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 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. ❤