(( A/N: The full story has been hanging out on AO3 for months. It's about time I put it over here. Eight more chapters to go. ))

"Robin, listen to these riddles. Tell me if you interpret them as I do. One: What has yellow skin, and writes?"

"A ballpoint banana!"

"Right. Two—"

Roxanne turned the channel away from TV Land. It's not as though she had any issue with the Adam West version of Batman, it's just that she already lived in an absurd superhero universe as it was and she couldn't be bothered with any more of this kind of nonsense. She flipped through unusual programming on various channels—at one point passing something about alien abductions—before finally turning the TV off. Alien abductions. Funny. She'd never really thought about it that way, but she had a long history of being abducted by aliens, too.

She leaned back into her couch and closed her eyes, thinking about Good and Evil. Oh, she didn't think about it in a grand, philosophical sense. In Metro City, Good and Evil hit much closer to home than that. In fact it had hit so close to home that quite often people found heroes and villains crashing through their bedroom walls.

Nobody in Metro City had a shot at normalcy, least of all Roxanne Ritchi.

Yet in these quiet moments, she could at least pretend. The oft exhausted reporter leaned over and turned off a nearby lamp, plunging her into a darkness only broken by the green time display on her DVR and the orange haze of streetlights that tried in vain to spill through a crack in her balcony curtains.

Sitting in darkness—is that what normal people did? Perhaps, she reasoned, the greatest people were the ones who could stand a little silence in their lives.

The innards of her apartment building came to life. Water sloshed through pipes. Her refrigerator hummed. At times, sirens blared from outside, and at other times, footsteps stomped around on the floor above her.

What this moment needed, she decided, was oolong tea.

Roxanne hopped from the couch, slid into her slippers, and switched on the light. She migrated to her kitchen and fetched a teacup from the cupboard while switching on her stove in one swift motion—blue flames licked the bottom of the tea kettle perched on top. Roxanne was in the process of fetching a tin of tea when she glanced at the note she had left on the counter.

She'd forgotten about that one. It had been delivered in a sky-blue envelope marked "S.W.A.L.B." (Sealed with a Laser-Beam) and was addressed "To the Most Honorable Roxanne Ritchi." The paper itself was coated with a watermark in the shape of a pale blue lightning-bolt, and the note itself had been written in small, precise handwriting with a handsome slant. Even Megamind's signature was without flourish, which always ground against Roxanne's expectations.

Apparently he had some "matters of great import" to discuss, and it figured, considering the circumstances that the two of them had been in the other weekend.

…however, out of the microgram of kindness that does, regrettably, exist in my heart, I am willing to forgive these heinous acts against my privacy and dignity. It would do well for you to be aware that it is I who ultimately holds the upper hand in this situation and that I will be paying you a visit to your residence shortly—that is, on Tuesday at precisely 9PM—to further discuss these matters with you.

There was a clank and the aroma of spilled tea leaves, but Roxanne didn't notice her suddenly emptier hand. She looked at her calendar. It was Tuesday. She chanced a glance at the wall-clock: It was 8:59PM. Damn her for never taking Megamind seriously.

She abandoned her impromptu task, dashed into her living room, and took a dive underneath her couch to retrieve an old boot.[1] Roxanne was the damsel in this equation, but it was a little known fact that she was allowed some of her own fun.

Megamind, with his ability to get around via hoverbike, had a tendency to forget that Roxanne's back balcony—which was quite a way above ground level—didn't count as a viable entrance. However, it did make him an amusing target for boot-throwing on those very[2] rare occasions that he did visit her apartment.

Halfway to the back door, boot in hand, her front doorbell rang and she yelped, spinning around and nearly hurling the boot toward the source of the sound. She dropped the ancient footwear with a snarl and marched to the door, only to slow her pace halfway to a quiet tiptoe. When she reached it, she leaned up against it with her back, casting sidelong glance at the door's security chain.

Roxanne flung the door inwards. Her top-heavy victim stumbled and hit the floor with an un-villainous yelp, which was followed by several moments of struggling to get up while tripping over his cape and making muffled "URMPH" noises.

Crouching down she said, "Well, at least this time you didn't smudge your face against my back door."

"Indeed," said the villain, getting to his knees. "The last time you complained, I took so much pity on you that I went home to play the world's saddest song on the world's smallest viola." He rubbed his thumb and his forefinger together appropriately.

"It's 'violin,'" said Roxanne.

"No, it was definitely a viola. I could never get the hang of miniature violins."

Roxanne sat crouched with her mouth agape as Megamind got to his feet, brushed himself off, and plopped himself onto her sofa. As though trying to prove that super villains could do whatever they wanted, he propped up his booted feet onto her ottoman and switched on the TV to watch a documentary about bears.

Who did he think he was? Inviting himself in, talking nonsense about tiny musical instruments...

"Hurry up and tell me what you're doing here," said Roxanne, re-latching her door, "before I call the cops."

Megamind belched out a hollow laugh. "Oh please," he sneered, "we live in a society where pizza gets to your house faster than the police."

Roxanne stepped in front of the TV with her arms crossed. "Look, I know you want to complain about last weekend—"

"Who said I was complaining?" Megamind leaped from Roxanne's couch with a smile plastered on his face. "We had a jolly time, after all."

"Do you even remember any of it?"

"I don't need to," Megamind said, twirling on his heel to pace around the room. He looked around as though in awe of her décor, admiring the high ceilings of the place in particular. Megamind always liked high ceilings. "I have this," with those words, he procured a tiny video-cassette seemingly out of nowhere. "My Brainbots always keep an eye on things. Comes in handy when certain nosy reporters try to manipulate me while I'm in…unusual states of mind."

Roxanne opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a whistling from the other room. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. "Wait a second," Roxanne said as she inched to the kitchen with an eye on the villain. Once inside, she poured hot water into a mug, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at Megamind. He was busy looking around as though he'd never seen the inside of an apartment before. She wondered if she should have offered him a cup, figuring that he would likely scold her poor manners if she didn't.

"What kind of tea do you like?" She called.

"Blueberry." That was his answer to everything.[3]

"I don't have blueberry tea," Roxanne shot back.

"Then blueberry Poppéd-Tarts," he said.

"I don't have any Pop-Tarts."

"Oh. I don't want anything, then. Thanks for the offer."

When Roxanne returned to the living room, she found Megamind inspecting an item that he'd found among the scattered cosmetics on Roxanne's coffee table. "What kind of…torture device is this?" He blinked owlishly at the silver death machine, a look of mixed fascination and horror dawning on his features.

Roxanne was just as transfixed by the look on Megamind's face as he was by the contraption in his hand. For a brief moment, it even curbed her desire for throwing footwear at him.

"It's an eyelash curler," she said finally.

"A device that causes so much pain that even the eyelashes curl? Delightfully diabolical!" He was wearing an expression of pure joy.

"Look, what do you want?" Roxanne demanded.

"Fury and destruction—that's what I want!" He hissed, brandishing his newly found weapon at Roxanne. "And Pop-Tarts."

"What do you want from me?" Roxanne clarified.

"Ah—yes, I was getting to that," he said, beginning to pace around the room, twirling the Evil eyelash curler on his finger by one of its handles. "So," he said, "I figured, in coming here, that I would kill two birds at once—"

"—With one stone—"

"—With one cassette tape," Megamind snapped back. "You see, Ms. Ritchi, I've noticed in recent years that you have been expressing a marked decrease in terror of my—er—terrifyingfulness. But imagine my elation at the opportunity of seeing how you would respond…to blackmail."

"Everything about that whole episode was embarrassing for you."

"Maybe, but I'm the one with the tape. And you are the one who played Scrabble with a nefarious criminal. And just imagine what the people of Metrocity would think when they see The Most Honorable Roxanne Ritchi spending her weekend with The Master of all Villainy."

"Really? You're barging into my apartment because…because of…" She gestured in the air with her hand. "Because of that? What, do you want to hang out even more?"

For a moment, Megamind's face lit up with wonder, but then it migrated into a scowl, and then a sneer. "I think you could use a memory jog yourself, Ms. Ritchi. You do recall, don't you, that there may have been a few…moments," he said, a warm smile gracing his features, "that really made us seem like real chums?" He leaned in with an eyebrow raised.

Roxanne's eyelids descended in a slow blink and then rose once more. "What are your terms this time?"

Megamind, who had momentarily been preoccupied with sticking a finger into the tiny jaws of the borrowed death-trap, looked back up at Roxanne. He cleared his throat. "Firstably," he said, pacing around the room with gravity, "I don't want you divulging any of my secrets, and that includes my great plans for Metrocity's dooooooooom."

"Look, I don't care what you have going on at—"

"And secondably," he said, swishing his cape as he spun around to face her from across the room, "I want to know Metro Man's true weakness!" He pointed a gloved finger skyward.

"Ugh. Not this again," groaned Roxanne. "I thought we were over playing that game."

"As ass-in-nine as they are, your suggestions do give me inspiration when I have Villain's Block," replied Megamind.

"I did like what you did with 'his weakness is culinary herbs' that one time. "

"Ah, yes," sighed Megamind, "Thyme sure flies when villains have fun."

"Too bad for you that Metro Man can stop thyme."

Megamind frowned for a moment. "Look—I know Metro Man is perfect," he said. "But I," he announced, leaping onto a nearby chair, "am fantastic." He leaped back down and trotted toward Roxanne once more. "Come on, every hero has a weakness. It's like…the rule. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. So how about it?"

Roxanne considered him for a long moment. "If I tell you—something—will you promise to go away and stop being so annoying?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Promising to not be annoying wasn't part of the deal. It was never part of any deal."

She thought, pinching the bridge of her nose. Megamind was a pie-in-the-sky kind of person.[4]

"Look, I don't know what you want from me," said Roxanne. She sighed. If Metro Man did have any weakness, it was other men. But while they may have drained him in other ways, they didn't drain him of his powers.

"Er…I don't know, copper?" She ventured at last.

"But I'm already—" Megamind cut himself off and scowled. "Pffft. What do you want me to do, throw pennies at the guy?"

"I'm gonna throw my couch at you if you don't get out of here."

"That's it!" Megamind snapped his fingers. "I could build… a futon torpedo!"

"Come again?"

"Oh, Ms. Ritchi, must I spell it out for you? It's a pune, or a play on words. You see, it's like a—"

"I get it," she said through gritted teeth. "Now get out."

"Oh, as you wish, my pouting temptress!" Megamind said, trotting toward Roxanne's balcony doors. "I'll be off to do some Evil planning! How I would love to stay for tea, but you know how demanding villainy is." He tossed the eyelash curler over his shoulder and Roxanne caught it without looking.

The villain flung open the glass doors. "Mercy buckets," he called over his shoulder, in a poor attempt at French. "Oh, and when it turns out that his weakness isn't related to common metals or up-hole-story, I'll be back to bother you some more. In the meantime," he added, dangerously leaping onto the balcony railing, "I'd like you to practice your—JAZZ HANDS!" He twirled about—ignoring his precarious position—to face her, striking a pose with his arms outstretched and wiggling his splayed fingers. His cape whooshed with the action. He then fell backward into the night, just in time to avoid a projectile boot.

Roxanne didn't bother to watch as three Brainbots carried Megamind down to the street below, while a fourth swooped downward to retrieve Roxanne's fallen ammunition. Instead, she fetched her tea. How had things come to this? It had all started on Friday…

[1] The source of the boots in Megamind's Spinning Boot-Wheel of Death was, in fact, Roxanne Ritchi.

[2] Kidnappings never took place at Roxanne's apartment. It was an unspoken rule. But mostly, Roxanne had good aim.

[3] This is due to a longstanding belief of Megamind's that anything blueberry related is good for his complexion.

[4] Literally. One year, on March 14th, he stole forty pies in celebration of Pi Day and aimed each one at a different window of City Hall. One coconut-cream pie in particular was reserved for the Mayor's face, as he opened his office windows to catch the spring breeze at just the wrong time.

Megamind took forty pies. That's as many as four tens. And that's terrible.