"It's later, Miss Ritchie."

He'd taken over the city a week ago. Just before Minion had sprayed her unconscious that last time, Megamind had promised to look her up later. Now here he was on her balcony, letting himself in through the glass doors, with his raygun in one hand. She was on her way to the laundry room with a basket of dirty clothes, but it was pretty obvious that the laundry wasn't getting done any time soon.

"No spray?" she asked. "No bag? No ropes? Do I need to change into an on-camera outfit?" She was in a tank top, sweat pants and thong sandals

"There's no need to keep you from finding out where City Hall is, so the bag and the spray are unnecessary. Minion has the ropes. And today's kidnapping will not be broadcast, so the clothes you have on are fine. This way, please." He held the door for her with one hand, keeping a bead on her with the other. Two hoverbikes, one behind the other, floated in the air just outside her balcony along with several brainbots. The first bike was unoccupied. Minion sat at the controls of the second.

"Hi, Miss Ritchie," said the fish as she emerged from the apartment. "Sit behind me with your back to me. It's the safest way to tie you on." One steel hand reached down and helped her in, the gorilla-like mechanical body turning further at the waist than a natural one would. She did as instructed. Minion wrapped a rope low around her hips like the seat belt in a car, tethered the rope to the foot posts on the bike, then brought them up to bind her wrists behind her. "All set, Sir," he called out. Megamind holstered the De-gun, climbed aboard the lead bike, and with a roar as loud as it was unnecessary (both bikes being capable of audio stealth mode) they pulled away from the building. Roxanne wondered about what she was in for, worrying only a little. Megamind had never harmed her and she didn't expect that to change.

They landed on the roof of one of City Hall's wings. "I might order pizza later," said Minion as he untied her. "What toppings do you like?"

"Double cheese, mushrooms and green peppers," she said as she climbed out. Megamind was already off his bike, holding the De-gun on her again. She followed the gorilla suit through a steel door, down concrete stairs and through another steel door into a carpeted hallway. Minion opened the first door on the right, but didn't go in. As she entered, she could see that half the room was filled with a machine consisting of a large steel box about the size of a refrigerator with multiple steel arms coming out of it, each with two semicircles of flat steel on its end. The semicircles were in a wide range of sizes, ranging in diameter from less than an inch to about a foot and a half. There were more brainbots in the room and cameras attached to the walls and ceiling. Megamind came in behind her, but Minion stayed out, closing the door after them.

"Wow. What's this thing do?"

"That is what I'm about to demonstrate. Take your sandals off, please, and go stand on those two footprint-shaped steel plates with your hands at your sides." Doing so placed her in the midst of the steel arms, with all the semicircles pointing at her back and sides. From this angle, she noticed a small table, elbow height, with a very simple doll on it, about two feet tall, made of light brown plastic with a featureless ovoid for a head. It looked like a fancier version of the jointed human figurines artists buy to pose as an aid in representing moving bodies, fancier in that those figurines didn't generally have fingers or feet, but this one appeared to have not only fully jointed fingers but also feet with toes. Next to it lay a remote. Megamind, still holding the ray gun on her, picked up the remote with his free hand and thumbed a button. Immediately, the steel arms moved toward her and the semicircles clasped her. One pair went around her forehead, another around her upper ribcage under her arms but above her breasts, another around her lower ribcage, one around her hips, others around her upper arms, lower arms, the palms of her hands, the end joints of all ten fingers, both thighs and both calves. Other steel bands came out of the plates she was standing on and clasped her feet.

"What on Earth-" she exclaimed. He thumbed another button and the figurine moved so it was standing in exactly the same position she was in. He pressed one more button, then holstered the De-gun and set the remote down.

"I call it the positioner." As he spoke, the blue alien moved the figurine's right arm, pulling it forward and out. The steel arms pulled Roxanne's arm at the same time. "It is meant to control the position of a human body without injury or discomfort" He spread out the right fingers and thumb, turned the hand so the palm was down, then folded each finger individually against the palm. The machine forced Roxanne's hand through the same movements. "It will not allow you into any position that might be harmful." He pulled the thumb sideway and toward the wrist and her thumb was moved as far as she could have moved it herself, no further. "It will support you in an unbalanced position." He bent the left leg at the knee. As her leg came up, another steel arm came around with an extra steel plate that slid under her knee and took her weight. "In fact, it can support your entire weight." He turned the figurine on its back, apparently floating in the air, and she was moved into the same position. More steel plates came up under her head, back and hips. She couldn't see him anymore. "It can also return you to any position programmed into it." There was a click and the positioner returned her to her original standing position. "Now, what I'd like you to do, Miss Ritchie, is try to escape from it. Use all your strength. I have already tried it myself, but I fear I may have been too gentle with it because it is my own creation. The two nearest brainbots are programmed as catchers. You have seen them catch me when I fell in battle, and they will catch you if you burst free so suddenly that you lose your balance, so, please, give it your all."

It was what she wanted to do, anyway. She started by trying to flex her arms, then to close her hands into fists, then various twisting shoulder and hip movements. None made any difference. She tried pulling her head down, her knees up, her elbows in. All for nothing. Meanwhile, the inventor strolled around behind her and it. Since he couldn't see her face, she indulged her frustration, let her anger show, and redoubled her efforts. She tried to kick, then to shove with her shoulder. She struggled until she was panting, red-faced and starting to sweat. She wasn't able to move at all.

"I give up," she finally said. "This thing is stronger than I am."

"Thank you. Now, notice how it's holding you. It should not be giving you any discomfort even when you struggle." She took a deep breath, let it out, and noticed. She smelled rubbing alcohol.

"No problem except for the one around my left biceps. That one's tight."

"That is intentional," he said, coming back into her field of vision. He had a hypodermic needle in one hand, a wad of cotton in the other. Her eyes bulged. All she could see was the needle. With the back of the hand holding the cotton, he nudged the figurine's left arm up to horizontal. The positioner stretched out Roxanne's left arm.

"What's in that?" she gasped fearfully.

"Just an aphrodisiac," he said as he swabbed the inside of her elbow with the cotton. She felt the chill of alcohol where he wiped.

"No," she cried. "Are you out of your mind? Don't do this!" But even as she spoke, he put the needle into her arm and pressed the plunger. Another brainbot had come up behind him with a tray. He set the alcohol-soaked cotton on it, picked up another ball of cotton and pressed it to the point of injection as he pulled the needle out. As smoothly and efficiently as a trained nurse, he set down the needle, picked up a band-aid and applied it to hold the cotton onto her arm.

"It should take effect momentarily," he said, backing away. He touched another button on the remote and the overtight grip around her left arm relaxed. Then he raised his arms and three brainbots began to pull his clothes off. She had thought she was exhausted, but now the adrenaline flowed. She struggled with everything she had. It was still no use. She was so preoccupied, looking down at the steel bands holding her, watching for the slightest sign of give, that she didn't notice him approaching until he touched her shoulder. He was naked and giving her an odd look, eagar but with a shadow behind it, as if things weren't going quite according to plan. He had brought the little table with the figurine and the remote up close.

"I never figured you for a rapist, Megamind," she said.

"Ah, but will it truly be rape, Miss Ritchie?" he asked, moving to kiss her jawline, the side of her neck and then her shoulder. She could feel the aphrodisiac coming on. Her skin responded to his lips, wanting more, while at the same time she was hoping he'd get close enough to her face that she could bite him, not in an erotic way, but in a meaning-to-hurt kind of way.

"If you have to ask that, then you don't understand what rape really is," she replied. He put his hands on her waist.

"The positioner integrates visual data. In addition to knowing where you are, it knows where I am and it gets out of my way." As he spoke, he began to slide her sweat pants and panties down. The steel bands around her hips parted to let him pull the cloth down. She started struggling again, trying to take advantage of the opening, but she was still too thoroughly imprisoned. All that changed was that he started to get an erection. She felt her body react as the elastic brushed over her pubic hair. Once the waistbands were down at the thigh clamps, the hip clamps reattached themselves. She was very aware of where his hands were. The thigh clamps let go and he pulled the pants and panties down to her knees.

"Please don't do this," she pleaded. "Look, I know I haven't always been an easy hostage, but was I really so much of a problem that you'd want to hurt me like this?"

"I'm not going to hurt you at all, Miss Ritchie." He paused and readjusted the figurine so that her legs were forced a little closer together. "Far from it." He took hold of the bunched cloth at her knees again.

"Megamind, I know you," she said as he pulled it down to the leg clamps, paused as they detached, then slid it down to her ankles, crouching down as he did so until he was kneeling on the floor. "You're a villain but you're not a monster. You're not an abuser. You don't do ugly. Everyone knows it and in a way they respect you for it. Why do you want to spoil that?" He didn't answer, just removed her clothes over one foot at a time (while she tried unsuccessfully to kick him) and flung them away behind him. Then he used the positioner to open her legs and tip her pelvis forward. It meant her feet weren't on the ground anymore; supports came up under her butt. He's argued and twisted my words and bantered with me before, but this is the first time he's just ignored what I said. He began to kiss and caress the insides of her thighs. The aphrodisiac was in full effect; his slightest touch felt like the licking of flames. "Please don't do this." His hands came gently up to her vulva. "Please don't." His hands massaged around the edges, working the flesh under her fur. "Please don't." Slowly and gently, one finger slid inside her. She was appalled at the way her internal muscles clenched around it in pleasure. "No."

He stopped. It was hard to tell, looking down almost at the top of his head, but he seemed to be frowning.

"This is the smallest vaginal aperture I have ever encountered," he said in a tone of confusion.

"It's called virginity," she said. Now he looked up at her.

"Miss Ritchie, do you seriously expect me to believe that you, with your many extremely desirable qualities, have never once sampled from the enormous sexual banquet that is available to you from the men of this city?"

"I'm good, remember? Good people don't have sex outside marriage. I've never been married, so, yeah, virgin."

His eyes went out of focus for a moment, thinking. Then he glanced over his shoulder. "Light," he commanded, and a brainbot descended, shining a beam of light over his shoulder. He examined her almost like a doctor, drawing her hymen slightly out of shape to get a better look inside. After a moment, he took his hands away and sat back on his heels, frowning at her crotch. Then the frown smoothed out in to a thoughtful look. He rose to his knees again, keeping his hands on his thighs, reaching for her labia with his mouth.

"Please don't."

He met her eyes with a look of anger. "Why not, Miss Ritchie?"

"A woman's first sexual experience should be with her husband. It's very important, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually, because it's the beginning of a lifelong bond. I don't hate you, but if you take that away from me, I think I will. I think I won't be able to help it."

Finally, something she said seemed to have an effect on him. He looked confused in a kind of painful way.

"Do you swear to me, by all you hold sacred, that what you've just said is true?" It was the last question in the world she expected, but there was only one answer.

"I swear it. I mean every word."

From the expression of slack horror that came over his face, it looked like he finally got how bad an idea this all was. Without another word, he picked up the remote and clicked a single button. The positioner set her on her feet and released her while he sat back on his heels, head bent, the remote still in one hand. She expected him to move back and give her room, but he just sat there. She had to edge around him to get away from the machine and reach her clothes. When she was dressed, she looked back at him. He was still sitting there. She couldn't see his face, but there was dejection in the bend of his back and the slump of his shoulders. Part of her just wanted to get out of that room, but curiosity about his behavior and motivations won out.

"Tell me something," she said. "From what I've read about the psychology of rape, the rapist is turned on by unwillingness, by overcoming the will of the victim."

"Rape was never what I intended, Miss Ritchie," he replied without moving.

"Then why build this thing? Why concoct an aphrodisiac? Why not just proposition me?"

"I have been advised that, when dealing with a woman who is good, it is important to create a pretense of coercion so that she can keep her self-respect. I was also told to expect a certain amount of objections, pleading and so forth, which I was to ignore because it was all for the sake of maintaining a good identity for herself and had nothing to do with what she really wanted."

"In a twisted way, that makes sense, if you're dealing with the kind of woman who likes to think of herself as good and likes other people to think of her as good, but isn't really."

"Mmm. I doubt my advisors had much experience with genuinely good women. None of them ever mentioned this," he swallowed, "lifelong bond business."

"Even so, the weapons you already have are pretty coercive. Why build this?"

"I wanted to build you the best pretense of coercion any victim ever enjoyed." His head was up now, looking at the positioner. "I thought that once you experienced its pleasures, you would see what evil had to offer and you might, perhaps, consider switching sides."

"Is that how you chose evil?"

"No. I...I failed at good. You might think that's funny considering how many times you've seen me fail at evil, but when you're evil it's all right to fail, because good has so many advantages. I chose evil because it was what I was good at."

"That's a story I'd like to hear. 'How Megamind Became Evil.' It doesn't have to be on the record, but if you're willing to tell me, I'd like to hear it."

He looked over his shoulder at her with suspicion on his face, as if he suspected her of setting him up for further disappointment. To demonstrate that she trusted him now, and thus encourage him to trust her, she went closer and sat on the floor facing him, like a child in kindergarten waiting for story time.

"All right," he said after a long moment. Then he rose, holding his hands straight up, and the brainbots dressed him. Once his cape was settled on his shoulders, he sat down facing her, imitating her posture, and began. "It all started when I was sent to shool. Before then, I had known only the Warden and the prison guards and had no opportunity to observe good people in their natural environment, so to speak. In shool I was surrounded by good people and I thought that I would simply observe those around me and imitate their behavior. This turned out to be more difficult than I thought. I obeyed the rules, I respected the teacher, I did my class work perfectly, and yet I never managed to gain her approval or to make a friend. She reserved her smiles for young Wayne Scott, though he was a mediocre student. And none of the other kids really liked me. I was always the odd man out, the last one picked, the screw-up, the black sheep, the bad boy. Was this my destiny? It seemed that being bad was the only thing I was good at. Then it hit me: maybe it was." She watched his mood change, from misery to his familiar manic enthusiasm. "If I was the bad boy, I was going to be the baddest boy of them all!"

"How old were you?"

"Six."

"And in all the years since then, you never looked back? Never envied good people?"

"Nev- well, once in a while, when things were going really badly, but look at me. How could I fit into an ordinary job and an ordinary neighborhood?"

"I don't mean ordinary people. Even if you looked like us, you don't have it in you to be ordinary, any more than I do. But isn't there any good person who you secretly admired, whose life you wished you could have?"

He looked at the floor in front of him before he answered. "Him, of course."

"Him?"

"Metro Mahn. The only thing I could imagine wanting to be, other than a villain, is a hero. To have the acclaim of the citizens instead of fear and hostility, to win most of the time, to never have to submit to the guards or prove myself against a new prisoner..." He sighed. "Granted, I have that last. I have it all, but it's all empty. What's the use of being bad if there's no good to try and stop you? My last hope was you."

"Me?"

"If you could be persuaded to join us in villainy, it would make it all worthwhile. So I built all this," he gestured at the positioner, "and I brought you here and then I... failed again. It seems that destroying Metro Mahn was a once-in-a-lifetime fluke. Now," he sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I have an idea, if you'd like to hear it."

He looked up at her, blinking in surprise. "I would!"

"I think you should give being good another chance."

"But... but wouldn't that mean going back to prison and staying there the rest of my life? What about Minion? How would he take it, our being separated forever?"

"Being good doesn't always mean obeying the rules. Sometimes it means doing what you can to set things right."

"You mean like giving the banks their money back?"

"For starters. Give the art back to the gallery. Let the city employees come back to work so the streets and the parks will get cleaned up and the police will get the crazy drivers off the streets."

"That's all?"

"No, that's just the beginning. When you destroyed Metro Man, you left the city without a defender. Take his place." He looked interested but doubtful. She continued. "Your inventions could protect the city as well as his powers did. You're just as brave as he was, sometimes I think more brave, because until your death ray, nothing could hurt him. It would take a while for the citizens to start trusting you, but I think they'd come around eventually. You have, um, many extremely desirable qualities. Once you're not menacing people any more, they'll start to notice."

"You really think they would?"

"I have." Now his face got a look of wonder, as if he'd gotten the gift he'd wanted since he was a boy and had long ago given up on. He looked so unvillainous, so tender and vulnerable, that she had to smile at him. She watched him smile in return, looking into her eyes. They just sat there for a moment, gazing at each other.

His stomach made a noise. He blushed violet.

"Didn't Minion say something about pizza?" she asked.

"Let's go tell him about the new plan."