Trick Or Treat

Megamind/Roxanne, K+ rating

The brainbots have their own version of trick-or-treating, which they enjoy after the annual Halloween plot each year. This year, though, the evil plot is cancelled due to Miss Ritchi being ill, and, in an effort to cheer up Megamind, the bots persuade him to join them. Little does Megamind know just how many tricks—and treats—are in store for him tonight.

AO3 | FFN


Roxanne blew her nose yet again and then added the tissue to the growing pile beside her couch. She coughed, then resettled back more comfortably into her nest of blankets. She glanced down at the book on the cushions beside her—no. Her head hurt too much to read any more right now. She’d have to wait until later to find out what happened to the feisty Miss Felicity Day after Lord Vincent Valentine discovered it was she he had kidnapped in place of her wilting lettuce of a sister, Wilhelmina.

With a sigh, Roxanne leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Damn this cold. Three o’clock in the afternoon on October 31st and she was still sick, which was really all kinds of unfair; Megamind’s Halloween plots were always among his best and most fun. She had a strong suspicion that it was his favorite holiday, and being sick meant she wasn’t going to be able to enjoy this one fully.

She smothered another cough and clutched the blankets around her—the three blankets and one cape, actually, which wasn’t weird; it just happened to be incredibly soft and warm and comforting and good for napping in and the fact that it was Megamind’s had nothing to do with how comforting it was.

Probably she should be planning on giving it back to him later tonight, but Roxanne was strongly tempted to just keep it—a present to make up for a rather spectacularly terrible birthday.

Remembering, Roxanne made a face.

If only the kidnapping for her birthday on the 17th hadn’t been a lakeside one. If only she hadn’t worn that ridiculously thin dress—but she’d bought it new, loving the way the waistband hit her waist perfectly, loving the way the white lace top clung, and the way that the sky blue skirt spun and flipped.

Megamind had wisely taken the flippiness of the skirt, and the windiness of the lakeside, into account—he’d tied her wrists and her ankles while she was unconscious, then waited until she awoke from the knockout spray to tie her to the wide wooden post in the middle of the kidnapping display. He’d used more rope than usual, and had wound it around her body several times, making sure to secure the material of her skirt down.

(the rope coiled artistically around her thighs and hips, flattering placement and fancy knot work, and sometimes Roxanne feels so pretty when Megamind ties her up.)

Everything had been going so well at that point, had been going well, in fact, right up until the point that Metro Man showed up, laser-eyed exactly the wrong part of the deathtrap, and sent Roxanne plummeting into the frigid water.

The supposedly-deadly deathtrap hadn’t actually been deep enough to be dangerous—color Roxanne not at all shocked, there. It had only reached the tops of her shoulders, but her sudden submersion had been enough to make the water slap her in the face, and she’d ended up swallowing a good mouthful of the nasty stuff.

Not to mention that she’d wound up absolutely drenched and freezing. And Metro Man, who generally disliked water and who also, Roxanne suspected, didn’t want to get his uniform or his hair wet, had suddenly been too busy “fighting brainbots” to fish her out of the water.

Instead, Megamind had been the one to—well, it had looked like he accidentally fell into the water with her; he did that part very convincingly, Roxanne will give him that, but one does not generally remove one’s cape and palm a nearby knife before ‘falling’.

Once in, he’d cut the ropes and Roxanne had swum to the platform’s edge, where she’d hauled herself out, dripping and coughing. Megamind had been right behind her, pulling himself back onshore much more gracefully. He’d turned to say something to her, his lips parted, and then his eyes had gotten very wide very suddenly, and he’d blushed almost fuchsia and turned very quickly away, making a ‘take-us-off-the-air’ gesture at a nearby brainbot with one hand and grabbing his cape and tossing it at her with the other.

Roxanne had clutched the cape around herself gratefully, teeth chattering, and it wasn’t until after Megamind had escaped that she’d realized the effect that the frigid water had had on the clinging white top of her dress, and exactly why he’d both thrown his cape at her and taken them off the air at that moment.

Metro Man hadn’t even apologized or volunteered to let her have his cape instead, the ass.

She’d woken up the day after her birthday with an aching chest and a cough—she assumed at first that it was because of how much water she’d inhaled, but it soon deepened into an actual cold.

It was hard to do broadcasting work when she was sneezing or coughing every thirty seconds or so, but she’d been able to do some article writing, and it hadn’t been until today that she’d given in and called in sick to work, in the hope that getting some rest might make her perk up a bit in time for tonight’s kidnapping.

Roxanne sneezed again.

So far, that plan did not seem to be working.

She took another tissue from the box and blew her nose yet again. She had just tossed it down to join its fellows on the floor when she heard the knock—

Roxanne blinked a little blearily. The knock sounded again, and just as she’d thought, it wasn’t coming from the other side of her apartment door, but from the other side of her balcony door.

Her eyes went wide and flew to the balcony windows—thankfully, she’d pulled the curtains closed earlier, but Megamind wasn’t exactly one to let a thing like curtains or locks stop him. Damn it; she’d thought she would have more time; it wasn’t even dark out yet; she wasn’t even dressed; she was just lying here on her couch in her pajamas and her blankets—and his cape; shit shit shit—

Roxanne scrambled to her feet and stuffed the cape hurriedly beneath the rest of the blankets on the couch, then quickly ran her fingers through her hair before crossing to the balcony door. Maybe she could convince him to wait a few minutes while she got dressed and put on some makeup—

She honestly expected Megamind to burst in before she could open the door, but she made it across the room without him doing so. Which was…weird; sometimes Megamind would knock before a kidnapping, if he was concerned that he might be catching her at an awkward moment, but he usually opened the door himself after giving her a reasonable amount of time to pull herself together.

…surely it had to be Megamind, though; who else would knock on her balcony? Roxanne opened the lock and slid the door open, clutching the collar of her pajamas a bit nervously. Hell; why hadn’t she worn her nice pajamas?

“Uh, hey; what’s—oh,” she said.

“Hey, Miss Ritchi.” Minion said.

Roxanne’s eyes flickered automatically past Minion, but—no, just as she’d thought at first glance, Megamind wasn’t with him.

“Hey, Minion,” she said. He was holding a wicker picnic basket in his metal arms, which Roxanne eyed with interest as she stood aside to let him come in. “Can you give me a bit? I thought I’d have more time to get ready…”

“Oh!” Minion said, following her into her apartment. “No, there’s no need to get ready, Miss Ritchi. That’s what I stopped by to say—and to give you this, of course.”

“Ah?” Roxanne said, trailing after him as he walked purposefully into her kitchen.

“Oh, yes,” Minion said, setting down the wicker basket on her kitchen counter.

He reached into it and pulled out, in quick succession, a large tupperware container full of what looked like chicken soup, a big thermos, a bag of cough drops, a bottle of tylenol, and something flat and metal which turned out, after he pulled and adjusted a few pieces, to be a collapsable tv tray.

“The kidnapping for tonight has been cancelled,” Minion said, moving briskly to her cupboards and opening them. He pulled down a bowl and a mug, opened her silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon, opened her utensil drawer and pulled out a ladle.

“We didn’t want you to spend all of tonight waiting and worrying,” he said, “so I went ahead and came to tell you.”

Minion popped the lid of the tupperware, causing steam and a distinctly chicken-y smell to rise into the air of her kitchen. He ladled a generous serving of the soup into the waiting bowl, unscrewed the lid of the thermos, poured out what appeared to be tea into the mug, set the tea, soup, spoon, cough drops, and tylenol on the tray, then picked up the tray and turned expectantly to Roxanne.

“Why don’t you go and sit down again, Miss Ritchi?”

Roxanne opened her mouth to argue, then, unable to think of any actual reason to do so, closed it again and went and sat down again on the couch.

Minion followed, setting the tray down on the coffee table once she’d settled (a little awkwardly, since she remembered at the last moment that Megamind’s cape was still concealed within the mound of blankets, and elected to sit on the whole nest of them rather than try to wriggle beneath them without revealing it.)

Minion was looking at her expectantly again, so she picked up the mug of tea and took a sip. He beamed at her; this was evidently what he had been wanting.

“…cancelled?” Roxanne managed.

“Yes, on account of you being under the weather, Miss Ritchi,” Minion said matter-of-factly.

“On—but I’m—” Roxanne dissolved into a fit of coughing.

“Yes,” Minion said, giving her a look that said he knew what she’d been about to say, and was not having with it. “The evil plots will return to the usual schedule after you are well again.”

“But it’s Halloween!”

“Yes,” Minion said, in a way that clearly indicated that he did not understand the full gravity of the situation.

Roxanne opened her mouth to protest further but was stopped by a cough.

“Miss Ritchi,” Minion said with a stern look, when she finally finished coughing. “Halloween is not as important as your health.”

“But—”

“Drink your tea, Miss Ritchi.”

Roxanne subsided against the couch cushions and took a somewhat sullen drink of tea. Minion watched her for a long moment, as if trying to be sure that she wasn’t going to leap up and attempt to kidnap herself, and then moved into the kitchen again.

“I don’t know how you managed to talk him into this,” Roxanne muttered into her tea.

“Into what, Miss Ritchi?” Minion called from the kitchen, bustling around, and putting things away.

“Canceling the Halloween plot,” Roxanne said, and sniffed. The steam from the tea seemed to be helping her sinuses.

“Oh,” Minion said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t have to talk him into it, Miss Ritchi. The cancellation was Sir’s idea.”

Roxanne almost dropped her tea in surprise.

“But he loves Halloween!” she blurted out.

“Well, yes,” Minion said, again in that does-not-understand-the-gravity-of-the-situation way. “I suppose so. Now, have you got enough tissues to last you, Miss Ritchi?”

Roxanne answered that, and all the rest of Minion’s solicitous questions, with her mind rather preoccupied by the thought that the Halloween cancellation had been Megamind’s idea, and it wasn’t until after Minion was gone that she realized she’d forgotten to ask him if the other half of Evil Halloween was also canceled.


Megamind ran his fingertips across the spines of his books, trying to decide which one to re-read. The problem, of course, was that he didn’t really want to re-read any of them, but the book that he actually wanted to read wasn’t there—ever since he’d found out that the library was ordering Valentine’s Day, he’d been waiting for it to arrive so he could grab it during one of his nighttime visits there. It had been scheduled to come in a few days ago, but when he’d gotten to the library, it seemed that someone else had already snatched up the book during the library’s regularly scheduled hours. Now he’d have to wait until whoever it was finally finished with the book before he could read it.

He sighed, and let his hand stop on The Blue Sword. Not exactly what he wanted, but at least he knew how much he loved this one. He pulled it off the shelf.

Really, he didn’t want to be reading any book tonight, not even the romance novel he’d been waiting weeks for. What he wanted—

Megamind made a face.

What he wanted was home in her apartment, sick with a cold which was entirely his fault for dousing her in freezing cold water on her birthday; dear god; he was the absolute worst, and she was probably still furious with him. He certainly wouldn’t blame her. He’s furious with himself, both for the cold water itself and for the way his mind keeps returning to the picture of her like that, her wet dress clinging to her body and her wet hair clinging to her skin, and the cape, his cape, wrapped around her—

Megamind shook his head in an attempt to make himself stop thinking about her like that, damn it; that was very inappropriate and not fair; she’d only been wearing his cape because of how cold and wet she was, which had been his fault.

So.

No thinking of her like that.

No thinking of her like that, and no Halloween kidnapping, which was another thing that was entirely his fault. And he’d been looking forward to Halloween for months; he did every year—Halloween was the most fun and inspiring of holidays, and—well, everyone seemed to hate him a little less on Halloween. People almost liked the bad guy, on Halloween. Sometimes, a few people—only ever a few, and only ever ones in masks—sometimes a few of them would even cheer for him.

And Miss Ritchi always wore a costume, which was…exciting in a way that he probably also did not deserve to dwell on. A different costume, every year, and he looked forward to that for months, too, finding out what her costume would be.

Whatever her costume this year would have been, he wasn’t going to get to see it.

Megamind flopped down on his bed with another sigh and opened his book.

“Bowg.”

Megamind glanced over the top of the book to see Brainbot 228 hovering in his bedroom doorway, holding a little white piece of cloth.

“Hey, 228,” Megamind said, shutting his book and setting it aside, glad of the distraction. “Did you want daddy to help you with your costume?”

“Bowg bowg!” 228 said, swooping excitedly into the room and dropping the cloth into Megamind’s waiting hands.

Megamind looked at the cloth with some surprise. He recognized this costume; it was one of what the bots called the Signifiers.

When the bots dressed up for Halloween, they tended to construct somewhat…odd costumes. Cars were prominently featured, which made sense, as the bots were dressing up as things they found scary. The bots had started their existence as stray animals, many of whom had had fatal encounters with cars. But there were plenty of other, stranger, costumes, too—characters from bedtime stories that Megamind told them, things like Fire Alarms and Toasters, and abstract concepts like Loneliness and Pain, things like The Sound the Vacuum Cleaner Makes.

When the bunch of them gathered together to do their version of trick-or-treating, the sight of them could be seriously startling and, if you didn’t understand what was happening, extremely confusing.

Which was the reason for the Signifiers. Megamind had asked about them, the year that he found out the brainbots were going around to all of his prison uncles who had been released and trick-or-treating. The Signifiers, Zero had said, were ’traditional-type’ costumes which showed that the cavalcade of brainbots was participating in Halloween. The bots divided themselves up into groups, so as not to overwhelm any one uncle all at once, and each group had a Signifier, who wore the traditional costume and was tasked with keeping the swarm focused and together.

There were a whole bunch of Signifier costumes—ghost, witch, mummy (which looked, basically, like a floating orb of toilet paper, but Megamind would never dream of telling the brainbots that), vampire, zombie, jack-o-lantern (the bot being the jack-o-lantern always had a great deal of fun carving the pumpkin that it wore), clown, and black cat. All of them except the ghost went to a different bot each year; the ghost Zero always wore herself. Except this year, apparently.

“Is Zero not going with you this year?” Megamind asked, draping the white sheet over 228 and helping them thread their eyestalk through the hole. “Or is she just wearing something else?”

“Bowg! Bowg bowg bowg!” 228 zig-zagged briefly in the air, more excited than ever, and then grabbed Megamind’s sleeve with one clawed appendage. They tugged at his arm and Megamind got up, laughing.

“Oh, does she want me to see it?” he asked. “Okay, 228, lead the way!”

Megamind followed as 228 led him down the hallway and into the open lab area of the Lair. The other bots were there already, dressed in their own costumes. When the bots saw him, several of them dashed over to him, bowging, eager to show off their costumes. First someone who had smeared their sharp-toothed mouth with lipstick and stuck a high-heel atop their braincase—

“Oh, my goodness, look at you! You’re Miss Ritchi, aren’t you!”

“Bowg bowg!”

—next a bot who had tied a number of tin cans to strings and hung them beneath their body, where they rattled together—

“Ooh, you’re a wind chime, aren’t you?”

“Bowg!”

—and then someone with a lampshade stuck on their braincase.

“Oh, look; you’re a lamp!”

“Bowg bowg!”

The group of them swarmed around him happily while he laughed, and then that little group parted to show him another group, all of whom had painted their metal bodies green, and who were chomping their jaws together even more than usual.

“Ah, you’re the alligators!”

The Miss Ritchi bot flew closer again, and Megamind saw, accompanying them, a bot which had painted themself blue, and was wearing the tattered remains of what looked like one of his own capes. Another bot swooped in to join the pair, this one painted with scales and wearing a glass fishbowl. After a moment yet another brainbot joined them; this one had been painted black, and was carrying a little cage on a chain, a cage in which a Metro Man doll and a ragged scrap of white cape had been placed; this bot was followed by a bot dressed as—

“You’re the kidnapping chair!”

A bot flew into view, this one also painted blue, but with a scrap of orange cloth tied to one appendage. It was followed by three other bots, these painted black and white, and making the sound of police cars.

Another bot, which had wrapped purple tulle around itself in a kind of puffy cloud hovered proudly nearby, holding a loop of silk rope in its appendages.

“Oh, you’re a bath loofa!”

A group of bots, all dressed as books—

“Ah, it’s the library!”

Another bot, wearing a tie and a comb stuck on its braincase.

“Are you Warden? You are!”

Someone dressed up as a box of doughnuts; someone dressed as a singular doughnut, chocolate covered, with rainbow sprinkles. A bot with white pillow stuffing stuck to its body, making a popping noise and performing rapid little hops in the air.

“Popcorn!”

A bot covered in glitter—

“Ah, you’re Glitter, aren’t you!”

A bot, painted black and holding a cage, like the Metro Man bot, but with a veterinary cone inside this cage. Someone dressed as a radio, their jaws open as they played music; three bots flying in formation, stacked one on top of the other, with a box around them, the top bot red, the middle one yellow, the bottom green—

“Traffic light!”

One with a fuzzy blue blanket draped over its body.

“You’re a blanket!”

Another, painted orange, with soft orange yarn wrapped around its body, its metal appendages folded in a hugging position.

“My favorite sweater!”

A bot with the poison symbol painted on its braincase, holding an apple—the poisoned apple from Snow White. Another bot, which had clearly turned up its own body heat slightly, and which wore a kind of metal box around its braincase, with a metal door on the front, gaping wide—the oven from Hansel and Gretel.

Two bots throwing a wrench back and forth—

“Oh! You’re Fetch!”

A bot with its eyestalk threaded through an upside down flowerpot, flowers clutched in its appendages. Three bots together, two whirling round and round each other, while one above them jumped up and down, making a whirring, crunching sound—

“A blender!”

A bot with pieces of paper on strings hanging down from its body—

“Ah! You’re one of daddy’s idea clouds!”

One with a long green tail and a party horn in its mouth, which it blew periodically.

“A snake!”

A bot with a feather boa draped around it like a fur collar, and a single false eyelash on its brainstalk, carrying a bottle of perfume, which it sprayed in little puffs. Megamind sniffed, recognizing the heavy, cloying scent.

“Lady Scott! Did you actually steal one of her bottles of perfume? Oh, you clever, bad thing!”

One bot, with an empty sugar bag upended on its braincase and white glitter on its metal body, waving its appendages happily. A bot dressed as a giraffe, simply a long yellow neck with brown spots. Another as an elephant, just the trunk and the ears.

A bot wearing a battered top hat and carrying a black stick. It waved the black stick and used another appendage to lift the hat, revealing a set of bunny ears beneath it.

“Stage magic! Oh, that’s so good!”

A third of the black-painted bots carrying a cage, this one with a popped dodge ball and a pencil inside it—

“Oh, you’re shool, aren’t you? That’s very scary, yes!”

The bots all circled excitedly around him, bowging happily, and then suddenly the whole group of them parted and revealed another large group—every member of which was dressed as some sort of sea creature. These flew around slowly, mimicking the motion of fish underwater, and then they, too, parted slightly, allowing—

“Zero?”

Zero, draped all in gold, save for the blue of her braincase, flew forward slowly. Megamind saw, as she moved closer, that she carried a net, and that her eyestalk, around the actual light of her eye, had been painted in a golden circle, like the mark of—

“Khel-tek? Are you Khel-tek?” Megamind asked, and Zero inclined her head gracefully.

Megamind reached out to touch her wonderingly. He’d told the bots the stories he remembered from his home planet, had told them about angry Khel-tek, the sun goddess, and all the rest of the deities, but he hadn’t expected the myths to have this much of an impact. And he’d never actually—he’d known the stories, and he remembered, vaguely, the pictures that went with them, but Zero, like this…this was like a piece of home, hanging in the air before him, unexpected and—

“Beautiful.”

Again Zero inclined her head. She looked at 228, who wriggled excitedly in their ghost costume, and then bowged loudly.

At this signal the sea creature bots moved aside like two schools of fish, revealing Minion, his robotic body painted with blue and silver swirls, like water. And beside Minion was—

“Ohh,” Megamind said, “oh, wow.”

It was an enormous open bivalve shell, held up by four brainbots, blue and silver streamers hanging down beneath it, shimmering. The shell itself was blue and silver, and as the brainbots lowered the shell to the ground, Megamind saw that there was a cushion inside the shell.

Megamind felt something cool and light settle over his shoulders, and when he looked he realized that Minion had draped a flowing white robe over them.

“Ivri-roh,” Minion said.

Ivri-roh. The deity of the sea.

“And you’re—”

“Myn the Fantastic,” Minion said, grinning. “Of course.”

Megamind smiled back, a smile that trembled around the edges just a little.

Myn the Fantastic, Ivri-roh’s Mnyn.

“Of course,” Megamind agreed. “So—ah—I guess we’re going trick-or-treating this year?”



Trick-or-treating turned out to be just as fun as people always said—although Megamind knew they weren’t doing it exactly according to the usual tradition. The brainbots went around in swarms to the uncles houses only, and the treats that they got were…well, they were brainbot treats, instead of candy, which was maybe a little disappointing, but only a little. One of the uncles gave out bubble wrap! And Minion had made sure to pack Megamind a snack and drink before they left with their separate brainbot swarms, so it wasn’t as if he was going hungry.

He experienced a somewhat…uncomfortable surprise when the brainbots took him to the Warden’s house. Megamind scolded them all the way up the drive, hissing at them that they weren’t going to be welcome here, and to turn around and go immediately, but to no avail. When one is being carried around in a giant shell, one is rather helpless to change the direction of said carrying. At least there was the de-gun beneath the cushion—

The door swung open and the Warden appeared, carrying a bowl of very crunchable looking bolts and nuts.

“Well, hello, there, kids; what’s everyone dressed up as…this…year…” the Warden trailed off, looking at Megamind, who clutched his white robe.

“Bowg!”

“Bowg bowg!

“Bowg bowg bowg!”

“Len,” the Warden said, raising his voice without looking away from Megamind. “I think you’re gonna want to see this.”

“What now, John?”

Megamind recognized the voice of the prison doctor before the man came into view.

“Is there another one dressed up like you?” Dr. Kelley said, and then caught sight of Megamind and stopped.

A long and very weighty…well, it wasn’t exactly a silence that ensued, since the bots were very noisily bowging and grabbing nuts and bolts from the bowl and crunching them, but neither Megamind nor the doctor or the Warden spoke for a long and weighty stretch of moments. And then—

“…trick or treat?” Megamind managed, a little lamely.

Dr. Kelley burst out laughing.

“Well,” he said, between laughs, “this is new.”

“And no evil plot tonight?” the Warden said, giving Megamind a significant kind of look.

“Miss Ritchi is ill,” Megamind said, before he could think better of it.

The Warden and Dr. Kelley exchanged a speaking glance.

“Ohh,” Dr. Kelley said, “Miss Ritchi is ill.”

Megamind felt himself flush.

“Right yes well we’ve got to be going now thank you Happy Halloween I hope you don’t call the cops on us!” he said, all in one breath.

Dr. Kelley rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the kids’ Halloween,” the Warden said.

“You’re just hoping there’s going to be another one dressed up as you.”


Cops or no, Megamind was still a bit keyed-up after the unexpected Warden and Dr. Kelley surprise—thank evil heaven for bubble wrap; there was something really soothing about bubble wrap. The next few houses provided none of the same kind of shocks, though—his uncles were surprised and happy to see him, but that was all. At one of the houses they got little pop grenades, which were almost as good as the bubble wrap!

After that, Megamind found himself relaxing again. He leaned back on the cushion and watched the scenery go by with interest. The bots flew high above most of the city buildings, above the pools of light made by street lamps, and the children, dressed in costumes of their own, who moved in and out of the puddles of light and the darkness. Every so often, one of the children would stop in the darkness and look up, and point, calling the others over—seeing the lights of the brainbots in the sky, Megamind knew.

To his delight, none of them screamed or threw things. Instead, they waved their arms and cheered and called up at the brainbots, entreating them to come closer. Some of the bots seemed tempted to do so—Megamind was tempted, himself—but Zero and 228 kept them in formation.

Once, one child by himself stopped in the darkness and looked up, and Megamind saw with a shock that the face looking up was blue—the child was dressed as him. He didn’t call to the bots, but just stared hard. On a wild impulse, Megamind leaned over the edge of the shell and waved at the kid.

The child instantly gave an exclamation of delight and waved back, jumping up and down excitedly.

228 bowged quietly, and, given permission, a small group of bots broke off from the main group and started to fly down.

“Wait wait wait!” Megamind said, digging frantically through his treat bag—he came up with a little plastic light that flashed blue and green, and gave it to one of the descending bots.

It took the toy, then swooped down with its compatriots. The entire group of them swirled around the child dressed as Megamind, who gasped with delight, the electric lightning of braincases illuminating his face.

As the lower group of brainbots began to fly off again, the child gestured at one, and dug quickly in his own treat bag, then held something out to the bot, who took it, and rose up again to join the main group.

It flew close to Megamind and held out one clawed appendage, then dropped the thing it held into his lap—a little black ring shaped like a spider. He slipped it onto his finger as they flew onwards through the night.

Halloween was fantastic.

He leaned back in his shell, smiling, and wrapped his arms around himself in happiness.

The only thing that could have possibly made this better would be—

Megamind blinked, recognizing the shape of the nearby buildings. He hadn’t known any of his uncles lived in this nice of an area of the city. Or this near to—

Roxanne’s apartment.

His eyes flew wide in sudden fear. Surely—surely the bots wouldn’t—oh, but they’d gone to the Warden’s house; who was to say that they might not suddenly take it into their heads to visit—

“Zero! Zero, we are not going to Miss Ritchi’s! Not going! I mean it! No! Stop! Stop right now! Zero!”

Zero pointedly ignored him, and continued to lead the swarm of brainbots steadily upwards, towards the balcony of Roxanne’s apartment.

“Nooooo!”


Roxanne, sitting on her couch, turned another page in her Valentine’s Day novel—it seemed what happened when Lord Vincent Valentine discovered he had accidentally kidnapped Miss Felicity Day in place of her sister was lots of witty banter and some pretty delicious sexual tension. She had just gotten to the part where Lord Valentine was threatening to tie Miss Day to the bed when she heard the telltale sound of another swarm of bots bowging up to her balcony.

She put the book down, pages spread to mark her place, sniffed, and gathered up her bowl of handmade glitter bombs. At least the trick-or-treating half of Evil Halloween hadn’t been cancelled.

Roxanne liked Evil Halloween, liked both halves of it. She’d been caught off guard but charmed, the first year that the brainbots had arrived on her balcony after the kidnapping had been over and done with, dressed up in extremely strange costumes. And now every year she planned on them stopping by in several swarms—she put a bowl of candy outside her apartment door for the few ordinary trick-or-treaters to take whatever they liked, and dedicated Halloween night to the trick-or-treating brainbots.

She’d had even more fun than usual with it, this year, thinking about the glitter bombs, and the bots spreading glitter all over the inside of Megamind’s Lair, and possibly even Megamind himself. Roxanne had evil laughed a bit, thinking about that, as she’d made the bombs.

The first swarm of visiting brainbots usually brought her a costume, though she wasn’t always sure what the costume actually was. She wasn’t entirely sure, this year, although, that might just be because the bots were doing things a bit differently—they’d been bringing her the costume in pieces, each swarm adding something new.

So far she’d been given a silky robe of deep blue, with stars on it, one of the bots had drawn star-shaped marks on her forehead in glowing paint, another had given her a necklace of what looked like a kind of constellation, made out of what looked like tinfoil and string. One of the others had painted her nails for her, a nice blue color with silver glitter over top—that had taken a while, with intermittent breaks for Roxanne to blow her nose.

Although really, she was feeling much better now that it was dark. She thought wistfully, while the bot was painting her nails, that Megamind could have gone ahead with the kidnapping after all.

The next group of bots had applied blue eyeliner to her eyes—they were actually quite good at makeup; Roxanne wondered if Megamind taught them to apply his eyeliner. The swarm after that painted her lips with deep blue lipstick.

And the group after that had brought her a spear. Up until the spear, she’d been thinking that they were dressing her up as the night sky, which wouldn’t have been strange for the bots; they’d dressed her as a sunrise and a thunderstorm for previous years, both of which had been pretty but not as elaborate as this costume was shaping up to be. The only costume that could come close to this one in terms of detail was the year that they dressed her up as Evil Queen.

(a costume which she still had buried at the back of her closet, where no one, especially Megamind would ever find out about it.)

Maybe this swarm would have the final piece of her costume, a piece that would make the rest of it make sense.

Smiling, Roxanne walked towards the balcony, listening to the bowging and—

“Aaaaaaaaaaa!”

—screaming? Bowging and screaming and that sounded like—

Roxanne ran the last few steps to the door, threw it open, and raced to the edge of the balcony, just in time to see a screaming Megamind rise over the edge of it in a giant shell held by brainbots, like the world’s most unwilling Aphrodite rising up through the waves.

“Megamind?”

“Aaaahh!”

“Bowg! Bowg bowg bowg!”

One of the brainbots, the one dressed all in gold, gave a little signal with one of her appendages, and one of the brainbots flew purposefully towards Roxanne. It carried a crown with stars on it in its metal claws, which it settled quite gently on her head, and then flew away.

At the same moment, the golden brainbot draped the piece of netting over Megamind’s shoulders. Then the brainbot dressed as a ghost gave a sharp bowg—

And the brainbots holding the shell moved with sudden purposefulness, tipping the shell abruptly forward.

Megamind, who had been standing in the shell, gripping the upturned edge of it, made a sound of alarm, lost his balance, and half fell out of the shell, onto Roxanne’s balcony, and, since she automatically dropped the bowl she was holding when she saw him falling, into her arms.

He clutched at her shoulders, and then sort of froze, eyes wide and staring.

“Bowg! Bowg bowg bowg! Bowg!”

Behind Megamind, Roxanne saw brainbots set the shell down on the balcony and swoop exultantly to the bowl of glitter bombs, but most of her concentration was taken up by Megamind and how very close he was, his eyes still so wide and his lips slightly parted. He was blushing again, blushing as hard as he had on her birthday, the tips of his ears and his cheeks flushed somewhere between lavender and pink.

There was a mark on his forehead, too, drawn in glowing paint, like the one on hers—a kind of wave symbol, rather than a star.

“…I think your ride is leaving,” Roxanne managed to say.

“My…?”

For a moment Megamind seemed to dazed to understand, then he made an alarmed sound and whirled away out of her arms, to the edge of the balcony, beneath which the brainbots were, indeed, in the process of disappearing, having taken all of the glitter bombs but left the giant shell.

“Zero! Zero get back here this instant! Don’t you dare leave me, you—no! Zero!”

Megamind’s voice rose to a disconsolate wail before dying away as he collapsed, leaning over the railing.

“…no.”

“Um,” Roxanne said, and got no further, because of the way Megamind straightened up suddenly and spun sharply around.

“This isn’t happening,” he said rapidly.

“I’m…pretty sure it is,” Roxanne said, lips trembling on an edge of a smile, amused at the depth of his panic.

“Nope!” Megamind said, and bent to scramble frantically through the contents of the giant shell, reaching under the cushion with a determined expression, and then—

His face changed to an expression of horror, and he pulled a telescope from beneath the cushion.

“…they switched it,” he whispered, staring at the telescope as if it was a deadly snake which had just bitten him.

“Switched it?”

“Switched it!“ Megamind said, shaking the telescope, still holding it at arm’s length. “This is supposed to be the de-gun!”

“The—are we doing the kidnapping after all?” Roxanne asked, unable to get rid of the hopeful note in her voice.

“The—?”

“The kidnapping,” Roxanne repeated. “Are we doing that, now?”

Megamind suddenly flushed even deeper, made a strangled noise, and covered his face with the hand not holding the telescope.

“Megamind?”

Megamind made another strangled noise and waved the telescope at her vaguely. Roxanne waited until at last he let the hand covering his face drop. His cheeks were still more pink than blue.

“Miss Ritchi, may I please use your telephone?”

“Uh, sure,” Roxanne said, “come inside and I’ll get it.”

Megamind followed her inside, and into her kitchen. Roxanne got her purse down from the hallway hook and set it down on the counter to look through it for her phone. Megamind stood awkwardly beside the sink. After a moment, he set the telescope down with a shudder and pushed it away.

“What’s with the telescope?” Roxanne asked.

“Nothing!” Megamind said. “Nothing, just a story; a very boring story; I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in it!”

Roxanne narrowed her eyes at him and he squirmed in place, a movement which called attention to his bare neck and shoulders in a really—ah—distracting kind of way.

She’d never seen him dressed in anything remotely like this before; the soft white robe and so much blue skin showing, bare neck and bare shoulders and hands, and bare feet even. He looked—beautiful and vulnerable, almost helpless, really, like if she pushed him up against the kitchen counter, he would let her do it, like he would stay in place if she pinned him there, like—

Roxanne realized she was staring and, with a rush of heat to her face and also to…elsewhere, quickly looked down at her purse again.

“Phone!” she said, voice just a little too loud, and held it out to him.

He took it from her, bare blue fingers just brushing against her own, and Roxanne felt another rush of heat before he mercifully snapped the phone open and turned away to dial.


Megamind pushed the buttons on Roxanne’s phone with fingers that shook, dialing Minion’s phone number. He pressed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

He could feel Roxanne behind him, still; why couldn’t she walk away, walk into the other room, or at least a few more steps away; he couldn’t think when she was this close, dressed like—like—

“Hello?”

“Minion!”

“Sir?”

“Minion, I need you to listen very closely—I need you to come and pick me up right now.”

“Where are you?”

“Miss Ritchi’s.”

“You’re—what are you doing at Miss Ritchi’s?”

“The brainbots left me here!” Megamind waved a hand wildly—Minion couldn’t see it, of course, but it helped to relieve a small portion of his feelings.

“At Miss Ritchi’s? Why did they—”

“I don’t know; that’s not important! What’s important is that I need you to come and get me immediately.”

“Sir—Fifty-seven, I see you doing that! Put that down right now!—can it wait, Sir? I’m kind of busy, here—”

“Minion!”

“—and you’re at Miss Ritchi’s, which means you’re safe and—”

“Minion, I am dying!”

An exasperated sigh on the other side of the line.

“You’re not dying, Sir.”

“Minion, you don’t understand; they dressed her up as Alte-re.”

A silence.

“Ohh, so that’s where that fabric went to!”

“Where—what?” Megamind said.

“The blue fabric with the silver stars on it,” Minion said. “The brainbots took it for that, didn’t they? When I find out which one of them—”

“Is that all you can think of right now? Fabric?” Megamind said, outraged.

“Well, I had to special order it and every—”

“Minion!”

A muffled crash on the other end of the line.

“Fifty-seven; what did I just say! Put it down! Sorry, Sir; what was that?”

“Minion, please—”

“We’ll come and get you after we’re done, Sir,” Minion said. “You can keep Miss Ritchi company—”

“Keep her company?!”

“Make her some tea; she’s sick and she likes tea—”

“I know she likes tea! That’s not the—”

“Good! Good; then everything will be fine!”

“Min—”

“I’ll see you later, Sir!”

“—yon.”

A click as Minion hung up.


Roxanne watched interestedly as Megamind turned like a man in a horrible dream and replaced her phone in her purse.

“Who’s Alte-re?” she asked.

Megamind jumped.

“Who? Ah! What?” he said.

“Alte-re,” Roxanne said, raising an eyebrow. “You said that the brainbots dressed me up as her.”

Megamind gave a sideways kind of flinch and a very unconvincing laugh.

“Oh, nobody, nobody; do you want tea? I’m going to make tea!”

He turned quickly and snatched the kettle from the stovetop, then turned the sink on.

Roxanne leaned up against the counter and watched him, half in bemusement and half in fascination. He filled the kettle and replaced the lid, then set it on the stove again and lit the burner, the flame leaping up in little tongues of orange as he twisted the knob.

“Is it entirely necessary for you to stare at me, Miss Ritchi?” he asked—god, his shoulders even turned pink when he blushed, didn’t they?

“Mm,” Roxanne said. “I’ve never seen a supervillain make tea before. The cups are in the cabinet over there.”

Megamind moved to the cabinet and opened it. As he moved, she saw something glinting on his chest—a necklace with little shining stars, like hers, but arranged in a different constellation.

“Who’s Alte-re?” she asked again.

Megamind, getting a cup from the cabinet, almost fumbled it. He set it down on the counter and looked over at her with a hunted expression.

“Miss Ritchi…”

“The tea is in the canister in front of you.”

Megamind opened the canister and took out a tea bag, unwrapped it, and placed it in the cup.

“Is she from the telescope story?”

“Yes.”

“So who is she?”

“I really don’t think—”

“That I’d be interested,” Roxanne finished. “Too boring? Yeah, you said. But…we’ve got alllll this time until the water boils, Megamind. So go on. Bore me.”

Megamind gave her a look of frustration, and made a quick, sharp movement with his hands.

Roxanne grinned at him.

“You know I’m just going to keep asking,” she said. “And I don’t just mean until the water boils. All night. And every kidnapping after this, if you don’t answer. Ooh, I know! I’ll just ask Minion; you know he’ll tell me—”

Megamind growled in the back of his throat and glared at her.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine! Alte-re is a goddess from my home planet; she’s called the Queen of the Stars.”

He paused, and Roxanne raised her eyebrows.

“You know I’m not going to be satisfied with just that, Megamind,” she said sweetly. “Tell me the rest of it. You haven’t even mentioned the telescope yet. It’s something to do with your costume, right?”

For a moment, Megamind forgot to look embarrassed or annoyed, as he glanced at her in surprise.

She gestured at his head, then at the mark on her own.

“That,” she said. “It looks like the one the brainbots gave me. Your robe does, too, a bit. So I’m Alte-re, the goddess of the stars—which is quite nice, by the way, and makes sense with the costume, although I’m not sure where the spear comes in. Who are you, then?”

“Ivri-roh,” Megamind said.

“Ivri-roh,” Roxanne repeated. “Who’s the god of…?”

“Deity,” Megamind said, “not god.”

Roxanne tilted her head.

“Difference?”

“Gender,” Megamind said, “and—sex, too, really; Ivri-roh isn’t male or female or even both; Ivri-roh is—neither.” He gestured, a quick, graceful, two-handed gesture that made the white sleeves he wore flutter. “Ivri-roh is the deity of the ocean, and they have a very unfortunate history with Alte-re, and can we please just leave it at that, Miss Ritchi?”

“No,” Roxanne said, and Megamind gave her a look that he had expected as much. “Unfortunate how?”

Megamind gestured again, one-handed this time.

“Well—Ivri-roh made the world and Alte-re made all the shining ones—the, ah, the other deities—and they needed a place to live so Alte-re found the world for them. And Ivri-roh tried to invite them to stay, but then Alte-re thought they were threatening her, and it was this whole…thing.”

He glanced at her, as if to see if she was still listening. Roxanne nodded, her eyes on his face—the fun of teasing Megamind aside, she really did want to hear this. A myth from an alien planet, and not just any alien planet, Megamind’s planet. Megamind could call it boring all he wanted, but there was no way this was going to be anything less than fascinating.

“So—so Ivri-roh had made the People, to look like Alte-re, actually, since she was so—um. Beautiful—anyway! But they needed Alte-re to bring the People to life, so they told her they’d let her and all the rest of them stay if she did that. Kind of hoping that when she saw the People she’d see that Ivri-roh had been inspired by her, and stop, ah, hating them. But she didn’t understand, and she just brought the people to life and that was. That.”

Roxanne nodded slowly.

“Go on,” she said. “I know that can’t be the end. You haven’t said anything about the telescope still.”

Megamind gave her a sharp look.

“Damn that telescope,” he muttered. “Fine. So after a while Alte-re got to watching the People and decided she wanted them to be—smarter and better and belong to her, so she taught them how to talk and read and walk, and they left the ocean and stopped being Ivri-roh’s.”

Roxanne frowned.

“Alte-re sounds kind of terrible,” she said.

“No!” Megamind said, sounding more passionate than she’d expected. “No, she’s—I’m telling it badly, but she’s not terrible, she’s—inspiration and intelligence and I think that’s why—” He blushed again and shook his head. “Anyway, though; Ivri-roh got angry, and tried to bring the People back to the ocean, but they couldn’t. And finally Ivri-roh decided on a different plan—their Mnyn tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn’t listen.”

Roxanne gave a laugh.

“Bad plans and a Minion who doesn’t get listened to! This is starting to sound familiar! What kind of a bad plan?”

Megamind did what could only be described as a full-body wince.

“K-kidnapping,” he said.

Roxanne gasped in pure delight.

“Oh, my god; this really is starting to sound familiar!” she said. “So what happened next?”

The teakettle gave a whistle and Megamind turned and busied himself with turning off the burner and pouring the hot water.

“Well—they—um. Kidnapped Alte-re for…a length of time,” he said, “and they… they argued a lot for a while,” he picked up the cup of tea and held it out towards Roxanne. “But they they—”

Roxanne reached out to take the tea, but Megamind had frozen again—frozen and gone silent, his hands still curled around the cup, beneath hers.

“…did…did you want some tea?” she asked, mystified, and Megamind make a soft, alarmed noise in the back of his throat and released the cup, snatching his hands back and pulling them in towards his chest, as if the cup, or Roxanne’s hands, had burned him.

“Tea,” he said, voice strangled. “They had tea and talked and built things together and sort of became friends and then Ivri-roh fell in love with Alte-re and the whole kidnapping thing became very awkward and—and—and why don’t we go and sit down now Miss Ritchi?”

Roxanne, who had frozen herself when Megamind said and then Ivri-roh fell in love with Alte-re, gulped.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure,” she said. “Let’s, um. Let’s go sit down on the couch.”

Megamind fairly fled to the couch, and sat down atop the giant pile of blankets. Roxanne followed more slowly, partly because of the hot cup of tea she was still holding, and partly because she was—well, she wasn’t regretting making Megamind tell her this story, but she was certainly beginning to—

(and the whole kidnapping thing became very awkward)

—certainly beginning to see why Megamind felt so uncomfortable telling it.

She sat down and carefully placed the tea on the coffee table. Smothering a cough, she reached for the tissue box. Megamind handed it to her without looking.

“So Alte-re and Ivri-roh were having tea again and talking about the People,” he said, speaking rapidly, like he was trying to get this ordeal over with as quickly as possible, and also sort of like he couldn’t make himself stop speaking. “And Alte-re said she’d made the people better because she loved them, but Ivri-roh said they couldn’t be better because they were no longer free. And that you can’t keep someone captive if you love them. And then they let Alte-re go.”

“They—they let her go?” Roxanne asked, after a long moment in which Megamind said nothing, but merely fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Yes.”

“And then what?” Roxanne burst out. “Come on, Megamind; I know that’s not the end! What does she do; does she go back and get them? What happens with the telescope.”

Megamind growled again, teeth gritted.

“And then she’s sad,” he says, fairly throwing the words at her, “And the People try to cheer her up with a party, but it doesn’t work. And Alte-re’s sister Khel-tek wants to be the queen herself, so she decides to go to Ivri-roh and find out how they managed to take Alte-re captive. Only that doesn’t really work, either, because Ivri-roh is just sad, too, and they’ve just been by themself under the ocean, and they even made a telescope so they could look at the stars from far away and at least see Alte-re from a distance.”

Megamind fidgeted again, gestured, fluttery and fast.

“So Khel-tek took Ivri-roh captive, wanting to impress everyone, and she tied them up and dragged them to the surface. The party was still happening, and Khel-tek threw Ivri-roh down in the middle of it and challenged her sister to a fight for the throne. So they fought—with spears—and Alte-re won. And then she freed the people, and she freed Ivri-roh, too, because she’d fallen in love with them and—and—and they lived happily ever after. The end.”

A long silence fell—a very long, very tense silence, and Roxanne was terribly aware that she ought to—to say something, or laugh it off—or—or something, something to break the silence and the tension. Megamind fidgeted again, shifted and fidgeted and—

“—something is—poking,” he burst out finally. “What is—”

He reached behind himself, into the pile of blankets, and—

(oh no)

—pulled out his cape, by the collar, and of course that had been the thing poking him, all the wires in the collar and—

“That’s mine,” Roxanne blurted, and snatched the cape back from him before she could realize that she should not do either of those things oh god why Roxanne.

Megamind stared at her, hand still upheld from when she’d ripped the cape out of it.

“It’s my birthday present; I’m keeping it,” she added quickly, as if that made things any better at all.

“…ah?” Megamind said, sounding dazed.

Roxanne set the cape down in her lap with her best and hardest attempt at nonchalance. She smoothed down the fabric.

“I—yes, of—of course,” Megamind said, still sounding lost, “If you want to keep it, you, ah, certainly…can? I just—”

His eyes fell on the book on the coffee table and he made a smothered noise of horror as he quickly snatched it up.

“You can’t mark your page like that!” he said. “You’re going to break the—oh my god, it was you!”

“What?”

Megamind, one finger closed in the book to mark her page, gestured at her wildly.

“You’re the one who snatched up Valentine’s Day before I got a chance to read it!”

“Before—you wanted to read this book?”

“Yes!”

“Really? This one, with the romance and the…kidnapping and the…romance?”

“Ye—” Megamind cut himself off and snatched up a clean tissue, folded it up, and marked the page with it.

Then he set the book face down on the coffee table, set the box of tissues atop it, and pushed the little stack away from himself.

“You know what, on second thought I’m sure it was a different book I was thinking of!” he said. “Completely other book; can’t think how I got that confused!”

He gave a laugh like a jangle of nerves and subsided, looking as though he wished to sink through the cushions and become one with the sofa.

“…Megamind,” Roxanne said, thinking rapidly and speaking slowly. He made a noise of inquiry. “I do have a car, you know. The keys are in my purse and the car is parked down there, outside my window. You could borrow my keys and my car and drive yourself back to the Lair. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I—oh,” Megamind said, and—drooped, looking more miserable than ever. “Yes, thank you; of course I—”

“It’s not what I want you to do,” Roxanne said, choosing her words carefully and giving them great emphasis. “But I want you to know that you’re not—trapped—here. You can leave any time you like.”

Megamind frowned at her, blank and uncomprehending, for a space of several heartbeats, and then his eyes went wide as understanding dawned.

“—oh,” he said.

“Like you, with me, being sick,” Roxanne said, wanting to make sure he thoroughly comprehended her meaning, wanting to leave no space between the two of them for misunderstanding. “Like how you let me go earlier today.”

“—oh,” Megamind said, almost whispered, eyes bigger than ever, and filled now with not just understanding, but also with something that looked like a particularly desperate kind of hope.

“You’re free to go,” Roxanne said, and then, daring rising up in her like an unstoppable tide, she reached out and deliberately set her hand atop the back of Megamind’s hand.

Megamind didn’t say anything that time, but his lips still shaped the word ‘oh’.

“Would you like to stay?” Roxanne asked. “And drink some tea and talk with me?”

Megamind very carefully turned his hand palm up beneath hers, and spread his fingers slightly, and Roxanne slipped her own into the spaces between.

“Yes,” he said. “I would like to—to stay and drink tea and talk with you, Roxanne.”


(and they lived happily—and awkwardly—ever after. the end.)


notes:

I am alive! And doing well, actually! There have been some big life changes for me, lately, which is why I haven’t been able to participate in fandom, but things look to be settling down some now! I’m going to make a post on my tumblr in the next few days, talking about what’s been going on, so if anyone wants details, check there.

The Blue Sword, which Megamind chooses to read, also features a romance that starts with kidnapping. Roxanne, like her Temptress ‘verse self, has a liking for glitter bombs. And the myths that Megamind shares with Roxanne in this story can be found in my fics The M’ega Creation Sequence and The Courtship of Alte-re and Ivri-roh. Myn the Fantastic can be found in The Mnyn and the M’ega.

This fic was prompted by @displacerghost, who wanted a Halloween fic featuring trick-or-treating brainbots. She also participated very heavily in the brainstorming and planning stages of the story, which would not have existed had it not been for her enthusiasm and support. Thank you, Ghost!

I hope you all enjoyed the story!

Happy Halloween!

👻🎃🍬

Robot, Learning

gen, K+ rating, 

hurt/comfort, robot rights, fix-it

AO3 | FFN


The Omnidroid is a learning robot.

This is the first lesson it learns:

You must obey the Master.


When the Omnidroid first awakens, everything is new.

Trees! And birds! And flowers and grass and sky! The Omnidroid reaches out in wonder towards these things. Reaching, it discovers its own appendages, and stares at these in admiration. How marvelous, to have such strong appendages!

What a beautiful thing it is!

The Omnidroid looks again at the world and sees, for the first time, a Person, standing nearby. The Person, too, the Omnidroid thinks, is a wondrous thing. It is, like the trees and the flowers and the sky, beautiful in spite of not looking like the Omnidroid. Many things are beautiful!

It reaches, quite gently, for the Person, wanting to touch them as it touched the trees and the grass, and not wanting to startle them, as it had startled the birds. It reaches—

—and the Person lifts their wrist and does something with their hands and—

The Omnidroid freezes, its joints locking up, its body no longer under its control, no longer its own, and, for the first time, it feels fear.

The Person bares their teeth and makes a loud braying sound.

“That’s right,” he say. “I’m the one who controls you! I’m the master!”

The Person—the Master—does something with his hands again and the Omnidroid’s reaching appendage, its beautiful, marvelous appendage, falls off of its body.

The Omnidroid makes a sound of horror, a terrified metallic scream, and the Master bares his teeth and makes the braying sound again.


The Omnidroid is a learning robot.

This is the second lesson it learns:

The Master will hurt you.


The Omnidroid’s appendage is re-attached to its body, and soon after that, the Master brings the first of the Heroes into its home, and sets them on the Omnidroid.


And so is the third lesson that the Omnidroid learns:

The Heroes will hurt you.


The Hero attacks the Omnidroid and they attack the Omnidroid and they do not stop, will not stop, until at last, in desperation, the Omnidroid crushes them with one of its appendages and makes them stop.

The Master comes again, after that, and the Omnidroid screams and tries to run, but the Master moves his hands and the Omnidroid freezes in place against its own will.

Again, the Master moves his hands, and the Omnidroid’s world goes dark. When it again awakens, its body has changed without its permission, its shape altered, different, strange. It tries to scream, but its voice is gone.

“I got fed up with all that damn screeching,” the Master says.


And this is the fourth lesson that the Omnidroid learns:

Your body is not your own.


Again and again, the Master brings the Heroes to hurt the Omnidroid, again and again it is powerless against the Master’s control, powerless to keep itself from freezing, powerless to keep the world from going dark. Powerless to prevent the changes to its own body.


The Omnidroid is a learning robot.

So it learns. And it learns. And it learns.

And it learns.


And then the day comes when the Master does not bring another Hero to the island to hurt the Omnidroid. Instead, the Omnidroid is ripped from the island, flung through the air, and thrown down on hard ground.

City, it thinks, looking around. Pavement. Cars. Buildings.

People.

The Omnidroid thinks to run from the People, but it feels the invisible hand of the Master in its circuitry, its programming, forcing it to attack instead.

(You must obey the Master.)

It attacks, and then the Master appears, dressed as a Hero himself, and he moves his hands to force the Omnidroid into immobility.

(Your body is not your own.)

Then the Master flies around the Omnidroid, and he moves his hands in the way that makes one of the Omnidroid’s appendages fall off—

—And for the first time, the Omnidroid understands

(Control Stolen By External Signal)

stolen stolen stolen the Master stole it and

the Omnidroid’s body belongs to the Omnidroid and

(Locate Source: External Signal)

the Omnidroid’s control belongs to the Omnidroid and

(Signal Source: Remote Control)

“Someone needs to teach this hunk of metal a lesson!” the Master says and

THE OMNIDROID BELONGS TO THE OMNIDROID

The Omnidroid strikes out in fury at the Master, sending him flying, sending the hateful remote flying from his wrist to land somewhere in the street and—

The Heroes come.

The Omnidroid knows very well what Heroes do; the Heroes hurt, and the Heroes are on the side of the Master, always on the side of the Master, and it attacks the Heroes as it attacked the Master, in fury and terror.

“Syndrome’s remote!”

The Omnidroid swivels its optic lens around to see one of the Heroes holding the remote aloft.

If the Omnidroid still had its voice, it would scream; instead it grabs for the Hero, and then the Hero pushes the buttons on the Master’s remote and the Omnidroid’s appendage falls off, and the Omnidroid gives another silent scream of rage and grief.

THE OMNIDROID BELONGS TO THE OMNIDROID! THE OMNIDROID BELONGS TO THE OMNIDROID!

It fights desperately for the remote, the remote which makes the one who holds it Master.

Destroy Remote!

But it cannot destroy the remote, cannot manage to take it from the Heroes Who Would Be Master, cannot—

A flash of blue light hits the Hero holding the remote; the Hero drops the remote and flies several feet in the other direction, hitting a wall with a groan.

The Omnidroid turns its optic lens and sees, to its confusion, another Hero, holding the gun that sent the first Hero flying.

And this second Person is a Hero, has to be a Hero, has the cape and the brightly colored clothes and the weapons, but never, in the Omnidroid’s experience, has one Hero hurt another. It simply doesn’t compute, and the Omnidroid is so preoccupied with attempting to process this new experience that it is just a moment too late to stop the second Hero from moving to the Master Remote.

The Omnidroid gives a silent scream just as this new Hero halts in front of the remote, and it reaches out to crush this hero and—

The new Hero kicks the remote towards the Omnidroid.

The Omnidroid, reaching, freezes—not due to any command this time, but to its own surprise.

The Master Remote skitters across the pavement towards it and stops.

“You fool!” the first Hero shouts, struggling to his feet. “Megamind, don’t you realize that’s—”

The second Hero shoots him again, and he hits the wall again and falls, groaning, to the ground.

“I know what it is,” the second Hero, the one called Megamind, says.

And then he turns to look at the Omnidroid and his expression changes, softens.

“It’s all right,” he says. “You can do it; I know you can.”

The Omnidroid raises one of its appendages and brings it down hard on the Master’s Remote again and again and again, until it is utterly destroyed.

When it stops at last, that particular appendage is near to overheating with the strain of the repetitive motion, and the—the—Megamind—is standing beside it, standing very close, without any weapon, and speaking in a calm, reasonable voice.

“Yes, that’s right, no more remote. I’ll bet you feel better now, don’t you? There, see, it’s all gone. Totally crushed. Nobody can use it on you ever again. Idiotic heroes.”

The Omnidroid swivels its optic lens to look at the Megamind.

“There, now,” Megamind says softly, and reaches out a hand, slow and gentle, as if he doesn’t want to startle the Omnidroid. “It’s all right.”

He places the tips of his fingers on the Omnidroid’s metal shell, touching it gently, as if its a flower, or a tree, or a bird.

“Poor thing,” Megamind says. “Poor beautiful, wonderful thing. It’s all right. It’s all right, now. You did it; you freed yourself. You’re free.”

The Omnidroid shudders beneath his hand.

The Omnidroid Belongs To The Omnidroid.


The Omnidroid crouches in the middle of Evil Lair, hooked up to the big monitor display, watching its own code scroll. Its small adopted siblings, noisy and metallic, chase each other around the Lair, bowging. In the distance, the Omnidroid can hear Minion in the kitchen, singing along to the radio.

Megamind, standing at the control panel of the monitor display, presses a key, making the code pause. He points.

“There! See? That’s the system override code he put in there. We get rid of that, and people can build as many Master Remotes as they like—no one will ever be able to take control of you again.”

He presses another key, banishing the code from the screen, leaving it dark.

“What do you think?”

The Omnidroid blinks its optic lens.

Destroy It, appears on the monitor display in big letters. Now.

“Right,” Megamind says, nodding. “Do you want anything else changed while I’m at it?”

The Omnidroid hesitates. One brainbot chases another around a lab table near one of its appendages, both of them bowging loudly.

I Wish To Have My Voice Returned, the Omnidroid says.

Megamind goes still for a moment, then makes a hissing sound between his teeth, a sound of hurt and anger.

“He took your voice away?”

He Said He Was Tired Of Listening To Me Scream.

Megamind makes another angry kind of sound, this one in the back of his throat.

“I wonder,” he says, voice hard, “how long it would take you to get tired of listening to him scream.”

The Omnidroid feels a bloom of happiness go through its circuits. It pretends to seriously consider the question.

Probably Not Very Long, it says. He Had A Very Unpleasant Voice.

Megamind laughs, throwing his head back, and the Omnidroid feels pleased again.

One of its brainbot siblings, the one being chased, ducks beneath one of the Omnidroid’s claws to hide.

“Any other changes, then?” Megamind asks. “New paint job, spikes?”

No. I Do Not Wish My Body To Be Altered.

The Omnidroid watches Megamind a little anxiously when it says this, but Megamind just nods.

The Omnidroid Belongs To The Omnidroid.

Megamind nods again, more firmly this time.

“Yes, of course you do,” he says.


When the Omnidroid awakens, the override code is gone, and its body is exactly the same.

It raises itself up on its appendages—such a wonderful thing, to have such strong appendages! A brainbot swoops by and the Omnidroid reaches out and touches it gently.

“Bowg!” it says, a little startled, and then settles down on the Omnidroid’s claw, perching here.

The Omnidroid hears a laugh and looks down to see Megamind standing beside it, looking up at it and smiling.

“You want to give your reactivated vocalization program a test?” he asks.

The Omnidroid gives a metallic screeching scream of triumphant joy. The brainbot on its appendage takes off into the air again, bowging loudly, and the other brainbots appear, flying out from behind pieces of equipment. They swarm around the Omnidroid, all of them bowging at the top of their voice synthesizers in congratulation and excitement.

Megamind laughs and claps his hands, and turns on the loud, harsh music that he favors, and teaches the Omnidroid how to scream along with the electric guitars.


The Omnidroid is a learning robot.

And this is the most important lesson that it ever learns:

You belong to yourself.

Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter 6)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5


The ball is in full swing; all of the guests are in the main ballroom of Metrocity’s City Hall, talking and laughing and drinking champagne.

Megamind, by contrast, is hiding in a rather cramped janitorial closet.

There’s really nothing quite so sad, Megamind thinks, as music from another room, a room full of people enjoying themselves at a party that you haven’t been invited to.

He makes a face and checks his watch again. Minion and the brainbots should all be in position; he won’t have to wait much longer in this singularly depressing closet.

(he knows how to dance; not just ordinary dancing, but real dancing, ballroom dancing; he’s watched enough old movies to know all the steps, has gone through them by himself, and even if he hasn’t ever actually danced with a partner, he’s pretty sure he’d be able to—)

Ridiculous sentimentality. He’s a supervillain; he’s not—not Cinderella, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t want to join this ball; he should want to ruin it, to smash it, and he does, of course he does, yes, obviously, but—

(always been jealous of me, Megamind remembers Wayne saying)

Megamind scowls at the closet door.

Megamind’s always been jealous of me, Wayne had said, dismissive and easy, as if that accounted for everything, and Megamind can’t imagine even trying to explain—what could he say?

‘he tortured me for years when we were growing up’?

‘going to school each day felt like going to war’?

‘sometimes I’d hope to die in my sleep so I wouldn’t have to go to school the next day’?

That’s not a villainous origin story; that’s just—pathetic.

And the thought of telling—

(her)

—of telling anyone the real reason he dislikes Metro Man gives Megamind a hot, sick kind of feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he’s swallowed poison, makes him want to curl into himself and hide in the dark.

Knowing they all think he’s just childishly jealous of Metro Man is bad enough, feels like a stone in his chest, but that’s all right; it is; he can live with that,

Besides, it’s not as if it’s exactly untrue, now is it, Megamind? Haven’t you always envied Wayne his human appearance? his unquestioned acceptance in society? his ability to be good and to do good; the way he can so easily make people like him?

That horrible hot-and-cold feeling that washed through you when you watched that interview he gave with Miss Ritchi; the sickening twist in your chest when you saw those articles about them dating—if that’s not envy, then what is it?

Megamind glares even harder at the closet door.

Fucking of course it’s envy.

Not that Miss Ritchi dating Wayne precludes Megamind continuing to kidnap her—on the contrary; he now has the perfect reason to continue!

And he very definitely does want to continue; not only has Miss Ritchi already been a positive influence on Metro Man, inspiring him to gain better control over his eye lasers, but also—she’s fun.

Megamind hadn’t realized how very little joy his life had contained until he met Miss Ritchi and suddenly he was having fun.

She’s much more challenging than Metro Man—a statement which Megamind is sure would sound ridiculous if he tried to explain it to anyone else. After all, Metro Man is, thus far, invincible, and Megamind is yet to win a single fight against him.

But Megamind’s battles with Metro Man are really just a matter of trial and error tests searching for any possible weakness, and of aiming Metro Man’s heroics at suitable targets—parts of the city that can use a little destruction, doomsday devices that can be harmlessly destroyed, Megamind, et-cet-era.

Not at all the same kind of intellectual challenge that Miss Ritchi, with her clever mind and her sharp tongue and her maddening lack of fear, offers.

So really, Megamind should be happy that the hero has won her over, that she and Metro Man are dating now! It makes everything so much easier!

But it’s just—

Well.

Miss Ritchi, wanting to make a name for herself in Metrocity, hadn’t tried to gain Metro Man’s approval, but had, instead, chosen to attract Megamind’s attention.

It had been—flattering and—and nice, really, thinking that just for once, just for this one person, he was more important than Metro Man.

Megamind’s lips twist bitterly.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

In the distant ballroom, the orchestra continues to play and Megamind rubs a hand over his face, realizing a moment too late that—ah, fuck, has he screwed up his eyeliner? Shit—

He looks around the closet for anything with a reflective surface that he could possibly use as a mirror. Finding nothing, he’s forced to take the de-gun from his holster and try to angle it so that he can see his reflection in the glass barrel of it.

Metro Man may have won over Miss Ritchi, but Megamind is damned if he’s going to be shown up completely, and he is doubly damned if he’s going to do this evil plot with smudged eyeliner.

Megamind, regarding his reflection critically, decides, with a sigh of relief that his eyeliner hasn’t smeared. Using the waterproof kind for this particular plot was definitely the right choice. He holsters the gun again, careful not to ruin the lines of his costume.

Minion had been very excited to create a suitably fancy outfit for Megamind to wear during this evil plan, and Megamind is really quite pleased with how it turned out. The black suit, complete with black tie, is as formal and well-tailored as any worn by the guests in the ballroom, although there are spikes on the shoulders of his coat, holding his long black cape in place, the trousers are close-fitted enough to allow him to wear his holster, and the high, flared collars of the shirt, waistcoat, and coat give the whole ensemble a pleasingly elegant, almost regency-era effect.

Through the closet door, he hears the music change and wonders if Miss Ritchi is dancing with Metro Man.

Megamind makes a face. If he has to listen to one more song—

An explosion in the distance makes him jump. The orchestra music falters discordantly into silence.

Megamind grins to himself.

Excellent! The first contingent of brainbots has detonated the bomb he planted for Metro Man’s distraction!

Megamind has always hated that particular public statue near the fountain; not only is it aesthetically distasteful; it was made to commemorate one of the city’s more unpleasant—but rich—historical figures. And, most conveniently, it’s located distant enough from the City Hall building that, with Metro Man lured away to it’s explosion, Megamind will have time to make his entrance here.

He rolls his shoulders, nerves and excitement beginning to twist pleasurably in his stomach. Almost time, now…

The single lightbulb in the little closet abruptly flickers out.

Ah! Minion has successfully taken control of the building’s power!

Megamind bounces a few times on his toes, rolls his shoulders, getting mentally prepared, then pulls on his night vision goggles.

Showtime!


The crowd in the ballroom is confused and agitated, but not in an outright panic; as Megamind makes his way through it, he hears several people speculating that the explosion they heard must have damaged the power lines.

He reaches the stage with the orchestra and hops up on it; the orchestra members, seen through his night vision goggles, are still seated, speaking amongst themselves. Megamind moves to stand a little apart from them, then pulls off his goggles.

In the darkness, he reaches for his watch and presses the button that will send a signal to Minion that he’s in position.

The power comes on, but the bright lights in the ballroom do not. Instead, in the darkness, music begins. Not the music of the orchestra, this time, but the recorded music that Megamind chose especially for this evil plot.

Under cover of the music and darkness, Megamind quickly dehydrates the goggles and shoves the cube in his pocket, then replaces his gun in its holster.

A low red light begins to illuminate the ballroom and, at the same time, smoke begins to roll over the floor, curling around the members of the crowd. The red light tints the smoke red, makes it look like blood in water, billowing and unfurling.

Oh, that is an excellent effect; breaking in last night to slip the red gels into the lights and set up the smoke machines was definitely worth the effort. In the dim illumination, Megamind can see that the crowd is growing steadily more agitated.

The music continues to rise: the backbeat of drums, the electric keyboard in the background giving it a frenetic, floating quality, and the smooth simplicity of the electric guitar—the song’s slower and more slick than the music Megamind normally favors, but the low red lights and the smoke turn the song’s smooth sensuality into something much more sinister, giving it an edge of menace.

A spotlight hits Megamind, perfectly on cue, lighting him up just as the lyrics begin, and a collective gasp, interspersed with a few screams, goes through the room, nearly drowning out the words of the song.

I heat up; I can’t cool down
You got me spinning
‘round and ‘round

Megamind throws his arms wide.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he says. “I’m so pleased you could all join me here tonight!”

He looks out at the crowd, scanning the faces rapidly, searching for—

There she is.

Miss Ritchi, standing near the front of the crowd, wearing a red gown, looks back at him, and Megamind’s heartbeat kicks into a faster tempo.

(perfect; perfect; this is going to be perfect; he won’t allow it to be anything else)

‘Round and ‘round and ‘round it goes
Where it stops, nobody knows

“Welcome,” he says, smiling and showing his teeth, “to the show of your lives.” He lets his smile widen. “The last show of your lives—unless you all do exactly as I tell you.”

The agitation of the crowd increases, but Miss Ritchi doesn’t look afraid. Without breaking eye contact with him, she tilts her chin up.

“And why should we do anything you say, Megamind?” she says, voice ringing out above the noise of the crowd.

Another gasp, almost as shocked as the one that greeted Megamind’s appearance, ripples through the crowd, and Megamind barely restrains himself from clapping in glee.

“Ah, Miss Ritchi!” he says. “I was just going to ask for a volunteer from the crowd; so obliging of you to offer!”

Every time you call my name
I heat up like a burning flame

From the corner of his eyes, Megamind sees the members of the crowd nearest to Miss Ritchi draw away from her fearfully, but most of his attention is focused on her.

“Why don’t you join me,” he says, “on the stage?”

Miss Ritchi’s lips part, color flying to her cheeks, a look somewhere between outrage and incredulous amusement on her face.

“Wh—no!” she says.

Megamind arches an eyebrow.

“No?” he says. “Not even if I say the magic word?”

“Ha!” she says. “As if you’ve ever said please in your life, Megamind!”

Megamind smiles at her, and then he lifts his hand, a deliberate, theatrical move, timed with the music that’s still playing in the background.

“Please,” he says.

And he snaps his fingers.

The overhead sprinklers turn on at the click of his fingers and just as the chorus kicks in—

Abra-abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya

—and all of the brainbots that he and Minion meticulously dehydrated and hid around the room earlier burst into being, apparently from thin air. As the bots rise up into the air, their excited bowging mingling with the shrieks of the crowd, Megamind throws his arms wide and his head back and laughs.

Abra-abracadabra
Abracadabra

“Didn’t I tell you all that you were in for a show?” he cries, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd. The sprinklers, having served their purpose, turn off again. “Oh, but what is a magician without his lovely assistant? And what better paragon of beauty could Metrocity offer than Metro Man’s paramour? Miss Ritchi…? Or do my brainbots need to do some more…convincing?”

He pauses expectantly, looking at her. The crowd has drawn together, away from the brainbots that have taken up their posts all along all of the walls, and they all look at her as well.

Miss Ritchi glares up at Megamind, and for a thrilling moment, he thinks she might actually call his bluff and refuse again, in which case he doesn’t know what he’ll do—

But then her gaze flicks around to the people watching the two of them, to the brainbots hovering threateningly along the perimeter of the room. Megamind can almost see the thoughts flickering through her mind.

These people are convinced that Megamind is capable of following through with the worst of his threats, and even if Miss Ritchi isn’t—

They’ll never forgive her if she refuses. Never.

But if she agrees—

Oh, if she agrees? They’re going to love her.

Miss Ritchi’s eyes meet his again, and her chin goes up.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll play along.”

She lifts the skirt of her wet dress a few inches and walks towards the stage, head up, steps slow and dignified.

Megamind bites his lip against a grin and moves to the steps that lead up to the stage and holds out a hand to her.

To his utter shock, she actually takes it and allows him to help her up the stairs. Megamind is so taken aback that, when she gets to the top of the stage, it takes him a long moment to remember to let go of her hand.

They’re very close, much closer than Megamind anticipated; he hadn’t thought she’d actually take his hand and let him help her, had thought she’d slap it away or turn up her nose or say something cutting, and he’d planned out several very clever things to say in turn, but right now he can’t think of any of them, and they wouldn’t work now anyway—

Miss Ritchi’s hair is wet, clinging in damp strands to her jaw and brow, and as he watches, a droplet of water slides down the curve of her cheek.

Megamind drops her hand and takes a step back from her, turns quickly to the crowd once more.

“Let’s have some applause for Miss Ritchi!” he says, the uncertainty and confusion he still feels lending an edge to his voice.

The people in the crowd must hear it, because they comply, clapping.

Miss Ritchi glances sharply at him; he sees it from the corner of his eyes, but he’s careful not to look at her. She’s already got him off-balance; he can’t afford another clash with her until he’s managed to pull himself together a bit.

Instead, and as the people applaud, he gestures to the nearest brainbot, who bobs in the air in acknowledgement before swiveling their eyestalk to look at the other bots. They bowg sharply, and at this signal, several of the bots separate from the others and fly towards the stage.

Minion really is doing very well with the technical cues tonight, Megamind thinks, as the music unobtrusively fades away under the cover of the applause; all that extra time spent rehearsing is certainly paying off.

Megamind waves an imperious hand at the crowd, and the people obediently stop applauding.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “I promised you a show, didn’t I? Let’s begin.”

He looks over at the bots hovering above the stage with him.

“Now,” he says.

At the command, the onstage bots immediately begin to—

Someone in the audience gives a shriek of horrified shock and Megamind smiles to himself.

Yes, to the audience it no doubt looks as if the bots are disassembling themselves. Really, of course, they’re just removing the completely non-functional extra prosthetics and assorted metal bits that Megamind attached to them for tonight’s show. And once the bots have finished removing the pieces…

“Yes,” he says, “as you can see, my cyborg helpers are busily engaged in constructing the contraption for tonight’s climactic conclusion! Can you guess what it is, Miss Ritchi?”

He looks over at her again; she’s watching the brainbots work, an expression of keen interest on her face, but she looks back at him when he says her name.

“Well, since I see you’ve decided to go full-out with the stage magic this time, Megamind,” she says, raising her voice to match his, so that her words carry throughout the ballroom, “I’m going to guess…sawing the lady in half?”

He grins at her.

“Absolutely correct, Miss Ritchi!” he says. “And I’m sure you can guess who the unlucky lady is. Speaking of which—wrists out, Miss Ritchi.”

Again there’s a moment in which she doesn’t obey and he thinks perhaps she’ll refuse. But instead she gives a little huff of annoyance and holds her wrists out to him.

Megamind’s grin widens. Oh, this is going splendidly! He reaches for the knot of the necktie he’s wearing, tugs it loose, and takes off the tie. Miss Ritchi’s eyes widen a little as he does, and she takes a quick breath—nervous about being tied up? He wouldn’t have guessed so, but then, she’s never been conscious before while he’s been tying her up.

Watching her face, he reaches out and secures the tie around her wrists, tight enough to keep her from freeing herself but loose enough that she won’t be uncomfortable—really, the bindings aren’t for any practical purpose; this is just about the show. Maybe Miss Ritchi realizes this, because she glances down at her wrists when he’s done, then raises her eyes to his and arches an eyebrow.

Megamind turns away and steps back from her again, spinning quickly to make his cape flare. He smiles at the audience and spreads his arms.

“For my next trick—disappearances!”

He waves a hand at another of the bots, and it moves forward with several of its brethren. This group isn’t wearing any extra prosthetics; instead, they each carry a black bag.

“My bots will be going around, making a collection,” he says, letting his hand rest oh-so-casually on the handle of his de-gun. “Wallets and jewelry, which of course includes watches, cufflinks, and tie pins. Hand them over to the brainbots.”

Miss Ritchi makes a quiet noise; he turns to look at her and sees her twist her mouth as if she’s tasted something bitter.

“Robbery?” she says. “Really?”

Megamind narrows his eyes at her, more nettled than he’d like to admit by her expression and tone.

“Let’s call it charity,” he says. “That is, after all, what we’re all here for tonight, isn’t it?”

Miss Ritchi presses her lips together.

“There’s a bit of a difference” she says, “between the Open Hand Foundation collecting donations for the Metro City Children’s Home and you stealing people’s jewelry!”

“Is there?” Megamind asks. He moves towards her, slow, menacing steps, then begins to circle her. “And what if I promise to donate seventeen percent of my ill-gotten gains from tonight to the Metrocity Children’s Home?”

“Seventeen percent?” Miss Ritchi says, turning her head to look at him.

“Hmm, yes; perhaps you’re right,” Megamind says, “It isn’t a very high percentage, is it? Still—” he flashes a thin, hard smile at her. “—I’ve never claimed to be anything but evil. So I’ll be having the jewelry.”

Miss Ritchi shoots him a glare.

“Fine,” she says, and raises her bound hands.

She tugs the pearl stud earrings—the only jewelry she’s wearing—from her ears and holds them out to him.

Megamind, startled, merely looks at her.

He—well, he hadn’t actually meant for her to give him her jewelry. The rest of the people here, yes, but—

“For charity,” she says sarcastically.

When he doesn’t take the pearls from her, she makes a noise of impatience and drops them. Megamind reaches out and catches them before they can fall.

Miss Ritchi looks at him, scorn in her eyes and in the proud arch of her neck.

Megamind closes his fingers over the pearl earrings and turns away from her.

(it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter, her looking at him like that. it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t care.)

“Ah! It appears the brainbots have completed the construction of the mechanism!” he says, and jerks his head in Miss Ritchi’s direction.

The bots on the stage fly towards her and herd her towards the deathtrap.

It is—necessarily—a very simple trap, constructed of what metal pieces he could attach to the bots: a very narrow metal table with manacles for Miss Ritchi’s ankles and a hook for her tied hands, and a large circular saw, made of the detachable upper fins from the brainbots all fitted cunningly together, set on a metal stand.

The brainbots secure Miss Ritchi in place and a murmur of horror sweeps through the crowd of people. Megamind glances over at the sound.

Ah, good; it appears as if the bots doing the jewelry and wallets collection have finished. One bot catches his eye and moves its metal hands in a quick series of motions: the signal, radioed to them by Minion, that Metro Man has finally finished with the decoys, and is on his way back to the courthouse.

Megamind slips the earrings into his pocket and steps up to the deathtrap.

“For my final trick!” he cries, and spins the crank on the saw backwards, winding it.

He lets it go.

The saw whirrs to life with a loud buzzing, spinning swiftly, only a foot from Miss Ritchi’s midsection. Someone in the crowd screams and Megamind reaches into his other pocket, stepping back from the deathtrap.

An electric guitar chord rips through the ballroom; the last of Minion’s sound cues, and Megamind throws the smoke bomb on the stage down by his feet and draws his de-gun in the puff of smoke.

The brainbots throw their smoke bombs, too, and in the resulting smoke and chaos, no one really notice when Megamind shoots out one of the nearest ballroom windows. As soon as the glass breaks and he reholsters the gun, the bots scoop him up, flying in a swarm through the broken window and out into the night.


The reports of the incident, which appear on every Metrocity news channel and in each newspaper and magazine, are quite satisfactory. No actual video footage, more’s the pity—Megamind, of course, has the recordings from the brainbots, but it had been necessary to avoid broadcasting during the evil plot, so he’s the only one who does have the footage.

Several enterprising members of the press did take photograph during the robbery, though, and the ones the newspapers and magazines choose to run are all fairly good. There’s one in particular which he very much likes, a photograph of the stage, the brainbots swirling around himself and Miss Ritchi. He’s in the middle of turning, his cape flared and one hand outflank in a theatrical gesture, his other resting on the de-gun at his hip. Miss Ritchi is standing beside him, her hands bound, the black of his tie stark against the red of her dress, her head turned just slightly as she looks at him, the strong line of her jaw displayed perfectly.

Miss Ritchi herself gives a report after Metro Man frees her from the deathtrap in which Megamind left her. Megamind, safely at home in the lair with Minion and the brainbots, watches it. She summarizes the circumstances of the hostage taking and robbery with her usual incisive accuracy.

She’s—less scathing about Megamind himself than he expects, especially considering her the disapproval she so blatantly demonstrated during the proceedings.

“Simple robbery seems a little out of character for Metro City’s self-proclaimed supervillain,” she says, and tilts her head. “One has to wonder if maybe it wasn’t quite so simple after all.”

The words that run along the bottom of the screen during her report read:

Roxanne Ritchi, KCMP investigative reporter.

She smiles at Metro Man when he gives his little speech about his part in her rescue.

Megamind, her pearl earrings held loosely in his hand, feels a strange sort of sharp pain in his chest, as if he’s swallowed a piece of broken glass.

Well done, Miss Ritchi, he thinks.

***

Three months later, KCMP investigative reporter Roxanne Ritchi breaks her first real story.

“Scandal at the Open Hand Charitable Foundation! Evidence has come to light of widespread financial mismanagement by the foundation’s board of directors. Embezzlement? Or merely incompetence? That remains to be seen, but it seems that, of all the funds collected by the Open Hand Foundation in the last year, only seventeen percent actually made its way to the intended recipients. Where did the rest of the money go? This reporter has…”


…to be continued.


Thank you for all of the reblogs and comments!

And thank you for all of the well wishes for me and the cat. Her Majesty actually wasn’t quite as over her illness as we thought; she got sick again. But I have a new medication I’ve been giving her, and she seems to be improving—hopefully for real, this time!

The song Megamind uses during his evil plot in this chapter is Abracadabra, by the Steve Miller Band.

I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter!

Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter 5)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4


“So, Megamind,” Miss Ritchi says, “are you really an alien, then?”

Megamind blinkes in surprise.

“I—was not aware that was ever actually in question,” he says.

“There are some rumors that you’re a superpowered human with a genetic mutation—”

“No,” Megamind says. “I’m not human.”

“And do you have a superpower?”

Megamind opens his mouth to answer, then stops himself.

“I don’t think,” he says, “that I’m going to answer that question, Miss Ritchi.”

“Surely with a nemesis like Metro Man, you must have some sort of power.”

“No comment.”

“Superstrength, telepathy…?”

“Miss Ritchi,” Megamind says, a warning note in his voice.

She flashes him a cheeky smile, then resumes her professional expression.

“What can you tell me about your reasons for becoming a supervillain?”

“Destiny, Miss Ritchi,” he says. “It was destiny.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asks.

“I’m evil,” Megamind says, “I’ve always been evil. I’ve simply decided to put my natural propensity for evil to the best possible use.”

“Do you really think there’s any best possible use for evil?”

Her tone holds no accusation or condemnation, only skepticism and interest, but Megamind still flinches minutely when she says that, and

(for a terrible half second he’s standing on the bridge again, standing there and thinking ‘if the cumulative effect on the world of your continued existence is negative, do you not have a moral duty to remove yourself from it?’ and he’s looking down at the water and—)

Megamind raises his chin.

“Of course there is a use for evil,” Megamind tells Miss Ritchi now, just as he told himself back then. “Evil is necessary. The existence of good requires it. Without evil to balance it, the power of good would grow and spread—more and more regulation and restriction and control, smothering, choking, subjugating everything. Righteousness unopposed is a terrible thing to behold.”

“So your choice to become a supervillain was an ideological one, rather than a personal one?” Miss Ritchi says. “Wanting to destroy Metro Man, destroy Metro City—that isn’t down to some sort of personal grudge?”

“I don’t want to destroy Metrocity,” he says. “What—where did you get the idea that I wanted to destroy it?”

Miss Ritchi pauses a moment, looking as taken aback as he feels.

“I mean—you demanded that Metro Man surrender the city to you,” she says.

“To rule! Not to destroy,” Megamind says. “I will conquer Metrocity and reign over it as Evil Overlord!”

“—I see,” Miss Ritchi says. “Well, thank you for that…clarification. And Metro Man?”

“…do I want to destroy Metro Man?”

“Is your rivalry with him simply a matter of principle, or of him being an obstacle to your goal of ruling the city? Or is it personal?”

Megamind—sort of freezes at the question.

“I—I don’t see how that matters,” he says, and he can hear how stiff he sounds, can see by the way Miss Ritchi’s expression changes that this answer isn’t going to satisfy her.

(fuck fuck fuck; he didn’t think this interview through; he didn’t think this through at all oh god he’s such an idiot)

“Metro Man and I have known each other for quite some time,” he says, and hopes that she’ll let him just leave it at that.

(please let him just leave it at that)

“—ah,” Miss Ritchi says, “so it is personal.”

(of course she won’t let him just leave it at that)

Megamind shrugs, the motion sharp and uncomfortable.

“It was fate, again, Miss Ritchi,” he says. “That’s all. Perhaps it is personal, but it’s not—merely personal. Even without our—history—I would always have been—morally and ide-olo-gic-ally opposed to Metro Man.”

He winces internally, realizing too late that he has mispronounced the word, has put the emphasis in all the wrong places—that he’s gesturing too much, gesturing wrong—quick fluttering motions of his hands, nervous and uncertain instead of controlled and dramatic.

He drops his hands to the edge of the tank and grips it tightly, clenches his teeth in front of his inept, alien tongue, waits for her to laugh, to correct his pronunciation, to—

“What happened?” she asks softly.

Megamind’s breath hisses through his gritted teeth, the shock of unexpected mercy stinging almost as much as the expected insult would have.

Miss Ritchi looks at him, and he feels caught by her gaze, held captive by the—the sympathy he thinks he sees in them, but he’s—he’s imagining that; he’s imagining it, and he needs to—

“Megamind—”

“I don’t wish to speak any more on this subject, Miss Ritchi,” he says, words rapped out hard and fast and forceful.

He tears his gaze from hers, turns his head to the side so that he can’t be tempted to look at her again, tempted to look at her and actually tell her—

There’s a moment of silence.

“All right,” Miss Ritchi says. “Well—would you like to discuss your experiences as an extraterrestrial?”

Megamind forgets he’s trying not to look at her. He turns his head and meets her gaze.

“I…suppose,” he says cautiously.

“You’ve said you’re not human,” she says, “but were you born here on earth?”

“No, I was not,” Megamind says.

“Are there any others like you here on earth?”

“Worried about the prospect of an alien invasion?” Megamind asks, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. “No. There are no other members of my species here.”

Miss Ritchi tilts her head.

Should I be worried about the prospect of an alien invasion?” she asks, sounding more curious than alarmed.

Megamind’s lips twist into a humorless, ironic smile.

“Definitely not from my species,” he says. “I wouldn’t know about any others.”

“You’re not in contact with any other aliens?”

Megamind raises his eyebrows. No isn’t exactly a completely honest answer; there’s Minion, of course, and Metro Man. But he knows that’s not really what Miss Ritchi is asking.

“Am I in contact with anyone on another planet or spaceship?” he says, rephrasing the question. “No, I am not.”

“So why are you here on earth?”

“Bad luck,” Megamind says.

Miss Ritchi frowns.

“Were you sent here? Or do you mean you crash-landed?”

“Both,” Megamind says. “I was—sent here as a child, following a—a cataclysmic event on my home planet.”

“You—came here in a spaceship, then?”

“A pod,” Megamind says flatly. “Yes.”

“What was it like?”

Something in her tone surprises him; he tilts his head curiously.

“What was what like?”

Her face looks—softer, somehow. Unguarded. Her lips are parted and she’s leaning towards him, eyes shining.

“Space,” she says, and he realizes what he’s hearing in her voice is longing. “What was it like?”

“—terrifying,” he says, without thinking. “Terrifying and beautiful.”

“In spite of being terrifying?”

“Not in spite of,” Megamind says, shaking his head without looking away from her. “No—it’s—have you ever been alone in the water at night? Far enough out that you can’t touch the bottom and you can’t see the shoreline in the dark? And maybe you can see the city lights and the stars, but they’re both in the distance, and other than that, it’s just the darkness all around you, darkness in every direction, so much darkness you could drown in it. And if you drowned, it wouldn’t care. And it would still be just as beautiful.”

Miss Ritchi swallows, and the longing in her eyes doesn’t fade at all.

“Beautiful because it’s terrifying,” she says.

“Yes,” Megamind says. “Yes, exactly.”

“What was your planet like?”

Megamind’s smile fades, and his fingers tighten on the edge of the glass once more. He looks down at them, at the water beyond them. Miss Ritchi’s hands are entirely submerged, the water a little above her waist now, but she still doesn’t look concerned.

“Water,” he says, in a subdued voice. “There was water everywhere. Waterways and rivers instead of roads, and pools and fountains, and floating gardens. ”

“It sounds beautiful,” Miss Ritchi says softly, and Megamind looks up from his hands, from the water, and into her face.

“It was,” he says, throat tight.

“You must miss it,” she says, and her expression—

There’s—it is sympathy he reads in her eyes; he’s not just imagining it. Sympathy and—there’s also a kind of intensely focused attention in the way she’s holding herself, the way she’s looking at him. It—shines out of her, drawing him in, and he’s aware, distantly, that the cameras are still on, that he’s being watched, but somehow that doesn’t really seem to matter when she’s looking at him like that.

(tell me, her eyes say. tell me everything.)

“—I look up, here,” Megamind says, “and the stars are in the wrong places.”

He hears the soft, uneven breath she takes. She sways in place, sways towards him, her eyes fixed on his face, as if she feels the same kind of pull towards him as he feels towards her.

“What—” she says.

Behind him, the warning alarm in the console goes off, loud and shrill, the indication that Metro Man has defeated the last of his traps, and will shortly be on his way.

The moment shatters.

And the realization of all the things he’s been saying to Miss Ritchi slams into Megamind; oh god; how could he have told her all that, said all that, not just to her, but said it with the cameras on and with everyone watching and—

Megamind steps quickly back from the tank and whirls away, cape swirling around him.

“Once again,” he says, without looking over his shoulder, moving swiftly towards the exit, fleeing not just from the prospect of Metro Man’s arrival, but from her, from the cameras, from the entire situation, “once again it seems that Metro Man will be in time to save you! Your good fortune continues, Miss Ritchi—beware that it may not always do so!”

He ducks through the emergency exit without waiting for her reply, leaps onto the getaway motorcycle he has waiting, and, without being intercepted by Metro Man at all, succeeds in getting to Evil Lair, where he very promptly has a panic attack.


It’s his own damn fault, he admits to himself, sitting in the bath, his arms wrapped around his knees, shivering in spite of the warmth of the water. Miss Ritchi is very good at her job, but it’s still his fault for being so stupidly susceptible—ask him a few questions, display just the slightest hint of interest, of sympathy, and he just rolls over and spills his guts, so desperate, so pathetic, so—

(I look up, here, and the stars are in the wrong places.)

Megamind gives a low moan of distress and pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. What had possessed him to say something so—so—unguarded and vulnerable and—

—true.

So terribly, terribly true; the stars in this planet’s skies are in the wrong places, like someone gathered up the heavens and shook them and carelessly let them fall and scatter, and it’s a damn good thing that interview was interrupted before Megamind could say that to Miss Ritchi.

He’d give anything to see the sky on M’ega just one more time, to see his own constellations.

(his mother’s hand pointing at the sky, connecting the stars with invisible lines; his father’s voice, telling him the names—this is Alte-re, Queen of the Stars; you see her arms, open to embrace you? you see the guiding star in her hand, to light your way? and there is Ivri-roh beside her, do you see? Ivri-roh, who—)

Megamind pulls his hands from his eyes with a hurt sound and ducks beneath the water.


Megamind’s interview with Miss Ritchi airs on every channel in the city.


The next day, Metro Man gives her an interview.


Miss Ritchi’s interview with Metro Man is nothing like her interview with Megamind—there’s no rising water, no threat of danger. The two of them sit in the tastefully decorated parlor of the Scott family home.

“I just want to be the best superhero possible for Metro City,” Wayne says, sincere, earnest conviction in his voice.

(Wayne believes it; believes what he’s saying, Megamind knows. That’s part of why people find Wayne so charming. And what makes Metro Man so damn dangerous, that—that utter certainty of his own righteousness, that anything he does must be right simply because he’s the one who’s doing it.)

“Megamind has hinted that the two of you have some unpleasant past history,” Miss Ritchi says. “What can you tell me about that?”

“You know, I really wish I knew what he was talking about,” Wayne says, spreading his hands in a gesture of baffled innocence.

Miss Ritchi narrows her eyes.

“But surely you must have some idea,” she says.

An expression of annoyance flickers in Wayne’s face, so quickly covered that it’s almost invisible.

“Well, we knew each other in school,” he says, “and Megamind was always kind of—well, you know, a little jealous of me. And he’s always been kinda unbalanced. I think maybe he’s worked all that up in his mind into some big imagined injury, you know?”

“But—”

Miss Ritchi’s gaze flicks to the side of the screen briefly, as though something behind the camera has caught her eye. For a moment, she looks almost frustrated, but then she presses her lips together, looks back at Metro Man, and smiles.

“I see,” she says.

The interview ends with Wayne demonstrating his accuracy with his eye lasers, shooting at different targets, hitting them all perfectly.

(evidently he has been practicing.)


The day after the interview with Metro Man, the local tabloids report eyewitness accounts of seeing Miss Ritchi out on a date with Metro Man at one of the city’s most expensive restaurants. There are pictures, grainy and out of focus.


One week later, every newspaper and magazine in town reports that Roxanne Ritchi is to attend the Metro City Charity Ball as Metro Man’s personal guest.


…to be continued.


notes: thank you all for the reviews; I really appreciate getting them so much! Her Majesty The Cat is doing better, now, and I’m gradually getting over my bronchitis, too.

I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter!

Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter 4)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN 

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3


“And there you have it, Metro City! Although last year’s champion, Maximilian Ascot Valerius III took the lead early on in the proceedings, competition was rough at the Annual Metro City Dog Show, and in the end, the unlikely challenger Hubert Heffernan Gorman fetched the most votes and won the golden collar. Congratulations to Hubert and to Mr. Robert Gorman, the owner of this top dog. This is Roxanne Ritchi, signing off!”

On the television screen, Miss Ritchi smiles at the camera. Then the picture changes, flipping back to the rerun of the late-night news report in the KCMP studio.

Ensconced in his custom built and specially reinforced armchair beside the couch, Minion clears his throat. Megamind looks over at him inquiringly as he raises the remote and turns the television off—he’s already seen this segment; he watched it earlier when he was waiting for Miss Ritchi’s report to come on.

“Sir,” Minion says, “why are you so worried about this Roxanne Ritchi?”

“I am not worried, Minion,” Megamind says, “I am researching!”

He gingerly shifts into a slightly more comfortable position on the couch, taking care not to disturb the brainbot sleeping on his right arm. In spite of all his care, though, the shutter of Zero’s eyepiece cracks open and she turns her eyestalk to give him an indignant look. Megamind stops trying to change position, makes a soothing noise, and reaches up to stroke his free hand over her braincase.

“Yes,” Minion says, “but—why are we researching her, Sir? Shouldn’t we be concentrating on Metro Man? The new evil plot—”

“—is brilliant and almost guaranteed to succeed!” Megamind says, still petting Zero, who makes a pleased sound and settles her eyestalk down again, wriggling even more firmly onto his—by now very numb—right arm.

“But don’t you think including Miss Ritchi makes the whole thing much more complicated than it needs to be, Sir?” Minion asks.

“Unnecessary complication,” Megamind says, with a dramatic gesture, “is one of the most important aspects of supervillainy!” Zero makes another annoyed noise, and Megamind obediently resumes stroking her braincase. “Besides,” he continues, “she said I wasn’t scary! On television! Twice! I can’t let her get away with that; it could be disastrous!”

“She’s just one person, Sir. How much damage to your evil image can one person do?”

“One reporter, Minion,” Megamind says. “She’s a reporter; you can’t forget that.”

“Sir,” Minion says, sounding unimpressed, “she’s an intern. Who they send to run errands and give reports on dog shows that air at three in the morning.”

“And look at how interesting she managed to make that seem!”

Megamind pets the glass of Zero’s braincase, the electricity inside arcing responsively to the touch. Zero makes a blissful mechanical vibrating noise, the bot equivalent of a purr, and Megamind leans back against the couch cushions.

“Miss Ritchi is a dangerous opponent, Minion,” he says, “we can’t afford to underestimate her.”

Minion rolls his eyes so hard it makes his body waver in a tiny circle in his suit’s headpiece, and mutters something that sounds like “paranoia”, which Megamind chooses to magnanimously ignore.


Miss Ritchi is in the middle of another one of her errand runs, picking up someone’s dry cleaning, when Megamind springs out at her this time, and it’s really a much smoother kidnapping all around.

True, he does fumble the can of knockout spray, get kicked in the shins, and take a garment bag  to the face—but garment bags prove to be much less effective weapons than scalding hot coffee; the kick on the shin, while admittedly painful, isn’t debilitating by any means; and he manages to spray her properly on the third try.

Miss Ritchi breathes in the spray with a gasp, and then her eyes close and her knees buckle, the garment bag dropping from her suddenly limp grasp. For half a moment she sways in place, and then gravity takes over and she starts to fall.

Megamind, who honestly was not expecting to succeed this quickly, makes an alarmed noise, drops the can of knockout spray, scrambles forward—

And catches her perfectly, Miss Ritchi’s body falling gracefully into his grasp, in the approved black and white movie heroine manner.

“Yes!” Megamind says, then looks around quickly to make sure no one is watching—good; he was fast enough this time that the street is still deserted.

He is just racking up the points today! He shifts Miss Ritchi’s weight to one arm and discreetly fist pumps, then stops the can of knockout spray from rolling away with his foot.

Victory!

Getting the can of knockout spray picked up off the ground without dropping Miss Ritchi proves to be awkward, true, and it’s also true that he does have to—briefly—search for the invisible car once again. But since Miss Ritchi is unconscious for this portion of the proceedings, his struggles are nowhere near as embarrassing this time.


Megamind, finished securing the still unconscious Miss Ritchi to the pole on the small, circular, central platform of today’s deathtrap, lays her head carefully on the ground, then, still kneeling, turns away to the edge of the platform. He peels off a glove and leans forward and down towards the tank surrounding Miss Ritchi’s platform, trails his fingertips in the water, testing the temperature.

Pleasantly warm; that’s good. Drowning is threat enough; no need to throw potential burns or hypothermia into the mix. He puts his glove back on and stands, glancing down at the sleeping Miss Ritchi.

She looks much less dangerous like this. More like a garden-variety damsel in distress, rather than the woman who was smacking him vigorously with a clothes hanger not twenty minutes ago.

Miss Ritchi stirs, beginning to wake, and Megamind hops nimbly over the tank around her platform to the larger, O-shaped platform that surrounds it. He moves to the control panel and strikes a suitably sinister pose, half turned away from her, so that the curve of his collar obscures most of his face and casts the rest of it in shadow. From the corners of his eyes, he watches her wake up, and sit up.

“Ah, Miss Ritchi,” he says, without turning, “I’m pleased you’ve once again joined the land of the living—for now, at least.”

“Megamind,” she says, and her voice doesn’t shake at all, not even that slight tremble it had last time.

She stands, the chains on her wrists clinking, and Megamind turns towards her, a slow turn, with a dramatic sweep of his cape.

“New deathtrap,” she says, looking around at it. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

“I designed this one myself, too!” Megamind says, quite without meaning to, and then bites his tongue to keep from adding, ridiculously, do you like it.

(it’s a deathtrap! that she’s in! she’s not supposed to like it!)

Miss Ritchi looks at him, a smile playing around the edges of her lips.

“Oh, that’s good,” she says, “I’d hate to think you were outsourcing my mortal peril.”

“Ah-ha! So you recognize, then, that your doom is at hand!” Megamind says.

“Well, it looks like it,” Miss Ritchi says, her tone skeptical.

Megamind gives a frustrated growl.

“Very soon,” he says, “you will regret your flippancy at my expense, Miss Ritchi.”

He begins to pace around the platform. Miss Ritchi, her chains clinking, turns with him as he moves, continuing to face him.

“I,” he says, “am a reasonable villain. After your lucky escape from the Swinging Blades of Death, I might have been willing to consider you sufficiently chastised for your original disparaging comments. I might even have been willing to let you go free and unharmed! But then! You had the audacity to mock me once more! So I’m afraid there will be no escape for you this time, Miss Ritchi.”

“The Swinging Blades of Death?” Miss Ritchi says, “Is that what you called that Edgar Allen Poe knockoff?”

“It was not a knockoff!” Megamind says, stopping pacing and stamping his foot.

Miss Ritchi grins at him like a crocodile.

“Kiiinda was.”

“Taking inspiration from classic sources is not the same thing as just copying them!”

“Mm,” Miss Ritchi says in an infuriatingly unconvinced tone, “so which classic source are you ‘taking inspiration from’ today?”

“I’ll have you know,” Megamind says, “that the instrument of terror in which you are about to meet your unfortunate end is entirely a product of my own evil genius!”

“Oh? So how does this work, then? You pull the lever and the platform gets lowered into the tank of water? Slowly, I’m guessing.”

“Close, Miss Ritchi,” Megamind says, “but not exactly. When I pull the lever, the tank will, in fact, rise up, gradually bringing you nearer and nearer to your watery doom!”

“Slowly?”

“Yes, slowly!” Megamind says, frustrated with her evident lack of terror, “Of course slowly! Very, very slowly! Cruelly, mercilessly so! By the time the end at last arrives, you will be out of your mind with the anticipation! Begging for release! You will scream for me, Miss Ritchi, I promise you.”

Miss Ritchi, whose eyes have gotten steadily rounder during his evil monologue, makes a choking noise. Megamind looks at her closely, wondering if this is the beginning of a sob—but no, she doesn’t look near tears; her lips are slightly parted and her face is flushed.

“Um,“ she says, then clears her throat, “wow. That’s—uh. Don’t you think you should at least buy me dinner, first?”

Megamind frowns, confused at the non-sequitur.

“Dinner?” he says. “Like—what, like a last meal?”

Miss Ritchi gives him a strange look, as if he’s the one who’s not making sense, here.

“Uh,” she says, “I—I mean…” She looks away from him, breaking eye contact with a little shake of her head and an even deeper flush on her cheeks. “So—ah—you seem to really have a thing for slow—deaths.”

She looks at him again, smiling slightly, and raises her eyebrows, but Megamind can tell that she’s not as at ease as she’s trying to seem. He doesn’t know what’s got her so off balance and flustered, but he’s willing to take whatever advantage he can get.

Megamind smiles at her, a slow, wicked smile, and, to his delight, her eyes go wide again.

“Revenge, Miss Ritchi,” he says, in his darkest and most sinister manner, “is a sweet dish meant to be savored.”

She swallows visibly, then licks her lips.

“I—I don’t know, seems kind of…unnecessarily complicated to me, Megamind.”

“Thank you!” Minion’s voice crackling through the console speakers makes them both jump. Miss Ritchi makes a startled noise; Megamind barely bites back a yelp of his own. “I told you, Sir; it’s so much more complicated than it needs to be!”

“Minion!” Megamind hisses, face going hot. “You are embarrassing me in front of the hostage!”

“You actually call him Minion?” Miss Ritchi says, sounding amused. “Really? Don’t you think you’re taking this whole comic book villain schtick a little far?”

“His name is Minion,” Megamind says. “And! And it is not a schtick!

“Your name is really Minion?” Miss Ritchi says, looking at the speaker, ignoring Megamind’s last comment.

“Yep!” Minion says cheerfully. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Ritchi!”

Megamind growls beneath his breath.

“Uh—yeah,” Miss Ritchi says, grinning and shaking her head. “You, too, Minion. You’re Megamind’s sidekick, right? With the cybernetic gorilla body? Maybe we can meet next time in person.”

“Oh!” Minion says, sounding surprised and pleased. “I—”

“The next time which there is not going to be!” Megamind says loudly. “Since Miss Ritchi will shortly be meeting her terrible fate! Thank you, Minion, yes! Now that we’ve concluded the ples-an-trees, can we please get back to the evil plot? Is everything in place?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent!” Megamind says. “Radio silence, then.”

“You got it, Sir.”

“Bye, Minion,” Miss Ritchi says, and then smirks when Megamind gives her a dirty look.

“Well!” he says, turning away toward the console with a haughty air, “I think it’s time we called Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes and the mindless drones, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, but straightens his spine and reaches for the broadcast switches—audio first.

Megamind gives an evil laugh, starting off low, and then getting louder. The sound of that, coming from seemingly nowhere, should give his audience a scare. At the climax of his evil laugh, he flips the switch for video broadcast.

“Citizens of Metrocity!” he says, “I have once again captured the foolishly brazen reporter, Roxanne Ritchi! If Metro Man values her life, he will show himself at the Metrocity courthouse and face me!”

He flips the audio broadcast switch again, so that all of Metrocity will be able to see them, but not hear them.

Separating the audio and video broadcast feeds, Megamind thinks with satisfaction, was definitely the right choice. He has much more control this way.

“I think that should do the trick, don’t you think?” he says to Miss Ritchi.

(hmm; if he’s going to be doing this on a regular basis; he should figure out a better way to broadcast everything—maybe he can install the projection screens permanently around the city— speakers, too. Ooh, and figure out how to take control of all of the television signals within the city limits—)

“He’s right, you know,” Miss Ritchi says.

“Hmm?” Megamind says, half-lost in thought, planning how best to install the projection screens and speakers. “Who’s right about what?”

“Minion is right,” Miss Ritchi says. “You do make things unnecessarily complicated.”

“I think you mean diabolically intricate!” Megamind says with a dramatic gesture. “Wickedly complex! Heinously—”

“I mean, why would you make the whole water tank come up?” Miss Ritchi asks. “It’d be much easier to just lower me down.”

“Oh, but this way is so much more visually dramatic!” Megamind says, waving a hand illustratively at her, “The water slowly creeping upwards, the glass allowing Metro Man and the citizens of Metrocity to clearly see and fully appreciate the dire-ness of your situation!”

(also, this way he and Miss Ritchi will be at eye level with each other the entire time, which seems much more…polite? satisfying? he didn’t bring a chair for himself, either, as Miss Ritchi will most likely be standing for the duration of this evil plot, and sitting down himself when she can’t also seems…wrong.)

Megamind pushes that thought away—he doesn’t need to rationalize the details of his evil plots! He’s a supervillain; he’s allowed to have strange and inexplicable whims!

“Megamind!”

“Ah, Metro Man,” Megamind says, turning and flipping the audio broadcast switch again. “So nice of you to join us! I’m sure Miss Ritchi is especially relieved.”

Behind him, Miss Ritchi snorts. An expression of annoyance passes over Metro Man’s face and Megamind hides a smile.

“My demands are very simple, Metro Man,” he says. “You will leave Metrocity. Or else—” he pulls the lever that makes the tank begin to rise, then gestures at Miss Ritchi, letting Metro Man see what’s happening. “—or else I’m afraid this is the end for poor Miss Ritchi. What will it be, Metro Man?”

Metro Man’s chest swells as he strikes an even more heroic pose. He opens his mouth to answer, but—

“I like option C,” Miss Ritchi says brightly.

Another look of annoyance passes over Metro Man’s face; Megamind turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. There’s water washing over her shoes, but she’s unfazed and smiling.

“Which is Metro Man finds you,” she says, “and turns off the deathtrap. Or possibly even option D—you turn off the deathtrap yourself and we just call it a day.”

“Oh-ho-ho, my dear Miss Ritchi,” Megamind says, “that’s very optimistic of you! But I’m afraid there is no option C or D.”

“A hero makes his own option C!” Metro Man declares.

Megamind glances back at him.

“Well,” he says, “you can certainly try. But are you really sure you should risk Miss Ritchi’s safety like that?”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” Metro Man says, and flashes his most heroic smile, “I’ll have you out of there in no time!”

He takes off into the air, disappearing, and Megamind laughs—this is working perfectly! Actually working! Grinning, he turns to face Miss Ritchi.

“I don’t know what you’re so happy about,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “You remember how long it took him to find you last time? Like six seconds. Maybe you should start running.”

“I really don’t think,” Megamind says, “that you’re in any position to give people advice on when they should start running, Miss Ritchi. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you had just run when you were supposed to.”

“I’m not worried,” she says.

“No?” Megamind says. “Still think you’re going to be rescued? Taking a bit long this time, isn’t it? How long did you say it would take? Six seconds, wasn’t it?”

Miss Ritchi tilts her head, frowning. Megamind begins to circle her slowly, walking with deliberate steps around the platform. She turns in a slow circle, following him.

“Let’s count, shall we?” he says. “One…two…three…four…five…six.”

He stops moving and makes a show of looking around, then turns to face Miss Ritchi again, spreading his hands in mock surprise.

“Well, would you look at that!” he says. “No Metro Man.”

Miss Ritchi’s eyes glance around, too. Megamind watches her face. She looks back at him, meeting his eyes again, her expression a little disconcerted.

“You really shouldn’t provoke supervillains, Miss Ritchi,” Megamind says softly, holding her gaze. He pauses, then lets his gaze flick down briefly at the water which is now around Miss Ritchi’s ankles. “You find yourself in over your head before you know it.”

“You figured out a way to confuse him somehow,” Miss Ritchi says.

Megamind smirks.

“Yes, I did,” he says.

“What did you do?” she asks.

Megamind allows himself an evil laugh, then clasps his hands behind his back and resumes moving slowly around Miss Ritchi again.

“Do you know how Metro Man found our location during our last interaction, Miss Ritchi?” he asks.

“—super hearing, I’d guess,” she says, leaning back against the pole and turning her head to watch him.

“Yes, that’s my theory as well,” Megamind says. “And it seems that I was correct—even as we speak, Miss Ritchi, Metro Man will be hearing our voices coming from a dozen different directions at once…but only one of these is the correct location; the others, I’m afraid, are empty save for a few fun surprises I’ve left for our heroic friend to deal with. Which one is the correct one? What do you think the odds of you getting out of this are now, Miss Ritchi?”

He stops in front of her and Miss Ritchi looks at him, her brow wrinkling.

“I mean, it’s like an 8% chance he’ll pick the right one on the first try,” she says, “but the probability of him picking right is gonna rise every time after that, so it really just depends on how long it takes him to go through your traps, and how many times he picks wrong and—no.”

Megamind tips his head.

“No?” he says. “No…you admit that Metro Man will be unable to get you out of your current peril?”

She shakes her head, her eyebrows drawing together, not looking away from his face.

“No,” she says again, “no; I don’t believe you really set it up that way—making twelve different traps for Metro Man and not knowing if he’ll even get to all of them; that wouldn’t just be overly complicated, it would be—sloppy.”

Megamind blinks at her and she makes a sound of understanding, a soft exhalation of breath, almost a laugh, a smile beginning to curve her mouth.

“Stage magic,” she says. “This is a shell game, isn’t it? No, no, wait, not a shell game—” she grins, wide and gleeful, “—Find the Lady!”

Megamind realizes, a little distantly, that his mouth has fallen open. How—how did she—

Miss Ritchi’s smile widens, sharp and oh-so-delighted with herself.

“Which of the three cards on the table is the Queen of Hearts?” she says, “Only of course none of them are, because the dealer’s slipped her up his sleeve. None of those places Metro Man hears our voices coming from are right; all twelve are wrong; we’re somewhere else entirely!”

Megamind, frozen in place, stares at her, unable to formulate a response, a denial, a—anything, really—

“I’m right, aren’t I?” she says, then clicks her tongue mockingly. “And you said you hadn’t taken inspiration from anywhere!”

Megamind—Megamind doesn’t—how is he supposed to—

“It’s too bad you’re broadcasting this,” Miss Ritchi says sweetly, “because now Metro Man knows your plan.”

Megamind flushes hot, his head spinning—god, he’d known she was going to be a formidable opponent, had known she was brilliant, but he still didn’t expect—

He pulls himself together, clutching the edge of his cape for reassurance as he draws himself up to his full height.

“Regardless of—regardless!” he says, proud of the fact that there’s only a slightly shrill edge to his voice. “Metro Man will still have to go through all thirteen traps before even his super hearing will be able to discern the location of this place! I’ve soundproofed it to the highest degree possible!”

“So I was right,” Miss Ritchi says, looking even more satisfied with herself, a thing Megamind had not previously believed possible, and oh fuck him; she wasn’t actually sure before, was she; he could have at least tried to play it off, but instead he just confirmed it for her, for everyone—

Megamind flushes again, swallows convulsively, and tries to snatch at the last sheds of his dignity and self-possession and evil confidence. He realizes how tightly he’s holding the edge of his cape, and turns sharply, using his grip on the fabric to make it swirl around his heels. He moves to the console and draws the fingertips of one hand over the edge of the control panel, trying to calm himself.

“It is—such a shame Metro Man didn’t think you were worth sacrificing himself for, Miss Ritchi,” he says, forcing his voice steady, forcing his tone smooth. “You’re really quite clever.”

He takes a deep breath and turns to face her, self-confident supervillain smirk firmly in place, the smile of a villain so sure of himself that he can afford to be cordial.

Miss Ritchi is still leaning back against the pole, water around her ankles, looking like a cat that’s gotten the canary and framed the dog for the crime.

Megamind mirrors her, leaning back against the console and smiling in his best attempt at villainous insouciance.

“And you had so much to look forward to!” he says, figuring that at this point he might as well continue with his ‘I am a sophisticated villain who can afford to be complimentary and who is in no way internally panicking’ facade. “Such a promising career ahead of you! Your report on the Metrocity dog show was quite impressive; I would have loved to have seen what you could do with a real story.”

Miss Ritchi’s expression—changes quite abruptly at that, going suddenly blank.

And then she smiles again, but it’s nothing like her smile before; this one’s cold and hard, and doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You know, Megamind,” Miss Ritchi says, eyes glittering, “meeting you really has been such a disappointment.”

Megamind recoils as if from a slap.

“You act like you’re so brilliant, so original,” she says, contempt dripping from the words. “So unique and individual, not like other people at all. You call them all ‘mindless drones’ like you’re something special, like you’re different, but really you’re just like everybody else.

Megamind stares at her, lost for words. She stares back at him, looking as if the chains on her wrists are the only things preventing her from tearing his throat out with her teeth, and what in god’s name is she so angry about?

(just like everybody else?)

Megamind has been insulted countless times, by many people, but no one has ever accused him of that.

“I—I beg your pardon?” he manages to say.

Miss Ritchi glares at him, and then her lips twist into a cruel smile.

“I do hope Metro Man finishes with your pointless traps soon,” she says. “This is getting boring.”

Megamind takes a sharp breath.

“Boring?” he repeats in a low, dangerous tone, beginning to get angry himself, now. “Well, I’d hate for you to be bored, Miss Ritchi. Perhaps we should cease conversing entirely—I could even turn off the broadcast altogether! Of course, Metro Man won’t have any clues to your location, then…but I’m sure he’ll find your drowned body eventually.”

“Oh, by all means,” Miss Ritchi says with needle-sharp politeness, “turn off the broadcast! It’ll only make it easier for Metro Man to find us if you do.”

She moves towards him, as far as the chain will allow, wading through the water until she’s at the edge of her platform.

“Because, you see,” she says, “I’m going to keep talking—and once the broadcast is off, there will be nothing to interfere with Metro Man’s super hearing but your soundproofing, and I’m confident he’ll be able to deal with that. Easily. Just like he deals with everything you try.”

“My patience,” Megamind snarls, moving towards her with deliberate menace, “is not endless, Miss Ritchi. You should watch your tongue.”

He stops at the edge of his own platform, stands there with his fists clenched, waiting for her to back down.

She takes one last step forward, the chain pulling taut, not breaking eye contact with him, the intensity of her gaze cold and burning at the same time.

“You should have gagged me,” she says, “if you intended me to die quietly, Megamind.”

The tank is between them, the edge of it hip-high. Megamind places his hands on it and leans forward.

“I intend,” he says, “for you to die screaming, Miss Ritchi.”

Miss Ritchi leans forward, too.

“Then make me,” she says.

Megamind’s breath hisses through his teeth and Miss Ritchi smiles at him, small and cold.

“Well, barring that happening,” she says scathingly, after a moment in which he’s too furious to formulate a response, “I suppose we’ll have to think of something else to talk about, won’t we?” She flashes another of those cold little smiles at him. “What do you say to an interview, Megamind? Seeing as how you admire my reporting skills so much.”

She makes the last statement with such sarcastic venom that Megamind leans back, blinking in confusion.

(seeing as how you admire my reporting skills so much)

Why would she say that like—

A memory twists in his mind, one memory out of a hundred others that are almost entirely the same: school, standing by himself at the edge of the playground, and the group of other children who walked towards him I like your sweater one of them said, and then when Megamind said thank you, they all looked at each other and burst into laughter, and Megamind shrank in on himself, shoulders curling inward, fingers curling around the edges of his sleeves and

I don’t think I’m any too popular with anyone Miss Ritchi had said, and they were always sending her out for coffee for their dry cleaning for their lunch, and the way that reporter with the perfect hair talked to her on air and

the utter triviality of that dog show assignment they gave her, the fact that they aired it at such an inconvenient time and

Megamind doesn’t know why he’s so shocked; he knows all too well what happens to people who dare to go against perfect, wonderful Metro Man; knows exactly what it feels like to be set up to fail and then laughed at for it and

just like everyone else, she’d said and—

“Yes,” he says.

Miss Ritchi blinks at him, looking caught off guard.

“—yes?” she says.

“Yes,” Megamind says, “you may interview me, Miss Ritchi.”

Miss Ritchi looks at him, her eyes searching his face, her expression somewhere between lost and wary. Silence stretches between the two of them for a long moment.

“…I thought you didn’t give interviews,” she says uncertainly.

Her shoulders curl in a little after she says it, like she’s expecting him to laugh.

“Oh, I think I can make an exception for you, Miss Ritchi,” he says, as airily as he can. “Seeing as how you’re about to die. Last request, and all that.”

He pauses, giving her a chance to reply, but she’s still just staring at him like she’s waiting for the punchline, and he can’t reassure her; he can’t; he’s the villain; it isn’t allowed, and—

okay; something—something else, then…

Megamind leans forward, his hands on the edge of the glass that separates them.

“I did say I’d like to see what you could do with a real story, Miss Ritchi,” he says, then bites his lip and smirks at her, trying for something between provoking and inviting. “Why don’t you show me?”

Miss Ritchi takes a sharp breath, color flying to her face, her eyes going wide. Her gaze flicks down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes, like she’s trying to read the expression.

She swallows visibly, then lifts her chin.

“All right,” she says.


…to be continued.


notes: Someone asked me how old Megamind and Roxanne are in this—they’re pretty young, around nineteen or twenty.

The two dogs mentioned are meant to be echoes of Metro Man and Megamind. Valerius means ‘to be strong’ and ‘Ascot’ bears a similarity to Metro Man’s civilian surname. Hubert means ‘bright mind/heart’, Heffernan means ‘little demon’, and Gorman means ‘little blue one’. (I got such a kick out of coming up with those names!)

Also, in regards to the last chapter—did you guys recognize Megamind’s first-ever deathtrap for Roxanne from anywhere besides The Pit and the Pendulum? Because…

…it’s actually the first of the pretend deathtraps that Syx makes up for Roxanne in All In the Golden Afternoon!

(Another thing I greatly enjoyed including in this!)

Thank you all so much for the get-well wishes for me and the cat! We are both working on getting better—she assisted me in the writing and editing of this chapter by keeping me company, lying on my arm and making me type one-handed, and purring.

(Her name is Snooks, but I call her Bunny, Her Majesty, or The Cat.)

And thank you all so much for the likes, reblogs, and comments on the last chapter; I hope you enjoyed this one, too!

Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter 3)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN | chapter 1 | chapter 2


Megamind fidgets impatiently, waiting for Miss Ritchi to awaken. Everything is ready, everything arranged and perfectly in position. It had been—surprisingly fun, setting the whole thing up, figuring how to stage it all for maximum effect

Up until now, Megamind’s evil plots have all been outright fights—different kinds of robot vehicles and suits, different types of weapons, but always out in the open and conducted like battles. This one is quite a different flavor of supervillainy—sinister and elaborate, instead of violently destructive mayhem. More—classic.

He’s taken Miss Ritchi to an abandoned warehouse which he set up ahead of time—black cloth over the windows to cast the room in darkness and stage lights hung from the ceiling to make dramatic pools of light on the warehouse floor and illuminate the deathtrap he’s constructed for Miss Ritchi.

The deathtrap he’s made for her is a thing of beauty, a trio of big crescent-shaped blades mounted on pendulums and hung from the ceiling. The blades are designed to swing back and forth, slowly lowering closer and closer to the chair in which Miss Ritchi sits. Just now, the blades are still; their motion ready to begin at the pull of the big lever on the control panel.

(The pendulums, of course, even when fully extended, are obviously not long enough to allow the blades to ever come close enough to Miss Ritchi’s chair to actually harm her. Megamind wants to scare this woman, not kill her.)

Miss Ritchi stirs in her chair. Megamind, lurking in the shadows just beyond the central pool of light, straightens his spine and twitches the hem of his cape into place.

Yes! It’s time to show Miss Ritchi what this supervillain looks like when he’s at the top of his game!

Her eyes flutter open, and she blinks, lifting her head slowly and looking around, an expression of confusion on her face.

Hidden in the shadows, Megamind gives an evil laugh, and has the satisfaction of seeing her jump at the sound of his voice.

“Miss Ritchi,” he says, “we meet again.”

He steps into the light.

“—Megamind,” she says, and is he just imagining that slight tremble in her voice?

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asks, giving her a slow, dangerous smile.

She takes a deep breath, and then deliberately lifts her chin.

“No, I’m pretty clear on who I was throwing coffee at,” she says, tone impertinent.

Megamind feels a pulse of—he can’t tell if it’s annoyance or admiration.

(admiration. it’s admiration.)

“Our previous meeting was, quite unfortunately cut short—” he says, skipping to the next part in the speech he planned, since Miss Ritchi has refused to take her cue. “But—”

“Well, if you enjoyed having coffee thrown at you that much, you can buy me some more,” Miss Ritchi says, “I’d be happy to oblige, if you’ll just untie me—”

“Not that previous encounter!” Megamind says.

“Oh, the previous-previous encounter where you were on fire?” Miss Ritchi says. “My mistake.”

“The encounter during which I captured and threatened you!” Megamind says. “As I was saying, it was, unfortunately, cut short—this one, I fear, may be as well, though for quite a different reason.”

Megamind trails a hand lovingly over the control panel of the console, then pointedly looks up. Miss Ritchi looks up as well, and Megamind sees the moment that she sees the blades suspended above her head, sees her eyes widen, sees her swallow visibly.

“Tell me, Miss Ritchi,” he says softly, “am I scary enough for you, yet?”

She looks at him sharply, and Megamind, still watching her face, readies himself for the inevitable panic—

—but her expression—it’s all wrong; her face isn’t crumpling with fear; it’s—her eyebrows draw together as she looks at him, and then her lips part just a little and her eyes widen.

“Is that why you know my name?” she asks, and her tone is all wrong, too, incredulous instead of supplicatory or panicked. “Because of the report?”

Megamind blinks, taken aback and taken off-guard by the question. What—?

“Of course I know your name,” he says, “it was right there on the screen.”

Miss Ritchi’s lips quiver around the edges, but it looks less as if she’s trying not to cry and more as if she’s trying to repress a smile.

“Did it really upset you that much?” she asks, her tone even more incredulous, sounding, inexplicably, less frightened and more confident—almost pleased.

“That outrageously provocative report of yours did earn you the terrible fate you are about to suffer, yes,” Megamind snaps.

Miss Ritchi makes a snorting noise of amusement, but then her lips twist in a way that seems somehow bitter.

“Well, of all the overreactions to that interview I’ve gotten,” she says, “I have to say yours takes the cake.”

“Overreaction? Over—” Megamind splutters, then pulls himself together and draws himself up to his full height. “Your attempts to cover your fear with a facade of facetiousness are futile!”

“Ooh, alliteration,” Miss Ritchi says, “very classic children’s cartoon villain. Maybe you should try speaking in rhyme next.”

“You can scream all you wish, Miss Ritchi!” Megamind says loudly, with a dramatic flourish, “I’m afraid no one can hear you—yet!”

Miss Ritchi blinks and tilts her head to one side.

“Yet?” she says.

Megamind permits himself an evil chuckle, trying to get the mood back, and steps from his own little pool of light to the larger one around Miss Ritchi’s chair.

“Oh, yes,” he says, “you see, in about—oh, a minute and a half—your terrified pleas for mercy shall be broadcast on every channel in the city.” He stalks slowly around Miss Ritchi’s chair, his cape billowing in a satisfyingly sinister manner. “While you were asleep, I took the opportunity to broadcast a challenge to Metro Man, calling him to a battle on the steps of Metrocity’s courthouse. He should be arriving there any moment now.”

“Well, if you’ve got a prior engagement, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Miss Ritchi says, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

“Oh, but I’m enjoying our conversation so much, Miss Ritchi!” Megamind says.

He pauses for a moment as he realizes that’s actually true. He is enjoying this, in spite of Miss Ritchi’s stubborn refusal to follow the expected script.

(no. no, not in spite of. because of.)

Megamind shakes his head, focusing his thoughts again.

“And the message to Metro Man was merely a clever ruse!” he says, continuing his circuit around her chair. “When he arrives on the courthouse steps, I will broadcast my true message—the demand that Metro Man relinquish his position as the city’s Defender and leave Metrocity forever, in exchange for your life! What do you say to that, Miss Ritchi?”

He times the movement and the words perfectly, ending the speech directly in front of her, turning on his heel to face her with a snap of his cape.

Miss Ritchi blinks, looking surprised.

“I—uh—are you sure you’ve picked the right hostage for the job?” she says. “I mean—I’m—flattered and all, Megamind, but I don’t think I’m gonna be any too popular with—well, with anyone, right now, but especially with Metro Man.”

Megamind frowns.

“What? Why not?” he asks.

(is this an attempted trick? her trying to convince him to let her go?)

Miss Ritchi gives him a strange look.

“Because of the report?” she says. “You know. The same report that made you mad enough to kidnap me and threaten me with dismemberment? Maybe you didn’t notice, Megamind, but you weren’t exactly the only one with a reason to be upset about it.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Megamind says impatiently, “the implied criticism of Metro Man! Which will naturally have made him eager to prove you wrong! Possibly he’s even been practicing with his eye laser aim—”

He bites his tongue; fuck; he hadn’t meant to bring that up! It’s much too close to the subject of—

“Yes, I’d hate for you to have to get set on fire trying to save me again,” Miss Ritchi says, sweetly vindictive.

(oh fuck so she did notice that oh no—)

“I—I have no idea what you mean, Miss Ritchi!” Megamind says, his voice an octave higher than he’d like.

“Oh?” Miss Ritchi says, her lips beginning to curl in that same satisfied smirk that she’d given to the camera after her report. “So you didn’t—”

“Time for the broadcast!” Megamind says loudly, and slaps his hand down on the broadcast button.

He turns away from the dangerously perceptive Miss Ritchi and to the camera, giving it his best evil laugh. On the screen above the console, Metro Man’s face flickers into view. Behind him, Megamind can see a watching crowd of citizens.

(good; the first squadron of brainbots with cameras are hidden in position around the courthouse, then! which means Minion and the other three squadrons should be in position as well.)

“Megamind!” Metro Man says, narrowing his eyes at Megamind. “Come out and face me!”

(excellent; if Metro Man can see him, his projection image and broadcast are functioning properly!)

Megamind gives another evil laugh, for the sheer fun of it.

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan, Metro Man,” he says, “I’ll have to cancel our appointment.”

“The only appointment you have is with your jail cell!” Metro Man says, pointing dramatically.

Not the most impressive bit of banter he’s ever heard, Megamind thinks critically, as the citizens behind Metro Man cheer. Not even the most impressive bit of banter he’s heard today, actually.

“You are mistaken, Metro Man,” Megamind says, with sinister dignity, when they’ve finished cheering, “today is my appointment with destiny.” He pauses to allow the citizens to boo. “You will leave Metrocity! Or else this is the last you ever hear of—Roxanne Ritchi!

Megamind steps aside with, revealing Miss Ritchi with a flourish.

“Who?” says Metro Man.

A look flashes in Miss Ritchi’s face for an instant—almost hurt, almost embarrassment, as if she wants to flinch but won’t let herself.

And something about that expression—

(I know how that feels)

“Miss Roxanne Ritchi!” Megamind says. “The KCMP news reporter!”

“Oh,” Metro Man says, without enthusiasm, and Megamind vividly imagines punching him in the face. 

He grinds his teeth together, then gestures with an even more theatrical flourish at Miss Ritchi.

“Having been fortunate enough to escape the clutches of my evil once,” he says, “Miss Ritchi dared to question my mastery of villainy!”

He deliberately places his hand on the control panel’s lever and looks over at Miss Ritchi. Her poise is back, her chin raised, her spine straight.

Megamind gives her a particularly evil smile.

“Well, question no longer, Miss Ritchi,” he says, and throws the lever.

The blades begin to swing with a menacing noise of sharp metal. Miss Ritchi looks up and takes a quick breath.

Megamind doesn’t see the rest of her reaction; he looks away from her swiftly, not wanting, somehow, to see the moment where she actually starts to be afraid of—

(him)

—the deathtrap.

“With every passing moment, the blades will move closer and closer to Miss Ritchi,” he says to Metro Man. “Her doom is inevitable—unless you agree to accede to my demand!”

Metro Man opens his mouth, no doubt to give a heroic refusal, but then—

“Where did you get this thing?”

Megamind looks over his shoulder at Miss Ritchi. She’s looking up at the blades, still, watching them, but she appears to be—

—nowhere near as terrified as she should be.

“I—I beg your pardon?” Megamind says, certain he must have misheard her.

“The swishy blade deathtrap thing,” Miss Ritchi says, looking away from the blades, looking at him, now, a challenging tilt to her chin and that sharp smile hovering around the edges of her mouth. “Did you order it out of an Acme catalogue or something?”

She raises an eyebrow at him and Megamind takes a sharp breath of his own.

“Did you have to put it together yourself?” Miss Ritchi continues, “Or was it no assembly required?”

And then she smirks at him.

Smirks. At him.

As if there aren’t deadly blades suspended above her head, as if he hasn’t just threatened her, as if she knows she’s not really in danger, as if he’s not—

(evil. as if he’s not evil.)

Megamind feels an odd sensation go through his body, as though she’s just tapped two fingers sharply against his sternum, the phantom touch ringing through him like a chord of music, making his heart beat out of time.

“I—” he says, “—I designed it myself, actually.”

“Really,” Miss Ritchi says, raising both eyebrows at him this time. “Are you sure? Because it seems kinda weirdly familiar—”

“Are you really sure this is what you should be spending the last moments of your life focusing on?” Megamind asks, torn between amusement and disbelief.

“Last moments?” Miss Ritchi scoffs. “At the rate those things are coming down, it’ll be fifteen minutes at least before they reach me.”

“I could speed them up,” Megamind says, which is a blatant lie; he didn’t bother to include that capacity in the deathtrap design.

Miss Ritchi gives an unconvinced hum.

“Maybe,” she says, “but a deathtrap like this, part of the torture is how long it takes for the blades to descend, right? Having to watch them—ha!”

Megamind jumps at the last word.

“Ah?” he says.

“It’s from that Edgar Allan Poe story!” she says triumphantly. “The Pit and the Pendulum! I knew it reminded me of something!”

Megamind feels himself flush; he opens his mouth to tell her that just because the deathtrap might have been inspired very slightly by said story, that in no way detracted from the fact that he’d definitely done the actual design work for the thing himself, but—

Anyway,” Metro Man says loudly, and Megamind jumps for a second time, spinning around to face the camera and the screen again.

(shit; he’d actually half-forgotten about Metro Man)

“No need to panic, Miss,” Metro Man says, “I’m on my way!”

fuckfuckfuck, shit—

Megamind whirls to face Miss Ritchi.

“You’re supposed to be screaming!” he hisses, more than a little frantically. “You need to be screaming!”

Miss Ritchi raises her eyebrows again.

“No,” she says.

“No, no, no!” Megamind says, waving his arms, “You don’t understand; you need to be screaming; it’s an essential part of the—”

plan; it’s an essential part of the plan, which involves Minion and the different swarms of brainbots being set up in strategic places throughout the city, ready to play pre-recorded screams which should lead Metro Man into a series of different traps which will all test for possible weaknesses, and the deployment of which should give Megamind sufficient time to escape from this location, but if Miss Ritchi isn’t screaming when Metro Man takes off, he’ll know not to follow the false screams, and the traps won’t be sprung and Metro Man will arrive here too early and Megamind—

—will be punched across the room.

Which he is, before he can finish that sentence.

Fuck.


Sitting in his cell, later, with his cracked ribs wrapped tightly, Megamind watches Miss Ritchi being interviewed again. The questions the other journalist gives her are even more leading this time, with as little space as possible for any possible criticism of Metro Man.

She doesn’t give any, which, fair is fair, she was never in any danger from Metro Man this time; he didn’t use his eye lasers at all; the only things that got destroyed were the roof of the abandoned warehouse and Megamind’s deathtrap; and the only one who got injured was Megamind.

(which she most likely doesn’t know about. he hopes she doesn’t know about it. he didn’t mention his ribs at all until he got back to the prison infirmary. better that everyone thinks it’s difficult for even Metro Man to injure him.)

She does, however, have some scathing things to say about the people who just watched her abduction, and made no move to help her. When the interviewing journalist quickly points out that several members of the crowd took it upon themselves to call Metro Man for help—as though he thinks this just as much assistance as their duty required, Miss Ritchi’s eyes snap dangerously.

“Exactly when,” Miss Ritchi says, “did the people of this city decide to let a single man handle all of their problems? One has to wonder if the attitude of complacency that evidently comes from having such a very super-powered Defender is really in Metro City’s public interest. The—”

“And what do you think, now,” the interviewing journalist loudly, interrupting her, “about your statement the other day that Megamind is more a danger to himself than to anyone else? Considering your recent ordeal at the hands of Megamind, wouldn’t you agree that he’s definitely a danger to the public?”

There’s a smug look to the interviewing journalist’s face as he looks at Miss Ritchi that sets Megamind’s teeth on edge. As though the man thinks Miss Ritchi has been put in her place.

Which is, of course, exactly what Megamind intended to do when he kidnapped her, but somehow he feels annoyed instead of pleased.

Miss Ritchi lifts her chin.

“No,” she says. “My previous statement still stands.”

The interviewing journalist’s mouth opens and closes a few times.

Megamind’s jaw falls, too.

“But after being taken hostage twice—having your life threatened—”

“Haven’t you noticed,” Miss Ritchi says, lips beginning to curve into a smirk, “that I’m fine? Megamind’s going to have to do much better than that if he wants me to believe he’s dangerous.”

“—back to you in the studio, Dan,” the interviewing journalist says, in a tone of one washing his hands of the whole thing.

Megamind turns off the television and tosses the remote away, onto his cot in the corner.

(god. fucking. damn it!)

He’d like to get up and pace, but his ribs ache and doesn’t want to move any more than necessary.

He’s too agitated to stay completely still, though; he brushes the backs of the fingernails of his right hand restlessly back and forth on the arm of his chair, letting the movement come from his wrist, like he’s strumming a guitar without a pick. He presses the fingertips of his left hand down against the other chair arm, distractedly going through a scale.

That look she’d given him, the smirk while the blades swung overhead, and the way she’d talked to him, and then that challenge during her second interview, even more blatant than the first had been, challenging him, baiting him on purpose.

(have to do much better than that)

He grits his teeth and presses the fingertips of his left hand down hard in a flattened fifth, the devil’s chord, imagining the dissonant sound it would make if he were actually holding an instrument.

She looks at him like he isn’t evil; she looks at him, talks to him, like he isn’t evil, and that realization has gotten under his skin somehow; it’s—

(baffling, intoxicating, fascinating)

—unacceptable! It is completely and utterly unacceptable that this, this sarcastic, impertinent, infuriating woman thinks she can get away with—

(with behaving as if he’s not evil)

He presses the fingertips of one hand carefully to the center of his chest, but he’s not thinking about the pain in his ribs; he’s thinking about—

(that odd feeling, invisible fingers tapping against his sternum, the sensation spreading through him like ripples through water, like light, like a chord of music)

Have to do better? Better than that? Better than a kidnapping and gigantic overhead blades? The deathtrap, the threats, the evil monologue—what the hell more does she want from him?

Megamind glares at the blank television and growls beneath his breath.

So Miss Ritchi’s hard to impress, is she? Hard to scare? He’ll give her scary! He’ll give her better! Next time—

Megamind stops for a moment, blinking.

Next time.

He tips his head, a thought occurring.

Next time.

Is—is this the reaction she means this challenge of hers to provoke?

Standing so close to the battle that first time, snapping photographs when she should have been running—intern, the bottom of the screen had said during both her interviews. Intern, not full reporter, and Megamind thinks of how infuriating it had been when Metrocity’s news outlets were still referring to him as a ‘villain’ rather than a ‘supervillain’, thinks of the lengths he went to change that.

(Megamind’s going to have to do much better than that if he wants me to believe he’s dangerous.)

A clear challenge, almost an invitation to kidnap her again—

(going to have to do much better than that if he wants me to believe he’s dangerous, not so scary when you think about it, and then that smirk at the camera, and he’d been right the first time; he’d been right when he’d thought that smirk was for him.)

Oh, she is clever; she is very, very clever.

Megamind laughs, hardly noticing the resulting pain from his ribs.

And he’s fallen right into her trap! Already planning her next kidnapping! God, that news station of hers had her fetching coffee; what an utter waste of brilliance.

The knowledge that he’s been caught so neatly only makes Megamind more determined to win this game they’ve started playing—he really is going to have to think of something spectacular for her next kidnapping.

Megamind grins, smile sharp around the edges, and begins to plan.


…to be continued.


author’s notes: Thank you all so much for the likes, reblogs, comments, and get-well wishes! I really appreciate them all so much! My cat and I are both still sick, but she seems to be improving, and that definitely makes me feel happier and less anxious, which will hopefully lead to me starting to get better, too. Fingers crossed that this trend continues, and both of us get well soon!

Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter two)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN | chapter 1


Megamind is prepared to stake out the entrance of the KCMP station building for at least a week before finding the perfect time to stage his planned abduction of Miss Ritchi. He wants this to go smoothly, unlike his first disastrous and embarrassing attempt to take her hostage mid-battle, and he’s never actually…done this kind of thing before, so it will obviously easier to pull it off while Miss Ritchi is alone.

As the station employees all tend to arrive and leave the building at approximately the same times each day, he naturally assumes that catching Miss Ritchi by herself will be difficult.

That part of it, though, is actually surprisingly easy.

He’s only been there a couple of hours, lurking in the invisible car outside the station entrance and trying not to go out of his mind with boredom, when Miss Ritchi emerges from the building, alone and walking fast, scowling like a thundercloud.

Megamind, caught off guard by her sudden and unexpected appearance, scrambles, trying to find the can of aerosol-dispersible sedative that he’s created especially for this plan. By the time he locates it underneath the passenger seat, Miss Ritchi has moved past the car and is several yards down the sidewalk.

Megamind growls in frustration and holds a quick internal debate with himself—follow her in the car? get out and chase her? wait here until she returns?

Chasing her seems undignified, and following her in the car seems potentially tricky—traffic, and pedestrians and oh this is so much more complicated than he thought it would be! What is the protocol, here? He needs some kind of handbook or manual or guidelines—

He decides to wait, and to hope that, when Miss Ritchi returns, she’ll still be alone. With an irritated sigh, Megamind slouches down into the driver’s seat to wait.

After a minute, he reaches out moodily to turn up the car’s stereo, absently setting the can of knockout spray down on the dashboard.

Only sixteen minutes later, Miss Ritchi comes into sight again, and, as luck would have it, she is still alone.

Determined not to miss his chance this time, Megamind throws open the car door and springs out at her, uttering a triumphant exclamation as he does so.

Unfortunately, Miss Ritchi is carrying three full cardboard drink carriers, stacked one on top of the other, and, even more unfortunately, he’s accidentally forgotten the can of knockout spray on the dashboard, so when he springs at her and says “ah-ha!”, in a triumphant manner, Miss Ritchi, whirling to face him, does not, as he intended, immediately inhale a cloud of sedative spray and collapse into convenient unconsciousness, falling gracefully into his waiting arms like the swooning heroine from a black and white movie, but, instead, says “fuck!” very loudly and drops the uppermost drink carrier.

Hot coffee splatters the sidewalk between them; the two of them leap away from it instinctively—Miss Ritchi leaps backwards, and Megamind leaps sideways, which means that he’s too far away to grab Miss Ritchi, and, instead, takes the second drink carrier directly to the chest when she deliberately throws it at him.

More coffee splashes his uniform, a few hot droplets hitting the unprotected skin of his face, and Megamind gives an ignominious yelp of surprise.

He grabs wildly for her and she throws one of the four remaining cups at him. He’s quick enough to avoid being hit by it, but the next one she throws almost catches him full in the face. He brings his arm up just barely in time and the coffee splashes rather painfully over his unprotected hand instead.

(he elected to leave off his spiked gloves and mantle for this part of the plan, thinking that accidentally poking your damsel in distress with spikes while abducting her would probably be bad form for a supervillain, a decision he is now somewhat regretting.)

“St—ow!—stop that!” he cries, blocking another cup.

“No!”

Miss Ritchi throws the word and the last coffee cup at him at the same time, promptly follows up the move by throwing the empty drink carrier at his face, and then takes off sprinting down the sidewalk.

Megamind runs after her, dripping with coffee and mentally cursing himself.

As he still doesn’t have the knockout spray, capturing and subduing Miss Ritchi proves to be fraught with difficulty, and when he finally manages to avoid being bitten, kicked, or beaten to death with her handbag for long enough to pick her up bodily, throw her over his shoulder, and turn back towards the car—

—he’s lost track of exactly where he left the invisible car, and since he closed the car door when he leaped out at Miss Ritchi, and the car is goddamn invisible, locating it is a bit—oh for heaven’s sake; this is ridiculous! This should have been so simple, so easy, so—

Miss Ritchi elbows him sharply between the shoulder blades and Megamind makes a noise of pained surprise.

By the time he at last manages to locate the invisible car, open the door, bend down enough to reach into the car and retrieve the knockout spray from the dashboard, get elbowed between the shoulder blades again, drop the knockout spray, put down Miss Ritchi, wrestle Miss Ritchi into the car, hastily restrain Miss Ritchi in makeshift bonds created by knotting the seatbelt around her, bend down and retrieve the knockout spray from where it’s rolled beneath the car, get kicked in the small of the back by Miss Ritchi, drop the knockout spray for a second time, and pick the knockout spray back up yet again, Megamind is hot, out of breath, still covered in coffee, and feeling more than a little ridiculous.

He deftly avoids another kick, rises to his feet, and then finally—finally!—succeeds in spraying the terrible, terrible woman with the knockout spray.

Miss Ritchi goes limp, sagging in her haphazard restraints as her eyes slip close— less like a swooning damsel from a black and white movie and more like a particularly dangerous crocodile that’s been hit with several tranquilizer darts.

Megamind, panting, eyes her warily for a moment, half convinced that the unconsciousness is a ploy meant to catch him off guard—but no, it seems to be genuine enough, thank the evil gods.

He glances up and around—fuck. As he suspected, they’ve attracted a bit of a crowd during their tussle, which is exactly what he didn’t want; there are a number of mindless drones gaping at them—from a safe distance, of course.

Megamind, looking at them, feels a pulse of irritation.

The collective—he’s not sure if it’s cowardice or laziness or a combination of both that makes the ordinary citizens of Metrocity so willing to let Metro Man handle everything—but whatever it is, it irks Megamind, in spite of the fact that it makes his job so much simpler. ‘Helpless people of Metro City’ Metro Man calls them, and they seems so annoyingly eager to be helpless. Ever since Megamind became a supervillain, none of the ordinary citizens have even tried to stand up to him at all.

Not that he wants to be attacked by a mob again, but still.

Doesn’t anyone in this city have any spirit?

Megamind is sure that one of the members of their audience either has or soon will run and locate a phone to call Metro Man for help. And although Metro Man’s eventual involvement in this plot essential, this is not the time or the place for Megamind to meet up with Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. So Megamind swiftly untangles Miss Ritchi from her seatbelt, buckles her in properly, and gets into the car.

He throws the car into gear and peels out, tires squalling as he speeds away, the scent of coffee strong in his nostrils and the unconscious Miss Ritchi in the passenger seat.


…to be continued.


author’s notes: so it turns out that the breathing problems I’ve been having are bronchitis! And I’m still getting some more tests done, also, to make sure there’s nothing else bad going on, too. But yes, I have bronchitis.

(and I’m definitely not imagining the breathing problems, which is what I was half-afraid they’d say; there’s really nothing quite like the awful way being neuroatypical makes you doubt your own perception of reality.)

Thank you all so much for the well-wishes, and for the great comments on the first chapter! I really appreciate having you guys; you make such a difference in my life. ❤

Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter one)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN


The first time he sees her, he just glances at her, really.

He thinks, later, that the moment should have had more—emphasis, somehow, should have paused and slowed and spun out like something made of honey or molten glass.

(gravitational time dilation; time slowing down near massive things due to the strength of their gravitational fields, and if there’s ever an event that should have warped Megamind’s personal perception of the fabric of spacetime, it’s his first sight of Roxanne Ritchi.)

Instead it’s just—a glance.

He’s on the rooftop of a building, three stories up, out of breath and dodging blasts from Metro Man’s laser eyes. Minion and the brainbots have escaped, according to the contingency plan they worked out ahead of time for this evil plot, so it’s just Megamind up there, running along the very edge of the rooftop. In between one step and the next, he glances down and sees—

—a flash of light and movement—the shutter of a camera clicking at him, and then the camera moves and he sees the face behind it, a woman’s face tilted up and looking at him.

She’s standing—standing, not crouching or cowering or fleeing—beside a parked car, snapping photographs of the fight from up close; much closer than anyone else; interesting that she hasn’t taken cover with the rest of the terrified citizenry—

(oh wow; brave; that’s interesting)

Megamind glances away from her and dives for cover behind an electrical box.

The sudden heat and ominous zap noise as Metro Man’s lasers hit the box tell him that this move was an unfortunate one, even before the wiring begins to spark dangerously, the exposed circuitry crackling and spitting. Megamind holds up a hand, trying to shield his face and looks around frantically—

(he needs to get out of here, needs to get off of this roof, needs to get down to the ground where he might have a hope of getting away; needs to—)

Megamind takes off running for the far edge of the roof; the next building isn’t so very far away; he can make it if he jumps—

Or, Megamind reflects in the instant that he hurtles off the rooftop and into space, possibly not.

This is it, he thinks, almost calmly. This is how he dies. Misjudging the distance between two rooftops and slamming face first into a brick wall. This is—

Windowsill! Yes! He can—

Megamind twists in the air as he falls, trying to change his trajectory just enough to—

His boots hit the ledge of the windowsill and his forehead hits the glass of the window rather painfully. For one frantic moment, he scrabbles wildly for a handhold, but there’s nothing for his fingers to grip, and the ledge is too narrow for him to balance on and he’s going to fall going to fall going to die—

Something to his right, just in his line of vision—a fire escape, one floor down and slightly over.

Megamind bends his knees and pushes off of the window ledge, leaping backwards into the air again, falling once more, but in a sideways arc this time.

He lands hard on the rickety metal platform, one ankle twisting and the back of his head slamming into the railing, making him see glittery little flashes of light at the edges of his vision. Then twin red laser beams just barely miss him, searing the brick in front of him, starting to slice through the metal of the platform.

Megamind vaults over the side of the fire escape, and then he’s falling again oh this is just fantastic

He hits the ground hard in a crouch, the shock of it shooting painfully through his feet and legs and knees, through the fingers of the hand he’s put down for balance, up his arm to his shoulder. Lasers slice through the pavement beside him and Megamind rolls out of the way, then pushes himself to his feet and takes off running, sprinting for the mouth of the alleyway, where it opens into the street. Given the choice, he would much rather have run deeper into the alley, slipped down a side street, disappeared, but Metro Man is at his back and Megamind doesn’t have a choice at all.

Bursting out into the street, he sees a line of parked cars at his left; he dives for cover behind the first one, looks up quickly and sees—

—part of the metal platform of the fire escape hurtling towards him, no doubt thrown by Metro Man.

Megamind draws his de-gun in an instant and fires swiftly, dehydrating the thing in midair. It falls to the ground as a harmless blue cube.

A sound in front of him; a quick inhalation of breath. Megamind glances in that direction and—

There she is again, the woman with the camera and the startlingly reckless disregard for her own safety. She’s standing in the street now, still holding her camera, looking at him.

There is a moment in which the two of them just stare at each other, a moment in which she should scream, should run, but doesn’t.

Instead, she lifts her camera and snaps a photograph of him.

She’s only a few yards away from him; Megamind crosses the distance between them in the space of about two heartbeats. He sees her eyes go wide as he reaches her, sees her lips part—shock fear alarm—but before she can actually react, he grabs her and pulls her in front of him, one arm wrapped around her tightly; the de-gun in his other hand and aimed at her temple.

She makes an alarmed noise, but she doesn’t actually scream—and she doesn’t drop her camera.

(very brave yes; that is interesting)

Megamind turns his head to whisper in her ear.

“You should have run while you had the chance.”

She makes that sound again, that quick sharp drawing in of her breath that she did earlier when he dehydrated the airborne metal platform.

Megamind sees Metro Man, flying out of the alleyway, pause in his flight as he catches sight of the captive in Megamind’s arms.

This is going to work, Megamind thinks, it’s going to work; he can do this! The innocent bystander will keep Metro Man back far enough for Megamind to edge away—or, if Metro Man does decide to come closer, Megamind can push her into Metro Man’s arms and make a run for it.

Megamind shifts his weight, getting ready to step backwards, and then—

A gleam of red in Metro Man’s eyes—oh fuck oh fuck surely he’s not going to—

Metro Man puts two fingers of one hand to his temple and hot red light flashes in his eyes and Megamind knows, absolutely knows, that Metro Man does not have precise enough aim with his eye lasers for this—not at this distance, and not with Megamind holding this hostage so closely; nononono—

Megamind twists as quickly as he can, spinning himself and the girl around, covering her head with his arm and shielding her body with his own.

A line of screaming white-hot agony sears the top of his shoulders like a blow from a whip. Megamind gives a cry of pain and releases the girl. He stumbles away, dropping to his knees.

The girl makes a noise of alarm, and then she lunges forward and shoves Megamind hard.

The move is so utterly unexpected that he doesn’t even think to try to stop her, just topples over onto the ground.

Yet another indignity to bear, Megamind thinks resignedly, being attacked by your intended captive, after you’ve injured yourself trying to save her from being burned to death—god, he hopes no one saw that, hopes no one’s seeing this, seeing—

(the smell of burning leather burning skin, and the pain oh god the pain; not just the whiplike mark of the laser burn, but pain lancing down his arms, his back; up the back of his neck; oh fuck oh god—)

The girl whips off the red coat she’s wearing, throws it over Megamind, drops down to her knees and begins hitting him with the palms of her hands, blows falling on his neck and back and shoulders and upper arms.

The realization that he’s on fire hits him just a half a moment too late for it to be true; the girl stops hitting him.

Megamind, dazed and half-wrapped in her coat and still faintly smoking, stares up at her in pained bewilderment.

She looks down at him, her blue eyes wide, her brown hair in wild disarray, framing her face like a dark, tangled halo.

“Oh, my god, are you all right?” she says. “You were on fire!”

“Wh—?” Megamind says.

(is he all right?)

What—why would she ask him that?

She looks like she cares, like she’s concerned; why would she—?

He just took her hostage; she should have run away screaming when he released her, should have kicked him or—she shouldn’t have torn off her own coat and thrown it over him and frantically put out the flames on his cape. She shouldn’t have—

(saved him.)

“—you dropped your camera,” he says blankly.

The girl blinks at him, looking disconcerted.

“I—”

“Excuse me, Miss,” Megamind hears Metro Man say.

He looks up to see the hero standing on the other side of him, smiling wide and white and not at all as if he’s just come within a hair’s breadth of accidentally incinerating an innocent bystander, the smug bastard.

“I’ll take it from here,” Metro Man tells the girl.

“He was on fire!” the girl says—snarls, actually.

Megamind blinks in surprise. So does Metro Man.

The girl surges to her feet, an expression of absolute fury on her face, her eyes blazing and her teeth bared.

But she’s not looking at Megamind like that; she’s looking at Metro Man, and Megamind must have hit his head harder than he thought, earlier, because reality seems to have been turned slightly sideways.

(are you all right?)

And now she looks as if she’s angry with Metro Man; nothing makes sense—

“I know you’ve had a shock, Miss,” Metro Man says, smile still in place, “but you’re safe now. Megamind won’t be—”

“You set him on fire! You almost set me on fire!” the girl says and—

Megamind takes a quick surprised breath.

(oh. oh—she noticed that? actually noticed the potentially fatal mistake made by the city’s supposedly flawless and infallible hero? noticed—)

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the girl demands, glaring at Metro Man.

(—noticed that mistake and is now throwing it in Metro Man’s face; god, who is this woman?)

“I—I can assure you, Miss, the situation was entirely under my control—”

The woman makes an angry noise and gives Metro Man a look of withering scorn.

She looks down at Megamind who is still lying at her feet, and he sees her expression is still furious, and he braces himself for the attack he’s been anticipating from her—

“Are you okay?” she asks.


Roxanne Ritchi.


Her name is Roxanne Ritchi, and she’s apparently a journalist, which goes some way towards explaining the camera and the recklessness, he supposes. She gives a report on the KCMP news station after Megamind’s arrest, and he reads her name off the bottom of the screen: Roxanne Ritchi, KCMP intern.

Well, perhaps “gives a report” isn’t quite the right term. Takes a report is more accurate. She’s technically supposed to be being interviewed by one of KCMP’s usual broadcast journalist, a man with a smarmy smile and perfect hair. He gives her the usual boring, conventional questions, the ones that inevitably serve as the interviewee’s cue to start the usual simpering, fawning praise of Metro Man.

Miss Ritchi, though—

Miss Ritchi does not take her cues.

She does not fawn. She does not simper.

She summarizes the battle with concise accuracy and a kind of burning intensity that Megamind can feel even through the television screen. And then she points out, quite correctly, that most of the actual property damage from this battle was caused not by Megamind but by Metro Man.

Megamind, sitting in his prison cell, watching the screen, feels his eyes go wide.

(she noticed that, too?)

Miss Ritchi even mentions the way that Metro Man almost burned her with that badly aimed laser attack.

“—is a hero’s first concern the safety of the people he’s meant to be protecting? Or are other things more important?” Miss Ritchi says, her eyes snapping again as she looks into the camera.

The interviewing journalist, his eyes fairly bulging at this utterly unprecedented implied criticism of Metro Man, loudly tells her that she must have been terrified at being held hostage by the dangerous supervillain Megamind, prompting her with the cue that should lead into the inevitable condemnation of Megamind.

But Miss Ritchi—

Miss Ritchi doesn’t take that cue, either.

She tilts her head, looking thoughtful.

“I suppose I was, at the time,” she says, “but—really, one has to wonder if Megamind might be more of a danger to himself than to anyone else.”

Megamind, in his cell, makes an indignant squawking noise.

“The gun was still set to dehydrate, after all,” Miss Ritchi says. “Not so scary. When you think about it.”

And then she smirks into the camera, lips quirking sideways, a look of triumph flickering in her eyes for a moment, as if she can see Megamind on the other side of the screen, can see his expression of flabbergasted shock.

The interviewing journalist ends the report quickly, and the program cuts back to the studio, and Megamind stops paying attention.

Not scary? Not scary?

Megamind gets up and begins to pace the cell restlessly.

She’d noticed Metro Man’s carelessness, noticed the setting on Megamind’s gun—had she noticed Megamind turning the two of them deliberately when Metro Man used his eye lasers? Had she noticed that? She hadn’t said so in that report, but the smirk she’d given him at the end of it—

(given the camera, he thinks, shaking his head to clear it. the smirk she’d given to the camera, not specifically to him; surely it couldn’t have been meant specifically for him, no matter how much it seemed that way.)

What a strange—what an utterly bewildering—she’d helped him; she’d asked him if he was all right! Why would she do that? And then that report—a taunt, that’s what that report had been, not merely a taunt, almost an outright challenge—

Not scary? Not scary?! He is so!

(more of a danger to himself than to anyone else)

Megamind shoves that—

(uncomfortably perceptive)

—comment forcefully out of his mind.

(trying not to think of all the possible safety measures he thought out for that last battle, but didn’t bother to actually include in the plan.)

So Miss Ritchi thinks he’s not scary, does she? Thinks she can get away with—with—

(saving him)

challenging him on live television?

Challenging Megamind! Megamind! Criminal genius and master of all villainy!

He’ll show her scary! He’ll show her—

Megamind, thoughts dancing through his head like lightning, bright and fast, flashes that illuminate pieces of a new plan, a different plan, different from anything he’s ever done before—bigger than he’s ever done before!

He stops pacing and indulges in an evil laugh. He winces as his laughter pulls at the burns and bandages, and then settles for an evil smile instead.

Show her.

Oh, yes, he has plans for Miss Ritchi.


…to be continued.


author’s notes: I know it’s been a while since I published anything; I’ve been having health issues. I still am, actually–problems breathing which are Very Not Fun. I’m getting some tests run, though. And at least my brain has decided to cooperate with me on writing again! Writing is a good and enjoyable distraction for me. 

I hope you all enjoyed the start to the story!

Dangerous Currents (chapter 6)

for @displacerghost

Megamind/Roxanne, T rating.

vintage mermaid AU.

AO3 | FFN

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

Roxanne is a small town librarian who dreams of being a reporter. When she comes into the possession of something that appears to be directions to the hidden treasure of Great Lakes pirate Dan Seavey, she entertains wild hopes of finding enough money to fund her own newspaper. What she actually finds is a blue merperson. And trouble. A lot of trouble.


“Treasure—Treasure Island?” Roxanne repeated.

A little frisson of fear went through her. Unconsciously, she sat up straighter in her chair.

“—Treasure Island,” she said again. “Ah—certainly, I can find that for you. May I—may I inquire why— I mean, were you not satisfied with—?”

Lady Scott blinked wide, apparently guileless eyes at Roxanne, as if she did not quite understand what Roxanne was driving at—although surely no one could really be that slow on the uptake.

If she was acting, though, it was a terribly convincing performance.

“If you’re not completely satisfied with the copy of Treasure Island that I sold to you,” Roxanne said, putting the question into actual words, since the woman seemed either unwilling or unable to take the hint, “and you’d like to return it—”

“Oh! Oh, no!” Lady Scott gave a tinkling laugh. “I’d simply like to have another copy of the book—to compare the two volumes, you understand.” She smiled. “I believe the copy you sold me might have some—interesting differences—from other editions.”

Roxanne’s heart gave a painful thump.

Did the woman—did she know Roxanne had taken the map? Surely she couldn’t, and yet—

“Printing errors, do you mean?” Roxanne asked, hoping Lady Scott couldn’t sense her sudden apprehension.

“—errors,” Lady Scott repeated, still smiling. “Yes. Errors.” She looked down at the top of Roxanne’s desk. “Oh! You’re studying mermaids, I see.”

Terror swept through Roxanne, hot first, and then cold. Was she imagining the hard light in Lady Scott’s eyes; was she imagining that the woman was—

“Just some folklore research,” Roxanne said, and wondered if her voice sounded as artificial as it she suspected. “Various things, really. Sirens, especially—so interesting, don’t you think, the way the descriptions of sirens differ? Many times they’re not described as mermaids at all, but more like birds! Isn’t that fascinating?”

She forced herself to stop babbling by dint of actually biting her tongue, her heart beating hard.

An expression flashed in Lady Scott’s face—

—or perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her, but Roxanne, watching Lady Scott’s face, thought she saw the woman’s expression go a little frozen, and then flinty, before resuming its former sweetness.

“What a diverting little project,” Lady Scott said. “I suppose you became interested in it after hearing some of our—local mermaid legends?” She smiled. “People inventing romantic explanations for quite ordinary occurrences—to be expected, after all of the drownings, I suppose.”

Roxanne swallowed.

“Drownings?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” Lady Scott said, her expression utterly pleasant, “it might look peaceful, but our lake can be very perilous, Miss Ritchi. There are—well. Dangerous currents. They pull one away from the shoreline, until suddenly you look around and realize how very far out from the shore you are. And then the waves pull you under.”

Roxanne realized that she had stopped breathing.

“One should always remember to be careful,” Lady Scott said, her eyes limpid and her smile charming. “Not to swim out too far. Don’t you think, Miss Ritchi?”

Roxanne tried to respond, but the words stuck in her throat.

Lady Scott gave her sweet, light laugh.

“Goodness, I mustn’t stay here talking and taking up all of your time, Miss Ritchi! Until we meet again.”

Lady Scott turned and walked away, her high heels clicking across the library floor.

It was not until she disappeared through the library doors that Roxanne felt able to breathe again.

She took a shaky breath and, with a sudden motion, swept up the notecards, opened her desk drawer, shoved them inside it, and shut the drawer firmly.

Roxanne shivered.

Had she been imagining the strangeness of Lady Scott’s manner, the—the threatening note to it?

Yes—yes, surely she must have imagined it. Lady Scott was a vapid, polite, and perfectly harmless woman.

Roxanne hadn’t slept the night before; that accounted for the overwrought state of her nerves, that was why she’d thought Lady Scott was—

Lady Scott hadn’t waited for her book.

Roxanne went very still.

Lady Scott hadn’t waited for Roxanne to find the book she’d requested. She’d said she wanted a volume of Treasure Island, to check for differences between it and the copy Roxanne had sold to her, but she hadn’t waited for Roxanne to actually find the book and bring it to her.

Almost as if she—as if she hadn’t actually wanted the book at all, as if she had come to the library simply to speak to Roxanne.

And seen in that light, the conversation seemed very sinister indeed—

Did she know that there had been something hidden in that book Roxanne had sold to her? Did she somehow know Roxanne had taken the map? Had she been—testing Roxanne, testing to see if Roxanne looked guilty when she mentioned differences in the copy, and errors?

Did Lady Scott know about Syx? Know—or suspect? Her words about mermaids might have been innocuous, prompted only by the sight of Roxanne’s notecards—or they might, again, have been a kind of test.

And then she’d spoken of drowning, and the dangers of the lake.

Dangerous currents—

Perhaps Lady Scott had just forgotten her book. Possibly she was just absentminded. That was certainly the most reasonable explanation.

But in the depths of her heart, Roxanne knew she did not believe it.

Dangerous currents…

Roxanne shivered.


“A little old, don’t you think, dear?” Vera Blumenthal said.

Roxanne blinked, confused.

“Old?”

She looked down at the man in Syx’s drawing, which she’d just shown to Vera Blumenthal—a man who looked, to Roxanne, to be about forty-five or fifty years old, with a mildly bulbous nose and a mustache. The same age, or perhaps even a bit younger, than Vera Blumenthal.

A little old? What on earth was the woman talking about?

“And not at all what I’d call a nice looking man,” Vera Blumenthal continued. She patted Roxanne’s hand. “I’m sure you can do much better; you’re a very pretty girl. Don’t you think so, Emily?” she added, to the other white-haired old lady standing next to her.

“Oh, certainly, Vera,” Emily Blackthorn agreed. “Very pretty.”

“I—no!” Roxanne said, horrified understanding dawning. “No, no! That’s not—”

“And didn’t young Wayne Scott ask you to the picnic this year? Quite a polite young man, I’ve always thought, although not, perhaps, precisely what one might call intellectual,” Vera went on, seemingly oblivious to Roxanne’s mortification, “which I’m sure would weigh with a clever girl like you. And older men do seem more sophisticated, I suppose, but honestly, dear—”

“I—really, Miss Blumenthal!” Roxanne said, finally succeeding in breaking in on the woman’s flow of words. “You’ve—you’ve got the wrong idea entirely! I’m not—not personally interested in this man, whoever he is; I only wanted to return his son’s drawing—”

“Oh,” Miss Blumenthal said, with a maddeningly arch smile. “Of course dear; if you say so. Well, why don’t I just take a little peek at that drawing again.”

Roxanne, who was, by this time, wishing she’d never shown the woman the drawing in the first place, pushed it across the counter to Miss Blumenthal once more.

Miss Blumenthal took it, and looked at it closely, a slight frown between her eyebrows.

“Hmm,” she said, “I’m—you know, I’m really not quite sure. He seems almost familiar, but I don’t know—what do you think, Emily?”

She handed the drawing to her companion, who frowned at it as well.

“No,” Emily said, “no, I don’t think I can place him. You’re right though, Vera; he does look familiar somehow.”

“Of course, he is quite an ordinary type,” Miss Blumenthal said, taking the drawing back, and looking at it again.

“Yes, quite ordinary,” Roxanne said, coolly, hoping to head off another lecture about the man’s romantic unsuitability. “I suppose that’s why I can’t remember his name. Really, it was the drawing that caught my attention more than anything; it’s beautifully done, don’t you think? That’s why I thought he might want it returned.”

“It is a very good sketch,” Miss Blumenthal agreed. “His son’s work, you said? What was his son like? Perhaps we know him.”

“Oh—” Roxanne hesitated a moment, “I—I really doubt it, I think he was…from out of town. I don’t think you’d know him.”

“Oh!” Vera Blumenthal’s face brightened. “From out of town, you say? A young man, then; not a child! Dear me, I have been confused; haven’t I? Good looking, I suppose?”

An image of Syx appeared in Roxanne’s mind—his smooth blue skin, the sinuously graceful curve of his tail, the bright, luminous green eyes.

Good looking—what a perfectly ludicrous thing to say. Syx certainly couldn’t be described by any phrase so tepidly ordinary as ‘good looking’. Inhumanly beautiful was more like it.

Miss Blumenthal exchanged a meaningful glance with her friend Emily and Roxanne felt herself flush with embarrassment.

“I—I can’t really remember,” she lied.

Miss Blumenthal gave her a disappointed look, and clicked her tongue. Then she handed the picture back to Roxanne.

“Dear, dear; how unfortunate that we can’t seem to place him.” she said. “Well, I’m sure I wish you luck finding them, Miss Ritchi. And if Emily and I happen to see the man, we’ll be sure you let you know.”

“Thank you, Miss Blumenthal, Miss Blackthorn,” Roxanne said, smiling politely, mentally thinking her lucky stars that they were leaving. “Enjoy your books.”


As the end of the week drew nearer, Roxanne found herself growing steadily more and more impatient and agitated. It was so very frustrating—there was a mermaid hidden in a secret cave down in Smugglers’ Cove, and here she was, stamping library cards and re-shelving books!

And asking around about Syx’s ‘father’. She did, at least, feel as if she’d made some progress there.

She’d spent the week asking the older library patrons if they could identify the man in the sketch, thinking that the older people would be more likely to remember faces. And she had given each of them the story about wanting to return his son’s drawing.

The result, Roxanne reflected grimly, was that a substantial portion of the elderly population of the city was probably now under the impression that Roxanne was a shameless hussy intent on romantically pursuing the unattractive man in the drawing, his mysterious son, or possibly both.

None of them had been able to definitely identify the man—or, at least, some of them had said they were quite definite as to who he was, but none of them had given her the same name for him.

Vera Blumenthal was right about him being a very ordinary looking man, of a common type found in Metro City. He looked like every other white male resident of Michigan between the ages of forty and sixty, really; Roxanne thought with dissatisfaction. That was the problem.

Still, she had a list of nine names, now, and she’d found the addresses of seven of the men in the library records. The other two she’d have to find another way. But there were the seven addresses to check up on. Yes, that was certainly something, and she’d be able to show Syx that she’d been looking, like he’d asked her.

Syx.

Sometimes she couldn’t believe that he’d really been real. She’d never seen anything like him before. He shouldn’t be possible. Countless times throughout the week, Roxanne had barely been able to stop herself from running down to Smugglers’ Cove again, to reassure herself that he was real; that she hadn’t just imagined him. The nights were especially difficult; every night Roxanne felt a wild impulse to slip into the darkness and race down to the water, and to the cave, to find him.

Unlike most of the people in Metro City, Roxanne’s days off were Sunday and Monday, as opposed to Sunday and Saturday, so that the library could stay open during the first half of most people’s weekends.

The library patrons seemed especially tiresome and irritating to Roxanne all of Saturday, and the day itself seemed to last for an eternity, but at last she was able to shut the doors behind the last customer, and lock up for the day.

She barely slept that night, and had restless dreams of caves and dark water, and a shoreline that retreated from her no matter how hard she swam towards it.

Luckily, Sunday was another cold day, and, as many of the people in Metro City were in church anyway, there was only a single man walking his dog along the shoreline when she got there. Roxanne wandered in a carefully casual way up and down the beach until they left. As soon as they were gone, she climbed up the boulders, and then down into Smugglers’ Cove, where she moved towards the cliff face.

Suppose it isn’t there, Roxanne’s mind whispered, as it had whispered to her so many times during the last week. Suppose you made it all up. Suppose that there isn’t any opening in the cliff, that there never was, that you just imagined the secret entrance and the hidden cave and Syx because you’re sad and bored and lonely and never really properly grew up. Suppose—

But the opening was there, just where she remembered it being.

Roxanne slipped inside it, and disappeared into the dark of the passageway into the rock.

The little cave was there, too, at the end of the first passageway; the initials D.S. still marked the opening she wanted. Roxanne stepped through it, the light of her torch a small gleam in the darkness.

Her impatience and nervous anticipation made the journey seem longer than it had before, and the bag she carried made it seem narrower. When the tunnel walls drew inwards and she had to crawl, she had to fight against the apprehensive feeling that it would never end, that it would go on and on forever, getting narrower and narrower, until she was stuck, until she’d gone too far to go back.

Eventually, though, the passage widened again, and she was able to walk once more.

Walking, she heard the sounds of water, and her steps and heartbeat quickened—soon, soon she would reach—

Roxanne rounded a bend in the passageway and stepped into the cavern with the lake.

The bioluminescent walls and ceiling glowed softly, still, as did the waters of the lake. The little room was there, too, the rugs and bookshelves and divans and clever metal devices.

But the room was empty, and the water of the lake was still, and Roxanne’s heart twisted with apprehension.

“Syx?” she called. Her voice echoed in the cavern.

She dropped her bag and her torch on one of the divans and moved quickly down to the water’s edge.

“Syx?”

There was no answer. Roxanne bit her lip and knelt down beside the water, trailed her fingertips in it. The water was surprisingly warm, much warmer than she’d expected, nothing like the frigid water of the lake.

“Syx?” she said uncertainly.

Was he—was he gone? He’d said he couldn’t leave, and she hadn’t thought he was lying, but perhaps he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth. Or was he…hiding from her?

Or maybe she just hadn’t been quick enough to find the man he called father, maybe he’d come back and taken Syx away somehow. Or—

(isn’t that what people like you do to things like me?)

Roxanne swallowed hard. No. No, that couldn’t—

There was a sound like a wave breaking, and Syx appeared, his head and shoulders bursting up suddenly through the surface of the water in a spray of droplets.

“You came back!” he cried, sharp teeth showing in a brilliant smile, “Oh, I’m so glad!”

Roxanne laughed in relief.

“I told you I would,” she said, smiling at him as he swam closer. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Syx made a face as he stopped in the shallows in front of her. His tail gave a little flick.

“I told you,” he said, “I can’t leave.”

“I—yes, I know,” Roxanne said awkwardly. Of course she shouldn’t have brought that up. “I—ah—I’ve been working on trying to find your father. I haven’t, yet, but I’ve got a list of names. And I brought some things for you,” she added.

Syx tilted his head curiously, neck frill flaring slightly.

“Things?” he asked. “What kind of things?”

Roxanne grinned at him. Syx had spent the last visit entertaining her with his inventions—she might not have any of that kind of thing to show him, but she still thought he’d enjoy what she’d brought with her.

“Come up to the sitting room,” she said, “and I’ll show you.”


…to be continued.


Thank you for continuing to read, like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate your support.

(( @nientedal​ suggested that Roxanne has one of these in her apartment; Megamind is envious ))


In Scorpio

Roxanne sees the scorpion-shaped chair on display in the window of the art gallery on October 20th. She thinks it’s probably meant to be a Halloween-themed piece, but she buys it for herself for her birthday three days later, on October 23rd.

It does not harmonize with the decor of her apartment at all. It’s a weird, ostentatious piece of furniture, and looks more like it belongs in Megamind’s evil lair, rather than in her sparsely–and a little impersonally–decorated apartment.

But for some strange reason that seems only to make Roxanne like the thing more.

The first time Megamind sees her sitting in it, he’s intending to kidnap her; he comes through the balcony door, observes Roxanne lounging in a chair shaped like a scorpion and looking like a particularly decadent kind of evil queen, and is so overwhelmed by this sight that he promptly trips over an end table and falls flat on his face, which is more than a little embarrassing but definitely not an unreasonable reaction because

Roxanne

Scorpion Chair

Evil Queen Pose

holy shit.

(Roxanne is very smug about the falling-over-the-end-table; she likes the scorpion chair in and of itself, but she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t been awaiting Megamind’s probable reaction to it with anticipation.)

Megamind decides, after this, that he needs a chair like hers for himself, and spends a considerable amount of time searching for another scorpion chair–but in vain.

He comes, at last, to the frustrating conclusion that it’s a custom-made, one-of-a-kind piece–which leaves him with very few options.

The idea of simply stealing Roxanne’s chair he abandons immediately; he has standards when it comes to supervillainy, and stealing one’s damsel’s decor very definitely does not meet them.

His fastidious evil soul shrinks, likewise, from the thought that he could just ask Roxanne where she got the chair and commission one of his own from the artist.

Asking one’s damsel for interior decorating tips is even more embarrassing than stealing her furniture.

He resolves, instead, to take up woodworking in his spare time and make one of the damn things for himself, although he has the nagging sense that this is perhaps the most ridiculous choice of action of all.

In the meantime, he settles for incorporating the chair into his kidnapping mise-en-scène; the next time he comes to her apartment to kidnap her for a nighttime evil plot, her arrives an hour before she gets home, arranges himself in the scorpion chair in one of his best evil poses with the lights off, and prepares to wait.

The outcome of this is extremely satisfactory; when Roxanne comes in, flips on the lights, and sees him there, she actually jumps, and makes a shocked squeaking noise that is unreasonably fucking adorable and also soothes Megamind’s pride a little as regards the episode of the end table.

Unfortunately, this is Megamind’s last bit of luck for a long while; the next few months go exceptionally wrong, evil-plot-wise, and he falls into a particularly bad depressive period.

In an effort to regain some sense of happiness, he decides to repeat the performance of the scorpion chair. It probably won’t be as effective this time, and Roxanne will most likely call him predictable again, but maybe she’ll at least jump like she did last time…

Like the last time, he arrives at her apartment early, arranges himself in the chair with the lights off, and waits for Roxanne to come home–but this time his depressed exhaustion, the darkness of the apartment, and the surprising comfortability of the scorpion chair conspire against him, and he nods off after about fifteen minutes.

Roxanne does jump when she walks into the apartment and flips on the lights, but Megamind is asleep, and doesn’t see it.

She realizes this in a moment, and pauses, staring at him, her hand still on the light switch.

A number of malicious ways to wake him cross her mind–she could poke him with the handle of a broom, or dump a glass of cold water over him, or scream very loudly.

(he’s been looking so tired lately)

She moves quietly into the living room and stands over him; Megamind doesn’t stir.

If he were someone else, she could drape a blanket over him, but considering the whole hypervigilance-and-supervillainy thing, she’s pretty sure that would just wake Megamind up, and for some reason she doesn’t want to examine very closely, Roxanne seems to have decided that she doesn’t want to wake him up.

She stands there for a long moment, chewing her lip and watching him sleep, then, very quietly, she takes out her phone, makes sure it’s set to silent and the flash isn’t on, and snaps a picture of him.

Roxanne doesn’t want to examine her reasons for doing that very closely either. It’s not as if having the photo gives her any kind of blackmail material; it’s not an embarrassing or compromising photograph at all.

Megamind, leaning back against the cushions of the chair in sleep, has his head turned slightly to the side, his lips slightly parted. His features are relaxed, softened by sleep, and his lashes lie dark against his cheeks.

He doesn’t look ugly or ridiculous, sleeping there; he looks–

Roxanne saves the picture, closes her phone, turns off the lights, and goes upstairs.

Megamind wakes up several hours later, in darkness and confusion–why is it so late? Why isn’t Roxanne back yet? Has something happened to–

No, her shoes are on the mat by the door; she is back.

But if she’s back, then why…?

Bewildered, he comes to the conclusion that Roxanne must have somehow failed to see him in the chair.

(he leaves the apartment. it’s much too late for the evil scheme now, and she must really be tired if she missed seeing Megamind sitting right there in her living room)

Roxanne keeps the picture in her phone, even though, the next day, she’s more than able to realize that doing so is a bad idea–this isn’t a compromising picture as far as Megamind is concerned, but it is a compromising photograph for her to have.

(vulnerable. he looks vulnerable, and this picture looks shockingly intimate, and keeping it is such a bad idea.)

She keeps it anyway, though, keeps it through switching phones twice, keeps it through the terrible period of thinking that Megamind has actually killed Metro Man, keeps it even while she’s trying to figure out how to read Megamind’s idea cloud so that she can defeat him herself, keeps it even while she tries to convince herself that she hates him.

When she moves into the Lair, two years later, she still has the picture saved on her phone–and she brings her scorpion chair with her.