“There are things that can make you look more evil. Even the best thief in the world will seem harmless next to a serial killer. I've never been a serial killer. Until then, I've never even been a run-of-the-mill killer. Okay, I tried to kill Aviarius, but that didn't work, and so I had never killed anyone when I left Jack and brought the Flux-Transmooker to Deruyter. First I adjourned to one of my apartments. I had to change my clothes. The massage I got previously already lost its effect. Besides, I felt kinda strange. That evening I learned something that’s helped me my whole life: the ability to suppress such useless emotions such as lovesickness. I was to deliver a highly-prized package and a lot of cash. There was no time to be emo.”

Shego screeched her sports car to a stop in front of C'est Trop Cher. The squealing tires scared the hell out of everyone within hearing range. Everyone stared, paralyzed with fear, as the driver got out of her car.
“Well? Is anyone going to park my car, or do I have to get violent?” called Shego.
In a flash, a restaurant employee ran to her and got in the car.
“And don't park it way out in the boondocks or anything. I just have to deliver a package,” she said to him, and she went straight to the restaurant entrance.
The maître d’ noticed her come in. “Sorry, we’re completely booked. Do you have a reservation?” Shego, however, ignored him and just walked by.
She passed through the dining room and into the kitchen. The kitchen workers were too busy to give her any attention. Likewise, Shego ignored their effort of preparing food for the restaurant patrons. She quickly arrived at the men's toilet, where Deruyter’s office was the last time she was in the building. This time she didn't hesitate to enter this place.
Less then two seconds later she made a hurried exit, her face somewhat reddened. After she took a breath for a few seconds, she opened the door again, but this time just a little. “Excuse me,” she shouted through the door crack, “Isn't Mr. Deruyter’s office in here?”
“They moved it,” someone answered.
“And where is it now?”
“In the basement. The men's room, right across from the stairs.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Yeah, but…um, can I have a little privacy now?”
“Yeah. Uh, sure.”
Shego went downstairs to the basement. She cautiously knocked on the door. “Hello? Is it okay to come in?”
She heard footsteps coming closer from the other side of the door. The door opened a bit, and a man in a black suit and dark sunglasses peered out and eyed Shego for several seconds.
“Is the light in there so bright that you need sunglasses? Whatever. Tell your boss I got what he sent me for,” Shego said, annoyed.
Without a word, the man closed the door, only to open it again a few moments later. “Come in,” he said.
Shego entered the men's room quietly, without deigning to look at the man in the sunglasses, and went to the last stall.
“Nice to see you again,” Mr. Deruyter welcomed her.
Shego studied the three bodyguards who were standing around his desk and just replied, “Why are they all wearing sunglasses? Not only are we inside a building, but it’s after dark outside, too.”
“Union rules,” said one of the bodyguards.
Deruyter coughed. “I was starting to get worried. I hear the lab got a huge hole blown in its wall, which doesn't seem to be your style. Not only that, but I heard that someone who fits your description was in a fight all over Las Vegas. And after all that, you never called me. But it looks like there was no need to worry, after all. You got the thing for me now?”
“You got my money?”
“Of course. I always carry that much money with me,” Deryuter said, absolutely free from sarcasm, as he pulled a briefcase from under the desk and opened it, showing it was stuffed with paper bills. “Now, do you got the cube?”
“You think I’d come here without it?”
“Hey, you can't trust nobody. Especially villains,” he said with an ambiguous smile, as Shego placed the Flux-Transmooker on his desk.
“Meaning, I’d better count the money?”
“No. But you’re quite welcome to check it out.”
Shego took a stack of money from the briefcase and flipped through it. She shrugged and put it back. “I’ll count it when I get home. And if it’s short, you betcha I’ll be back to collect the rest.”
“So I hope we’ll meet again…amid more pleasant circumstances.”
“Whatever.”
Shego left the men's room with the briefcase under her arm. When she reached the door, one of the bodyguards intercepted her.
“Please take the back door. That way, you won't have to go through the whole restaurant with all that cash on you. Plus, we already have your car waiting for you in the back lot.
Even though the man was taller than her by a head length, Shego, smiling, pinched him on his cheek as though he were a toddler. “You may look like idiots in your sunglasses, but at least you guys think.”
The bodyguard answered with a poker face: “Miss, please refrain from pinching me. I’m supposed to attack you only on command of the boss, but enough is enough.”
“Whatever.”

“When I walked up the basement stairs, a strange feeling crept up on me, but I ignored it and thought it was just leftover stress of the previous days. It probably was, but that didn't mean nothing bad was about to happen.”

The restaurant's back lot was dark. The only light source was a dim lantern with a faulty connection. The constantly flickering light faintly illuminated Shego's car. Its owner took a look around before she walked over to it. She couldn't see anything in the dark. But she heard something. The unique click of a pistol being cocked, ready to fire.
Instinctively, Shego threw a green fireball in the direction from where the sound came. She could see a small group of armed men for a moment. The fireball hit one of them in the stomach. The impact hurled him backwards, and he smashed into a dumpster. As far as Shego could tell, he slumped down, coughing.
Sighing, Shego asked, “Is this an ambush, or are you waiting around for someone else?”
“An ambush,” someone called out of the dark.
“Deryuter wasn’t about to let me go with this much money, right?”
“Please don't take it personally. But while you aren't taking it personally, please freeze and put your hands up.”
“I have no intention of following your first order. Nor your other one, for that matter.”

“Less than two minutes later, Deruyter had a big problem on his hands.”

Deruyter confidently sat behind his desk, gloating over the money that was to be returned any moment. Then somebody knocked at the door.
“Ah! Here we go,” Deruyter said, and jumped up from his chair, while one of his bodyguards walked to the door. “Took long enough.”
In a thrill of joyful expectation he sat down again, and reached for a cigar in celebration, but suddenly he heard a noise that sounded like a punch. This was followed by two more sounds: the first one sounded like breaking sunglasses, the second sounded like a man flopping to the ground, knocked out cold.
Deruyter's two remaining bodyguards charged out the door. He couldn't see what was going on, but he heard shots, sounds of fighting, and repeatedly the room outside illuminated bright green light. Then everything was quiet. He heard footsteps coming closer.
White with fear, Deruyter pulled a gun out of his desk drawer and shot blindly in the direction from where the steps came, emptying the whole clip. When the plywood walls around him were as holey as Swiss cheese and his gun made nothing else than clicking sounds when he pulled the trigger, he suddenly heard a voice behind him.
“You missed,” Shego whispered in his ear.
Deruyter wanted to turn around, but Shego grabbed his head and slammed it down on the desk.
“Y’know,” she said calmly, “There are only a few things that tick me off more than anything else. If you’d have just tried to cheat me out of my money, I’d have been pretty ticked off, but not nearly as much as I am now, when you tried to have me killed.”
Shego lifted Deruyter up and threw him over his desk.
“What...what are you gonna do?” he asked, while he tried to escape on all fours.
“As if you wouldn't know. But let me put it to you this way. As soon as your bodyguards--the whiners in here as well as the ones in the back lot--wake up, they will ascertain beyond doubt that they failed in their job, which was of course to protect your life.”

“I don't really wanna go too much into detail, but it’s a lot easier to kill someone with a soap dispenser than you think. He wasn't the first one who tried to kill me. But what was different about him, was he tried to kill me and double-cross me. That alone wasn’t motivation to kill him. But all at once everything pent up inside me came out. The anger over everyone and everything. The anger over my brothers. The anger over Aviarius and how my approach to kill him got foiled by my brother. The anger over Jack. The anger at myself. And the anger about the whole world in which I couldn't live my life like I wanted to. Not on the good side, not on the bad side. When I was finished with Deruyter I took the Flux Transmooker with me again. Don't know why. I guess I thought that I could have used it somehow. Then I drove home, took a shower and went to bed. You might think you wouldn’t be able to sleep restfully after your first murder, but I slept almost ten hours straight. When I woke up and made breakfast I noticed my hands were shaking. Suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore and I pitched the whole plate in the trash. Well, as it turned out the ordeal made me more upset than I expected. But I'm one of those people who get right back on the horse after I fall. Only a few hours later, I accepted my next assignment. A certain Doctor Drakken was looking for someone to steal something for him.”