Title: The Storm And The Stars (1/?)
Author: Lady Stormcrow
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A year after the events of "Life Is What Happens", Megamind and Roxanne's wedding day finally draws near. But as their friends and family gather, secrets come out, old enemies return, and a storm threatens on the horizon . . .
Warnings:"There could be physical violence, there could be gunplay, and there's the slightest chance that somebody might even get killed." (Okay, not the last one)
Chapter 1
Only a few people knew why the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted bore that name.
Most outsiders assumed it was a joke. When the prison was commissioned, more than forty years ago, the place appeared no different from any other high-tech facility. Some of the inmates had led prestigious careers – master thieves, mob bosses, a professional arsonist – but most were ordinary crooks. And, as popular saying went, none of them could be all that gifted, or they wouldn't have been caught.
Warden William Greyson had always hated the name. It gave the inmates swelled heads, he thought. Bragging rights that they were somehow special, instead of lowlifes who'd fought the law and lost. If anyone had ever bothered to conduct a study, he wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn that the prisoners under his charge were unrulier than those at other facilities.
Still, at the end of the day, the warden liked his job. He took pride in keeping the prison running efficiently. He'd built a reputation for being a stern taskmaster, and took care to maintain it – in the field of prison administration, respect was crucial. And, he had to admit, it had been kind of an honor to be placed in charge of one of the few penitentiaries designated to house supervillains.
Not that there had been any supervillains in residence when Greyson first started work. The ones around back then had done their dirty deeds in places like New York or Washington D.C. – Metro City, despite its size, was considered an unimportant corner of the Midwest, with no political or strategic value.
So it was a source of deep shame for the warden that the city's first hometown supervillain had grown up under his care.
Greyson's wife, Susanna, hadn't wanted him to go in to work on Christmas, but he'd promised it would only be a few hours before he was back home with her and the girls. He'd been finishing up the last of the paperwork, when one of the guards had come bursting into the office with a crying, squirming baby in his arms. The young man had panted that it fell out of the sky, it landed in the exercise yard, the prisoners wanted to know if they could keepit . . . Warden Greyson hadn't made it home that Christmas.
They'd finally calmed the baby by giving it the tiny fish that had arrived with it. While the two little creatures dozed in his lap, the warden had spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what to do with them. If the baby – a boy, they'd found when they bathed and changed it – had been normal, Greyson would have turned him over to Child Services immediately. But this child, with his bright blue skin and oversized cranium, who watched the world with far too much awarenessfor an infant . . . The warden knew that not every mysterious craft that fell from the sky came from outer space. But even so, he'd decided to keep the baby in the prison, close to the crash site, just in case his real parents came looking for him.
As time passed with no sign of aliens coming to claim their missing child, the warden had begun discreetly looking for a foster home. He'd had a birth certificate drawn up, and groaned at the name the clerk came up with ("John Blue"? Really?), but hadn't tried to change it. The kid was going to have a hard enough life – there was no reason to make it worse by sticking him with a weird name.
At one point, after a number of families had refused to take in the blue child, Warden Greyson had thought about adopting Johnny himself. As much as Greyson loved his four daughters, it would be nice to have a son. But then the superintelligent toddler had shown his knack for building objects of mayhem and staging breakouts, and that had killed all thoughts of the warden taking his work home with him – as well as any hope of placing the boy in a normal home.
With a prison to run and hundreds of other inmates to supervise (not to mention his own family to take care of), the warden had been forced to let said inmates help take care of Johnny far more than he would have liked. Greyson had justified it by telling himself it was only for a few years – once the boy was old enough to attend school, he'd get to interact with normal children, and learn to be an upstanding citizen. The warden had visited the small, ultra-private Lil' Gifted School, seen the sunny, cheerful atmosphere, and been so hopeful . . .
When Greyson found out what had actually happened at the school, he'd been furious – at everyone involved. He'd had Johnny Blue hauled into his office the day the boy was expelled, and could still remember some of the heated words they'd exchanged.
"What were you thinking?"
"They deserved it!"
"That doesn't matter! If someone hurts you, that doesn't give you the right to hurt them back!"
"I don't care! I hated that place, I'm glad I don't have to go back!"
"How do you think this will make you look? Do you want people to think you're a bad person?"
"I am a bad person, okay? I know that! And I'm not sorry!"
By the time they were done, Johnny had been in tears, and the talk hadn't made any difference. As the boy grew to manhood and the life sentences piled up, Warden Greyson had nearly given up on him. He'd wantedto give up on him, had tried to tell himself that his former ward was a lost cause . . .
"You're a villain, and you'll always be a villain! You'll never change!"
"You were right. I'll always be a villain!"
"Looks like we were both wrong," the old man said with a smile. The blasting beat of AC/DC's "For Those About to Rock" filled his office, and he raised his voice, "Do you mind turning that down?"
The brainbot hovering over his desk shrugged and switched off its speaker. Instead of the usual electric blue, its plasma dome glowed in alternating ripples of white, lavender, and turquoise. Its jagged fin had been polished until it gleamed, and it wore a gold ribbon bow around the trunk where its arms attached (carefully out of range of its flame jet).
The card the little cyborg had presented to him was so brilliantly white that it was nearly blue. Gold filigree decorated the edges in an elaborate circle pattern, evoking the image of planets aligning. Still smiling, the warden read the elegant midnight-blue lettering again.
The stars have aligned, and destiny has spoken!
Megamind, Defender of Metro City
and
Roxanne Olivia Ritchi
invite you to join in the celebration of their wedding
with emphasis on the celebration!
The twenty-first of March
Two thousand and thirteen
At eleven o'clock
The No-Longer-Evil Lair
Metro City, Michigan
For those about to rock, we salute you!
The warden made a brief sound of amusement. "Cute. Tell him I'll be there." After a moment's thought, he added, "And so will Susanna." He'd need her help in picking out a present.
The brainbot saluted with a flourish, and departed.
oO+O+O+Oo
There are a number of good reasons to become a prison guard. The pay is decent, there are always hours to be had, you meet interesting people, and it's seldom boring.
Mike Venner had done it for none of those reasons. He'd become a guard because he liked carrying a weapon and having power over people.
Several months ago, after a number of complaints that he used his Taser and nightstick much too freely, the warden had confronted Venner and sharply warned him that abuse of prisoners would not be tolerated. The young guard had spent the rest of the day sullen and glowering, which had caught the attention of one particular inmate. In tones of friendly concern, he'd asked what was wrong, and the two of them had ended up having what would prove to be a life-changing conversation for Mike Venner.
Now, as Warden Greyson was receiving his wedding invitation, Venner made his way down to Cellblock 8, home of cons who were considered especially violent and dangerous, but who lacked superpowers. The guard glanced around nervously, looking for any sign that he was being watched. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you viewed later events), he wasn't.
Under one armpit, he carried a small bundle whose contents, if found, would not only cost him his job but could easily earn him a cell in this very prison. The cloth wrapping did not quite hide a sharp chemical smell – Venner prayed he could sponge it out of his uniform before anyone noticed.
Finally, he reached a cell at the far end of the block. Glancing around one last time, he whispered, "I got the stuff."
Mike Venner was tall and lean, and often used his height to intimidate people. This time, though, he knew it would do nothing. Although the man on the other side of the bars was shorter, he was nearly as wide as he was tall – thick and beefy, with powerful arms, an impressive gut, and legs like cement pylons.
Robert Casteel, better known as Destruction Worker, gave the guard a friendly grin. "Nice work, kiddo. My guys give you any trouble?"
"Nah, they were just happy to hear you're coming back." Venner took the bundle out, but hesitated. "You sure you can keep this hidden? 'Cause if they find out I'm helping you guys –"
"They're not gonna find out." Destruction Worker tapped the metal stump at the end of his left arm lightly on the bars. Instead of his trademark jackhammers or buzzsaws, the setting held a weak grasping claw – the only prosthetic the prison would let him use. His right hand, which was still flesh and blood, reached out expectantly. "You got no reason to be afraid, Mikey. Once we're outta here, you're gonna be one of us. Besides," his grin turned sharp, "you're in way too deep to back out now."
Venner hesitated one last time. Despite the villain's words, he could probably still walk away. All he was guilty of right now was possessing hazardous materials, and if he got rid of them, no one would ever know. He could forget the whole thing, never talk to this guy again . . .
But he wanted what the Doom Syndicate offered: power. The kind that came from having powerful allies who would kick the shit out of anyone who crossed you. Making friends had never been something Venner was good at, but Destruction Worker seemed like a pretty regular guy aside from the claw-hand, and Venner kind of liked him.
"Fine." He handed the bundle over. There was a clink of glass and metal.
"Thanks, Mikey. And trust me, I'm not gonna forget this. The Syndicate looks after its friends." The big man raised his prosthetic hand. "Speakin' of which, go put the word out to Simon and Charlene."
Venner's face fell. "Why do you even need them?"
He'd met the two people in question. Simon Morrow, better known as Psycho Delic, was confined in Cellblock 9 under near-constant surveillance. Just lookingat the skeletal purple villain gave Venner the creeps. Charlene Rosen, who preferred to be called Hot Flash, could be charming when she wanted to, but getting into the Metro City Women's Correctional Center to talk to her was annoyingly tricky.
"It's not about needing them," replied Destruction Worker. There was nothing friendly in his grin now – it looked like he was baring his teeth. "I told you, we look out for each other. Once we're free, you want me telling them you wanted to leave 'em behind?"
Venner gulped. "No! I . . . I'll go put the word out."
"Good."
As the guard left, hurriedly, Destruction Worker shook his head. Stupid little punk.
Once he was sure he was truly alone, the villain unrolled the cloth bundle and examined its contents. He knew that most of the public saw him as the dumb muscle of the Doom Syndicate. The brawn to Psycho Delic's and Hot Flash's brains. In times like this, Destruction Worker didn't mind at all. When they thought you were dumb and underpowered, people underestimated you . . . until it was too late.
He'd always taken pride in being a threat without superpowers. When another inmate had cracked too many "Bob the Builder" jokes, he'd smashed the man's teeth in with his metal stump. And, while he lacked Megamind's finesse when it came to building objects of mayhem, his creations made up for it in raw power.
All he needed were the right ingredients.
oO+O+O+Oo
"Freeze!" the man in the dark ski mask roared. "Everybody up against the wall!"
Faced with contradictory orders, the lunch-hour customers at Metro City's largest bank obeyed the first one. They stayed where they were, eyes wide and expressions fearful, until the robber fired a shot into the air in annoyance. "I said move!"
As he herded them over to the side wall, his two masked cronies went to work. One barged behind the counter and waved his gun at the tellers, forcing them to empty the cash drawers. The other hauled the bank manager from his office, dragging him into the middle of the lobby floor.
The lead robber – witnesses could tell he was the leader because he was the loudest and had the biggest gun – strode up to the manager and gave him what he thought was a terrifying glare. "Okay, mister, now you're gonna take us to the vault. You look like a smart guy, so –"
"I can't say the same of you."
The leader jerked his head up sharply. "Who said that?"
The mocking voice came again. "Oh, did you not hear me the first time?"
Teeth gritted, the leader looked around the bank's vast lobby. Something about the scene had changed, he realized, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He turned away from the pale-faced manager and shouted to the air in general, "What the hellkind of trick is this?"
"Haven't you guessed?"
This time, the robber followed the voice, and realized what had changed. When he'd ordered the customers up against the wall, he'd given them a look-over, trying to judge if any of them might pose a threat. There had been nine people gathered at the wall, lined up under a decorative outline of the city skyline.
Now there were ten.
The newcomer stood apart from the others, leaning casually against the wall. He was a short, slender man somewhere in his thirties, dressed in dark slacks and a black leather jacket. His face was pale and angular, but handsome, his black hair neatly combed back from a high forehead. An expensive-looking watch gleamed on one wrist.
How the hell did he sneak in there?
With all the thieves' eyes on him, the man stood up and, with no sign of fear, started to walk calmly toward them. "Really, I'm disappointed. This place," he waved one arm at their surroundings, "used to attract a much higher class of criminal. The ones these days have no sense of style."
It is a well-known trick that someone who maintains eye contact, keeps talking, and acts with complete confidence can get away with just about anything. The robbers gaped as the skinny, unarmed civilian sauntered up to them; such a thing had never happened before in their criminal careers, and for the moment, they had no idea what to do.
"And what's with the outfits? Ski masks, pah!" An appreciative gasp went up from the crowd as the black-haired man yanked one robber's mask off. "Whatever happened to taking credit for one's evil accomplishments? And do you really need so many hostages?" He waved dismissively at the gathered customers and bank staff, and started to walk away. "Quality, gentlemen, not quantity! But I suppose I can't expect better from the likes of –"
"Shut up!" The leader shoved the bank manager aside and turned his attention, and gun, on the man in the leather jacket. "I don't know who you think you are –"
"Then let me introduce myself." He turned a dial on his watch, and his image changed in a flash of light.
His face and build stayed the same, down to the strip of beard on his chin. But his skin turned blue, his cranium doubled in size, and his clothes became a spiky costume of leather and spandex. He swept his cape with a showman's flourish.
"Megamind, at your service!"
One of the robbers whispered, "Oh shit." His leader glared at him.
Those who paid attention to such things saw that the blue villain-turned-hero had added to his usual outfit. His head was covered by a black-and-silver helmet, ringed with delicate spikes like a crown of thorns. As he straightened up, lines of blue energy arced between the spikes.
"There's no escape now, gentlemen," the alien said with a smile. The lines of energy spread from his helmet to the floor, shrouding him in a web of lightning. "You may as well go quietly."
In reply, the lead robber emptied his gun in Megamind's direction.
The bullets stuck in the energy barrier like flies in a spiderweb. A pulse and a crackle sent them scattering harmlessly across the floor.
The robber gaped. "How –" Before he could finish his question, a beam of aqua light reduced him to a harmless dehydrated cube.
Still keeping his de-gun trained on the other two, Megamind picked up their leader and twirled the cube between his fingers. "Your weapons are powerless, gentlemen." His smug grin vanished, and his voice lowered to a growl. "Drop 'em."
One of the thieves obeyed. The other, however, made a mad dash for the doors. He pushed his way into the chilly afternoon sunlight, rounded one of the bank's massive front columns . . .
"Hold it right there!"
He froze. The police officer blocking his path was a short, wiry woman with bronze-brown skin. Her black eyes flashed as she aimed her own gun. Down the steps behind her, he could see what looked like half the squad cars in the city filling the street.
"This is your last chance, mister," the officer snapped. "Drop it."
This time, he did as he was told.
oO+O+O+Oo
Some minutes later, while other cops hauled the robbers away and took statements from witnesses, Megamind approached the short policewoman. "Excellent timing with the backup, Danielle. I never knew you were so theatrical!"
"It's 'Officer Dymond'," she replied coldly. "And there's nothing theatrical about it. This is my job. Legally speaking, you're mybackup."
Megamind gestured dismissively. "Oh, picky, picky. Whose brilliant idea was it to infiltrate and distract the evildoers from their hostages?"
Danielle rolled her eyes. "Fine, it was you. Nice hat, by the way."
"Yes, I thought you'd approve." The blue man removed his spiked helmet, turning it in his hands admiringly. "I'm told you were the one who said, quote, 'that big blue head of his makes an easy target'?"
". . . Well, it does."
"I must admit, it's not an entirely new creation. The basic design dates back to my shool days." He gave the officer a narrow look. "Ask your boyfriend what he knows about dodgeball."
Danielle sighed. "Look, I've heard the story, okay?" Her expression softened. "And we got your invitation. You couldn't just mail it?"
"I prefer to personalize such things." He paused, uncertain. "Did . . . Wayne," he hesitated for a moment on the name, "appreciate the personal touch?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he liked it." She glanced around, and lowered her voice. "Why are you inviting him, anyway? I mean, the history you guys have . . ."
Megamind looked uncomfortable. "It's . . . complicated. Surely youof all people can understand?"
Danielle was quiet for a moment. She thought of her own history and relationship with the man who had once been Metro Man; "complicated" was an excellent word for it. "Point taken." She gave a small, warm smile. "We'll be there."
"Excellent!" The blue hero put his helmet back on. "I'll have Minion add your names to the rez-vip list."
oO+O+O+Oo
Roxanne Ritchi leaned back against the shiny pipe railing that ran the length of Metro International Airport's baggage claim, and gazed out through the paneled windows. Although she couldn't see the sky, since the street outside was permanently shadowed by the upper level of the road, she could tell it was beginning to get dark.
The brunette reporter frowned. "James, are you going to be okay with driving all of us at night?"
The tall, lanky black boy sitting on the nearby bench shrugged. "Hey, I gotta practice sometime."
"Did they really used to let you go meet people up at the gates?" the short Hispanic girl beside him asked.
James Walker and Lucia Reyes were two of the young teenagers Megamind and Minion had rescued last spring, from a mad scientist who'd been subjecting the city's children to deadly experiments in an attempt to grant them superpowers. Out of Dr. Tremblay's thirty known victims, only five had survived – each with a new power to show for it.
None of the survivors had homes to return to, and their powers had made it all but impossible to find willing foster homes. So Megamind, with his typical enthusiasm (and at the urging of Minion, who'd very quickly become attached to the kids), had taken in all five of them.
It had been a crazy year. But, to Roxanne's amazement, it was working. Megamind, better than anyone, understood how it felt to be young, alone, and different. Since moving into the Lair herself, she'd watched him try his best to help his wards and make them feel like they belonged. That winter, he'd even become their legal guardian, presenting the adoption papers as a Christmas gift.
Lucia, who'd turned thirteen last month, was the youngest of the children. Although the reporter was careful never to say it out loud, she was Roxanne's favorite, partly because she'd known Lucia's parents for a brief time.
After their daughter was kidnapped, Roxanne had arranged for Mr. and Mrs. Reyes to appear on the news, in the hope that someone with information would come forward. Instead, Dr. Tremblay had seen the broadcast, and murdered them for speaking out.
Roxanne knew their deaths weren't truly her fault. When she'd told Lucia the full story, the girl hadn't shown any sign that she blamed her. But Roxanne still felt responsible for her, and while she'd never replace her mother (and knew Lucia wouldn't want her to), the two of them had formed a closer bond than Roxanne had with any of the other kids.
She chuckled at the girl's question. "You mean back in the olden days? Yes, they really did. And they didn't make you take your shoes off to go through security, how's that for old-fashioned?"
As she checked her watch again, Roxanne paused to look at the engagement ring on her finger. The first one Megamind had planned to offer her had been destroyed by Dr. Tremblay – literally destroyed, by a shot from Megamind's own de-gun. With no ring to give, her blue beloved had proposed by tying a string around her finger, in an echo of their many, many kidnappings.
They'd designed this new ring together. White platinum, with a pear-cut blue diamond in a setting of black titanium, it still resembled the first ring, and would match the wedding bands they'd ordered from the same Romanian jewelry designer.
Once again, it struck Roxanne just what a unique situations theirs was. It wasn't only that she was about to marry a former supervillain, who the public still believed was responsible for the death of their first hero. Megamind had declared many times that he was sorry for Metro Man's loss, and Roxanne had made sure to tell interviewers that the two of them were never more than friends. She still received hate mail sometimes, but told herself that all celebrities did; as long as no one harassed her in person, she could live with it.
The fact that she was marrying an alien wasn't the strangest part either. While Megamind had never denied that he was from another planet, he hadn't exactly shouted it in the streets either. Much of the world still had no idea he was anything other than a bizarre-looking human – it was safer that way. And, having lived on Earth since infancy, he had the same legal identity as any other citizen.
No, the truly strange part was that they were getting married at all. Roxanne had studied the history books, and the pattern was clear.
Superheroes didn't marry.
Oh, they often had a favorite girl (or guy) – some attractive civilian who kept getting caught up in their adventures. The public expected that. But in ten years of being half of the city's favorite (apparent) couple, the reporter couldn't remember anyone asking if she and Metro Man would ever take the next step.
Now she knew why they hadn't asked. They hadn't wanted to put the idea in Metro Man's head. On the rare occasions when a superhero didsettle down, he or she was expected to hang up the cape. It was just how things were done.
Well, not this time. Her husband-to-be still had years of evil mayhem to atone for, but more than that, he lovedhis job. "Being good feels good," he'd admitted once, and making the city a better place was just the creative outlet his overactive brain needed.
It won't be the first time we've broken the rules.
At last, she spotted the person they'd come to meet. "Jase!"
"Roxie! How's it going?"
Her younger brother hurried down the walk and wrapped her in a one-armed hug. With his other hand, he carefully held a half-finished cappuccino at arm's length.
Roxanne squeezed him back, then tapped the paper cup pointedly. "Let me guess. This is why you took so long?"
"Hey, I get dehydrated on long flights!"
Like his sister, Jason Ritchi had blue eyes and a spray of freckles across his cheeks. His hair was a lighter, more golden shade of brown, cut short and smooth. The hiking boots and Seahawks sweatshirt he wore made him look like an overgrown college student, instead of an engineer for one of the most respected aerospace companies in Seattle ("Not a rocket scientist, but the next best thing," was how she'd heard him describe his job).
"No you don't, you're just an addict," she replied, doing her best mock-sorrowful look. "You care more about caffeine than you do about your own sister."
Jason gasped dramatically. "Never!" To prove it, he pitched his unfinished drink into the trash, and gave her a proper hug. Over Roxanne's shoulder, he noticed James and Lucia, and his smile widened. "Wow, I get a welcoming committee?"
Lucia giggled. "I'm just here for the ride. They picked me up from music class before they came here."
"Well, I'm still glad to see you again, 'Cita. You too, Plant Man," he called to James.
The boy snorted. Although he was half Jason's age, he was already several inches taller. "I can do other stuff, you know. I'm workin' on my learner's permit."
As the four of them went to collect Jason's luggage, he said to his sister, "I still can't believe you agreed to go along with it, Roxanne. I mean, five kids at once? When did you turn into Maria von Trapp?"
Roxanne laughed. "Well, I do have the hair for it."
Grinning, Lucia twirled her fingers. A multicolored ribbon of light flowed from the young girl's hand, shaping itself into the outline of music notes. The first few bars of "Doe, A Deer" played in the empty air.
"Show-off," James said with a teasing smile.
"Hey, my teacher said I should practice music whenever I can!"
"I really doubt this is what she meant," said Roxanne. Her tone became serious. "Lucia, we've talked about this. It's great that you're so comfortable with your powers, but you shouldn't use them in public unless it's an emergency."
The black-haired girl started to say something, but stopped herself. Looking disappointed, she dimmed the illusion.
oO+O+O+Oo
While they made their way to the airport garage, Jason kept chatting. "So what kind of wedding are you guys planning on? Is there anyone on the guest list I should watch out for?"
"If you're hoping to meet more supervillains, you'll be disappointed," Roxanne replied with a smile. "It's a small gathering, just trusted friends and family. The only person with evil connections will be Megamind's Romanian business contact."
Jason shrugged, and went on. "You mentioned family. Does that mean Mom's coming?"
Roxanne hesitated. Their mother was always a painful subject for the Ritchi siblings. "I sent her an invitation. She hasn't said no."
"She hasn't said anything, I'm guessing?"
". . . No."
Jason laid a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. "You've tried, Roxanne. No one will ever say you didn't try. And you've still got friends coming, right?"
"A few. Some people from work, and I invited my old reporting mentor –"
"What about Victoria Oswell?"
Roxanne blinked. "Tori? Jason, I haven't seen her since high school. I don't even know what state she lives in now!"
"Really? But you guys were best friends!"
"You just want her there because you had a crush on her."
"Hey, she liked me!"
"She was seventeen. You were twelve. It wasn't going to happen." Roxanne gently pushed his hand off her shoulder. "You know, you still haven't told me why you wanted to come visit so early. Not that I'm not glad to see you," she added, "but the wedding's not for a few weeks, and I'm going to be busy most of that time. Can you keep yourself entertained?"
Jason smiled. "Well, I was kind of hoping the blue guy and I could spend some time together. Seeing as we're going to be family. I thought maybe we could, y'know, hang out?"
Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "And do what?"
"Uh . . . guy stuff?"
"Guy stuff . . ." She groaned. "Oh no, you're not planning on throwing him a bachelor party, are you?"
". . . It crossed my mind . . ."
Roxanne sighed. When she'd broken the news to her family that she was involved with Megamind, she'd hoped her brother would at least tolerate him. Instead, when Jason had finally visited the Lair last year, he'd taken to Megamind with so much enthusiasm that both he and Roxanne were a little disturbed. She'd had to remind Jason that, hey, this wasthe same man who'd spent years using her as a hostage in his villainous plots!
She wondered if it was because of Seth, Jason's twin brother. Growing up, the two of them had been incredibly close, and when Seth had been killed in a hit-and-run accident when the twins were eight, it had torn Jason apart. Roxanne had done her best to be there for him afterward, but she had a feeling he still longed to have a brotheragain.
"I really don't think he'd be interested, Jase," she said. "He still has a hard enough time doing normal 'guy stuff'." Seeing his crestfallen look, she added, "If it makes you feel any better, he's going to be pretty busy too. It isn't personal."
"It was just a passing thought. Forget I said anything." Jason looked thoughtful. "Speaking of not being personal, there's one other reason I wanted to come here early." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I'm hoping to do some business research."
"Oh? What kind?"
"Well . . . I don't want to promise anything, but I've been getting kind of tired of Seattle."
Roxanne's eyes widened, and she didn't try to hide her smile. "You're thinking of moving back to Metro City?"
"Maybe. There's this new company that's been sending recruiters –" Jason suddenly paused as they passed a wall-mounted billboard. "And there you go!"
The billboard showed the image of a handsome, smiling tawny-skinned man in an immaculate gray suit. Two white-coated scientists, one dark and one pale, stood beside him in a politically appealing cross-section of the human race. Silver-gray lettering identified the man in the suit as Devon Singer, founder and CEO of Green Mountain Technologies. The company logo showed a row of three green triangles, their points sticking up like mountain peaks. A corporate spiel listed terms like "a cleaner, brighter future" and "the betterment of humanity" . . .
Roxanne froze.
Behind her, James spoke up, sounding disgusted, "You want to work for thatguy?"
"Dev Singer?" Jason looked puzzled. "Hey, I know his company's pretty new, but they –"
"He's horrible!" Lucia declared.
". . . Okay, clearly I'm missing something here. What problem do you guys have with Green Mountain?"
"I'll explain in the car, Jason." Roxanne's blue eyes were icy as she looked at the billboard. "It's a long and complicated story."
To be continued . . .