Disclaimer: I do not own "Despicable Me" or any of it's characters. They belong to Illumination Entertainment. I do, however, own my two OC's here. I'm receiving no profit for this work, I just wrote it for fun and laughs.

Note: This is my first fan-fic. (Yay!), but it's also more of an experimental fic. I won't give too much away, but I will say I think it's always more entertaining when you can only hear half of a phone conversation...

I'm also trying out some new word processing software, so I hope I'm doing this right and this thing posts properly.

Lunch Break

It's often been said it's best to separate work from home. And yet, there's a surprising number of people out there who decorate their office so it's more like their home. And then there's that number of people who fill their offices with stuff that would make their Grannies cry. Or maybe just look at them like they'd grown an extra index finger on the side of their head. Some people just can't handle knowing there's an orangutan bikini calendar next to a photo of the family dog.

But, regardless, you can usually tell what kind of person someone is by looking at their office.

Take this office, with its many back issues of 'Modern Evil' stacked neatly in shelves along with titles like 'Productive Violence' and 'Dealing with Sociopaths in a Corporate Environment.'

The afternoon sun and the smell of salt from the coast below filtered in from the thick vertical blinds behind an enormous desk occupied by a woman. Due to a rare moment of privacy, she had tilted her chair back and propped her feet up—one boney knee crossed over the other. Right now, she felt pretty relaxed. She'd gotten halfway through a thick volume called 'Contemporary Villainy: A Feminist's Perspective' while absentmindedly trying to cram as many potato chips into her mouth as possible. Life was good. At least until-

"Miss P.?"

"Gah!"

It took less than half a second to shove the bag of chips off her desk and slam her fist on the button to automatically close the window blinds behind her. The young intern who now appeared on her computer screen watched nervously as his boss glared at him. She took a small, black stress ball from the side over her desk and slowly began to squeeze it over and over—as if it was his head.

"Kevin," Miss P. said evenly, "do you remember what I told you when you started working here? This is my me-time. So, from twelve to one pm, I don't-"

"Exist. Yeah, but what about personal calls?"

"What about them?"

"Well, I got this guy on line 1...a collect call actually, says he's your brother-"

The stress ball exploded.

For a moment, the thin woman looked like she was about to choke on something. But only for a moment. Her eyes were steady behind her thick glasses when she next spoke to her intern.

"Are you sure?"

"Tha-that's what he says! Sounds kind of fishy to me. I mean his name-"

"Never mind."

"Well, I mean, uh..."Kevin fidgeted nervously. He didn't like it when his boss looked at him like that. It was like she was secretly thinking of ways to squish him like a piece of fruit. He was beginning to have nightmares where this long, thin hand appeared out of nowhere, scooped him up out of bed and just started squeezing and squeezing—until his head popped like a party balloon...full of confetti...he wondered what Freud would say about something like that.

"So...don't accept the charges, then?"

"Put him on through."She thought for a moment before adding, "I want this call encrypted."

"Okay..." Kevin did as he was told. "Y'know, it's kinda funny."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't know you had any family, Miss P."

"I don't pay you to be nosy, Kevin."

And she turned off her computer screen, leaving her alone with the light flashing on her telephone. Line 1. Why now? This really wasn't how she wanted to spend her lunch.

She stared at her phone like it was going to bite her for a few more seconds before slowly picking up the receiver.

"Hello," she breathed, "...Sharkie?"

The voice on the other end sounded both nervous and even a little giddy. She hadn't expected that.

"I...yeah. Yeah! It has been a long time." Miss P. was so relieved she felt giddy herself. She sank back into her seat as a familiar nasal voice filled her ears. "True, I can't say I'm not surprised, but...huh?"

How is it possible to go from relieved to beyond freaked in the blink of an eye?

"You're calling from WHERE?"

Her jaw dropped.

"No, no. I Believe you, I'm just a tad shocked." Which was the understatement of the year. "Are you okay? Do you need any help up there?...Oh...I'm sorry but I really don't know what to say."

Just what the heck had he been up to?

Then she recalled how not long ago, the ocean outside her window had just...stopped. No waves, no ebbing, no flowing, it just stopped. She had been too busy with other projects at the time to truly pay it much thought. Weirder things happened at BlackList Unlimited before lunchtime than the ocean taking a breather.

"So, that was you? With the moon, I mean?

The voice on the other end suddenly sounded indignant.

She raised an eyebrow. "'Sorta?' Okay, I won't ask. But," (and she really hated to ask this) "have you called Dad yet?...Oh."

The response she got was not promising. Miss P. was beginning to suspect her brother was more embarrassed than alarmed about his current situation. This was no surprise. The little guy was so accident-prone he had been knocking on death's door off and on since he was a toddler. So, what's a little time in space for someone with genes hardier than a cockroach? Still, she wouldn't be his sister if she wasn't concerned. He hadn't made the effort to find her number and call her just to shoot the breeze.

"Listen, Sharkie—Okay, Victor—Okay, whatever-Look, I can understand if you're feeling a little vulnerable considering your circumstances, but-What?"

He couldn't be serious.

"You're kidding, right?...No, it's just that this is the first word I get from you in years and you want-"

"WELL, WHO'S FAULT IS THAT?"

Miss P. hadn't pulled the receiver away from her ear in time. Great gravy, she's forgotten what a windpipe the kid had! It was like a sonic boom had gone off on the side of her face. Her jet-black hair halfway fallen out of it's neat little braided bun and her glasses now hung at an odd angle on her nose.

She sighed. "No, I know you're right, just give me a second."

Ears still ringing, she adjusted her glasses and straightened up her hair before contacting her intern.

"Kevin, do we have a copy of 'One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish' on file?"

"I'll take a look, Miss, P."

"No, wait," Her brother was babbling on the other line again."You don't want that one?...But you always liked...I don't think we have any thing like that on file-"

"Huh?"

"Not you, Kevin!"And she clicked him off before he could say anything more.

Cookies. She needed cookies. It didn't matter if the world was suddenly spiraling out of control, you could always count on cookies. Miss P. unlocked a drawer on the side of her desk and groped through a collection of pastries and candy wrappers until she found a half-eaten package of Peanut Butter Chocolate Hunky Chunkies. She shoved two into her mouth before continuing with her brother.

"Vic, I can't believe I'm even asking this, but," she lowered her voice considerably, "why do I have to read you a story?"

Wasn't there some point where if a person starts breathing carbon dioxide long enough, they start going a little nuts? Or, was that carbon monoxide? Or was that something else completely?

"Yes, I can understand the stars making you feel nostalgic..."

Because he sounded like he was turning into a Grade-A fruit loop!

Miss P. nibbled on another cookie and rubbed her forehead. Calm down. Calm down...

"...What?"

He hasn't lost his mind yet...

"Are you sure you're getting enough oxygen?"

Don't let him hear the rise in your voice...

"I'm sorry, I just don't think there are any floating twinkie-aliens on the moon!"

"Uh, Miss P.?"

"Well, then make faces right back! You're a grown man so...What?"

"Miss P.?"

"I seriously doubt you're going to befriend anything with your killer dance moves!"

She never should have left. She never should have left him by himself. She should have kept in touch. She should have called. Or written. Or E-mailed, or blogged, or texted or tweeted! She could have at least driven by his house and yelled "H!" It's not like she'd wanted to cut off her family like she had. Not if it wasn't for-

"Miss P.?"

"WHAT IS IT NOW, KEVIN?"

"Uh, there's this guy on line 2," Kevin rattled off the words like his life depended on it. "He says he's your father."

Speak of the devil.

Cookie number five shattered in Miss P.'s suddenly clenched fist. To Kevin, it was like there was a little chocolate-chippy dust cloud where his boss's hand used to be. Her left eye twitched.

"I see..." She said coldly.

"Erruhhmm, if you want, I can say you're not in or..."

"No, no." She wasn't really talking to Kevin anymore, she was just staring off into space."Mustn't keep the busy man waiting."

Miss P. absentmindedly turned off her connection to Kevin. She could barely hear her little brother anymore. She was less aware of his strange attempts at befriending an imaginary space buddy than she was about the now flashing line 2 on her phone. This day was just getting better and better.

After this was all over, Miss P. planned on treating herself to a mountain of chocolate. And maalox. Maalox and chocolate.

But first things first.

"Victor, I gotta put you on hold, okay?...Okay?..I gotta—I'm putting you on hold now, okay!"

There were high-pitched gibbering sounds coming from the receiver. She switched to line 2 right after an ear-splitting "OH YEAH! You got served!" could be heard on the first line.

"BlackList Unlimited." Miss P. used the most neutral voice she could manage. "Hello, sir...Dad."

Why did this all have to be happening at once? The best thing she could do was get this over with as quickly and cleanly as possible.

"No...Yes...I understand."

It's not like she didn't have a little brother stranded in space running out of air.

"You...What?"

Oh, poop, he knew!

"Well, is-is he okay? How did this happen?"

Just as long as his didn't know she knew. Subterfuge: one of the first things you learn when becoming either a super villain or a bureaucrat. Miss P.'s father didn't seem interested in giving her the details though. He went straight to the point. Why was she not surprised?

"Yes, we have several...we'd have to use one of the larger ones in close-range orbit."

At least they both wanted the same thing. Really, she was planning on doing this anyway. For once, Miss P. actually felt a little pleased she was talking to him.

"...so he won't burn up on re-entry...That shouldn't be a problem, they're all equipped with navigational systems."

But, he was speaking to her like she was one of his clients. He...always spoke to her like she was one of his clients.

Wait. Didn't he care that he had a son suffocating in space at this very moment? He was treating this all like a normal business transaction! Miss P. wolfed down yet another cookie in frustration.

"Um...say, Dad, just out of curiosity, how long can someone start running low on oxygen before they get...I don't know...tipsy? No reason, just wondering...Huh? No, I am not eating!"

Is that all he could say after all this time? He really didn't care, did he?

"Look, I'll get him down, but you'll pick him up, understand?...No, I'm not arguing this! I expect my equipment to be returned undamaged, and I expect to be reimbursed for my efforts!"

She deliberately and very loudly chomped another cookie as close as possible to the receiver. "Well, who taught me to be this way, sir!

Miss P. slammed down the receiver and spent a good several minutes fuming at no one in particular while torturing her cookie. Whole universes would have lived and died in the amount of time it would have taken her to pull herself out of her tantrum if she hadn't noticed the still-flashing line 1.

"Oh, crap! Vic! Vic! You still there?" Thankfully, the phone had been made from reinforced titanium or she would have broken the call button. "Yeah, hi! Whoa, thank goodness, I thought...yes, I did have you on hold, actually. Thanks for noticing. Sorry I interrupted your air-guitar session."

Had his ADHD tripled since she last saw him?

"Look, I was just on the phone with Dad—No, I didn't tell him anything! Please pay attention!"

It was worse than she thought—he was actually making squeaky sounds for his 'alien' and talking at the same time!

"Vic, listen to me carefully. CONSERVE YOUR AIR! Breath shallow, like they taught you in scuba camp!"

Never mind that he never finished that camp...

"Stay put! I'm re-routing one of my satellites, it will come and pick you up!...Wah? No, I don't want to say 'Hi' to your new friend!"

She'd have to act fast, he was becoming delirious!

"Okay, Okay, Bro. You're going to have to focus. You don't happen to know where you are on the moon, do you?"

Balancing her phone between shoulder and chin, Miss P. wrote something down on her notepad.

"...'Right next to the big, giant thumb print'...I'm supposed to take this seriously?"

His explanation was even more bazaar than his imaginary friend. His arch-enemy had manhandled the moon? Really? It's so tough to be patient when time's no working for you.

"Look, Vic, please work with me here. I know you're a little low on air, but I really need something better than that if I'm going to help you."

Come on, come on, let there still be a brain in that airless head of his.

"...Oh...I meant coordinates, do you—yeah, like that!"

Finally, something to work with! Miss P. quickly scribbled down the information and paged her intern.

"Kevin, I need you to call the techs down there in Stellar Larceny and Engineering and tell them they have a pick up job. There is a man stranded on the moon at these coordinates..." She rattled off the numbers on her notepad while keying them into her computer. "I need him retrieved by one of our close-range satellites and I expect-"

"Um, what does he look like?"

"Excuse me?"

"The guy they have to pick up, what does he look like?"

"Expecting to find more than one fellow strolling around on the moon, are we?"

That tone..she was squishing his head with her voice now!

"Well, uh...you know how those guys are down there in engineering, boss. I gotta give them something. They're just so darn technical!"

Miss P. frowned but seemed satisfied. Many of the scientists in BlackList Unlimited spent so much time over a microscope they expected everything to be described in minute detail.

"I suppose the last time I saw him...he looked kind of like me."

To Kevin's astonishment, his boss actually appeared...whimsical? No, she didn't look like his boss anymore. More like she was ten years younger and didn't feel the urge to throttle anyone.

Unfortunately, that moment of peace flew straight out the window when the fellow on her phone started protesting.

"What...No!"

And she was back.

"I don't care!"

Miss P. one hundred percent.

"You are getting on that satellite and you are coming back down here, Mister!"

Funny how she could look like a very disgruntled mom.

"Well, when you get home you can build yourself another shuttle and fly all the way back up to the moon and fly all they way back down again to prove your point!"

Kevin wondered vaguely if he'd ever get to meet this 'Victor' who could unhinge his boss so easily.

"Yes, yes, fine. You can take your friend with you if you just promise to get on that shuttle. For me. Please"

Miss P. also had a nasty habit of grinding her teeth when she was frustrated. She hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses. Then she noticed Kevin was still watching her.

"Can I help you, little man?" She folded her fingers slowly in front of her.

Kevin grinned sheepishly. "Looks like you got quite a family reunion going on there, Miss P."

"Shut up, Kevin."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Her intern clicked himself off. Good. Miss P. would hate to have to march into the other room and strangle the boy. Interns didn't come cheap these days.

She sighed and picked up the name plate at the front of her desk.

"I hate family reunions." She muttered, and fingered the gold engraving absentmindedly. As if the name had ever changed:

Victoria Perkins, CEO.

Holy Moley! I actually finished something! I'm really sorry this is so long. I wrote this down freehand in a little journal first (because it's easier to carry around for when an idea hits you) and it looked smaller on paper. I think it took up less space in that book than on this page! Go figure. But I had so much fun doing this, so I hoped you enjoyed it.

Well, one of my experiments with this fic was if I could get cannon characterization down through an OC character. And, if through contact with cannon characters, you get a good idea of who a non-cannon character is. Sound confusing? Basically, if you can get a clear view of Miss P. and you have a clear idea of what Vector and Mr. Perkins are up to, despite that all of this fic taking place in an office, I've done my job.

Oh, and I noticed at the end of Despicable Me, Vector seemed in a pretty good mood (dancing) despite being stranded in space. So, I decided to give him a reason.

And, if you actually made it to the bottom of this page, you deserve a reward. Go to my author's page on this site and you'll find a few story ideas I have up for grabs for anyone who wants to try them. Hey, maybe you'll get inspired! I'll post more there if people are interested!