Bernard stood under the shower, facing the rose. Scaldingly hot water flowed over his face and it felt so good.

His bathroom was littered with sequins where he had shed the suit from the night before. The morning after was decidedly hung over. The hot water felt good and he concentrated on that.

Getting home from Wayne's house had been remarkably easy, although the gate guard in the apartment building had looked at him as if he'd been skulking away from a crime, or possibly stealing something under his ridiculous coat. The thought of someone searching him and coming up sequins had been all he could think of whilst he sat in the taxi. His car was still parked at the club.

After a shower which used the whole of the hot water up, he wandered from room to room wearing an old tartan wool dressing gown. He gathered some sandwich materials and ate them on his circuit, around and around the house, thinking. He thought best when he was on the move.

House. Well, to be fair, it was more an apartment. And also to be fair, it was practically an entire level of the building, just like Wayne. It was just... lower down the totem pole. He blinked for a moment up at the tiny windows, at ground level, high on his walls, above the bookcases. A lot lower down the totem pole.

His home most resembled the forbidden stacks of an old library or museum, with as many bookcases as he could fit, on every single wall. It wasn't cramped, it was quite roomy, but all the outer walls, and all the dividing walls, every wall, was bookcases. And all of them were full of books. Bernard walked around the entire circuit again, then finally managed to talk himself into settling into an old overstuffed leather armchair, with three books purloined from their shelf inside the oven to keep him company.

A few hours later he woke up again, the sun shining in the tiny windows at a different angle. He stretched and unkinked himself, and wandered off towards the laundry at the far end of his house. If the sun was out, it may as well be useful.

On the floor of the shower, he collected various discarded towels, the remains of his sequined suit (Where was the broom? Those little shiny things were EVERYwhere!) and an odd white crumpled shape which turned out to be a handkerchief. He dumped the handkerchief and towels in with the rest of the wash, and wandered out to find a good way of salvaging what was left of his sparkly suit.

When the washing machine ground to an angry loud halt, Bernard was finally dressing in a T shirt and jeans, sipping from a cup of some vile unsweetened coffee and trying to find a pair of socks which weren't mismatched. The final BANG BANG BANG alerted him, and he wandered in to unload the machine again.

One of the last things out of the machine was the white handkerchief, an expensive, large, thick piece of fabric with a little gold monogram in one corner. Bernard uncrinkled it, and stared.

M.

Perhaps it was... a W upside down? It couldn't be... It could be a piece of fanart from the time the former hero of the city had a bit of a following? He twisted it around in his hands. It wasn't one of the pieces of commercial merchandise from the old Metro Man Museum, that was certain, as those had been far less classy and on a material far less nice.

He had his back to the washing machine. As he held the fabric out before him, he slowly slid down the side of the washing machine until he was sitting on the tiled floor, legs out in front of him. Wayne. Was... Metro Man? Wayne was Metro Man. Metro Man was Wayne. They were the same person. Wayne and Metro Man. Metro Man and Wayne. The same.

Metro Man is gay.

...Huh.

Well, there was an entire community out there who would be delighted by this news. And he sure as hell wasn't interested in telling them.

Well, that proved that Howard was wrong and Metro Man was definitely still alive. He wasn't interested in telling Howard that either.

He had to be wrong. How... How could he... confirm this?


Wayne stood in the bathroom, hair hanging limp and still wet from his head. The only thing he wore was a simple white towel wrapped around his waist, and was well aware of the water he was treading on the floor, but that didn't matter now. As usual, his beard had grown at insanely fast pace just like it did every other night so to avoid making himself look like a biker, or a muscle-bound middle aged Santa Clause, he was going to shave.

For most men that meant grabbing your faithful razor and shaving cream.

For Wayne Scott it meant powering up an angle grinder. It was the only way the man could get a decent shave, and the bathroom was soon filled with the mechanical squeal of the machine as it ground against his pointed chin, cutting back his beard but not too much. He had grown quite fond of the beard, after a lifetime of having smooth features, and he felt it suited him.

He hummed 'Y.M.C.A' as sparks leaped up from the device and flickered into nothing against the mirror.

This morning he had a game plan. He would call Bernard just to check up on him, to see that he made his way home safe and sound, then work out a more definite time to catch up at the Metro City Park. Just how Bernard had known he took a particular interest to feeding ducks in the pond he didn't know, maybe great minds thought alike?

The very idea that Bernard still wanted to see him was amazing to the powerful man. After his atrocious actions the night before, how he had put his foot in his mouth and caused the other to cry like that... he wouldn't have blamed Bernard if he had fled, never to see him again. To think he was still interested... it made him smile faintly to himself as he continued to grind away the beard.

He was soon splashing on the aftershave and smacking his cheeks, then grabbing the towel from his waist. He began to towel dry the rest of himself off. With two good shakes of his head his hair was dry, thanks to that fast motion of his, and he ran a comb through the wavy, now dry, hair. "All right..." Wayne put the comb back into its drawer before grabbing his toothbrush and began cleaning his teeth. Dental hygiene had always been a big thing to the man, since he was known for his dazzling smile. Some things you just couldn't let go of.

He was soon making his way through to the bedroom where he pulled on some black shorts (they came to an end just over his knees) and a simple black t-shirt with a white stripe running down the front right breast. Grabbing his phone off of the counter in the kitchen, he made his way back to the coffee table where Bernard's note still remained from that morning. He lifted it up and read it a few more times before turning on the touch-pad phone. He pressed in the numbers.

It rang a number of times before it was finally answered.


Bernard raced around a bookcase, careered off the door frame, and vaulted a chair, picking up the receiver on the ancient black telephone, and halting the insistent bell. "Hello?"

He extracted himself from the telemarketer with difficulty, explaining that he already had several large encyclopaedia sets and he didn't need another one, and especially not one in electronic form of any type, and hung up the phone, then gazed at it forlornly. Why doesn't he call?


"'Ollo?"

Wayne's world froze as he heard that word, but more importantly, the voice. That wasn't Bernard. That wasn't Bernard at all.

"...Hello...?" Wayne asked as he checked the number at the bottom of the note again. No, he had gotten it right. What was the meaning of this? "Uh I... think I have the wrong..."

"Metro Man?" Megamind asked, voice sounding both curious and amused. "That is you!" the new hero of the city laughed in an amused way that made Wayne's blood suddenly boil.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded through the phone, free hand forming a powerful fist.

"What's the meaning of what?" the blue man sounded confused.

"Is this some sort of game, Megamind? I thought we were past that." Wayne snarled through the phone. Oh God. Had that been Megamind last night? Had all of it been a hoax to have a good laugh at his expense? If that was true, was there ever really a Bernard to begin with at all? What if 'Bernard' was just a persona that Megamind had created in order to trounce around town unnoticed by people?

No, but how would that explain George and the girls? ...surely not Minion and Brain Bots in disguise. While Megamind was known to mess around, his faithful companion wasn't nearly as cruel to go along with a plan like this. Just what the Hell was going on?

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about." Megamind said flatly through the phone. "You called me! What kind of joke is that?" he asked.

"I got this number-it doesn't matter where. If this is what I think it is you've hit a new low, Megamind. I thought you were trying to be a good guy and from what I recall, good guys don't go playing around with people's emotions like this! You better hope this is just one big mess up or God help me..."

Wayne couldn't finish the sentence, instead he simply crushed his phone easily in his hand and threw the remains across the room. The plastic embedded itself in the wall where it hit, and Wayne stood there, chest heaving. All the good feelings finally beginning to bud like new flowers after a long winter shrivelled and died in his chest.

Megamind wouldn't do this to him. He knew his fellow alien hadn't been impressed by his giving up the hero business, but they had come to an understanding. At least he thought they had. What did Megamind have to gain to play with him now? Was this an attempt at making him feel bad for giving up on being a hero? Surely not...

Suddenly feeling the desire to beat the tar out of something, Wayne used his super speed, and flew out of one of the only windows on the floor that opened. With his speed set this high, he could all but walk through town without any worries of being spotted but right now he didn't want to go walking. He wanted to go and destroy something out of frustration, because of all these conflicting, ugly emotions that were waging a war once more within his heart.

Laser blasting some rocks in a quarry sounded like a good idea. It's what usually worked for him.


Midday rolled up, and Wayne found himself waiting at the park. He was sitting at one of the many benches near the large pond where all manner of water-dwelling life lived. A few ducks had already approached him, hopeful for food, but soon figuring out he had none they had waddled off in search of people having picnics.

He glanced around him for a moment before looking down at his watch. It was now one o'clock. Bernard had said midday tomorrow, so... didn't that mean today? Or did he mean tomorrow, tomorrow? Wayne always got a little confused about time passage sometimes. Either way, after destroying some large boulders with his hands and eyes, and not feeling any better for it, he had restarted time and just walked back to the city rather than fly. That in itself took him three hours, but that was nothing to him.

The fact that Bernard wasn't here only made the idea that he had been Megamind all along once again bob to the surface of his mind. If that was true... what was Megamind playing at? A game? Or did he actually feel something towards him, and had tried the only way to get close to him? But then why the tears, and George? It didn't make any sense in the ex-hero's head at all.

It was funny that he had spent so long rescuing these people, protecting them from danger, yet he could barely understand what would make a person do this sort of thing to another. Cruel pay back? He didn't know.

He soon moved from the park bench and began walking through the park alone. In doing so, he saw many couples walking, or riding bikes and other small means of transportation like roller blades or roller skates. There were young families too, as well as old married couples who looked like they had spent the better half of their lives together. He smiled faintly, but it hardly made his mood improve. These people could find somebody, why was it so hard for him to do the same?

Karma, maybe?

After walking his way through the park at least ten times Wayne decided to sit on a slightly sloping hill, the same one he had once sat at when he had been moving at super speed over a month back, and settled his head in his hands. Around him there was laughter, people talking, dogs barking and bids singing.

He was the only person here alone without anyone, he soon realized.

But he decided to just sit, and people watch. It wasn't something he had really done for so long, and the last time he'd done that everyone had been frozen in place. This time, it seemed to be in reverse. The man with a beard, and wearing a highly decorative off-red shirt and black shorts, seemed to be the one frozen in time while the world moved around him. He barely registered when little kids, picnicking with their family, would approach the strange looking man until their parents would retrieve them.

A good few ducks approached and sat around him, as if he was a statue, before they too waddled away as the desire for food struck them again.

What the Hell am I doing again?

Wayne sighed harder than he had meant to, and near by trees suddenly whistled, their leaves rustling loudly due to his sigh. Damn it. He had to be more careful about that. Last thing he wanted was to make a tree end up falling over because he sighed too hard.

"You look sad."

The little voice surprised him and he turned his head to see a little girl standing a few paces away from him.

"Are you sad?"

He tried to smile but failed. "A bit." he admitted.

"You need a kite." said the little girl as she suddenly held her own out to him. "Here!"

"Oh, no it's fine I don't-"

"Take it!" she enthusiastically thrust it into his hands. "Kites make me feel better." she smiled and waved, before hurrying off since her parents were calling her since it was time to go.

"Thank you?" Wayne called out before looking down at the little pink and white kite he now held.

He waited until the area was more deserted before he blew under the kite with a powerful gust, sending it flying up into the sky but it held tight with the twine string anchoring it to his hands. Wayne sat there, watching the kite fly higher and higher as the sun began to slowly fade in the distance.

But it wasn't long until he collected it up and set off to find something to eat. He was hungry, and a man like whim who burned as much energy every day needed to refill his engine. Going hungry wasn't a good idea for him at all. He'd grab something to eat and go home, watch some TV and go to bed.

I just hope tomorrow's better.


The thought built up inside him whilst he was putting together some dinner. It was a rather large and painful thought, and it crept up on his hangover like distant storm clouds. Something about a telephone. Something... important. Something... obvious.

Something about...

Uh oh.

It was possible, in his haste to leave this morning, that he had put the wrong telephone number on the piece of paper. It wasn't... necessarily the case. He had left in rather a hurry. And... he was so used to having that number, he'd had it for years, he'd had it for longer than he'd had the number here.

Bernard stopped cooking, turned off the hotplate, and went to find something to cure a headache.

He was soon seated in front of the telephone, with a piece of paper, a pencil, and a determined expression. At least he knew the number well.

It rang a few times before it was finally picked up by somebody on the other end. Bernard held his breath, waiting for the other person to speak.

"Hello?" the bright and familiar voice of Minion came over the line.

Bernard sat there for several beats, mouth open, unable to come up with anything to say.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" the fish asked, before gasping. "Is this a prank phone call?"

"I... No. Hello. Um. You have my phone." whoops. Not what I was intending to say. Damn.

There was a pause. "Really?"

"I mean... It's. I mean. Hi. It's Bernard. I'm wondering if I could have my phone. Back. Please?"

"Mr. Bernard! Oh wow, I'm so sorry!" the fish apologized. "I didn't realize Sir still had your phone like this! No wonder that explains... ah! Right, yes! Your phone!" he heard heavy foot falls over the phone, the fish obviously making his way around the lair. "I can give it back to you of course! Sir has no right to still have it!"

"Thank you. How... where... I sort of need it in a hurry."

"I could meet you at front of the museum, is that good?"

"That sounds excellent. Okay. Thank you. Yes. Oh, of course, because you're not. I mean. You're. Heroes now, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are. We have a signal and everything!" Minion exclaimed.

"A signal?"

"Sir says it needs to be a lot bigger though. Oh right your phone! When is a good time for you?"

"Now?" Bernard tried not to sound too plaintive, but he couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice.

"Now? Hm. Yes I can do now. Sure! I'm so sorry about this, Mr. Bernard. I would have thought Sir would have given it back to you! I can-Sir please, where's the car keys?"

In the background he heard Megamind ask why. "Because I need to-oh never mind I found them."

"Okay. I'll... I'll meet you there, then."

Bernard raced around the circuit of his home one more time, grabbing in passing his favourite brown coat, the keys, and his wallet, then careered out the door, slamming it shut locked behind him. He was up the stairs before he remembered where his car was.

Still at the club.

Hmmmm.

Okay. Well, it was too far to walk to the Museum, Minion was sure to be in a hurry now, there was no time. He could catch a cab... if he could... find one. Unlikely. A combination of these. Bernard set off at a jog. He was just exiting his apartment when down the road he spotted his saving grace... a bus! And not just any bus, the free circuit bus that made a round of the city and he knew it stopped at the museum.

He bolted down the road, ran across the street and narrowly avoided a car turning the corner, to come to a stop at the bus stop. Panting heavily he thanked whoever was in charge for giving him one good thing today.

When the bus approached the museum Bernard heard some people fussing on the bus and he spotted why easily. Minion was there, just like he said he would be, sitting on the front steps. He looked almost ridiculous sitting out there in public when beforehand most people would be lucky to spot the fish at all. Since he was... well, Minion... he was always in the shadows while Megamind flaunted his evil for the city to see.

In fact... he was already signing autographs by the look of it. Cute.

Bernard felt a nasty attack of nerves as he exited the bus. Meeting Minion. Everyone else seemed to be having a fine time just walking up and talking to the fish in the gorilla suit... how did they do that? How did they just... meet their hero without panicking?

He stood to the side, waiting for an opening in the crowd, watching the interaction.

"Mr. Bernard!"

Minion had spotted him through the crowd. He finished signing a little boy's hat and handing it back to him before getting to his feet and made his way over to the man. "There you are!"

"Here I am. I, I... I... thank you for the phone. I really needed it..."

The fish pulled the phone out from.. somewhere. Did he have compartments in his robot body to fit things? Probably. Minion held it out to him. "I had strict words with Sir about stealing people's property and it's fully charged. I'm so, so sorry about all of this."

"That's great. Great. Fine. Thank you. Did... Did anyone happen to." Bernard sheepishly eyed all the people around them. "Did anyone... Call the phone? Other than than me?"

Minion pursed his lips together as he too seemed to look at the people around them before he nodded his small fish body. "Somebody called today..."

"He did? They did? Oh, good. GOOD! Thank you!" He smiled delightedly.

The fish laughed. "You're welcome! I'm glad you're glad. I best get back though. I still have dinner in the oven and I'd hate for it to turn black."

"Of course. Thankyou." Bernard held the phone so tight in his hand that it hurt. "Thankyou. I'll see you... Later."

"U huh! Later!" the fish waved before making his way through the people back to a car that nobody else seemed to be capable of seeing.

"This is street theatre, people!" Bernard snarled at everyone, turned on his heel, and walked as fast as he could towards the service entrance to the Museum.

Privacy was achieved after he had used his keys to open and then lock himself into a service corridor under the museum. He knew that there was telephone service here from experience... and there was.

Right. Recently received calls... This telephone had had a lot of use, by the look of it. Many calls. He chose the most recent one and hit the dial button.

The phone rang once. "Hello?"

"Oh no! I'm sorry, this must be a wrong number."

"Megamind?"

"No, it's Bernard."

"...Bernard? The real Bernard?"

"I'm not a fake," he replied bitterly.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry. Just last time I talked to 'Bernard' it turned out to be Megamind and... yeah that was a bit of a mess."

"You don't say." A mess? Well, he'd woken smelling of laundry powder, so perhaps his had been neater, but it definitely hadn't felt like it.

"Right, sorry Bernard." Roxanne apologized.

"I just got my phone back, and I'm trying to get my life back. I'm sorry. You won't hear from me again. Wrong number." Definitely wrong. Totally wrong.

"Well you don't have to drop off the face of the planet, you know. But I hope things work out for you, I really do. If you ever need anything I guess you have my number now, huh?" she asked.

"I guess I do. Goodbye."

"Bye Bernard." she said, before hanging up.

Bernard slid down the wall and sat on the floor of the hall, staring at the opposite wall, and cradling the telephone.

Once he had calmed down, he went back to calls recieved. He could now recognise Roxannes number. Roxanne Roxanne Roxanne... This one was different. Different number. Waynes number?

Only one way to find out.

Okay.

I can do this.

Bernard hit the dial button and put the phone straight up to his ear, listening to the ringing.

It rang a few times, and then it was picked up.

"Hey there! This is Wayne Scott, and you've reached my phone but unfortunately I'm not there to talk to you right now. But if you could leave a message and your number, I'll get back to you as fast as I can. Catch you later!"

Bernard jumped, banging his head against the wall, at the loud cheery voice, and dropped the phone. It concluded its little message, made a loud beep, and went silent. Cursing, he hit the red button and his phone hung up.

Great.

Need to leave a message.

Have to phone it again.

Oh, god, he's going to get that message first and it was all swear words because of the wall.

It took him several minutes to calm down enough to compose some sort of a coherent message and pull together the courage to make the call again.

To be continued