"...this is Roxanne Ritchi reporting from the City Docks, back to you Trent." Roxanne smiled pleasantly at the screen before gesturing with her hand to cut the feed. Sighing, the woman set her hand on her hip as she glanced around her surroundings. There had been reports of 'strange fish' being seen on sonar devices. It appeared to be a school of fish moving as one, but whenever anybody got too close they swam off in formation, and soon vanished from sight.

Some specialists were speculating that it was the return of an endangered species, or maybe a long dormant breed of fish waking from the depths of the ocean and was attracted by their warm waters of the bay. Roxanne knew little about fish so she had feigned understanding when talking to a man in a blue overcoat, and a grey bristly beard.

"This place reeks of fish." Hal muttered as he began putting the camera into the van.

"Docks and fish markets tend to do that, Hal." Roxanne replied with a small, bemused smirk.

"Oh. Right. Yeah well. It still stinks." he replied as he closed the case on the camera and slid it into place in the back of the van.

Roxanne walked along the pier, one hand clutching her microphone still whilst the other lifted to brush through her short brown hair. Another day, another story to report. Not the story she wanted to, though. All that information she had in her apartment, all the records and even financial records. To reveal to the world that the Government had been experimenting on alien life forms for decades would blow the socks off anyone who still believed aliens didn't exist. But she could all but imagine the men in black coming down on her, guns blasting or memory erasing tactics like MiB.

She snorted, remembering that silly movie, before something caught her eye. "Huh?" Roxanne looked down at the water, murky and littered with leaves and bits of rubbish. Something was floating by which by all means shouldn't be floating. It looked like a bowling ball, it was round, smooth, but it seemed to appear to have something inside of it.

"What is..." then she knew where she had seen it before. In one of the more painful video security tapes she watched from that box of information was one of a man handing the young Six, Megamind, a ball just like that. The boy had screamed and bitten him when trying to retrieve it, and according to the records the ball had been number Five. An alien fish that had arrived with Six, and had been killed and dissected but preserved. "Five!" she called out, as if he was a person in need of help. She threw her microphone to the floor and before she really knew what she was doing she was leaping into the water after the ball. "Five, Five!"

"Roxy!" Hal, having watched her suddenly leap in the water came rushing up. He stopped at the edge of the dock, looking down at the woman who was grasping at a ball. "Roxy what... get out of there, it's totally gross! Oh man you're gonna stink of fish!" he said.

Roxanne knew this, but her main concern was wrapping her fingers around the ball. For a moment it felt as though the little orb was going to just slip out of her reach but finally her hand grabbed it, and she pulled it to her chest and kicked her feet to stay suspended in the water. "Hal! I got him!" she called out proudly, as if she'd just saved a drowning man.

"Yay, great, you saved some trash?" Hal asked as he stepped back as the woman approached him to climb out of the water. He would attempt to offer her his hand but he didn't want murky ocean water to get on him so he watched as she pulled herself out and stared at the small ball she set on the floor. "So... what is it?"

She realized suddenly that he had no idea what it was, or what it meant. How would he know the tiny fish suspended in murky fluid was an alien fish? Roxanne got to her feet and picked it up, shrugging off her wet jacket to wrap it up tightly in it. "Oh, oh it's just. Um. Look Hal can we forget this happened? I'd appreciate it."

"Forget about- you just jumped in the water after a bowling ball?" Hal asked, astonished she'd ask such a thing of him.

"Please Hal?" she asked, giving him her best doe eyed expression that men could very rarely deny. Roxanne could practically hear his resolve buckle and smiled brightly when he gave her a tired, but accepting, look. "Great, thanks Hal." Roxanne smiled, before looking down at herself finally. She was soaking wet, and she really smelled of fish and filthy water.

"Okay you're not coming into the van like that." he said pointedly, "So best get out of those wet clothes huh?" Hal added, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Ha ha, yeah. Right." Roxanne scoffed. "I need a bit of a walk anyway. I'll get back, oh wait lemme get my bag..."

After retrieving her dry bag she waved Hal off, who she was sure was worrying for her sanity, before she began to walk. She could walk to her apartment from here, sure it would take an hour, but she'd rather go straight home and shower then bother anyone else with her presence. But most importantly, she'd get to have a real good look at the little fish that now floated in her arms, held in a ball and hidden from the world.

~*~

"You're owing on back rent, John." the man said while standing in the door frame of the apartment, reeking of alcohol and sweat. He had thinning hair, a beard that was unshaven and scraggly, and his skin was tanned from years of working out in the sun as a construction worker.

John, Six, stood in front of him in the apartment. It was the size of a shoe box, small, cramped, barely enough room for a bed and a desk while he had to use a community bathroom downstairs. He sighed, and rubbed at his forehead, fighting back the headache he was feeling coming on. "Yes... yes... of course..." he mumbled before turning away and went to his bed and lifted the mattress.

"Ya continue on like this John 'n I'll see your ass out on the pavement." Mr. Russo said as he folded his arms, watching the stick-thin man bend by his bed and search for money kept in his mattress.

"Sorry." 'John' said in a tone which gave no emotion at all. "How much do I owe?"

"Two fifty." Mr. Russo said.

"Last time it was only two." green eyes narrowed, 'John' looked at his land lord.

"Revenue's gone up. Things're more expensive. Don't like it, go elsewhere." shrugged Mr. Russo.

Six hated this man. He pulled out an envelope and thumbed out two hundred and fifty, and handed it over to the man who greedily took it and counted it in front of him, as if he was trying to go short on payment. "Great thanks. Oh 'n sorry 'bout the power still bein' out. Electricians charge an arm 'n a leg!"

"Yeah. Arm and leg." John replied before, rudely, shutting the door in the mans face and turned and observed his surroundings. Is this what he had become? Living in a shoe box on a thin, soiled mattress he found on the side of the road? Paying that much for this little room seemed ridiculous. But this was the only place who didn't ask for 'references', wanting to know where else you had stayed in the city. Sure, he'd love to explain living in an underground lair built up over years by rage and anger only to be torn down. Or better yet, an underground government facility where he was experimented on every day of his life!

They'd love that, and then they'd throw him into a mental institution.

Six walked over to his dresser, which had a small fish bowl on top. One lone, white gold fish lazily swam around, before dipping down to pick at the pebbles at the bottom of the bowl looking for something to eat. He watched its unblinking eyes as it swam, fins lifting as it breathed, and finned tail swishing as it moved. It was no replacement for Minion, however, even if it had been revealed to him that his existence had been one of desperation so he wouldn't be completely alone... like now.

Knowing your best friend, your only friend, had been a voice in your head all your life had been more striking for the alien to accept then the fact that he had destroyed everything he'd ever made. His robots, his Brain Bots, his machines of death... all of it gone because one woman had gotten through to him.

Remembering, suddenly, he spun and picked up the tiny television he had bought from a cheap store. Adjusting the tuning device he sat on his bed, and smiled as the soft glow of the television illuminated his face. Lifting a hand, he touched his watch, and his projected image vanished and was replaced with blue skin, and the large head. His beard was unkempt now, and Michael Moore would probably be proud of just how messy it was. Scratching at it he watched as the news reader talked at length about things that didn't matter to him, though there was a mention of a dead body found abandoned in front of the local police station and M was being sought in regards to it. Had the hero killed a man? Or was it somebody else?

Six gave a small smile though, when it was reported the dead man's DNA had been linked to over fifteen rape cases in the city, as well as in other states.

"And now we cross to Roxanne Ritchi with reports of strange fish life being identified off our bay area." said the cheery blonde, which both excited, and shocked, Six. Was his Minion-fish being seen by people? What if one of them was caught? Or if they attacked somebody for food? His hand went to his mouth and he watched as Roxanne's face took up the screen, and the horror, and fear, he had been feeling melted away. How was it that her face alone, the sound of her voice coming out of a small, tiny screen brought such comfort?

He leaned back on his bed and stared at the image as she talked, mostly with other men in coats, about the strange fish. There were blurry photographs, and video footage but they were always out of focus and too far away to be really spotted. But they still glowed, gently, in the dark water. As he expected, whenever the boat approached too closely they took off, surprisingly quick despite their un-aerodynamic design and shape.

"...maybe I could... get a bigger place... a fish tank... keep you all safe...?" he asked quietly before the image went back to Roxanne who was signing off. Six sighed and pressed his finger to the screen, as if touching her cheek. "...I'm going to get a tank." Six announced to nobody as he set the television down on his bed and turned it off, before grabbing some money from beneath his mattress. Naturally when he had blown up everything he owned he had kept some money since nobody went into the world penniless. That would just be stupid, and he was NOT stupid.

Though, lately he had been feeling like he was. He had no plans to stick to now; he had no plans of revenge, no nothing. Without that goal on the distance, the alien had well and truly become lost. Having no identity out in the real world he couldn't apply for jobs, could not get a bank account, or anything. He considered robbing a few places, maybe, to get by but no. That wasn't who he was anymore, no more of that. No illegal documents claiming him to be a U.S citizen, no fake I.D, social security number, nothing. That was why he had to live in such a back water part of the city. No questions. No answers. People came and went in the night and nobody cared.

Six hadn't even noticed he had left his apartment behind by now, so intent on buying a new fish tank. He'd fill it with water then go 'fishing' for his fish that night. They would recognize him, they would come to him, and he'd gather them up and keep them close like he should have. Those fish were his only true connection to Minion, why had he been so quick to set them loose? What would Minion think, what would he say?

"Minion is dead." he said aloud as he hurried out to cross the street, eyes focused ahead of him. "Minion isn't here. He's dead, they killed-"

A force suddenly slammed into him with all the subtlety of a pillow case with a brick. He heard tires screech, and felt the ground beneath him as he bounced. His skin burned on his thighs and forearm of his left arm, and he could already smell the burning of material and some gravel from his blood coming in contact. His large head struck the road and he saw stars, and he lay there, vision blurred as the world began to slowly return to focus.

"Oh my God!" he heard a voice cry out, and a car door slamming. "Oh my God oh my God, I didn't, I didn't see! Y-you came out of nowhere...!" the woman's voice was shaking, full of fear at the prospect of killing somebody with her car and getting in trouble with the police.

Six could tell his left arm was popped out of its socket, and he could still smell the burning. The woman was getting closer. If she touched him... no, no. He forced himself to sit up and the woman jumped back, giving a cry of alarm.

"A-are you- oh my God your arm!"

"My arm..." Six echoed as he grabbed his left arm's bicep and with a sickening crack and pop, he put it back in its socket. He moved his arm slowly, checking to see if there was any damage but if there were any muscle damage it was already healing. As was the skid marks to his arm and thighs. Lifting his hand he touched his bruised head when he suddenly realized who it was that was crouching besides him, reaching out to him. "Roxanne." he blurted, before moving away from her, pushing at the ground. Oh God. It was Roxanne. Roxanne.

"I'm so sorry," Roxanne was trying to keep it together but her heart was racing so fast she could hear the blood pumping in her ears, and she felt like she was going to throw up. The skinny man had all but jumped out from behind a parked car and she barely had time to put her foot on the breaks. She had seen him go flying and for a horrifying second believed she'd killed him. But he was sitting up; he looked fine, didn't he? "I'm so, so sorry are you all right what is your name?" she asked, "It's okay, it's okay...?" he statement became a question when she finally saw his eyes.

They were a bright, acidic green. Those eyes... she knew those eyes. She had seen them all those months ago, full of anger, pain, regret... and in those medical journals. Those photos of the young alien growing in the snapshots, his expressions were sometimes blank and emotionless.

"Megamind?" she asked.

"No!" Six cried out as he got to his feet quickly and backed up, "No no, no. No. Not Megamind, no. Never again, no...!"

She was to her feet quickly, hands up, showing him she meant no harm. But really, what could she do to him in the first place? He was gifted, so very gifted, and could probably kill her without even meaning to. That scared her, and thrilled her, at the same time. "It's okay, really. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... Please don't leave, please don't. I thought you were dead, we all thought..."

"You were meant to." Six replied quickly, bumping up against a parked van and felt it, as if seeing if he could push through it and vanish. "Everyone was meant to. I did horrible things. I planned horrible things. This, this whole city I was... I was going to burn it and destroy it and..." he shut his eyes tightly and swallowed. Even though he wore that human disguise, despite his head appearing normal and his clothes every day, Roxanne could still the vulnerability she had witnessed all those months ago. He was like a little boy, trapped in a place he couldn't understand, a place that didn't want him. Or deserve him.

"But you didn't." Roxanne said gently, taking a step closer towards him. "You... you destroyed everything. You didn't set out to destroy us all, or kill people. And I am so, so proud of you for doing that."

Those eyes opened again, quickly, and he was staring at her. By the look he was giving her she wondered if anyone, outside those horrific doctors, had ever told him such a thing. He hadn't completed a task, home work, or a study course in a matter of hours. He hadn't shown how smart or talented he was. It's what he hadn't done that had made her proud of him.

"...proud of... me..." Six stammered quietly.

"What can I call you?" Roxanne asked gently, taking another few steps towards him, wanting to reach out and touch him but knew better. Touch brought pain to him, it had done little to nothing else while growing up and she didn't want to trigger anything.

"...Six..." he replied after a quiet moment of contemplation. "Call me Six."

She felt like a dagger had been plunged into her heart and twisted in deeply. That loveless, horrible number which only served to categorize what number alien he was in that underground facility, was the only name he knew. It's what he was comfortable with, despite all the trauma that was attached to it. Roxanne couldn't show her pain at hearing his name, she had to accept it. This was who he was. "Six." she replied gently before forcing a small smile onto her face. "It's... it's good to see you again, Six."

He eased, gently, no longer pressing into the van trying to meld with it, and just leaned against it. Six gave a shaky, hopeful kind of smile.

"And it's... wonderful to see you, Rox... Mis... w-what do I call you?" he asked, since he really had no idea. Was it right for him to call his previous kidnap victim by her first name? Or was it too formal to call her by her surname?

"Roxanne." she replied with an easier smile. "You can call me Roxanne."

To be continued