A/N: And, once again, nothing much happens. I'm sorry, I really am, there's just a lot of stuff to set up! Hopefully it's not too boring.
On another note, this is the closest thing to porn I've ever posted :P I've tried to write the real thing, but my brain keeps wanting to make it snarky and comical, which really doesn't work. Oh well.
Chapter 3
Roxanne didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, but she woke with her face smooshed against the back cushion and her bra twisted into new and uncomfortable places under her blouse.
Someone – she suspected Minion – had draped a knitted blanket over her while she slept, but she shivered even so. Through the giant picture window, she could see the sky turning from velvety black to deep, icy blue. Night always seemed coldest just before dawn. She rubbed one foot against her shin, trying to warm up, and wondered if she still had time to sneak up to her bed for a few hours of sleep.
"Roxanne? Are you awake?"
She looked up. In the darkness, she could see Megamind leaning over the back of the couch, gazing down at her. The first time Roxanne had seen his usual sleepwear, she'd remarked that it took a very confident man to wear pajamas with little hazard symbols and a flared collar. Megamind, to her amusement, took it as a challenge, and had made a point of wearing the pajamas just to prove how confident he was.
The reporter rolled onto her back and stretched out. "Ngh, what does it look like?"
The blue alien smirked. "I understand that when couples have a dispute, it's customary for the partner who was in the wrong to sleep on the couch. Does this mean you admit you were wrong?"
"I admit nothing," she muttered sleepily. She turned onto her side again, giving him the (literal) cold shoulder.
Megamind's heart sank. That night, when he'd returned from patrol to find Roxanne absent from their bedroom, he'd been terrified for a moment that she'd left, despite what Minion had said in the car. Fortunately they'd quickly tracked her down, and he'd decided to let her sleep where she was.
Over the course of their relationship, the two of them had found that when they had a serious argument, distance was the best thing. It had been easier when they lived separately – they could retreat to their own residences, where they'd calm down and quickly start to miss each other. Growing up in prison, Megamind had learned to cultivate privacy as a state of mind. But Roxanne was used to living on her own, and she'd had to adjust.
This was the first time she'd ever gone as far as to sleep in a separate room. The blue hero had known he'd have to act fast to mend the situation, and had woken up early in the hope of doing just that.
He noticed her shiver again as she burrowed deeper into the couch. "Aren't you cold? It's much warmer upstairs," he tried to sound tempting.
"'M too cold to move." Roxanne looked up gain, her blue eyes half-lidded. "Think you could warm me up?"
Megamind recalled a line from a movie Lucia was fond of. "As you wish."
He slid underneath the blanket with her and held her close. His slim, hairless frame meant he lost heat easily (those tight leather outfits weren't just for show), and she took full advantage of that now, absorbing his warmth for herself as she snuggled against him, enjoying the soft fuzziness of his pajamas and the lean, hard shape of his body against hers.
"Are you still mad at me?" He shifted a little to look at her.
She sighed. "I'm not mad at you. But I still wasn't wrong. You shouldn't be letting Reggie test dangerous equipment like that."
"It was –"
"I know it was his idea. But you didn't have to go along with it."
He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather he tested it on his own, with no supervision or safety gear? Because that's what he would have done if I'd said no."
"And what makes you so sure of that?"
"He has the spark, Roxanne. The passion for creation. When he has an idea, he won't rest until it's given life."
And you'd know, wouldn't you? she thought wryly. "He's only fourteen."
"So?" The blue man hooked one leg over hers. "I was his age when I began my career as a supervillain. Metro Mahn was his age, the first time we battled."
"And –"
Roxanne stopped herself. She'd been about to say "and look how that turned out", but . . . she couldn't. It would be too hurtful. Everything that had happened as a result of "that" – the epic battles, the kidnappings, the publicity, the vast destruction – had also been part of what ultimately brought them together. If he'd never been a villain, and she'd never been his hostage of choice . . . she liked to think they still would have found each other, but really, there was no knowing how it would have turned out.
"But that wasn't really what you wanted, was it?" she finally did say. "Either of you. You did it because you thought it was what you were destined for."
"And now I think destiny is the path we choose for ourselves." He stroked her hair, smoothing one silky lock between his fingers. "Perhaps this is what Reggie's chosen. Laurie too; I found out she was using her powers in defense of the innocent."
That was a relief to hear, Roxanne had to admit. ". . . Are you thinking of training them?" She kept her tone neutral, genuinely curious as to what he'd say.
"I'd like to," he admitted quietly. "But I don't want to single the two of them out for special treatment. It would have to be all or nothing. And I know how much the whole idea worries you . . ."
"I won't deny it worries me." She rubbed her forehead gently against his, mimicking the affectionate gesture he often used on her. "But maybe it would be okay. You're doing an amazing job with the kids so far." She smirked. "You really threw yourself into the deep end of the parenting pool, you know."
"Yes, I've come to realize that." In the dark, his green eyes were almost luminous. "And dragged you with me."
"Hey." She kissed his brow. "I'm still here, aren't it?" She cupped his cheek, letting him feel the warm metal of her ring against his skin. "You captured me, and now you're stuck with me."
He chuckled, pulled her hand away and kissed her palm. "Then you still wish to become my evil queen?"
"You do know you're not evil or royal, right?"
"That doesn't mean you can't be." His smile faded. He shifted on the couch, gazing away from her and out at the lightening sky. ". . . It doesn't bother you, does it?"
There were so many things "it" could mean, Roxanne reflected. "What doesn't?"
"That I'm not royalty." He sighed. "Or if I am, I'm not aware of it."
". . . Oh."
She understood what this was about now. He was thinking of his lost homeworld, and all the things about himself and his people that he didn't know, and never would. He and Minion had shared some of their memories with her – she'd told them it was extraordinary they could remember anything at all – but now that she thought about it, he'd been dwelling on those thoughts more and more as the wedding plans went underway.
He wasn't bringing any of his own culture to the occasion (unless you counted the rock and roll touches). If his people had their own ceremonies and traditions for marriage, he didn't know them. He didn't even have a family name to share with her.
She nuzzled his neck, breathing in his warm, musky scent. His pulse quickened under her lips. "You know it doesn't bother me. You're a self-made man, and I admire that. More people should."
". . . I am quite admirable, yes."
"I never planned to change my name anyway, if I ever got married. I like it the way it is. It's catchy, and I've built my professional identity with it."
"I must admit, 'Roxanne Blue' doesn't have quite the same ring."
She chuckled. "It sounds like a paint sample."
"My thoughts exactly." He turned back onto his side again, gazing into her eyes. "I rid myself of that ridiculous name as soon as I could. I wouldn't bestow it in my worst enemy, let alone the love of my life."
Roxanne wondered when she'd ever actually heard someone use the phrase "love of my life". That was Megamind for you – what would sound cheesy coming from anyone else became endearing when he said it.
She clasped his hand and brought it to her heart. Then, suddenly mischievous, she sucked the tip of one long blue finger into her mouth, watching him shudder and blush furiously. More than two years together, and it was still so easy to get him riled up.
His arms tightened around her. Their lips met as he rolled halfway on top of her, his thigh rubbing between her legs in intriguing ways.
She broke the kiss long enough to murmur, "Mm, maybe we should continue this upstairs."
Megamind pouted. "But I'm comfortable where I am." He nudged his groin against her hip, letting her feel how "comfortable" he was getting. "It's not as if we haven't had amorous lee-aye-zons on this couch before."
"We didn't have to worry about people walking in then."
"I assure you, we won't be disturbed at this hour."
"Come on, my bra's all twisted –"
"Mm, then let me help."
"Hey, quit it!" She squirmed from his grasp, giggling. "Look, I'm going upstairs with or without you."
"Oh, fine," the blue alien huffed. He got to his feet, moving a little awkwardly. "When we get to Grand Cayman, I swear I'm having our door hermetically sealed."
She laughed. "Fine. We can climb out the window when we want to go to the beach. And I know you wanted to see the iguanas."
"They really are blue, as you said?"
"Not quite this vibrant a shade." She ran her warm hand over his sensitive scalp, making him purr and pull her close again. "But yes, the ones in the reserve really are blue. Ten years ago there were only a few dozen of them left, but they've been breeding them. Now there are hundreds."
As the two of them climbed the stairs, Roxanne found herself thinking of the blue iguanas, brought back from the brink of extinction. Their world had changed, and they'd probably never be as numerous as they'd once been, but at least they'd never be gone.
It . . . resonated. She told herself it shouldn't – people weren't lizards! – but . . . it did.
When her relationship with Megamind had turned sexual, the question of whether she had to worry about getting pregnant had, naturally, come up. "It's not impossible," he'd told her. He'd studied his own biology off-and-on over the years, and found that his genetic structure was uncannily close to human (which had left him with even more questions about his homeworld). Just to be safe, she'd started taking birth control – with how chaotic and changing their lives had been back then, a baby was the very last thing they'd needed.
Roxanne had never longed for motherhood. She'd liked the idea of having kids someday, but wouldn't have felt her life was wasted if it never happened. For a long time, it had looked like it wouldn't happen – she'd been caught in the middle of the hero-villain game, with no romantic prospects and no time to even imagine raising a child.
But the game was over now. The rules had changed. Life was still chaotic, and probably always would be, but she was learning to live with it. As she'd once told Megamind, "normal" was in the eye of the beholder.
She thought back to her talk with Lucia last night, when she'd realized she really was playing the role of a mother. The feelings were new and complicated, but . . . they weren't unwelcome.
. . . Well, they didn't have to decide anything right now. Right now she had a horny blue alien kissing and fondling her, and it was getting extremely hard to think about anything at all.
Later that morning, on the other side of town, a lone figure stood on a balcony, gazing out at the sunrise.
In another life, Wayne Scott wouldn't have been able to enjoy it. He would have been compelled keep his super-senses on alert, watching and listening for any sign of trouble. When he'd first thought about moving back into the city, he'd been afraid he might fall back into old habits. But nearly three years of practice had taught him to tune out the troubles of the world. He knew they still went on, but they were safely in the mental realm of "someone else's problem".
The air was only slightly above freezing, but although Wayne was barefoot and wearing only sweatpants and a T-shirt, he didn't notice. There was no need to give up all the advantages of his powers.
"Morning, Music Man," Danielle Dymond's voice came from behind him. She padded out onto the balcony, bundled up in one of his robes (which made her look like a child playing dress-up in daddy's clothes). "You trying to practice that 'lonely brooding artist' look?"
The ex-hero grinned. "That depends. What do you think of it?" He tried to sweep his hair back dramatically. The morning breeze refused to cooperate, however, and blew it back into his face.
Danielle chuckled. "Might need a little more work." She nodded back toward the sliding glass door of the balcony. "Do you think you could practice inside? Not all of us are immune to the cold."
Smiling, Wayne followed her back inside.
The apartment they shared was "bohemian", which is advertising code for "small and artistically shabby". They'd moved into it several months ago, after Wayne had stayed over at Danielle's place so many times that she'd quipped he "might as well live here and help with the rent and the groceries". She'd meant it as a joke, but Wayne had found he liked the idea.
His solitary fortress under the old schoolhouse was, well, solitary. It had been fine for the first year or so after he retired from heroism; he'd needed time alone with his thoughts, away from distraction, not to mention away from anyone who might recognize him. His hideout had most of the comforts of home, so why risk exposing his identity by taking up residence somewhere else?
But . . . he loved Danielle. And, considering she'd still wanted to keep dating him after she learned his secret, even though she'd been one of the few law-abiding citizens who hated Metro Man, he was pretty sure she loved him too.
They balanced each other. She kept him grounded, and helped him with things that, as a famous superhero and son of the richest couple in the city, he'd never had to deal with before, like paying bills and shopping on a budget. Technically, he was still rich – some very discreet arrangements immediately after his "death" had created accounts he could tap into without raising suspicion. He'd known it might take a little while to launch his music career, and he'd have to eat in the meantime.
But Danielle had refused to let Scott money pay for anything in her life. She would, however, accept money that Music Man earned, so they'd been able to afford this place together, for the sake of starting on new ground.
"I don't think the brooding look is really you," she said, with that warm, sweet smile he loved so much. "All your best songs are the ones about hope and heroism. You should work with that."
Wayne picked her up for a kiss, supporting her weight on one arm as he carried her toward the couch. The collar of the oversized robe fell off her shoulders, revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. "I don't get you, Dee. You hated it when I actually went out and fought evil, but you like it when I sing about it?"
"Yeah, I do. Music inspires people. Gets them to go out and change the world themselves." She stroked his beard. "We listen to your stuff down at the station sometimes."
He kissed one bare brown shoulder. "I wish the record companies felt the way you do."
"C'mon, you'll get a deal one of these days. Just keep working at iiii-" she trailed off as his lips moved somewhere else. "Mmh, hey, we don't have time for this! Mom's gonna be here in a few minutes!"
"I could use superspeed."
She frowned. "Didn't you say you'd die if you kept using that power? That it's why you ended up looking like this?" She ran her fingers through the graying hair at his temples.
"Hey, it's just a theory. I could be wrong." He lay back on the couch, settling her on top of him. "It might be worth testing it."
Danielle, to his great delight, had only been a little apprehensive their first time together. Saying things like "I won't break if you get a little rough" wasn't a good idea when your partner could bend steel beams and crush coal into diamond. He could control his strength – playing the guitar had been good practice, since music so often distracted him – but they'd still had to be slow and careful at first. With practice, though, they'd learned what they could do, and he no longer worried about hurting her in the heat of the moment.
She laughed. "Next thing you're gonna want to do it flying in the air."
Wayne imagined this, and had to stop himself from ravishing her.
Their interlude came to a screeching halt as someone knocked on the front door. "Dani? Mister Wayne?" a lightly accented female voice called.
Danielle's eyes shot wide. "Oh crud, Mom!" She leapt off of Wayne like a scalded cat and vaulted over the couch, tripping over the folds of the robe as she raced for the bedroom.
Wayne, noting his own state of amorous disarray, hurriedly called "We'll be just a moment, Mrs. Dymond!"
"Oh, you take your time," Danielle's mother called back. Even without super-hearing, Wayne could hear her giggling on the other side of the door.
As they frantically dressed, Danielle hissed at him, "This is your fault, just so you know! You had to be iso/i goddamn charming at Christmas. Now she's over here every other day and I get no friggin' privacy!"
"Aw, I like her."
"You would," Danielle scoffed. "She's crazy about you. And so is Dad. I think you're the first boyfriend I've ever had that they both approved of."
"Why can't you just be happy about that?" He gave her a serious look. "Dee, I've lost both my parents. Twice over," he added, for sympathy points. "I like having family around again."
Danielle finished pulling a sweater over her head. "Okay, okay. But if she asks about grandchildren again, you're dealing with it."
Once they let her in, Lydia Flores-Dymond headed for the kitchen and began making breakfast, over Danielle's protests. "It's no trouble, honey. I like to do things for my children."
"She does it to show me up," Danielle grumbled. "She thinks I can't take care of myself."
Wayne, who couldn't remember Lady Scott ever cooking him a meal in her life, said nothing.
The former hero been deeply nervous when Danielle brought him to her family's Christmas gathering. Before, when he'd met a girlfriend's parents (which hadn't happened often), he'd known he could count on his powers and his fortune to make a good impression. But now he was only a struggling wannabe-musician, so he'd turned on the full power of his old charm to make them like him.
He needn't have worried, it turned out. Danielle's parents both had a strong romantic streak, and when he'd told them the personal history he'd invented for himself – that he was an ex-Special Ops man "not at liberty to talk about it", but had left that life behind to pursue his love of music – they'd been won over easily.
He watched Lydia and her daughter as they chatted around the table. They were the same height, and had the same high cheekbones and black, almond-shaped eyes. Lydia's skin, however, was several shades lighter, and her iron-gray hair fell in a smooth cascade down her back, in contrast to Danielle's cloud of velvety curls.
"There was another bank robbery yesterday," his girlfriend said. "We were lucky this time, though. We stopped them cold. During the last one, one of the guys managed to get away with most of the money." She gazed at her fork, thinking. "Don't quote me on this, but it feels like something big's going on. All the bank robberies, that break-in at the chemical plant last month, the freight hijacking . . ." She shook her head. "It all says 'supervillain' to me, but it's not. Supervillains leave calling cards. They can't resist the attention," she added with a sneer. "And we haven't been able to get a connection out of the guys we did collar."
"Well, what does Megamind have to say?" Lydia asked brightly. "Surely he of all people would be able to tell if there was a plot afoot?"
Danielle's shoulders tensed. "He's . . . got other things on his mind these days."
"I'll say he does!" Lydia beamed, clearly having found a topic of conversation she liked. "I think it's so sweet, a man changed for the love of a good woman!"
Wayne coughed as he swallowed his bite. "You know, there's more to the story than that."
Lydia ignored him. "And lucky, lucky Alicia has an invitation! I've made her promise to tell me everything, of course . . ."
Wayne and Danielle exchanged a worried look as she went on. They hadn't planned to tell her that they too would be going to the wedding. It raised too many questions that they didn't have answers prepared for. Why would Megamind and Roxanne Ritchi consider them – a musician with a shady past, and a cop who was notoriously cold to all superheroes – important enough to invite to such an exclusive event?
But if Alicia Sanders was also going to be there, they wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. Danielle's aunt wasn't exactly a gossip, but she didn't believe in hiding the truth, especially from family. They'd have to come up with more stories now . . .
". . . And it never hurts to think about the future," Lydia finished her monologue. She gave Danielle a teasing smile. "I still wouldn't mind a grandchild, you know."
Danielle pointed her fork at Wayne. "Take it away, Mister Skye."
Wayne gulped, trying to think of what he could tell her. "Sorry, but I'm a superpowered alien who's incapable of breeding with humans" probably wouldn't work, especially since he didn't know if the last part was true. There certainly hadn't been any women claiming they'd had Metro Man's love-child, but then, he'd never been the kind of guy who slept around, and he'd always been careful (in more ways than one). He'd seen the museum displays, all the exhibits that reminded him how inhuman he was, but . . . couldn't it be possible?
He imagined a human trying to gestate a superpowered baby, and had to block out images of Sigourney Weaver movies.
"Well, Mrs. Dymond, we're really not at that point yet," he said at last. "I like your daughter, don't get me wrong, but I think we're happy the way we are right now." He glanced over at Danielle. "Am I right, Dee?"
Danielle smiled with relief. "Definitely. We're not in a hurry. Besides, Mom, you have grandchildren. Leon's got two kids."
"But they live in Indianapolis!" Lydia pouted. "And Benny and Ramona are still single. You're my best hope!"
That had been another new experience for Wayne. Growing up, he'd been an only child, with no relatives except for his parents and a few, mostly elderly aunts and uncles. He'd been the center of attention at every family gathering, fawned over and asked to show off his talents (there was one incident involving laser vision and mince pie that was never spoken of again). Danielle, on the other hand, had two brothers, a sister, a niece and nephew, and a multitude of cousins, who had all been friendly but not very interested in him once introductions were over. It was . . . nice, to be with family at Christmas again.
Or it had been, until Danielle's brother Benedict pointed out how funny it was that her boyfriend looked and sounded so much like the late Metro Man. Wayne had managed to laugh it off ("I get that a lot"), but it had still been a nasty shock.
The more people he let himself get close to, the more danger there was that someone might figure out his secret. He knew his chances of getting a record deal would be better if he hired a manager, or made more friends in the music industry, but the risk was too great. And if he did land a deal, and became famous again . . .
Wayne hated to admit it, but the charade couldn't last.
Suspension, Minion had agreed with his boss, did not mean Laurie should be allowed to sit idle for the rest of the week. The cyborg fish had seen to it that she was rousted from her bed at the same time as the other kids. He'd made her extra breakfast, since she hadn't had dinner the night before, and once the other four had left for school, he'd set her to doing extra chores around the Lair. "If she really does want great responsibility, maybe we'd better start her off small."
Right now she was in the laundry, helping Calgon and the other household brainbots, while Minion was finishing up in the kitchen. The fish wondered if he should be the one to go speak to the school when her sentence was up – Megamind was the teens' legal guardian, but Minion thought of them as his wards too – but his thoughts trailed off as he heard the voices of his master and Miss Ritchi approaching.
For a moment, it sounded like they were arguing again. But . . . no, he knew that tone. His friend was irritated about something, and grouchy because he couldn't do anything to fix it.
Minion looked up as they approached. "What's the matter, Sir?"
The blue alien crossly folded his arms across his chest. "Roxanne is con-soor-ting with the enemy."
"Thinking of consorting," said the reporter. "And aren't you being a little melodramatic? Devon Singer's an asshole, I agree, but can you really call him 'the enemy'? Especially when you've actually had to deal with real enemies?"
"Roxanne, he stole my designs!"
"He did, Miss Ritchi," Minion added, feeling he should stick up for his friend. "I took a look at that new desalination filter Green Mountain made last year. It's almost an exact copy of the device we used when we turned the city water supply into gelatin. He just reversed a few pieces."
"And their new sonic mining drill is merely a scaled-down version of my seismic cannon," the blue genius insisted. "Even their solar-powered barbecue was clearly inspired by my ideas!"
Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, you're probably right. I'm just saying that there are other, perfectly good reasons to hate Singer. Didn't you want the people who bought your 'evil stuff'," she airquoted, thinking with amusement that the two aliens were rubbing off on her, "to use it for non-evil purposes?"
Megamind hesitated. ". . . Ye-es. But I hoped they would credit me, not dispar-odge my name with every other breath!"
That, Minion knew, was the core of the problem with Devon Singer and his company.
They hadn't realized right away that the vitriolic CEO was the same quiet research scientist who'd made several purchases at the ill-fated Evil Lair Yard Sale. It was amazing what contact lenses, a new haircut, and a name change could do.
It had taken Megamind and Minion most of a week to retrieve all their 'evil stuff' – plenty of time for someone who understood technology to examine his purchases and take notes, especially if he'd caught wind that they'd be reclaimed soon. When Megamind had decided to patent his inventions instead of selling them directly, he hadn't thought to include the ones on that particular customer's receipt. So, when Green Mountain Technologies had copied the designs (and, he had to admit, put them to good use), the alien genius couldn't make a legal fuss without looking petty and selfish and un-heroic.
It grated on his nerves. He could deal with people speaking ill of him (he'd been dealing with it all his life), and he could deal with them wanting to use his creations for their own purposes, but he'd never had to deal with someone who did both. And the worst part was that he couldn't do anything about it. As Roxanne had put it to her brother, "being a smug bastard isn't against the law".
"Which is all the more reason I should talk to Victoria," Roxanne went on. "She and I used to be best friends. Maybe I can make her our ally on the inside."
Megamind's glower turned into a gleam of interest. "How very scheming of you."
"Hey, it's not the only reason I want to get in touch with her," Roxanne protested. "But that doesn't mean we can't all benefit from it. She might even be able to give me the inside scoop on Singer's new project."
Her fiancé groaned. "What's he come up with this time?"
"He hasn't announced all the details yet. All he said was that it would 'light up the sky'."
Megamind and Minion both froze. They exchanged looks of what Roxanne realized was actual fear.
"You don't think he could have –"
"He did buy it –"
"Surely it's too advanced –"
"He wouldn't be crazy enough –"
"Um, hi?" Roxanne waved at them. "Mind telling me what you're so worried about?"
Minion answered her first. He swiveled in his dome, fins fluttering nervously. "Dev-" He decided he might as well use the name on the receipt. "Devadas Singh bought three things at the sale, Miss Ritchi. The water gelatinizer, the seismic cannon . . . and the Anti-Climatizer."
Roxanne closed her eyes, trying to recall. "Wait, don't tell me. I remember that name. It was . . . the weather control machine, right?" She smirked, and swept her arms, imitating one of Megamind's grandiose gestures. "Shiver in fear, Metrocity, as I crank the AC up to full blast!"
"Ha-ha, see how I laugh," Megamind replied, deadpan.
"Hey, you had me chained to a cliff, over the lake, in the middle of a hurricane. I almost caught pneumonia."
". . . Point taken. But that's not important right now!" Megamind's look became serious. "I haven't often been relieved when Metro Mahn foiled one of my plans, Roxanne, but the Anti-Climatizer was one of those times. If Singer's managed to re-create it, we're in very serious trouble."
Hot Flash grimaced as she swallowed down the last of her coffee. The stuff they served at the Metro City Women's Correctional Center was weak and sour, and they used that vile powder for creamer. She mentally added "visit Starbucks" to her list of "things I'll do once I'm out of here".
A little fire work will probably make them offer it on the house, too.
She'd had some idea of what she was in for after Megamind captured her last year. Charlene Rosen had been in prison a few times when she was younger. Petty theft, some drug charges, that one boyfriend she'd knifed – nothing worth bragging about. She'd hoped, now that she was a supervillain instead of a small-time criminal, she might receive special treatment. People bent the rules for 'supers'.
Including the rules about cruel and unusual punishment, the villainess thought bitterly. She rubbed at the thick plastic collar locked around her neck, feeling the humming circuitry inside. Matching bracelets were fastened around her wrists and ankles. She was never allowed to take them off, even in the shower – their sensors monitored her metabolic reactions. If her body temperature rose high enough, alarms would go off, and the bare, fireproof chamber where she spent almost all her time would fill with a mix of extinguisher and knockout gas (getting the flu last November had been fun).
But that would all change in a few days.
Hot Flash set her cup down on the food tray. Adjusting the kerchief they let her wear over her bald head (that fateful radiation experiment had cured her illness and given her powers, but also ruined any chance of her hair growing back), she lay down on her bunk, hearing the fireproof sheets crinkle. She picked a magazine off the floor – the prison staff had figured she couldn't do much damage with a few sheets of paper – and began leafing through it.
Hidden among the pages were the messages Mike Venner had managed to slip to her during his visits, and she read over them again now with a frown. The Doom Syndicate had no intention of starting over from scratch; their contacts on the outside were trying hard to make sure they'd have resources ready and waiting when they came back.
Not trying hard enough, as far as she was concerned. Since when did the police in this town actually become competent?
Not for the first time, Hot Flash wished she and her comrades had approached Megamind during his brief reign as Evil Overlord. But the Doom Syndicate had been just as shocked as everyone else when he actually iwon/i, so they'd lain low, waiting to see how things would turn out.
Better yet, she thought with a smirk, they should have approached that hunk Tighten. Someone like that – powerful, easily manipulated, and full of anger – could do wonders if they had him on their side. She'd dropped a few hints to Venner about the possibility of breaking Hal Stewart out with them, but the guard had told her it would be a waste. The man was heavily guarded, completely de-powered, and, sadly, nowhere near as hunky as he'd been in the news broadcasts.
The villainess sighed. Well, that was the future that might have been.
But the Doom Syndicate would have to change tactics now. With Metro Man gone, they'd thought it would be easy to run rampant through the city – either Megamind would go easy on them as fellow villains, or his record of failure would follow him and he'd be too incompetent to stop them. Instead, he'd gone after them with startling ferocity. From what Hot Flash knew of psychology, she suspected he saw them as everything he'd like to forget about his own past.
The Doom Syndicate had wanted a game, and he'd turned it into a war.
Hot Flash grinned. Then we'll give him a war.
To be continued . . .
