I don't own Megamind


Sunday, January 27th

He's vaguely aware that he must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. This can only be a nightmare.

His parents were putting him in his little escape pod, only this time there was no panic siren. It's eerily quiet. They were trying to talk to him, not just the memories of what they had said, but trying to get him to listen. He tried to tell them that he couldn't hear, but even his own voice was swallowed by the horrible silence that was more the void of sound than the mere absence of noise. As if the sound was the first thing that the black hole was eating. He could see it, behind his father, looming. His mother touched him on the cheek; he expected the mix of sorrow, terror, love, and hope that had been his parents parting touches; instead it was horror and anger.

'What have you become?'

He jerked away. The Warden had taken his mother's place, his once kind face twisted with disappointment and rage. Megamind fell backwards into the little pod and it plunged off the planet and into space. Pain blossomed through his head and shoulder as the little pod bounced through the meteor belt. Only this time there was no Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, no Minion, he was alone in the dead of space. He drifted, engines dead and Earth still a blue spec in the distance. He'd never reach it.

Blinding white lights, he lay on a cold hard surface. Operating table. He hurt everywhere and he couldn't feel his right arm. What were they doing to him now? Someone was shouting at him. Panicked, alarmed, there was danger!

He convulsed as he came awoke, jerking in halting movements. Megamind was on the floor of his cell, the lights bright overhead, television playing mutedly in the background.

"Wake up!" the officer outside yelled again.

The guard was upset. Worried? No, panicking that something was wrong or that Megamind's strange behavior was a sign of an escape attempt. Slowly the world started making sense again. Megamind worked enough control into his tingling arm to push himself up and then sat blinking wearily. His back felt twisted and his neck was kinked from sleeping on the floor. He must have fallen off his chair. He massaged his sore shoulder, arm still tingling as blood returned to the extremity.

"You alive now?" The man was still trying to talk to him.

Megamind just blinked in response. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and that cotton had been taken out of the trash. He didn't feel coordinated enough to stand so he half crawled, half dragged himself closer to his chair and popped open the armrest to reveal the hidden mini sink. It was really just a hollow with a small tap and a pocket to hold his toothbrush and toothpaste. He used those now, trying to remove the lingering taste from his tongue. This was what he got for ignoring oral hygiene last night.

Water helped. He knelt, drinking from his cupped hands, ignoring the rest of the world. He could only focus on one this at a time. His brain still felt fuzzy, thoughts mushy. He must not have slept very well or for very long.

What time even was it? Officer What's-His-Name seemed to have been trying to get the blue man's attention for some time, definitely after 5:00am then. Remembering the guard's existence, Megamind twisted awkwardly to face him. This mostly consisted of slipping sidewise and bracing himself from falling.

"Wha' time?" his tongue still felt too thick in his mouth.

"Past time that you should be up and presentable. I won't have any of your nonsense," the correctional officer ranted, "Don't think feigning illness will make me drop my guard, Megamind!"

For What's-His-Name to be so worked up, Megamind must have pulled a fake out on the man before. He can't think of what or who though. He's sure it will come to him later, though.

Forcing himself to his feet, Megamind reset the chair and gratefully slid into it. He rubbed his face roughly, fingers catching on his scabs. His eye was far less swollen, but the cheekbone still throbbed reminding him just how long bones took to heal fully. He could use a shave, his chin felt like sandpaper.

Today was Sunday? Yes. So tomorrow they'd let him shave; unless the Warden had removed that right as well.

Truly this cage had become his hell.

He twisted in his seat trying in vain to get his spine to realign. It cracked and gave an echoing pop, but Megamind still felt like his back was a pretzel. He sat numb in the chair for what felt like ages, but might have only been minutes, trying not to think. It almost worked.

The banging at his cage's door brought him back to focus.

"Breakfast time. Against the wall, super villain," said with such sarcasm that it could only be one of the prison's correctional officers that had been there since Megamind's awkward teen years. "And don't you go getting used to this and start thinking you can use this to your advantage, ya little punk. Warden Woodridge has already thought of that. Crews are going to be in later today to fix you right up. Ain't that right, Rodney?" Mr. Sarcasm said turning to Officer What's-His-Name.

"Sure as shit."

Worst. Fucking. Day.

Megamind forced himself up and over to the wall and the guard entered. The contempt reeking off the man turned the alien's stomach. When the invasion to his space was over, breakfast revealed itself to be better than normal, Sunday's usually were: half way decent biscuits, a grey lump of congealing gravy, overcooked scrambled eggs, orange liquid pretending to be juice, and thick black coffee. He downed the coffee without further thought, swallowing it in a single go. He dropped the paper cup to the floor, he'd deal with that later, and waited for the caffeine to kick in.

He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to think.

It was strong coffee. His thoughts started sparking behind his eyelids, so Megamind turned them to the television and cranked up the volume. KMCP Channel 8 News was beginning its morning news program.

"Up next, it's 7:06 and even though the winter storms have been driving us indoors, you can still find family fun activities at the Metro City Aquarium. Our star reporter, Roxanne Ritchi, got to spend some time with the staff learning how they work with the otters. Check it out." The cheery anchorwoman announced from the couch they did their morning segments on.

A lazy grin spread on his face and the blue man tucked into his breakfast, he was always in the mood to watch Roxanne's pieces.

The footage switched to prerecorded film of the aquarium where one of the otter handlers talked Roxanne through the games they taught the otters to help exercise and stimulate them. Roxanne, always so quick, mentioned how the training must also help them move the otters without directly handling them. She's correct of course and the handler described how the training aids them in veterinary examinations.

He sipped at his orange juice, did it taste weird? Yeah, defiantly weird, or was that the toothpaste still on his tongue?

Somehow Roxanne could make any subject fascinating, not that otters weren't interesting already.

Still tasted weird.

Enhydra lutris, the sea otter, a marine mammal and member of the weasel family native to the Pacific Ocean; especially noteworthy for their use of tools, namely rocks which they gather and open their food with.

Also cute.

Not as cute as Roxanne in that dress though. She wore a fashionable short black dress paired with a bright yellow suit jacket. It made a striking combination. Her hair was loose that day, and Megamind bit his lip as she tucked a strand behind her ear, pearl earrings. Her smile was lovely and she laughed brightly as she tossed a fish to one of the otters.

He'd love for her to wear that during a kidnapping, but not in winter, no, during summer. It would be hot, there being little ventilation in the warehouse he was holding her in. He wouldn't want her to be overly uncomfortable or sweaty on camera later so he'd offer to help her take the jacket off. He'd have to help; her hands were tied after all. She'd agree and as he neared she'd give him a smoldering look through her eyelashes…

Smoldering? To smolder, verb, to burn slowly with smoke but no flame. No that can't be right. Smolder, verb, show barely suppressed passionate emotion such as hatred or anger; synonyms: seethe, fume, simmer.

Anger, dear evil gods, Roxanne would be furious if he made such advances toward her. She'd knee him the moment he got close to her with a "Ha! Serves you right." What was he even thinking?

The eggs were rubbery and not at all conducive to being eaten with the paper spoon-thing. He piled them on the biscuit halves and tried eating them that way. Mostly it just made a mess as the egg fell off in bits, landing back on the cardboard tray.

Wow, that coffee was really strong.

Oh, what did they even make this gravy out of? Soy? Gross.

Roxanne was talking again, "from the Metro City Aquarium, this is Roxanne Ritchi, on behalf of the sea otters twins Castor and Pollux, hoping to see you here soon."

Shit her piece was already done. They were back in the news room now and going to weather.

Ugh, he really shouldn't have had that coffee. His thoughts bounced, disjointed and chaotic.

Why had he? Or right he didn't want to think. Well he was, but too much, too fast, for it to really matter. Thoughts careened through his skull like a humming bird on speed.

Didn't matter, too late now.

The news played out before him, phrases and images inspiring tangents of thought from calculating the surface area of Lake Michigan, to designing a device that would omit a frequency capable of interfering with the human mind in such a way as to disrupt the brain functions dedicated to interpreting the written word, to analyzing the chemical makeup of perfume and olfactory memory. Each thought spiraled out of control demolishing what came before.

If he'd had something to write on, maybe something useful might have come from this exhausted hyperactivity. Instead he simply fidgeted, eyes alternating between focused and glazed over; hands gesturing, clasping, fingers bitten in thought, twisting out calculation in the air, to fall uselessly to his sides again.

When KMCP News managed to gain his attention again, he'd been arguing the relevant applications of solar power to the cartoon rabbits on his cell wall. Not because he thought they would respond, but because he needed to say something out loud and they were convenient and looked argumentative.

Roxanne came on screen, the footage shaky. "I'm here at the site of the latest attack to our city. Behind me, the man going by the name Destruction Worker, is attacking the US 31 overpass into downtown Metro City. There!" Roxanne shouted suddenly, pointing. The camera swung up and re-focused so that a white figure could be seen flying toward the bridge. "Metro Man, defender of Metro City! He appears to be getting the trapped motorists off the bridge."

The footage continued, but not much could be seen from the distance they were forced to film from. Metro Man lowered cars down to the road below and seemed to be trading banter with Destruction Worker, though Megamind couldn't imagine the dialog would be very stimulating. He'd been introduced to the Jack-Hammer-Wielding-Buffoon last month as the man was the latest addition to the group now calling themselves the Doom Syndicate.

Ha! What a joke. Psycho Delic's little posse of three. The purple Drug Lord had tried to tempt Megamind to join. As if! That man made his skin crawl enough to cause nausea.

The Syndicate was such a joke; a rage fueled maniac out to destroy 'the man', a flirtatious witch of a woman wreathed in pink flame, led by a slim ball drug dealing pimp. Megamind was sure the only reason Psycho wanted him was because they needed more members to be seen as legitimate to the national Super Villain leagues.

Megamind really didn't have the energy to deal with the world outside Metrocity; it was hard enough trying to keep track of the political landscape of the criminal underworld here. Dear evil gods, he'd go insane trying to handle anything more.

Was Metro Man not done yet? How long was he going to take with that clown? The man wore an orange cone as a helmet for crying out loud.

Also they should really be supporting that bridge pillar. A semi had run into it during the chaos and large chunks of concrete and rebar crumbled off of it.

The entire structural integrity of the overpass was severely weakened already. The money this city, no the country in general, put into infrastructure was depressing small. They might send out crews to patch the pot holes, maybe, or repave a major road, but Megamind was sure in his entire time on Earth he hadn't seen them rebuild or do major repairs on any of the city's bridges or highways. That was unless they'd been destroyed, and that hardly counted as a sound infrastructure repair plan.

As the continued efforts of Destruction Worker above rattled the overpass again and as the camera man moved to get a better angle, Megamind calculated the structural integrity of the bridge. Wind speed based off how much Roxanne's hair was blowing, temperature based on the weather report an hour ago, average weight per car added to the bridge's mass, and basing the state of the bridge before the attack off his observation of two months ago. He gave it a 76% chance of collapsing in the next 10 minutes with a 5% margin of error.

Roxanne was talking again, but he was having a hard time focusing on her words; his thoughts bouncing back and forth. The way she held her hand up to tame her loose hair that kept threatening to blow into her face as she spoke into the mic and the wind capturing her puffs of breath visible in the chilly air. Frantic calculation on the speed Metro Man was moving, assessing his nemesis at every chance he got. The vehicle that Metro Man just lowered, a flashy blue motorcycle, he should really build himself something like that, it looked fun.

No, he's distracted again. What was important?

Oh right, the bridge which was now crumbling under all the combined stresses. Was Metro Man really trying to prop the entire bridge up with the busted semi-trailer? Yes, dear god he was. The numb skulled troglodyte had no understanding of basic architecture. Or physics, or anything! How did he survive?

The bridge continued to collapse, buckling around the imbecilic hero. When the dust cleared and the camera man zoomed back in, the only solid piece left of the US 31 overpass was the part Metro Man was holding up.

Idiot.

At least the coffee seemed to be wearing off a bit; Megamind's focus was beginning to return to him.

Outside his cell's door he could hear the guards changing their shift. Was that important? Time, what time was it? He needed to be memorizing their patterns, finding what all else had changed since his last visit.

Roxanne was wrapping up her report; it seemed the brainless defender had scooped up Destruction Worker as he was trying to flee the wreckage of concrete, asphalt, and cars.

Right, time! He was supposed to be focusing.

"Lunch!"

Oh, that made it convenient. Megamind slapped his cheeks, trying to ground his thoughts.

12:00pm… or just slightly after.

He swung himself out of the chair and sauntered over to the wall. His ankle protested, but he ignored it.

Hank was back. Megamind was growing to like Hank; he was ok as far as guards went. However, it was eerie as the guard entered his cell. The blue alien knew there was someone in the room, but he didn't know who; or what they were planning.

Was this what it felt like to be normal? Numb and blind to the people around you? Maybe that's why humans were so cruel to each other. They had to pay attention to another being in order to register their emotions. It had taken Megamind so long to learn that trick. That humans took their emotional cues from others via facial expressions, gestures, and vocal tones. Genius that he was, he considered himself quite a good mimic. He'd mastered this nonverbal human language like he had their spoken ones. Even more amusingly, he could lie with his face. He still found the concept immensely amusing; being able to lie about your emotions just by contorting your face in a certain way. It wasn't like his people didn't use facial expressions, but it was so secondary to the direct emotion language the blue race used. Human expressions felt so overly dramatic by comparison.

Megamind almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing half way through the food delivery. He caught himself as he nearly took his hands off the wall; the sudden intake of breath from the officer behind him had brought him back to reality. Megamind glared accusingly at the cartoon wall rabbit. This was clearly its fault.

Door closed and left alone again, lunch revealed itself to be BBQ chicken wings which they may not have screwed up, round green mushy vegetables, yet more toast that they were obsessed with, butter at least made it better, and spicy smelling red juice.

They'd made him miss Roxanne's sign off; he glared accusingly at the cell door.

Megamind was starting to lose it; he could tell that much. It wasn't just the caffeine still hammering away in his system. Sleep deprivation was taking its toll. The edges of his vision were fuzzy, tunnel vision, that's what they called it.

And the Isolation.

He hadn't had physical contact with anyone other than the good doctor since Metro Man had dropped him off. It had never been this bad before. Megamind had never earned a grounding or solitary stint that lasted longer than 12 hours before. In prison there had always been an Uncle nearby, even in these later years he at least had company during meals and yard time. Now…

Nothing.

Megamind ate his chicken alone in a circular cage surrounded by the mocking mural of a tormentor, trapped by cruel men with badges that made them brave, and entertained only by a device that served to remind him of the world he was forcefully separated from. Even as a man that was used to solitude, in Evil Lair he was never alone. His Lair was always filled with life, and his dear fish.

More than anything he wished that Minion would forgo the plan and just spring him now.

Nonchalant Hank appeared at the cell's view port. "Hey kid, you got a visitor waiting for ya."

Megamind froze in shock, "Really?" That fantastic fish had become a mind reader!

"Yup, I take it you want to meet him them?" Hank replied, there was something off about the way he said it, but Megamind's tired brain wasn't sure what.

"Yes, definitely."

He tossed the remains of his lunch tray; he didn't like eating veggies on good day so the peas could just go rot. Megamind assumed his position on the wall with glee.

He was nervous as the guard approached him with the chains in hand. As much as quieting the bombardment of unwelcome emotional noise was a relief, Megamind felt unarmed not knowing the intentions of the person approaching him. It could be very helpful when he was administering terror into the hearts of Metrocity's citizens, but being numb was detrimental when he wasn't in control of the situation.

Quickly and professionally his ankles were cuffed, wrists bound and chained to his waist. Hank led Megamind by his chain with Officer Rodney leading the party and the Cowboy taking rear guard. Megamind tried to check for changes in the hall that he was led through, but he was far too distracted trying to figure out what variation on an escape plan that Minion was pulling off. They turned him at a corner that led not to the more secure visitation area with the plated glass and speakers used to separate prisoners and guests, but to a more private room usually reserved for the better behaved or meetings with lawyers. Neither of which had ever applied to Megamind.

The room they entered was a concrete square with a metal table bolted to the floor in the center. A sturdy metal chair sat on one side with links in the floor that his chains could be attached to. Opposite was a more comfortable looking padded metal chair. The room had no windows, but cameras were mounted in each corner. The officers patted him down checking for contraband and lock picks, than after Megamind was securely locked to chair and floor with only a few inches of slack for movement; the guards left him.

When the door opened again Megamind was speechless. This had not even entered into the realm of possibilities in his head.

Metro Man stood in the doorway, hand still on the knob. He just stared at the blue alien for a moment; then turned and spoke quietly to the guards outside. His white fur mantled cape was dirty and torn. His perfect hair mussed. As Metro Man shut the door and approached the remaining seat, Megamind noticed the recording lights on the cameras switched off. It seemed the hero wanted their meeting to be private.

The large man sat awkwardly in the metal chair, his white cape bunching up behind him. Metro Man looked tired, more so then Megamind ever remembered the flawless hero looking before. In truth, Mr. Perfect didn't look very flawless at all at the moment. As they both sat in silence Megamind scrutinized his nemesis. White gloves coated in so much dirt and motor grease that they looked grey in a way that would never wash out, the trade mark swoop of hair falling into a face which was smudged with more grime, his left sleeve torn revealing a sculpted bicep marred by nothing worse than dirt, fur trim matted down with stitching coming loose; the man looked disheveled. Metro Man folded his hands in his lap with his head bowed, seemingly content just sitting in silence.

Megamind cursed himself for drinking that damned coffee; he needed to know what this was. He felt lost, staring at the other alien; this was so far outside of their normal behavioral pattern that Megamind was flying completely blind. No, that was stupid, he'd know Wayne since they were children. This was just a puzzle and he was a genius. Work it out.

"Something happened," Megamind reasoned, "I saw you fight with Destruction Worker. I feel it's a safe bet to assume you just finished dropping him off to his new cell. I can only extrapolate then that your out-of-character behavior is directly related to the events of that fight. Other than your complete inability to understand the structural integrity of highway overpasses, from the news footage shown, nothing seemed overly problematic. So it must not have been caught on camera." Megamind trailed off watching Wayne for any reaction.

"It's weird whenever you talk like that, you know?" Wayne spoke softly, head still bowed, but his clasped hands tightened and his shoulders tensed.

"Well you broke character first! I don't see why I should be expected to play my role if you don't have the decency to remain in yours." Megamind really wished he could cross his arms as he huffed. Wayne was making all this so difficult.

"Broke character?" Wayne finally looked up, brows creased and frowning.

"Yes!" Megamind waved his hands for emphasis, though as they were chained to the arm rests that resulted in him just flapping his hands in large alien's general direction, "You are the perfect, unbreakable hero; a beacon of flawless perfection to the citizens of Metrocity. What even is this?" Disgust colored Megamind's words, "Fawning over the fallen bad guy. Cradling him like- like he was the damsel. For FUCKS sake Wayne! Visiting you nemesis in prison, for what? A heart to heart because you had a bad day heroing? You come here for a pep talk?"

Wayne just stared at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Megamind just glared back, was it because he swore? He always had pride in not lowering himself to the use of vulgar language in his villainous role, but prison always did bring out the worst in him. Or that was to say his internal filter simply slipped more often. Really, what was the point of censoring himself when he was still tame in comparison to the foul mouths of his fellow inmates? That might have been the first time he's ever sworn in his nemesis' presence though. The more Wayne simply stared at him, he's sure of it.

Megamind turned away, glaring at the wall to the left. He's so lost in thought that he didn't realize Wayne moved until he felt the gentle touch against his cheek below his damaged orbital and fading bruise. He froze, but the presence of the fingers refused to prove themselves as illusions of his tired mind. Slowly he turned his head to look back at Wayne. The motion caused the white gloved hand to cup his cheek, the thumb resting on his chin right below his bottom lip. The way Wayne was looking at him, touching him, so reminiscent of the way the hero had held him that bloody afternoon in the snow.

Megamind's vision darkened and he realized that he wasn't breathing.

He gasped and jerked back but the motion barely moved him. The reaction though, caused Wayne to withdraw his hand, tucking it back into his lap. The large man looked away, his brows lowered and mouth drawn.

Heart hammering in his chest, Megamind just sat, reeling. The fuck was that‽

Wayne seemed to compose himself slightly; he sat straighter though his hands were still fisted in his lap, "Four people died. When the bridge collapsed. Because I couldn't do anything," the invulnerable alien closed his eyes and turned his face up to the ceiling, "because despite all these powers, I was useless. They died because of me. Like you almost…"

Megamind could picture it, the bridge collapsing; there had still been cars on it. Metro Man had spent the entire fight moving vehicles off the bridge one by one. He'd had to. If the super powered alien had used his full speed he could have been done in less than a minute, but the people in those cars would never have survived the forces that would have applied to them. Maybe Wayne had even tried to save some of them with super speed. Unbidden the image of a car painted red from within blossomed in Megamind's thoughts; he shuddered, that might explain Wayne's behavior.

"You didn't kill those people," Megamind spoke softly, "Destruction Worker did. He's a real piece of work that one. Doesn't have any style, only thing he cares about is causing as much chaos of possible."

Megamind had dug into the man's records; Milton Gibbons had been an unnoteworthy office worker at a software company until the day he burned it down. He'd managed to avoid the arson charge somehow and his next listed employment was at a construction site. That lasted for all of a year before one of the buildings that the company had just recently finished was demolished with a TNT blast that shook Metrocity. The pattern continued form there and construction tools became his means of chaos. His plans never seemed to involve much other than destroying large bits of the city to bring down 'the man' which was usually represented by the government, large corporations, or just big buildings he didn't like.

Wayne barely moved as he spoke, his body still tense, "I should have been able to save them."

"You can't save everyone," Megamind reminded him.

"But I'm the hero aren't I?" Wayne snapped, finally looking at Megamind again, "No one ever dies when we fight."

"That's different."

"Yeah? How so?" Wayne demanded, incredulous.

Did he not know? Certainly the large man wasn't that dense. Megamind always assumed his nemesis just had the decency to never point out all the obvious safety mechanisms littered throughout Megamind's evil machinations of destruction. There was safety netting, kill switches, the fact that they always fought their really destructive battles in abandoned lots and even when they did fight in the city they always gave the citizens plenty of time to clear out. For evil heaven's sake they once paused in the middle of combat because some drunken idiot had wandered to close to the battle. How could Wayne not know that their fights were different?

"What do you want from me, Wayne?" Megamind was exasperated.

The hero seemed to deflate, "I don't know. I just… I just need to clear my head."

"The hero isn't accountable for the actions of the villain. A maniac threatened the safety of some citizens; you stopped the bad guy and saved countless lives. He killed people, you saved others." Megamind spoke flatly; he couldn't believe he actually had to give his rival a pep talk. This was humiliating. Wayne just stared at him, so he continued, "It doesn't matter if you mess up or if things don't always go as planned, you have a role to play. The people need you. Metrocity needs its icon, its hero."

Wayne looked away again, eyes narrowed and tense. This was getting nowhere.

Speaking just to fill the void, Megamind sighed, "Look, if we're just going to throw all social decorum out the window, can I ask a favor?"

The large man faced him once more; eyebrows raised then narrowed his eyes, "What kind of favor?"

"I need to get a message passed on to Minion. To let him know I'm alright." Megamind hated having to use his rival for this task, but his options were sorely limited at the moment and he'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity, "There is a butcher on the corner of Lenard and Grant Street, its run by a woman named Nancy. I want you to tell her 'Order for fresh fish from Mr. B. on the sixth. It's well done, but the recipe needs work. He wants 5 pounds of the salmon and 2 pounds of the cod on Friday.' You got all that?"

"You want me to order you fish?" Wayne sounded genuinely confused.

"It's code, you idiot, for her to pass on to Minion so that he knows not to worry about my health." It was more than just an update on his health, but Wayne didn't need to know that. "Will you do it or not?" Megamind snapped.

Wayne scrunched his face before nodding, "Yeah, ok… tell it to me again."

Megamind repeated the coded message and had Wayne repeat it back to him six times before he was satisfied that the hero wasn't going to mess it up, "I'd also greatly appreciate if you wouldn't go into that neighborhood in uniform. It may draw unwanted attention to Nancy's business."

The hero paused before nodding in consent. He stood then and straightened his cape. As he crossed the room and reached for the door, Megamind found himself calling after the hero.

"If you like pork, you should try some of her sausage rolls. They're fantastic." And then he was alone again.

The guards returned shortly after and performed a far more thorough search. As if Metrocity's defender was going to smuggle contraband to him. Ha! Though maybe they had noticed how weird Metro Man had been acting, too.

Then back to his cage. A cage with a new door. Once inside, Megamind crouched and inspected the new addition. On the bottom of the door was a metal panel that looked like it could be slid up for items to be passed inside. His little home was now a true solitary confinement cell.

Destitute, he flopped back on his chair. Every single thing was conspiring against him. The only consolation of this entire week was if Metro Man actually did pass on his coded message and even that was as far outside routine as was physically or mentally possible.

Megamind had completely lost track of time again, so he flipped the television back on and turned to the news.

2:37pm, the helpful anchorman informed him as he launched into an interview with a local pizza restaurant owner. Megamind let his mind drift, to melancholy even to bother channel surfing.

As the hours slipped away, Megamind was only aware that the caffeine had worn off when he felt his body begin reacting completely contrary to his thoughts. He'd been contemplating past battles, trying to further puzzle out this strange turn in his nemesis' behavior; his body however was responding to far more base thoughts.

Megamind took a deep breath. He could smell it, feel it; lust, desire, faint but there. He moved closer to the door, and sat with his back to the wall. Through the cracks in the door, it came. Megamind muted the television and in the quiet could hear the guard's soft noises. Masturbating at work, the naughty man, probably snuck in a porno mag or something.

Megamind knew of such things of course, but they never did anything for him. For him to get aroused it took emotional stimulation, it was possible to achieve with romantic media, but only just. Normal porn held no interest for him and he only rarely masturbated. He had discovered though, in these prison walls, that he could get off on someone else's lust. Humans gave off such strong emotions and hormones during arousal that the experience could end up reminiscent of being intoxicated for the blue alien.

Breathing deeply he focused on that feeling, let it wash over him. It'd be better if the man was in the room, the reaction would be so much stronger.

He imagined going up to the window and beckoning the officer inside. He'd threaten the man into silence, bribe him into compliance. He would be in control of the encounter. He always was, when he dabbled in such things. He'd push the man down into the chair and straddle him. If the fool dared to try and touch him, a sound bitch slap would set the man straight. Touching only went one way. He'd be rough, it was expected; he was a super villain after all. He'd bite and lick and take. The man would smell like musk and lust. Exotically hairy and hard. That hardness, he would take it in his hand and work it until the man begged. Then he would taste the man, that musky salty release, the result of human passions.

Megamind gasped as he worked his fingers into his sensitive flesh. Soft and yielding where human males were so hard. His tentacles extended out of his body and wound around his hand, slick with lubrication. The blue alien shuddered with pleasure.

Moaning softly in a small fluttering orgasm, he felt his body relax again. He removed his slick hand from his jumpsuit and licked it clean, relishing his own taste. Megamind didn't care if it might be considered weird; everything about his sex was weird. He decided long ago to just do what felt right, screw human norms.

Touching himself alone like that wasn't as good as having a playmate in the cell with him, but much safer. The prison officers weren't safe. Megamind was so careful about those few he chose as his Prison Bitches; men who were safe, trustworthy, who would obey the strict rules Megamind set. So far there had only been two he'd ever interacted with directly, and even then it was only sex if you thought of giving a blowjob while masturbating as sex. Now there likely wouldn't ever be anymore encounters. He supposed it didn't really matter. Those interactions had been a flirtation with danger and youthful experimentation. Minion would be horrified to know what his Sir had been up to these past few years when behind bars.

He heard footsteps approach outside and furtively tried to wipe his hand clean and look inconspicuous. The soft curse and thump on the other side of the wall indicated the officer outside was doing the same.

As it was, it seemed Megamind hadn't needed to bother. Without ceremony his tray of food was deposited through the new slot in his cell's door and the footsteps began retreating.

Megamind curled his arms around his legs, mood entirely lost. The brief respite and distraction provided by the guard being just that, brief and now gone. He was bone weary, he should sleep, was long overdue to sleep. His mind had just been too active to let him relax enough. Now though, his body relaxed fully and his mind slowly followed, drifting into disjointed meanderings; he was too tired to even bother moving.

Sleep finally claimed him, curled against the wall of his cell. The hours ticked away.