Middleton was a town accustomed to the surreal, but the Monday morning of the "Grand Re-Opening" of the flagship Bueno Nacho was a challenge even for the local reality-warping curve. The parking lot on Main Street had been expanded into a "Spatial-Folding Transit Hub," allowing for the simultaneous arrival of a Justice League shuttle, a Plumber tactical hauler, and a beat-up RV that smelled of chronal residue and burnt toast.
At the center of it all stood the restaurant, now encased in a shimmering, iridescent alloy that Lexi had "Optimized" for both aesthetic appeal and atmospheric re-entry resistance. Above the door, the neon sombrero didn't just flicker; it projected a 4D holographic dancing taco that sang the "Bueno Nacho" jingle in a frequency that induced a state of "Mild Gastric Contentment" in a three-mile radius.
"Subject 1-A, the queue currently contains 14,000 entities, 42 percent of whom are non-biological," Lexi Possible announced, her "Cheerfully Terrifying" smile reflecting off the polished chrome of the new "Automated Queso-Dispensers." She was wearing a specialized "Chief Stabilization Officer" uniform—a sleek, dark-matter blazer with a gold-leaf Bueno Nacho pin that pulsed with the power of a captured star.
Kim Possible, standing beside her in a "Guest Management" capacity, looked at the crowd. Ben Tennyson was currently arguing with a sentient vending machine from the Galactic Council about whether the "Extreme Naco" was compatible with the Omnitrix. Danny Phantom was floating near the ceiling, trying to prevent a group of hungry ghosts from the Infinite Realms from phasing through the soda fountain.
"Lexi, when you said you were going to 'optimize' the franchise, I didn't think you meant making it the center of the multiversal diplomatic map," Kim said, her hand going to her Kimmunicator as a group of W.I.T.C.H. guardians landed on the roof.
"Efficiency, Kim," Lexi chirped, her neon-violet eyes scanning the crowd for any "Unregistered Variables." "By centralizing the dietary requirements of the hero-villain community into a 'Possible-Managed Environment,' I have reduced the probability of 'Food-Motivated Conflicts' by 84 percent. A well-fed galaxy is a stable galaxy."
Inside the kitchen, the transformation was even more profound. The fryers were powered by a miniature cold-fusion reactor, and the assembly line was managed by a dozen "Cheerful Spider-Bots" that could assemble a burrito in 0.04 seconds with a 100 percent accuracy-rate in bean-distribution.
Ron Stoppable, in his new role as "Global Quality Assurance Inspector," was standing at the end of the line, wearing a gold-plated apron and holding a digital thermometer that was currently measuring the "Soul-Warmth" of a batch of cinnamon twists.
"Nacho! Buddy! The cheese-viscosity is at a perfect 1.4!" Ron shouted to the blue-sombrero raptor, who was currently acting as the "Tactical Kitchen Guard."
Nacho chirped, his tail wagging as he nudged a tray of "Optimized Tacos" toward the service window.
"Everything is 12 percent more delicious, Lex!" Ron yelled, his face glowing with a pride usually reserved for a high-score in Steel-Toe Cyber Slam. "The crunch-factor is... it's spiritual!"
The front doors hissed open, and the first wave of "Reformed Villains" entered. Dr. Drakken, still wearing his "Dementor's Danish" apron, led the group. He was followed by Professor Dementor, Duff Killigan (carrying a tray of 'Golf-Biscuits'), and a very confused-looking Monkey Fist.
"Welcome to the 'Neutral Gastronomic Zone'," Lexi announced, her voice amplified through a neural-link that made everyone in the room feel a sudden, overwhelming sense of "Polite Hunger."
Drakken looked at the iridescent walls, the hovering trays, and the hyper-genius girl who held the leash of the universe. He immediately dropped into a low bow. "Stabilizer! We have brought... offerings! We wish to incorporate our 'Reformed Pastries' into the 'Possible Protocol Dessert Menu'!"
"The Council of Bakers has deliberated!" Dementor squeaked. "We believe a 'Blueberry-Drakken-Danish' is a 100 percent compatible variable for the Bueno Nacho aesthetic!"
Lexi tilted her head, her eyes scanning the Danishes for any "Megalomanical Residue." "Assessment: The pastry-density is 12 percent more aerodynamic than my initial projections. I will allow a 'Beta-Test' in the Middleton-Quadrant franchises. Shego, please escort the 'Bakers' to the 'Optimized Toaster-Sublevel'."
Shego, leaning against a soda machine with her tech-staff and a cup of green-glowing "Possible-Espresso," smirked. "You heard the kid. Move it, Dough-Boys. And if I see a 'Magnetic Sourdough' incident, the audit will be... un-gentle."
The "Grand Re-Opening" was a symphony of "Stabilized Chaos." Ben Tennyson was currently sharing a "Mega-Naco" with Danny Phantom, while Phineas and Ferb were busy helping Jimmy Neutron install a "Flavor-Amplification-Satellite" on the roof.
"It's for the customers who live in the 'Deep-Space' sectors, Lexi," Phineas explained, wiping grease from his forehead. "It beams the scent of fresh tortillas directly into their olfactory sensors!"
"Excellent, Phineas," Lexi chirped. "I have already filed the 'Neural-Marketing' permits with Star Command."
However, the "Low-Stakes" celebration was interrupted by a familiar, localized temporal vibration. A portal of shimmering, gold light opened in the center of the restaurant. A group of beings in flowing, white robes—the Elder's Council of the Infinite Realms—stepped out, accompanied by a very stern-looking Martian from the Justice League.
"Lexi Possible," the Martian said, his voice echoing with a clinical concern. "The Galactic Council is reporting a 'Localized Gravity-Shift' centered on this specific longitude. They say the scent of 'Optimized Beef' is interfering with their deep-space radar-arrays."
The Elder from the Infinite Realms added, "And the ghosts are... they are 'Haunting the Drive-Thru.' They claim the 'Ecto-Cheese' is a 'Sovereign Right' of the deceased."
Lexi Possible stepped forward, her dark-matter gown rippling. Monique was by her side, the 'Life-Anchor' in her pulse glowing with a steady, reassuring violet light. The air in the restaurant grew heavy, the gravity-wells beneath the iridescent floor shifting just enough to make the Martian's cape hover in mid-air.
"The 'Gravity-Shift' is a 14 percent increase in 'Customer Stability', Mr. Henderson," Lexi said, her voice a calm, clinical lilt that made the ghosts in the drive-thru immediately line up in an orderly fashion. "And the 'Ecto-Cheese' is a 'Non-Negotiable Benefit' for our spectral patrons. I have already negotiated the 'Afterlife-Franchise-Agreement' with the Magical Council."
The Martian looked at Lexi, then at Monique. He saw the girl who held the universe's kill-switch, and he saw the girl who was currently telling her to "Take it down to a Level 4, Lexi."
"Everything is... legally within the parameters of your 'Sovereign Autonomous Entity' status, Lexi," the Martian sighed, checking his clipboard. "The Justice League has no further notes. We... we would like to order six 'Extreme Nacos' for the Watchtower. To go."
As the "Grand Re-Opening" proceeded into the evening, the world—and several other worlds—seemed to find a new, "Optimized" equilibrium. The villains were baking, the heroes were eating, and the universe was operating at a level of total, abject calm.
Lexi sat in a "Sovereign Booth" with Monique, watching as Ron and Nacho the Raptor performed a synchronized dance for the cheering customers.
"You really did it, didn't you?" Monique asked, taking a sip of a soda that Lexi had 'optimized' to be 100 percent sugar-free but 12 percent sweeter than the original. "You turned the world's most dangerous teenagers and villains into a 'Fast-Food-Collective'."
"It was the most efficient way to ensure 'Long-Term Stability,' Monique," Lexi whispered, leaning her head on Monique's shoulder. "A galaxy that is busy debating the 'Optimal Taco-Fold' is a galaxy that is too distracted to attempt an 'Apocalyptic Convergence'."
Kim Possible joined them, looking exhausted but happy. "Lex, I hate to admit it, but you were right. The crime-rate has actually reversed. I just spent twenty minutes helping a group of 'Reformed Ninjas' find the extra napkins."
"Efficiency is its own reward, Subject 1-A," Lexi chirped.
Suddenly, a loud, judgmental chirp echoed from the kitchen.
Lexi paused. "Ah. It appears the 'Automated Queso-Dispenser' has detected a 'Sub-Par' cleaning routine on Sublevel -4. Excuse me, Monique. I must go perform a 'Domestic Audit' on my spider-bots before they decide to 'Optimize' the manager's office into a recycling bin."
As Lexi headed toward the kitchen, her dark-matter blazer trailing behind her, Kim looked at Monique. "You know, for a second there, I thought she was actually going to 'Audit' the Justice League."
Monique took a bite of a cinnamon twist. "She thought about it, Kim. For about six seconds. But then she realized that the Watchtower's Wi-Fi is so 'Inefficient' that it wasn't worth the 'Cognitive Effort' to dismantle it."
As the sounds of the "Bueno Nacho" jingle filled the restaurant, Middleton—and the multiverse—settled into a state of total, abject peace. The cheese was perfect, the dinosaurs were fed, and the girl who could unmake reality was currently busy calculating the optimal rotation-speed for a soda-nozzle.
Lexi Possible was happy. Her Anchor was safe, her family was employed, and the universe—from the bakeries of Middleton to the space-stations of Andromeda—was finally, perfectly, "Optimized."
And for the most dangerous girl in the multiverse, that was the ultimate "Low-Stakes" win.