't even stick in her memory after viewing. I, meanwhile, am contemplating.
I just don't know what to do next. I'm not talking about villainy. But about a goal. Some life objective. Initially, I rushed into the "profession" with particular enthusiasm just for the jokes. And I even wanted an "excuse" for the League. Like, I'm doing something, but it's not very effective. It turned out to be quite the opposite. And I've grown attached to my colleagues.
Now, I realize that it all seems a bit small. No, it's not entirely meaningless. But every person is naturally ambitious and greedy. They always strive for more. And only the most resilient can suppress this within themselves. I, alas, cannot do without such a goal. I must strive for something. Slowly, step by step, or rapidly.
Of course, the role of a kind of "vaccination of a little evil for better immunity" suits me perfectly. But I want something more. World domination and power don't interest me at all; it's too much hassle. Even if you delegate everything to loyal subordinates, you still need to find enough of them.
So, let's consider the reason for the phenomenon of "villains." Besides simple psychopaths, villains are the personification, the image of certain social problems. Rejected, unrecognized geniuses; those who opposed public opinion (for example, villain-defenders of the environment. Yes, I was a little shocked myself when I found out we have those too); someone deviant, different from society. To which of these types do I belong? Probably the last one. I'm too cynical by the standards of this world. Although in the past, I might even have been called naive and somewhat idealistic.
Despite all the "goodness" and utopian nature of this world, I can look beneath it. I can exacerbate, expose the wounds of society so that humanity can heal them. That's what I'm doing now, besides mischief. But what if I also engage in "healing" myself?
This world is slowly but surely following the rut of the past. And I sincerely want to make it better. To avoid the mistakes of my world. Of course, not all of them are relevant in this world, but I will try to fix what I can. It's unlikely I can do much, but who knows? Maybe if not me, others will continue my work. It's just that the prospect of constantly fighting a fourteen-year-old teenager doesn't appeal to me at all. Who in their right mind would deliberately fight what is essentially a child?
I cautiously looked at Shego, only to notice that she was also glancing at me periodically. Well, besides my assistant. I don't know why she dislikes Possible so much. She's just a regular teenager (with a professional correction, of course). Although the logic of "beating up teenagers" is clear to me: they are heroes first, and then school students. And that is their choice, their obligation, and the inherent consequences of that choice.
But where to start then? What to latch onto? I think, to begin with, I need to study the biographies of some of my colleagues to find some social problems that have suddenly become acute. Although, on the other hand, I have a couple of ideas tucked away. Look at Norman. He's 67. No employer, even among villains, risked hiring him. But the problem of retirees and nursing homes is quite old. How many valuable personnel are languishing God knows where just like that. And why? Simply because they are too old to work. No, of course, when age purely physiologically interferes with work, that's one thing. That is, you can't really work as a scientist with senile dementia or Alzheimer's. Or as a vascular surgeon, for example. The hands already shake, the vision is failing. But if you give every such person a chance to realize themselves in a suitable "safe" area, you can find many of the most interesting individuals.
Another problem that will always be particularly acute: medicine. In this world, of course, far greater funds are allocated to it than in my past. But this is a comprehensive solution. Funny thing, but the most villainous of my actions might be the opening of a network of free clinics and hospitals worldwide. Everywhere, everything is by medical insurance, expensive, unprofitable. With me, everyone can receive treatment, for free. Utopian? Extremely. There will be so many people that queues for procedures will be months long. The scale needed is simply colossal. Oh, and I must also ensure that all documents include an informed consent stating that they are being treated completely free of charge by villains. And slap the League of Evil symbol as the logo for the clinics.
The next problem, I think, can be called the poisoning and extermination of ecosystems. Mass industrialization and automation clearly do not contribute to the growth of new flora and fauna. Again, this world tries to minimize the causes and consequences of pollution as much as possible. But eliminating them completely is quite a task. On the other hand, I made a probability manipulation machine on a whim. Can't I find a use for spent plastic? Can't I make some filters with 100% efficiency? Maybe I can't. But I'll try.
What else? Unemployment? The Earth's population is growing rapidly. And automation, robotization constantly reduces the number of vacancies. Creating jobs is not a simple matter. It's like the army. Everyone needs to be given something to do. And if it's a responsible task, then you need to select people for it who won't mess anything up. The League, of course, provides a bunch of villain henchman vacancies. But even that is not enough. In general, there are too few ideas on this topic.
Hmm... Furthermore, poverty follows from income inequality. But it's not poverty that worries people as much as the affordability of housing and goods. And while I can afford low-cost high-rise construction at a loss, the production of goods is more complicated. That also requires refinement.
Oh, yes. Due to landing directly in an adult body, I somehow missed a period so loved by many: school. Free education is also a rather exclusive thing. It's only there, in Russia, among the snow barbarians, that you can get an education and medical treatment for free. Many countries have abandoned this practice. Moreover, even primary and secondary education must be paid for, which is why many children do not even receive the most basic knowledge. Again, everything boils down to accessibility. But even stepping away from paid education, another nuance arises. Even in prosperous countries where it is free, and you can enroll in higher educational institutions on a state budget, people are concerned about the quality of the process itself. Its relevance. And, just as importantly, its prestige.
But never mind, I will force you all here to be smart, healthy, and spiritually educated. If necessary, even by force. And all under the patronage of the League. And no one will say it's not prestigious. Such a network of everything will have to be built. Honestly, I'm already horrified by what I just invented. Because there isn't just a lot of hassle. There is enough of it for another five generations after me. Hmm, I should have just conquered the world instead. But breaking is not building. And I want to create! Damn, it looks like I really do have a god complex.
At that moment, Shego tried to get up, presumably to go to the kitchen. Some movie I wasn't familiar with was starting. But whether she did it herself, or it was an accident, or as a reward to me from the Soul of the World for having correct thoughts, she twisted her ankle and collapsed right onto me. No, you judge for yourselves: she can do a triple backflip almost from a lying position. And here she twists her ankle. An actress, I swear. And judging by the look of it, she wasn't in a hurry to get up. And she had such a pitiful expression: "My foot hurts." The one she can crush concrete with, right. An A for acting, a C for the plot. Decision made: she'll be rehearsing with me now.
Nevertheless, I put my arms around my assistant and played along. Yes, I must also show pity, stroke her head. Just like a little kid. But it's even cute. Especially when you know how sarcastic she usually is and what her training involves. A wonderful contrast.
***
I decided to dump all my ideas onto the one responsible for their appearance. Oh, the dissonance when you are racking a cat's brain. Or rather, just having a dialogue. From the outside, it definitely looks like I am some clearly not-so-mentally-sound person, having such conversations with an animal in all seriousness. But this sentient creature knew how to create that impression. But one shouldn't underestimate Cheshire. He was probably one of the smartest cats I had ever known. Not that I knew many smart felines, but I can certainly vouch for this one.
I knew he would be grimacing at my ideas. He is a villain, after all. Even if he turned into an animal. For about fifteen minutes, I tried to break through his conservatism, reluctance, and laziness. But I had a universal skeleton key to the feline heart, which I had thoughtfully brought with me.
— But actually, I don't even under-purr-stand the scale of your ideas. Funding, man-purr-agement, and much, much more. However, I'm always ready to lend a paw to my good friend, — the cat said, contentedly licking his paw.
— You argued and resisted all this time, backing away, until I gave you the sausage. Is your pride worth a stick of sausage? — I inquired wearily. Yes, I blatantly bribed him. He used unfair tactics too! He made puppy-dog eyes and even tried to catch flies, just to avoid answering. But mark my words: **sausage is the key to business negotiations with a cat.**
— Pride is great, of course, — he explained, — but sausage is sausage. Especially such a juicy one.
— Alright. So, where should we start? — I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. Sometimes his feline philosophy went too far. But, at least, it will be fun to remember.
— With me-ow! — he replied. I looked at him in bewilderment. — You see, Drew, spring-ow is just around the corner. And I suffer from loneliness. At my age, it's time to have a couple of kittens. In short, I need a girlfriend.
— And how will this help my cause? — I asked, to put it mildly, shocked. Seriously? Find a girlfriend for a sentient cat?
— I will be better focused on business. More responsible due to having a family. And you-ow will also have a family of people you trust, — he argued with an important look.
— More like trusted faces. So, you're suggesting I work as a matchmaker?
— Ex-actly! — Cheshire rejoiced. I wearily ran a hand through my hair. No, I would gladly help a friend, of course. But for him weaving me around his paw... I haven't figured it out yet. Maybe I'll find him a nasty shrew. Although Shego doesn't look like the friendliest person either. But in reality, you can hardly find anyone more loyal than her.
— And you have someone in mind, don't you?
— Oh, don't worry, my friend. Absolutely no one! — the cat licked his lips. In short, he dumped his idea on me exactly as I had dumped mine on him a couple of dozen minutes ago. No clear plan, nothing understandable, everything very vague. But interesting. Everything as usual.
***
How to prepare the family of a future bride for the family of her impending groom? For this, the matchmakers must be neat, presentable, and delicate, and also maximally reflect the groom. Therefore, I invited Sergei Semenovich to join my company. I didn't socialize with other villains this closely, and the old vampire, upon learning the purpose of my call, rushed over the very next day. He knew Cheshire quite well, but didn't socialize with him much before they both met me. Now, the vampire was ready to help the cat. For some reason, I have a feeling that jokes will be told about this later.
We decided to play matchmakers to female villains as well. Well, who else could be eccentric enough to agree to remain a cat forever after the wedding?
We were often refused. But we were persistent and methodical. I selected a candidate and prepared for a meeting with one villainess or another, and Sergei Semenovich selected cognac and prepared to propose. We worked according to the scheme of "bad matchmaker and very bad matchmaker."
Finally, luck turned to us. She was a certain Helga Habsburg. Yes, from those very Habsburgs who ruled over just about everything in their golden age. The only problem was that she was only a villain in name. Her father was a true League villain. Jens Habsburg is one of the best poison chemists of our time. By the way, he was the curator of the fertilizer project for my sentient plants. He was a truly very serious specialist and a high-class professional. But what he excelled at most were various poisons and toxins. His daughter inherited all his talents. And his eccentricities.
Cheshire tried to wrap me around his finger again. He said he didn't want her. To which he received the reasonable reply that he hadn't dared to propose to anyone himself. So what's so special about her? Well, she was immensely apathetic. At first glance, like a robot. A very beautiful robot, but a robot nonetheless. I suspect she inhaled something as a child, which is why she is weak in expressing emotions. It's like her nerve conduction is weakened, and therefore her facial muscles are barely mobile. Although in correspondence, she seemed to me like a very passionate nature.
And so, Sergei Semenovich and I approached the gates of their family castle. Whether it was the servants or the modern surveillance system that informed the lord of the fortress who had come to visit. Because it was hard to be mistaken. Both of us were exceptionally colorful. I was in a turquoise Hawaiian shirt, denim shorts, flip-flops, a straw hat, and round pink sunglasses. Sergei Semenovich was in a traditional vampire cloak. Only the pattern wasn't orange bats, but pink hearts.
We were quite tired by now, as we had visited three candidates already today. But the first two did not agree to become cats, and the third demanded four tons of gold as ransom. I handed my companion a brochure with brief information about the targets: father and daughter. I circled the daughter a couple of times with a bright marker, just in case, because Sergei Semenovich strictly adhered to his image. That is, he was utterly drunk.
— No, well, this one's ugly, — the old vampire grumbled grouchily, hiccuping, looking at Jens's photo. He even stopped hissing and lisping like a true Creature of the Night.
— Sergei Semenovich, flip the paper over, — I advised him. He obeyed.
— Oh! This one is better! — he approved of the thin and slightly pale girl.
In front, the sound of the gates opening rang out. Then the master of the estate himself appeared. Like all self-respecting mad scientists, he was in a lab coat. He also wore characteristic protective goggles. His graying hair was a little greasy and disheveled. And despite the unwelcoming appearance, it felt like he was glad of our arrival. Of course, the news of what we were doing had already spread everywhere.
— Be well, master of the house and happy father, — we stopped a few meters from him. — Are there any maidens in your house ready for marriage?
— And good health to you, guests. There is, there is, how could she not be. I just can't get rid of her. Why talk on the doorstep? I'll honor you, come in, sit at the table, — his voice was dry, despite the meaning. Definitely a poisoning by some chemical. Or maybe it's like my blue skin. We, by the way, were not empty-handed: we brought a watermelon with us. I don't know why. The vampire was responsible for that part. He handed it to Jens, and we followed.
They were clearly preparing for guests, as the table was practically groaning under the amount of food and drinks. To my surprise, even real alcoholic ones. It seems we weren't the only ones collecting information about the future victim... bride. Without consulting each other, we sat on one side of the table. The host sat opposite.
— Herr Jens, I won't beat around the bush, — I smiled at the situational joke. The vampire, already actively consuming the local wine, gurgled approvingly. — According to tradition, you have the right to refuse us. We compel no one, especially the bride. I assume you are already aware of the situation?
— No one who refuses will go unavenged! — the vampire declared.
— Sergei Semenovich, have some water, — I carefully pushed a carafe toward him. But the old vampire persistently drank wine.
— Yes, I am aware of the situation. And my daughter is too. Perhaps with the body change, her emotions will become brighter. Of course, at first, I wanted to kick you out if you even dared to come. Then I thought everything over thoroughly and agreed to receive you. Then I thought it over again and poisoned all the food...
Sergei Semenovich choked on his wine. Then he distrustfully felt his wrinkled face. But he was fine. However, the hand he brought up to his face was already deeply blackened. He hurriedly pulled a flask from his cloak and treated his hand with cognac. I, meanwhile, calmly continued drinking. Yes, making the poison analyzer was not in vain. And the set of antidote injectors for any occasion. It's not very visible under my shirt, but this belt independently injected the necessary antidote depending on the recognized poison.
— In short, only our watermelon is left, — the old vampire concluded with a sigh, apparently sobering up a little from what was happening and looking at the now useless wine goblet.
— I also sprinkled that with poison, — Jens Habsburg smiled mysteriously.
— Excellent! Magnificent! What selfishness! — the vampire gloomily shifted his gaze to me, apparently bewildered by the jealousy of a loving father. — The food is for him, the drinks are for him, even the watermelon is for him too!
— For your information, Jens is to blame, — I rebutted the old glutton's accusations.
— But you're the one drinking and eating! And I've been waiting all day for a decent meal.
— In short, while we were walking here, I thought everything over thoroughly again and... — Jens intervened in the conversation only to be interrupted by the offended vampire.
— ...and poisoned your daughter? — Sergei Semenovich asked suspiciously.
— No, no, heaven forbid. I decided to give her away! Although, until I get used to the idea that my grandchildren will be sentient talking cats and kittens, — the master of poisons smiled. The sobered-up vampire and I exchanged glances. We had to take it while it was being offered. Or before something else was slipped in.
— Bravo! — we exclaimed synchronously, delighted by the swift conclusion of the search. Helga herself was quietly standing in the hall with an inscrutable face. But, I think, she was happy. Happy for this opportunity to live a life not in solitude. Everyone usually runs away from her, like the Snow Queen. Oh, she is going to be ecstatic with family happiness... And so, revenge on my furry friend worked out by itself.