The first time he reads one, it was an accident.
How was he supposed to know it was a site run by fanatics and not an actual news outlet?
He was having a bout of egoism mingled with confusion after a confrontation with Metromahn. During the typical arresting procedure, a crazed young blonde hopped over the barricade the MPD had set up to keep out the civilians and ran full speed towards the rookie in charge of walking Megamind into the back of the patrol vehicle. Screaming incoherently, she whapped the officer repeatedly over the head with the protesting sign she had been waving around just moments before, causing the poor kid to loose his grip on Megamind's shoulders trying to deflect the blows.
Taking advantage of the comically unusual situation, Megamind side-stepped from the man in uniform's frantic waving arms and took a few more backing steps away from the struggle itself. Turning on one foot, he walked off whistling in the hopes that none of the other officers would notice him strolling away casually, handcuffs still linked on his wrists. The only thing that stopped him momentarily was the woman letting out a desperate "I love you, Megamind! Be free!".
In the split second he took to look over one shoulder he could see her being carted off from her waist by multiple police officers, kicking her feet out and reaching one arm towards the villain, her sign discarded on the floor seeming to have a crude drawing of him surrounded by hearts and some sort of, marriage proposal. And also in that split second glance he noticed the group of protesters where she had run from, all holding their own signs of adoration.
Bewildered, he faced forward again and ran off into the surrounding alleys, not being far off from where Minion was waiting in the invisible car in case he was able to make a run for it.
Back in the privacy of his own room after sending Minion off to conduct some tests and reboot their latest disaster,-
(flying monkey robots that had malfunctioned on their A.I. modifications; they were meant to harass the pedestrians in city park but some ended up getting distracted by one little boy playing with a cup-and-ball toy and most wandered off to just raid an ice-cream stand, dancing along to the nursery music on the overhead speaker)
-he sits in the middle of the black sheets that covered his mattress, tablet pulled onto his crossed legs, typing away furiously through the search engines (Megamind followers, citizens of Metrocity [backspace backspace backspace backspace] [spacebar] city fan(s) of evil overlord, in love with evil alien) and all he is able to bring up is more children's drawings of him and some song from a man with one dilated pupil.
He's on the verge of just forgetting the whole mess when he sees the result that has the words Fan, in-love, Megamind underneath the link to a website called VitalChronicles.
Finally, a reliable news outlet that might have some answers.
But it isn't a news outlet.
Actually, far from it.
He doesn't realize it until after speed reading halfway through a paragraph from one of the stories he randomly clicked on that has an image of Miss Ritchie interviewing Megamind, ignoring the title of it (ignoring all of the titles; he'll realize later that he shouldn't have gone in blindly) and going straight for the third paragraph where statistically he's to find the most relevant information.
He looked into the camera eagerly, trying his best to put on a menacing smile that doesn't live up to his demeanor and instead accentuated his high cheekbones and put a sparkle in his eyes. They were brushed up tight in the interviewing room, just the two of them and the camera she had set up across the table. He didn't notice how close Roxanne's shoulder was to his arm until his elbow accidentally brushed it through an exaggerated arm swoop. He pulled his arms in, and tried to remember what he was in the middle of saying when his eyes caught her tucking her hair behind one ear and followed as her fingers traced down her neck slowly. And then he couldn't help but notice the swell of her breasts when her hand passed over them, tucked inside a heart shaped vest that couldn't cover up the plunging neckline of her oxford. He snapped out of his trance, thinking he obviously got caught oogling when he met her eyes, her cheeks rosy from blushing while his ears tipped lavender, and she whispered those sweet words he was fighting not to say himself. "Why don't we turn the camera off, and really get to know one ano-
He lets go of the tablet on his lap, hands flinging away as if the electronic suddenly turned into molten metal. With one hand he taps desperately for the back button on the screen, but can't seem to find it because the other is fanned in front of his face, preventing him from being able to actually see what the hell he is trying to tap and so rather than actually exiting the blog he starts clicking on random pictures instead, enlarging images of peach and blue skin tones intermingled together, hands and mouths in places he couldn't imagine them "accidentally" landing on, another had the both of them sporting leather and spikes on-top of red satin sheets when he finally gives up, grabs the damned thing with both hands and holds the power button down to force it to shut off.
Staring at the black screen, he tries to breathe even though it feels like his heart is hammering through his chest, bruising his lungs in the process.
What the hell was that? he thinks to himself, a fluttery feeling in his stomach starting it's spark like a small ember, and slips the note-pad off his legs with a lazy shove onto the blankets. He keeps shoving until it slides all the way to the edge of the bed, and even then he doesn't stop, letting it teeter over with a soft thump as it bounces off the carpet.
He feels wrung out (mentally AND emotionally) so he kicks off his outer layer of clothing and rolls under the covers, letting his overworked mind fade his thoughts-
(A delicate manicured finger tracing the outline of his cape, a leather glove gripping firmly on crimson linen, staring into eyes the color of Swiss topaz as they flutter shut)
-into a comfortable haze of static before letting it cloud over completely.
The next time he reads one, it's curiosity.
It's not like he's actually interested in these kinds of things, no siree robert , he can't imagine anything stimulating or exciting about two floppy bodies slapping away at each other, the awkward noises made from both members as they try to express how enjoyable this is to the other, the louder the noise the more convincing they're trying to be.
Nope nothing enjoyable here, just trying to make sure his name (and Miss Ritchie's, hers too) isn't being defamed or damaged in any way from what is written on this, thing.
After a quick re-boot, his tablet ever-so-helpfully brought up his last saved interaction because it didn't shut down properly. Whoops.
He skims over the page he last visited before practically throwing the damn electronic, reading over the title (Behind closed doors), who wrote it (Some fool named MegMnds4Evas), and when it was published (from the looks of it, a year or so after Roxanne's kidnappings became recurring).
Intrigued, he backs out to the main page that holds everything pertaining to him and takes in the various stories, pictures and blogs that have been posted since the beginning of his high-profile career, written and created by fanatics in not only Metrocity but across several states that have heard of the blue outlaw. Going further back and he has access to other pages dedicated to villains from other cities around the world (who the hell names themselves after a betting pool of who dies next?).
After a bit of skimming over the pages, he goes back to the one sporting his name in bold blue letters with titles of the stories flowing on the side bar. They're all fictitious, of course; few have some level of involvement with Metro tights, others it's just him and minion, but most seem to be of him and Miss Ritchie.
-Roxanne.
(two glistening jewels shining from laughter, short hair brushing over the tips of ears-)
He winces for a split second before continuing his exploration of the website and it's contents. Nothing in there seemed to be slanderous or off-putting, if anything most were pointing out physical traits of his he wasn't aware could be appealing (his blue skin and giant head being the biggest shocker), and some of the contributors went as far as to create a "character profile" for all of them, adding in actual facts like the name of the newspaper outlet that first reported of the blue baby that had landed in the city prison, or the college Miss Ritchie had attended in Ann Arbor to study journalism, and then dabbling in some nonsensical details such as his allergies to certain drugs or possession of multiple "appendages".
Ha, please. I'm probably as close as you can get to a human carbon copy with alien DNA when it comes to, down, there. If anything, wait 'till they find out what Metro-lame has under his tights.
Momentarily filled with self gratification, his fingers went on auto-pilot as they scrolled down the screen and clicked on anything that had his name attached to it (which was pretty much everything).
It seems people write these "stories" of himself out of
(Mockery, Ridicule, Taunting, they despise you, no one could ever look at you as an equal-)
admiration? Do they actually like him? But he's evil, the bad guy, he's tormented this city day in and day out. He once poured in enough glycol in the skating rink to prevent it from freezing over all winter, leaving the skaters with nothing but a big pool of cold water to play with.
And he has plans, big plans! Oh yes, he has plans alright, he curated them to fit for Metro Man Day next week and the results will be stunning. Despite the fact that he's had 1,792 previously failed attempts, he has a good feeling about this one.
So how is it that these people could possibly idolize an evil mastermind? He was aware of people who could hold an obsession over criminals, some of them teetering into hybristophilia, and others starting cults-
Oh no.
I hope I didn't form any sort of sadistic followers that act out in the name of me.
But that's ridiculous, right? If anything like that ever happened it should have years ago, and he would've made the connections right away to nip the bud before it spread . Besides, that's not the point. The point is there's people out there that have an un-healthy obsession with a certain blue-skinned badboy and he has to put a stop to it.
But then he would lose the small grip he had on these "followers", even with the minimal effort he made to obtain them by just sheer allure (ha). Wouldn't it be preferable if they feared him instead of adored? He could go out and try to force them under his will, taking a one-on-one if need be. But then it might accidentally trigger Stockholm with certain victims, even if he's only had the same one for the past eight years-
(don't kid yourself, kid. Getting your hopes up is as unhealthy as drug addiction)
-Whoa. Stockholm? He never thought of that before. What he has between himself and Miss Ritchie is strictly business, and he can't think of it any other way than professional.
But what about the flirting, genius, it's pretty obvious that doesn't fall under "professional".
Okay, yeah, maybe that isn't professional, but their mutual feelings are strictly platonic, an "I think you're an amazingly brilliant woman who doesn't live by the standard rules a damsel should and isn't afraid to voice their opinions or go out of their way to make a point" from him, and a "You're nothing but a worthless, inhuman villain who thinks dangling a helpless woman over an alligator pit is a worthy excuse as bait for someone they're trying to kill" from her.
Yep. Mutual feelings. Strictly Platonic.
He sighs out as his hand scrolls lazily through the web-pages, not really focusing on any one image or sentence, hovering his finger over the bar to minimize the window and shutting off the screen before heading down for dinner.
No point in taking away something that isn't directly affecting him or his acquaintances. Just let the fans have their two-bits for now. It's much more work than it's worth at this moment.
The third time he reads one, he thinks it's boredom.
He's had a high for a couple of weeks now that's just barely dwindling down, and he doesn't think anything could get better than the way it is now.
He has successfully defeated Metromahn.
After so many failed evil plots, kidnappings and stomping rampages through the streets in his robot suits, he has finally been able to take over and become the overlord of Metrocity. All of his meticulously thought out plans and years of effort have led to this moment. Sitting in the city hall office surrounded by priceless works of art, any and all of the books he could possibly want within reach and all the things money could buy but he took instead.
This is the life.
He leans his weight on the leather wingback and kicks his feet over the desk, ignoring the stack of legal tender currency he knocks to the floor. Everything is going so well, that he's run out of ideas on how to torment the city and it's denizens. Just last night he and Minion were having trebuchet target practice using abandoned cars and leftover emergency vehicles (which weren't operational due to, certain city-budget cuts).
He's gotten used to late mornings from the overnight activities so there's not much to do other than brunch on a weekday, and maybe gaze over what could've possibly been posted on the fan site since Metromahn's demise. Perhaps they have finally gotten it ingrained in their heads what kind of villain he is, seeing how ee-vil he could get, what he's capable of doing for power.
And scrolling through his page he realizes he just added more fuel to the fire with Metromahns defeat. There seemed to be a steady stream of stories being published every few hours, some pursuing the further plot of how Megamind would finally make Miss Ritchie his evil queen but most if not the entirety of the page was filled with fights between the two supers. Half leaning on nostalgia, half imagining out the inverse result of the Death Ray.
He reads out the stories, consuming each word and living out the plots in his mind. He nods his head in recognition to some of the battles he remembered fondly and shakes in distaste to those he'd prefer to keep history, skipping along to the following story. The next one stopped his hands from moving because he was too caught up by what showed; an image of Metro Man holding a guilty Megamind from behind by the collar, Miss Ritchie curled inside one of the hero's bulking arms, smiling up at the chiseled face as she extended a microphone for an interview.
He remembers that fight, held one chilly autumn afternoon. It had been their usual back and forth until his skeloraptor had taken too many blows to it's cooling unit installed in the underside, overheating the computer which then malfunctioned the internal gyroscope causing the robot to lean over inoperable on a building. Climbing out of the machine is when he noticed the crowd of reporters and cameramen off to the side, some scrambling away but one brunette keeping her camera pointed up as she walked closer to the scene, not noticing him walking around her. Especially not the fact that he was pulling out his de-gun until he had his arm around her and held it towards her head.
She must've noticed it wasn't working at all, because the first thing she did after he breathed into her ear (you should've ran when you had the chance) was elbow him in the rib-cage followed by a heavy punch with the microphone she held in one hand. Both were too wrapped up in the slap fight that they didn't see the robot had started its decent with the pull from gravity towards them until at the last moment they both looked up to the dinosaur head crashing down, their arms wrapped around each other and Megamind screaming his head off while Roxanne just stared in silent disbelief. That is, until, Metro mooch swooped in at the last second to pull both of them out of the way. That's when he realized he needed her as leverage for their fights, a way to call out the hero for the show.
Plus, he needed an excuse to impress her after overhearing her say how she wasn't scared because she knew she wasn't in any actual danger, and then turning to him and giving him a smug sideways smile. Because that was the only reason he still kidnapped her, yes, to impress her and her brilliance. And that smug smile she would give him.
There's a conflict of emotions going on inside his head, but he's not sure what it means when they were all intermingled together. He's never experienced it before, really, a sadness seemingly coming out of nowhere. He searches online to find the closest word that would fit his current emotion, and comes across Melancholy: Mel-an-cho-ly /'melnə,kälē/ noun 1. a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.
Of course, not being able to hear the word forced him to guess as he read it out loud and assume the correct pronunciation. However he was pretty stubborn when it came to changing it if someone were to try and correct him.
Putting the tablet down he realized he had been walking around aimlessly through his office. With no memory of actually getting up from his desk he walks back to lean on his wingback as he stares out the windows. He gazes for a moment longer before spinning back towards the desk and putting the tablet in one of the drawers. Going through the desk he finds a drinking bird inside the last one on the bottom, not really sure what it does.
Reading the side of the box he sees Thermodynamic Perpetual Motion Machine! written across the cardboard, which confuses him because the sentence is a contradiction on it's own. He thinks how ridiculously easy it is for something as simple as facts for the laws of Thermodynamics to slip by unchecked as he pours out a glass of water and places it on the table, adjusting the bird onto the rim and giving it a gentle push to start the seemingly endless motion of it dipping into the liquid.
More than an hour of silence passes by before he speaks up to the bird while keeping his chin over his folded hands on the desk. "I Know. I know. Always thirsty, never satisfied. I understand you, little well dressed bird. Purposeless, emptiness. It's a vacuum, isn't it? It's... What's your vacuum like?" before being interrupted by Minion singing "Crazy Train".
The fourth time, it's for inspiration.
When it comes to dealing with women, he hasn't the slightest idea where to start. Let alone it being Roxanne of all people. He still can't believe he has her permission to refer to her by first name.
At first, he had tried looking up online things to do and places to take out a "lady friend", but would come up empty handed. The longer he took the more he just kept coming into a dead end, because knowing the intellectual Roxanne was, she wouldn't go out for drinks at one of the many dingy bars Metrocity was littered with.
Cooking classes was out of the question because he once set the stove on fire trying to make a salad (that was a tough one to explain to Minion), although he should probably start trying to learn. He also didn't have a choice of an amusement park or anything equal, because the city didn't have one and he scared off all the local traveling carnivals.
What he could (and did, eventually) do was take her to the library where he would spend most of his adolescent years hiding in between the shelves and in the back room during his run-away phase. He might not be able to publicly learn how to cook without destroying the classroom, but he had taken her out for dancing classes and let her think she was teaching him a thing or two (it was easy to pretend he had no idea what he was doing, he did that most of the time during the kidnappings, anyway).
Roxanne had suggested bike riding through the park, and although he was deeply afraid at first that she would laugh at him for not knowing how, he found a new level of admiration for her when she simply shrugged it off and showed up with an adult bike that had training wheels attached the next day. After that ride he realized he needed to clean his act up (literally and figuratively) if he would think of being in any kind of relationship with her.
So he took it to the streets to clear the visible mess that overflowed and stained the city. He placed the money back into the banks to get the recession the town was going through finally lifted (behind Minions back) and the economy kick-started again. He even placed all the works of art and installments back into the museums, anything and everything to prove his lov-,
-appreciation-
yes, prove his appreciation. Because with every laugh he eased out of her, every conversation they had, and even through the picnics they would hold in the remodeled park, the last of which revealed to his sure shock that she never was dating Metro Man, he wasn't even her type (what is her type then? If not tall, muscular and, well, normal looking...), his appreciation for her grows, until he isn't sure how long he could go on telling himself all he feels is a mild fondness.
But it isn't, couldn't be anything more than the friendship he had now. Yes, she did call him her partner, but that could mean anything. Even as he read the various stories online that had them paired up as an actual couple, he still had self doubts of ever making it that far with her.
Until last night.
Last night, he had taken her out to a pop up charity dinner downtown, being held by the Foundation Fighting Blindness. He escorted her as a plus one to the event not being completely aware what it was going to be about, or what it was exactly. It came as a surprise that after the speech that the founder gave at the front of the room, the lights were subsequently turned off throughout the dining hall.
"What you're about to experience is a whole new level in fine dining." was called out through the pitch black room. "We depend so much on our sense of sight that we forget to involve our other senses, especially our sense of taste. So it is with my pleasure of bringing you into the art of food through your heightened senses tonight. And don't worry about the servers since they have years of training for this kind of situation. They're all blind." was the last thing said before a bell was rung out and muffled footsteps could be heard spreading throughout the room, alongside carts and gentle tinkling of silverware.
Through the darkness everyone was succumbed to depending on their sightless staff to swiftly and professionally set the placements and bring out the amuse bouche with the paired wines that were pre-poured. Nervous laughter and gentle murmuring was heard from every which way, and every member of the charity party was scared of something going wrong while trying to enjoy the dinner.
Except for Megamind. He had a clear vision of what was going on around him because his eyes adapted to the dark well beyond what would be considered "normal capabilities". They had been sitting side by side on a makeshift booth along one wall, and as soon as the lights had been cut off he felt Roxanne's hand shoot out to hold his. He could see her looking around the dark aimlessly, and he re-assured her there was nothing to worry about because the experience would be reveling if not thrilling.
He could see the staff walking around and placing the dishes down with care albeit not entirely precise. He even tapped a few plates and guided the glasses by the base down to more secure placements than they had aimed for. He re-adjusted Roxanne's silverware before she reached out for it and even helped her place her napkin down on her lap properly.
"Wow, you're much better at this than I am. You sure you've never been to one of these before?" she asked him, her eyes moving over his face before unknowingly settling on his ear.
"I've just gotten used to moving around in the dark, that's all. Sometimes working in that disheveled excuse of an archive room the lights would go out, and I would have to memorize how to get out without banging a limb on something." he tried to explain as a cover story, seeing how her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her smile raised one cheek as her shoulder came up to meet it when she accepted the reply and turned forward to search for the last place she assumed she left her fork.
After they had cleared the second course, he was struck with an idea. Of course, most of the time they usually backfired on him, but the exhilaration that coursed through his body was getting the best of him. He looked around nervously to make sure everything was conventional, no one making sudden movements or calling out attention to have the lights turned back on. No one can see them, Roxanne was right there, this was his only chance.
He had a moment of panic and continence as he fought his legs to scoot his body across the banquette they were sitting on, and before Roxanne could ask he excused himself to the restroom and not to worry, "I remember the layout, I wont disturb the others." when she asked if he needed guidance.
He didn't go to the restroom. He could see a broom closet from where they were sitting and rushed towards it without so much as a light pat on the commercial carpet from his feet barely touching the floor. When he finally got inside he leaned against the wall to make sure he could go through with this, and couldn't help but notice the tremor in his hand as it crossed his body to the holo-watch on the other wrist.
Steadying his hand, the closet lit-up as the hard-light washed over the walls and faded away his Bernard disguise, revealing himself to the cleaning products. Before walking out into the darkness, he made sure to take his spiked cape off and hang it on the wall hook holding up the brooms and mops. He almost took off his gloves but knew he would be stretching his luck, even if it was drawn taut as it is.
But if I've already gone this far might as well push the letter- he justified as he unstrapped the watch and pulled his gloves by the fingers, delicately draping them over the hung cape and putting the watch back on his wrist. He opened the door into the dining room and with one hand gripping the wood he looked around to make sure no one was watching him leave the closet before remembering no one could actually see him in the pitch black.
Shifting weight from one foot to the other, he stood over the table where their dinner was waiting, next to Roxanne nervously moving the food around on the plate by sense of weight and pressure on her fork, until he looked down to his feet and wondered what the hell he was thinking. Just as he turned around she called out, "Bernard? Over here, the food is getting cold. I think." and reached out her hand to his direction, searching for his arm to pull him into his seat.
"Sorry, for a moment I had no idea what I was doing." he said.
Well isn't that the understatement of the year- he thought.
As she pulled him down, her hand started patting his sleeve and she asked out of puzzlement "Wha-, where is your coat?" to which he realized she was feeling his jumpsuit, the one she wasn't used to touching.
"It, ah, had a stain on it from dropping sauce on the collar. Getting it laundered while we finish up." he tried as a defense. "Now, where were we? What's on the plate?" he asked quickly even though he could clearly see the chicken pilaf, cooked with rosemary and lemongrass by the strong aromatic scent coming from the dishes.
"Not sure, don't really care." she replied and moved her hand down to entangle their fingers together, her head resting on his shoulder. "Just glad you didn't get lost and leave me here alone."
Oh thank the evil gods I decided to take off the spikes.
He looked down to their hands, the different skin tones barely visible in the almost non-existent light, her other hand holding a glass of wine to her lips. She was touching him, him, Megamind himself. Of course she thought it was Bernard, but it was still him, his voice, his charm.
When dessert had finally come around he had the brilliant idea to try and feed each other the chocolate fruit only to have her constantly shoving it everywhere else but his mouth, leaving chocolaty smears across his cheek, chin and some almost inside his nostril. He had to purposefully miss her mouth as well to keep with the illusion that he couldn't see a thing, even if he could clearly see his blue fingers holding a strawberry to her lips, glossed over from melted chocolate.
Her laughter was contagious, and as she reached out to blindly clean his face with her dampened napkin as he to her, he couldn't help but think this was the best plan I've ever had.
Of course he excused himself once more to "go retrieve his coat" before the servers could clear out their table and have the lights switched on him without his disguise. He turned to her in his seat to let her know he was getting up and realized she was leaning her face into his, her eyes closing even in the dark as involuntary reflex that could only mean one thing.
He had waited so long for this moment, for the attention, the proof that someone would willingly touch him. For her, Roxanne, to show him this kind of affection was all he ever wanted and more than he could ask for. And even through the jumbled thoughts that was sending his mind into overdrive, he was still able to make the clear conscience decision to deliberately turn his cheek into her lips. So much as he wanted her to miss aim and land on his lips instead, he could not risk her feeling his goatee and realizing Bernard isn't supposed to have any facial hair.
After the dinner had been cleared he got himself back in his disguise as the reporters went off to take in notes and footage of the after-party. He watched from the side as she did a moderate interview with the organization's chairman of the board and picked up on all the small, unimportant details that he could fill books with; the way she would keep un-intimidated direct eye contact with the greying haired man, the sparkle of the champagne colored dress that had a frayed hem above her knees which would flutter with her movements, the little head nod she would do when she looked down to her notepad to read off a question and flipped her bangs out of her eyes when looking back up. And how she always seemed surprised when he would run ahead of her to hold the door open, the shy smile he couldn't get enough of ever since he first caught it at the library.
The hotel where the dinner was hosted wasn't far off from her apartment so he walked her to the steps where her doorman stood keeping watch. He almost expected her to lean in again but instead pulled him in for a hug, the sparkle in her eyes when they departed making him (almost) pull her in for something more serious than a peck on the cheek, but he knew he had done enough for the night.
More than she'll ever realize.
And now he's on his bed back at the lair, propped up on his elbows with the laptop in between his arms, his legs swinging back and forth from his knees. He has another downtown dinner arrangement tomorrow; to his dismay not at the black-out event again but a regular contemporary french restaurant that she insisted on because it's not one of the usual restaurants Metro Man would drag her to on a regular basis during one of their fake dates. He'll go down to meet her after a last training session with his new hero, without Minion knowing of course.
He's scrolling through the website skimming over the various stories by their tags, focusing more on those that had only their names and was under fluff (he's able to pick up on the lingo quickly and feels comfortable with the sub-genre) so he doesn't get another surprise heart-attack from an unexpected and disturbingly detailed drawing.
Because he still isn't at that level with her. They had gone out dancing, bike riding, visited the library and museums, and he accompanied her to the charity dinner, but those weren't dates. At least, not exactly. They did research when going to the library and the visits to the park and museums were to track how far "Megamind" had cleaned up the city. And the charity was just being a plus one; he's her partner after all.
But there's no immediate "business" reason to go to this dinner. It'll just be the two of them on a weekend night, at a restaurant that Metro Man hadn't taken her to, talking about themselves and what they've been up to lately and ohmyevilheavens-this-is-a-DATE, he realizes and rolls around in his un-tucked sheets with his arms extended over his head.
Minion was in the middle of walking into his bedroom to call him down to take measurements for his new cape when he catches him that way, laying on his back hugging the laptop to his chest and kicking his feet in the air. Megamind snapped his head over at the sound of Minion clearing his throat, one eyebrow extended over the other.
"I uh, got a hold on a bulk deal from that outlet in Romania" Megamind said through unmoved lips, and sat up quickly, flinging the laptop over his shoulder onto the bed where it closed itself and powered off, saving the last action on the internet browser because it wasn't shut off properly.
The following read, it's as a reminder.
Do you really think that I would ever be with you?- he can still hear echoing in his ears. Even through the cuts and bruises Titan gave him from their fight, he finds himself hurting more over Rox-
Miss Ritchie.
He lost that right the night he lost her trust.
He had been wandering around all night in the rain after their fight (or more of a one-sided argument) when during the middle of a kiss she accidentally shut off his disguise, revealing himself to her. He finally wandered into his lair in the early hours of the morning when the first rays of sun reached over the horizon only to find that Minion had never returned, leaving him to fight Titan all on his own. And when he finally stood in front of city hall ready for battle in his new robot suit, he was humiliatingly stood up all day by the very hero he had created. Or so he thought.
It was only after he confronted Hal in his apartment, surrounded by various stolen goods that he found himself second guessing his choice for the city's new hero. But his stubbornness and hurt pride took the best of him. The need to have the empty void filled with a new challenger over-rode his common sense-
(You're horrible. Despicable. Pathetic. Everything you do or attempt ends in failure, you can't even create an honorable hero. No one wants to be around you, they don't even want to be seen fighting with you. That's why she walked out in the rain without saying a word...)
-and the urge to fight had never been stronger.
Until, that is, Titan tried to kill him with his own fail safe.
And after hours of walking and hiding, he's now sitting in one of his various back-up lairs he and Minion created in the event that they would get chased down longer than usual by the MPD or Metromahn. It took him overnight but he managed to make it to the latest lair they created near city hall. He had to go carefully through the back alleys and tunnels to get there safely without risking getting noticed by the flying psychopath. He searched through the small hideout in hopes of finding something that would help him, any tools or gadgets strewn across the various makeshift tables he might've overseen that could aid in taking down Hal.
He's even more frustrated now that he has no access to his thought cloud back in the actual lair. He could very easily bring up specific segments of the cloud to memory, but he feels he works better and faster if it was tangible, all right in front of him. Going through his laptop that is connected virtually to his other personal electronics, he sighs as he has to set aside the pages that were left open in the laptop two nights ago. However once they're collapsed onto the tool bar it only brings up the other windows he left open, going through photographs and sketches pertaining to the days spent with Miss Ritchie.
He ends up going through the images and bringing up the fan made stories to try and comfort himself but only digs his hole deeper into depression.
She's beautiful. Smart. Too smart. It wouldn't have taken long for someone to figure out where his evil lair was, being in absence of thought they never bothered to destroy the wooden observatory. She easily figured out his plan to create a hero and that one did surprise him. Although he's not sure how she pieced it together so well, it might've been from the pictures she took in the lair when she found-
The thought cloud. She took pictures of the thought cloud.
Pushing all brooding thoughts aside, he lights up at the realization that Roxanne might've re-created the cloud to get a better understanding of it. It's the only explanation of how she would've understood it so well. Closing the laptop he stands up from the desk and turns to the door leading to the outside only to realize she dumped you, remember? She's not going to want to see you so soon after the breakup. Although in reality you're only dating if each of you is aware and honest of who the other is.
Okay, True. But Roxanne is smarter and more mature than to just set him aside when he needs her help. I hope. He looks down to his holo-watch to check the time and make sure he catches her while still in her apartment before making the run for it.
Oh look, it's been 33 hours, 16 minutes and 24 seconds since she left you standing there.
Hesitation holds him for a moment, but he knows she won't turn her back on him if it's for the sake of the city. He sticks his head out first into passageway to look around for Titan before running down the back-alleys, thankful that through his half-assed training he didn't teach him proper use of his x-ray vision or super hearing. It's the only way he was able to make it out of downtown in the first place.
The next time he reads one, he swears it'll be the last, for the sake of nostalgia.
He was able to defeat Titan, earn his trust from the city (they even made him a museum!) and get the girl.
All it took was a serious beat down, a few runs through the legal system to have his sentences pardoned and a few million in donations to reconstruct parts of the city that Hal had destroyed during his fit of anger. Plus Megamind giving some of his time and brainbots over to help aid with construction.
Minion had forced him to clean around their lair (that is no longer "evil", he added) so they could properly use it more as a workplace and less as a habitation. They need to relocate to be in a better position to serve and patrol the city when danger arrives. And to be closer to Roxanne. That's a plus.
Clearing out the clutter that's old plans and blueprints that sit on desks and hang from the ceiling, he's separating everything into four sections; throw away, take to new apartment, keep in lair and donate to the museum dedicated to everything Megamind. He was hesitant at first to donate anything because of the memories and attachment he had to them until Minion reminded him it would make everyone realize how smart he was with his ingenious designs (of course he just wanted to get rid of most of the items taking up space). The one thing they agreed upon keeping in the lair were the brainbots including Spee-ider bot; he was just too big to fit elsewhere comfortably.
While cleaning out his former bedroom, he ends up getting distracted and sits in the middle of the floor to read where he left off with the fiction blog. He's looking through the forums and remembering the stories that he read when bored, the ones that made him understand and the others that put him in his place (or so he thought). He reads the first one that started this whole "story-following" mess and notices the creator that goes by MegMnds4Evas is a member who frequently comments on related stories of him and Roxanne. Going to their page they admit to having an infatuation with the alien hero and most of the stories were meant to be them in the embodiment of Roxanne, and they don't actually agree with the reporter and hero's union-ship, stating "If Megamind was meant to marry anyone it would be me".
A little worried, he researches the background of the member and finds it to be none other than the blonde who had saved him from arrest those weeks leading up to Metro Man Day. Not feeling threatened for himself as much as for her, he adds her to a watchlist, muttering "I better not let Roxanne know about this one." He knew there'd be hell to pay if you got Roxanne any amount of angry.
He goes over the story that reminded him that in order to be the bad guy there needed to be a hero to stand up against him, although the aftermath was much worse than his other failed plans combined. Besides, he learned (again) from the yard sale mishap a few days ago that he's the hero that not only the city needs but he'd been looking for, all he needed to do was be himself.
Who else will bring out the showmanship and flashy presentations when it comes to a battle?
Whoa nelly, that was a doozie.
Sorry it took so long to get something out, loves, just been a bit back tracked lately. I find it funny how I get an idea and start typing it out, questioning whether it would fill in enough white to be able to be considered a "read" only to find myself reaching full length every time.
Don't worry, I do have some other stories planned out, just taking doing a bit of cut and pasting from one idea to another to make them actually work on page.
NOTES!
Alright, this idea came to me after going through the search engine I noticed there weren't any "from my eyes" or "watching the movie" stories for Megs (or maybe I didn't look hard enough...)
Of course many of you wrote out him knowing about his fan-clubs and websites, but I didn't see any from him finding out about them.
SO me being me I wondered what would be his first reaction to seeing one (including the nudie pics) and I got giddy imagining him turning velvet and purple, because to me Megs is just an adult who never grew up, so of course those thoughts would be pushed to the back of his mind, not saying he doesn't have any thoughts like that every once in a while.
I tried to come up with a name similar to Lj and came across VitalChronicles as the alt. And I'm not opposed to the idea of Megamind having allergies or, extra appendages. Just thought it would be funny if it was the inverse between him and Metro man. Also bonus points for anyone who figures out who "the man with the pupil" (okay, more like brownie points, it shouldn't be too hard)
Of course Megs would misquote not one but two sayings (Nip the bud and no sir bob)
For their date ideas, I thought it would be ideal to have Megamind experience something new and redeeming and I couldn't help but plug them into a black out dinner. It's a complete sensory overload and I can just imagine him getting this idea to take off his disguise because, for once, he can kind of be himself around Roxanne, and I just let my fingers go at it.
Well, going back to the other story I had saved up, don't want to take longer than a week on tidying that one up.
I wonder if filling out this A.N. would do anything sometimes, but your reviews and pm's make it worthwhile. I thank you, from the bottom of the dark pit that should be my heart, for your love and support.
Love and Kisses,
P.C.
P.S. How do you feel about Musicals? (wink)