Chapter Four: The Institute
9297 Polly Parkway was the precise address for the
Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated building. It was located right in the center of
Danville. Kim couldn’t believe it actually had the word “evil” labeled in big
letters on the side. What sort of guy
advertises that kind of thing? Kim thought as she pulled up to the location
with Perry, Luther, and Wade in Luther’s van.
The van doubled as Wade and Luther’s base of operations,
keeping tabs on Kim and Perry while they were inside the Doofenshmirtz complex.
“Doofenshmirtz’s lab is located on the topmost floor of the building,” Wade
informed with the blueprints displayed on his computer. “That’s where the
ceremony is being held.”
Luther in the meantime was getting Kim’s mask prepared
through the Latex Mask machine. She watched him work on the exact likeness of
Heinz Doofenshmirtz himself, jittered by every hyper-realistic detail of the
rather ugly-looking pharmacist. “You guys sure no one else was qualified for
this?”
“Positive,” Luther snickered as he proceeded to work on the
voice modulation strip, which involved using an audio recording of
Doofenshmirtz’s voice (taken from his voicemail message).
“You’ve reached Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz,” the recording
said. “I can’t come to the phone right now because I may be fighting my
nemesis, Perry the Platypus, or on one of my daily errands. Just leave your
name and number and I’ll make sure to get back to you…unless I have been fighting my nemesis, then I’ll
get back once after I’ve gotten out of the hospital.”
Kim cringed over the recording, not only from how long
and winded it was but also from the screeching register of Doofenshmirtz’s
voice. “That’s how I’m going to
sound?!”
“Unfortunately…yes,” Wade confirmed, sharing in her
discomfort.
Luther handed the voice modulation strip to Kim, along
with a card, and instructed, “Apply the strip on top of your neck and repeat
the phrase on the card three times.”
Kim followed his instruction, applying the strip where
her larynx was and reading the card. “Rubber baby buggy bumpers… Rubber baby buggy bumpers… Rubber baby buggy bumpers.” Each time she read the
phrase, she felt her throat tingle as Luther synced the strip up with
Doofenshmirtz’s voice, until it replaced Kim’s entirely. Speaking with that
same screeching tone she heard on the voice message, Kim already hated the
whole thing. “Oh, this is so not how
I wanted to spend my evening!”
“Well, brace yourself, kiddo – because it’s about to get
a lot worse,” Luther said, removing the Doofenshmirtz mask from the machine and
handing it to Kim.
With a disgruntled sigh, Kim placed the mask on, making
sure to tuck her long red locks into it, so that they weren’t seeping out in
the back. Not that anyone would’ve noticed with the collar of the lab coat she
put on afterwards, which hid the seams along with that of the black turtleneck
she wore underneath.
The transformation astonished Wade and even Perry.
No longer was it Kim Possible sitting there in the van
with them; it was Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz.
“This is too weird,” Wade uttered.
“You’re telling me!”
Kim screeched. “I’m just glad Ron isn’t here to see me like this!” She then
looked to Perry, who seemed like he was fighting the urge to punch her in the
face. “How’s your disguise coming
along, Perry? I mean, I’m not sure how
you’re gonna pull off looking like Dr. Lloyd Wexler, judging from his I.D.”
Nonetheless, Perry had his own disguise ready: a simple
wig, fake mustache, glasses, and lab coat.
It was a flimsy excuse for a cover compared with Kim’s
more sophisticated, state-of-the-art costume, but if it could fool an entire
room of evil scientists that went by the name of L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N., then it
was good enough.
“We’ll keep in touch through radio,” Luther noted.
“And we’ll have eyes on you through the surveillance
cameras inside,” Wade added. “I managed to hack into them. This Doofenshmirtz
guy has terrible security.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Kim remarked, her sarcasm more noticeable through Doofenshmirtz’s
voice.
Kim and Perry proceeded onward through the front
entrance, taking the elevator up to the topmost floor of the building. Arriving
in Doofenshmirtz’s lab, they were surprised to find how much he had already put
together in the way of party decorations. The lab looked like a New Year’s
festivity ready to go, complete with streamers, balloons, lights, and a banner
hung up above that read “15th Annual Unification of Evil Ceremony.”
“You have got
to be kidding me,” Kim blurted in open-mouthed repulsion.
“Yeah, they really went all out on this,” she heard Wade
say over her earpiece.
The lab was relatively empty, save for two individuals: a
young man who looked like he could’ve been the DJ and a teenaged brunette in
all-black apparel. “Yo, yo, yo! Look who sho!” the DJ greeted with a noticeable
British accent. “We got it all set for ya, bruv!”
Kim froze. “Uh…thanks, Mister…?” She dragged on long
enough for Wade or Luther to get an ID on the DJ and the girl.
“The girl’s Vanessa Doofenshmirtz, Heinz’s daughter,” Luther
informed.
“As far as the DJ, he’s a total mystery,” Wade said.
It was a mystery that had been short-lived, as the DJ
told Kim, “What’s all this ‘Mister’ about? Name’s ‘DJ Eggsy,’ bruv! You know
that!”
“I can’t believe you hired this guy, Dad,” Vanessa told Kim. Not a second after did she look
at Perry and say, “Wait…Why is Perry here? Isn’t this supposed to be a
convention for all your ‘evil scientist’ buddies?”
Vanessa saw right through the platypus’s disguise.
Regardless, Kim played dumb (which is how she figured Doofenshmirtz to normally
act). “I don’t know what you mean, Vanessa,” she said. “This isn’t Perry the
Platypus. It’s Dr. Lloyd Wexler.”
“Whatever,” Vanessa scoffed, quick
to move on from the conspiracy.
---------------------------
The car ride to the Institute
of Technology in San Francisco could not have been more awkward with just Bond
and Ethan sitting up front together in Bond’s Aston Martin DB5 – Bond being the
one behind the wheel, of course. Neither man said a word since leaving North
Dakota; nothing between them but stiff silence and tension thick enough to cut
with a knife.
Hunt only broke the ice when he asked Bond, “So…MI6…you
wouldn’t happen to have worked with Ilsa Faust on the field?”
“She was once part of the ‘00’ program until she was
decommissioned,” Bond answered. “I never had a proper chance to be assigned
with her.”
His answer surprised Hunt. “What was she decommissioned
for?”
“Betraying MI6 to a rogue American agent.” Bond
momentarily took his eyes off the road to glance wittingly at Ethan. “Any
guesses as to who that might’ve been?”
His question was only met with silence from the IMF agent, much to 007’s
amusement.
A few minutes later, the men arrived at the Institute.
They were greeted by the dean, Professor Grace Granville,
who believed Hunt and Bond were scientists there to survey the students’
projects. “We have many who have developed the most brilliant projects you’ll
ever see here at the Institute,” Granville praised. “They’ve been fine-tuned
under the careful tutelage of our two consultants.”
Those consultants were Dr. Sara Bellum – a tall,
raven-haired white canary scientist in a lab coat – and Edna Mode – a short,
brash half-Japanese/half-German woman who Bond recognized as a world-renowned
fashion designer and auteur. Both
ladies hovered around a group of young upstarts. Hunt and Bond learned their
names as Granville brought them to each of their work stations: Go-Go Tomago,
Honey Lemon, and Wasabi.
There was one young man who was not a student at the Institute but a self-proclaimed “major science
enthusiast.” His name was Fred Frederickson.
“Of the Frederickson Estate?” Bond recognized.
“That’s the one,” Fred confirmed. “You must’ve heard of
my dad – Mister Frederickson.”
“Who hasn’t?” Hunt remarked. “He’s one of the biggest
tycoons in America, if not the entire world.”
“Yep, that’s him,” Fred proudly verified. “The big ol’ typhoon himself!”
Bond and Hunt were lastly brought to the one student they
were there for: Hiro Hamada. He worked in his own private lab away from the
other students. As it turned out, this lab once belonged to his late brother,
Tadashi.
Thankfully, Hiro hadn’t recognized either Bond or Hunt
when Granville introduced him – not that he would have, as he didn’t cross
paths with Bond that night at the investors’ convention and Hunt was disguised
as Krei.
After Granville departed to tend to other matters, Bond
and Hunt got to know a little more about Hamada. Hunt’s particular interest was
directed towards a red, high-tech steel crate situated along one corner of the
lab. “What’s that?” he asked Hiro.
Noticing Hunt’s attention on the crate, Hiro became very excited.
“Oh! Wait ‘til you guys see this!” He went to his workbench to retrieve a roll
of duct tape, tearing off a strip that he applied to his forearm and hastily
ripped off, leaving a blistering mark. “Ow!” he purposefully yelped, and as
soon as he did, the red crate automatically opened itself, allowing an
inflatable, computerized white robot to rise out of it.
“Hello,” it greeted them. “I am Baymax – your personal
healthcare companion.”
Bond smirked upon seeing the big, puffy white robot.
“Fancy toy,” he observed.
“I am not a toy,” Baymax unthinkingly clarified. “I am a
personal healthcare companion.”
“You’re gonna be a whole lot more than that soon,
Baymax,” Hiro stated before revealing to Bond and Hunt, “I’ve been
reprogramming him to assist me in solving the murder of my brother, Tadashi.”
Bond and Hunt tensed up. “That…sounds a little dangerous,
don’t you think?” the latter inquired of the boy genius.
Hiro shot a fiery gaze on Hunt. “My brother died because
someone that night at the convention was there to hurt Alastair Krei…and they
ended up hurting Tadashi…hurting me!”
Hamada approached Baymax, placing a hand against his inflatable vinyl covering.
“Baymax is all I have left of him…he was the last thing Tadashi created before
he died.”
Bond and Hunt sympathized with Hamada, so much so that
Bond was willing to break cover just to tell him, “Hiro, we’re not really—”
CRASH!
007’s confession was cut off by the commotion resounding
from the adjacent room where all the other Institute students worked. Through
the frosted glass walls, they detected the silhouettes of assassins that
dropped in from the ceiling and stormed the Institute. One of them had glowing
green hands.
“The League?” Hunt consulted with Bond.
“Who else would it be?” Bond already had his gun drawn.
Seeing him with it, Hiro was taken aback. “Whoa! Why do
you have that? What kind of scientists are
you guys?”
“Stay here, Hiro!” Ethan ordered, drawing his own
concealed hand cannon.
The IMF and MI6 agents burst out of Hiro’s private lab,
guns blazing, forcing Shego and the League assassins to take cover. Dr. Bellum
and Edna ducked at the work stations, along with the terrified Institute
students. Bond and Hunt managed to pop off a few assassins before being
ambushed by two from behind.
Thrown against separate work stations, they struggled
atop the projects specifically designed by Go-Go and Honey Lemon.
The resourceful instincts of both Bond and Hunt kicked
in.
Bond grabbed one of Go-Go’s electromagnetic wheels, using
its unimaginable speed and velocity to generate enough momentum to heat its edges
and slice through the throat of his opponent. Bond threw the assassin’s body
off himself, leaving it thudding to the floor. He heard someone hurling nearby
and turned to see Wasabi losing his lunch from witnessing Bond’s defensive act,
while Go-Go just coolly looked on. “This certainly qualifies an A+,” 007 told
her.
Meanwhile, Hunt’s struggle with his assassin came to its
own violent conclusion when he used two of Honey Lemon’s “chem-balls” to create
an explosive reaction when he slammed them against opposite sides of the
assassin’s head. The reaction encased it in a blue-and-red foam material that
instantly hardened, suffocating him to death.
Seeing the gratuitous nature of which her underlings were
vanquished, Shego saw no point in sticking around and made for the exit.
However, her escape was cut off by an object that rocketed past her, striking
the space around the exit and sealing it off with piles of rubble. Shego
herself was knocked out cold from the impact of the explosion.
Looking to see where the rocket had come from, Hunt and
Bond found Hiro out of his brother’s lab and accompanied by Baymax, who was
adorned in a massive red battle suit from which he fired the rocket that
thwarted Shego’s escape. “Whoa!” Hunt uttered as he got an eyeful of the robot
that looked like a marshmallow minutes earlier.
“Well, you boys
certainly made a mess of things around here!” They heard Dr. Bellum suddenly
address them. “We had this well under
the control before you and these League fat-heads showed up!”
Listening to her ranting, it wasn’t too hard for Bond and
Hunt to figure it out: “You were sent in by the Team.”
“Yes, dahling, we were,” Edna confirmed. “Now, would one
of you gentlemen be so kind as to tie this woman up?” She gestured to the
unconscious Shego. “There are some questions that I need to ask her.” By the
sadistic tone of her voice, Bond and Hunt guessed the questioning Edna had in
mind would be less than professional.
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