A thousand thanks to my Beta Reader, for helping make this fic readable. I hope everyone likes this one. Please read and review. Reviews make me happy.
Megamind drove through the city, searching for the perfect site for his next glorious battle against Metro Man. It's harder than it sounds: the site has to fit into some very specific criteria. If he chose to fight inside a building it had to be the right kind of building. Contrary to what the movies would have you believe, finding a new abandoned warehouse or factory every other month is NOT an easy feat, even if you do live in a former factory-town with a waterfront. Finding a suitable outdoor battleground was even worse; most cities aren't exactly littered with giant fields or arenas for supers to do battle in.
The city was a place of towering skyscrapers and crowded retail outlets; monuments of industry and capitalism. Megamind switched the car into visible-mode as he weaved his way into downtown traffic. One nice thing about being a Supervillain with a very recognizable ride: few people were willing to try and cut you off, and you could ignore the traffic laws with impunity. Megamind was able to make good time on his reconnaissance mission. Within two hours, he had tracked down no less than five potential sites for his upcoming schemes: a downtown construction site, the parking-lot of a supermax theatre, two city parks, and a parking-garage scheduled for demolition. Finding such things, he reflected, was all about knowing what to look for and how to take opportunity.
Soon, one of these locations would be the scene of his glorious victory! He had such plans in the works; this next one would conclusively test whether or not Metro Man had any food allergies- and his ability withstand scent-bombs. Megamind had high hopes for the possibilities of sensory overload for bringing down his super-sensed rival. He cackled as a better design for the fruit-launcher and potato-gun came to him. And how should he do the flour: primed for explosion, or ready to trap the hero in food-based paper-mache? Metrocity would cower at his… Cornucopia of Carnage? Dinner of Destruction? Mega-Meal of Mayhem? Food-Fight of Ferocity? He'd have to discuss naming ideas with Minion.
He was near the waterfront now, getting close to the bridge, and a thought occurred to him. It was one he'd had before, and he didn't particularly like it. In his mind's eye, Megamind saw...
The bulbs of street-lights exploded. The metal twisted and bent into strange, broken shapes. Metal doesn't just bend that way; there would have to be a significant amount of heat as well as force applied- The windows in the skyscrapers shattered. The buildings looked as if they were made of stone and concrete, but they crumbled at the lightest touch. Rooftops fell inward, bits of masonry broke and tumbled. Things didn't (wouldn't) just spontaneously fall apart. Metro City was better-made than that. The world was sturdier than that. A bank crumbled into dust and was blown away on the wind, leaving only a lonely, broken pillar and some empty steps to show where it had been.
Everyone inside the buildings was dead and gone. There was nobody left- but if there was someone inside, then they would be trapped. This is a hypothetical scenario. Nothing terrible is happening. They would be pinned down by fallen masonry and hidden from rescuers by broken wall. Some deaths were slow and painful, trapped, limbs crushed, scrabbling hands cut on broken glass as the bled and bled and bled… All hypothetical. As they choked on the dust and the smoke, as they realized that there is not enough air in this little space where they had become trapped…. For others, the end would be quick, sudden, and merciful. This was entirely hypothetical. Metro City's emergency services are really quite effective, and the brainbots are good at finding people in places where they shouldn't be.
In the end, everyone is destined to die.
Megamind shook his head as he past the bridge, heading back towards his own territory now. Such thoughts, about destruction and mortality, were unproductive. Death was an unfortunate, inevitable reality; he could not allow himself to see it as the dominant feature of his destiny. Minion would be upset if he started down that path again. He was destined for greatness. He was destined to destroy Metro Man and rule the city, and right now he needed to focus on… focus on the next scheme. He would be kidnapping Miss Ritchi; he should plan on what to say.
Megamind drove past the tiny, fantastically authentic mexican restaurant that marked the edge of his territory. Here narrow homes with yards just a few paces long were crammed together scant inches apart. Here was the true face of industry, the slums, the old factories, the warehouses and the docks. Megamind switched the car into invisible-mode as he approached the Evil Lair. There could be no grand battles fought in this neighborhood; this was his. Here people paid protection money and were kept safe from cops, superheroes, and the more… unsavory criminals, so long as they followed the rules. Megamind was not much one for law, but he believed in having rules. Rules kept the game of life… playable.
Back at the Lair, Megamind updated the idea-cloud. A ticket stub to represent the Cinemax parking lot was hung next to the city map he had on the wall. (Perhaps he could work some classic Hollywood themes into an upcoming plan?) He jotted down the idea and attached it to the ticket, then looked for a place to put the photo of the parking garage. (In front of the clock, near the dynamite station, of course, and put down the date of its scheduled demolition). He made a note of the downtown construction site, then threw a couple darts at the map to mark the locations of the parks he'd scouted.
There. That's done. Now, Megamind thought to himself, he should -everyone burns and everyone dies, and wouldn't it be easier to shatter, to let himself fall and shatter- he should work on the Plan. Megamind always felt better when he had something to work on. It helped to be doing something with his hands.
He went to the lab, rolls out his latest blueprints on the drafting table, and got to work. There was always more work to do; always some project to keep despair at bay. This would be his most delicious creation yet. As he put together his machine, Megamind weighed each piece in his hands, reassured himself that it was real. He tightened the bolts and tested the lock-mechanisms, checking and double-checking to make sure every part is in perfect alignment. When Megamind made something, he made it sturdy.
When Metro Man hit one of his creations and it didn't immediately break, when it didn't fall apart at the first or second blow, when it was still partially functional after even the tenth blow, you could tell that it was well-made. You could tell that it was real. Other things were… harder to be certain of, sometimes. Other people were even more so. There were very few people that Megamind knew- really knew, with tangible evidence and bone-deep certainty- were real.
The others are mindless drones, unthinking, uncaring, wrathful- No.
Megamind knew that he himself existed. He could think, he could feel (he could feel pain), so he knew that he was real. Likewise, he knew with bone-deep, soul-deep certainty that Minion was real. (Minion is the one person you can trust; Minion is the only one who will never leave) Metro Man also existed; Megamind had known him too long and received too many bruises and broken bones for him to doubt that. Fight, let the bruises come, let the pain be visible, just- Some days, their fights were the only thing that made him feel alive. Other people were harder to be certain of. The existence of Roxanne Ritchi, for example, seemed extremely improbable.
How could such a stubborn, brilliantly intelligent (attractive) woman be real? When he talked about his inventions, his schemes, she actually listened. She gave relevant feedback, always finding the single flaw in a carefully crafted plan and occasionally suggesting solutions. Her investigative reports were the most accurate, hard-hitting, relevant stories in Metro City. He knew- he'd checked. Miss Ritchi was a star reporter of unquestionable integrity: the best in her field. It was only natural that she would choose the handsome Hero, the good one, the one who could give her everything.
Megamind knew that Miss Ritchi was real. She was real, and wonderful, and she would always be out of reach for him. She would always be out of reach, because she would never want to be with him, and he had rules. Laws were meant to be broken, but you had to have rules. Rules kept the game of life playable. Rules kept you from going over the edge.
Megamind knew that he was real.
There was a reason all his most dangerous inventions were deployed when they were only halfway finished and barely tested.
He knew that Minion was real.
There was a reason no one ever died, no matter how angry he felt, no matter how dark his despair became.
He knew that Metro City was, in all probability, real. He acknowledged the existence of Metro Man.
There was a reason the city was still standing.
Megamind knew that Roxanne Ritchi was real.
There was a reason every battle, every kidnapping was announced and broadcast on TV. There was a reason everything was well-documented, a reason why he was always held accountable.
Megamind knew that certain things, certain people were real. And even when he didn't quite believe that anything was real, he followed the rules. The rules he made assumed that everything, everyone was real and that the big mistakes could never be undone.
Laws were made to be broken, but Megamind believed in having rules.
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