Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to Megamind. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction. The subtitle's from the song "Coffee Girl" by MK Ultra.

So, I lied a bit when I said it might be a while until the next part. I didn't mean to, though! It was an accident? Anyway. Thanks, as ever, to everyone for your kind words and your interest! I'm so glad you've enjoyed the previous parts, and I hope you'll enjoy this one, too. Thank you. :)


Moving So Gracious
Stained Brown With Your Caffeine


The concussive blast took out most of the wall and a portion of the ceiling as well. Megamind shook dust and discharged plaster from his cape, and he stepped into the opened hallway. Rubble crunched beneath his boots—what a sweet sound. He turned.

A man cowered, pressed against the far wall. A broken mug lay by his foot, now stained with coffee. Megamind loomed before him.

"Where," he snarled, "is Roxanne Ritchi?"

The man slithered down the wall and into a crouch. The crotch of his pants darkened, but he screwed his face up and shook his head, defiant even as he soiled himself.

Seriously? Megamind thought. He smiled nastily down at the man.

"Ahh," said Megamind. "A hero, are you? Well, let's just see about that."

He reached for his dehydration gun, snug in its holster at his thigh.

"Break room!" the man wailed. "Second floor! My wife! Three kids! Two weeks till retirement!" He clutched at his thinning hair and collapsed into tears.

Megamind patted the top of the man's head, his pate slick with sweat. "There, there. I'm sure they're all very proud of you." Then he left the man to his breakdown.

Grimacing, Megamind wiped his palm on the wall. Humans and their fluids. He hoped the salt didn't stain his leather.

The second floor break room was easy enough to find. Oh, the station map was of no use, but he cowed an intern into leading him directly to the room. He took the liberty of sabotaging a number of motivational posters set up along the corridors as they went along, just for kicks.

"This," the intern hiccoughed through her tears, "is muh, muh, my first day-hay." Her mascara ran in dark lines down her cheeks. He didn't envy her the clean-up.

Megamind laughed. "Ha ha, wow! Really? You took a job here? At this station? Don't you watch the news?"

"I'm fruh, from out of sta-hate," she sobbed. Snot dribbled onto her upper lip.

He twirled his dehydration gun around his index finger. Very cheerfully he told her, "Well, let me tell you, do you ever have some fun times to look forward to. Now run, before I decompress all the matter in your body."

She ran, weeping but not a fool. Good. He wasn't sure what the decompression option on his gun would do to a living creature, but he didn't really want to find out. His stomach churned at the thought.

Megamind took a breath, set his gun, and blew the door to the break room open. Through the clearing smoke, he spotted: two men dropping to their bellies, a woman diving behind the table, and another silhouette by the wall.

"Roxanne Ritchi!" he bellowed. "Prepare for your judgment!"

Roxanne resolved, coughing, out of the smoke. She wafted her hand before her eyes and straightened from the wall. A long, slender teaspoon stood up from her mug of coffee. A series of dark drops showed on her blouse, small petal-like stains framing her collar.

"I have pepper spray," she said. "And really, would it kill you to just open the door?"

He cast his cape about his shoulder and stooped beneath it. "I'm here to lodge a complaint, and I demand satisfaction."

"What, again?" She grabbed for a napkin. "The complaints department is on the fourth floor. That's what they're for. Complaints."

"You won't throw me off so easily this time, with your bureaucracy and your phone trees and your college freshman interns." He wiggled his fingers. God, the complaints department.

She blotted her collar. Her hair stuck up in tiny spikes: a new style, or simply bedhead she hadn't taken the time to correct. He would not think of her curled up in her bed, her short hair fanned out about her head—little red creases on her cheek where she'd slept on the folds in her pillow. No, that would be playing right into her manicured hands.

Roxanne sighed and tossed the napkin aside. It struck the lip of the bin, then fell in. One of the men, still sprawled flat upon the floor, ventured a golf clap.

"Fine," she said. "What is it now? Did I hurt your feelings?"

He sniffed. "It's going to take much more than your sassy quips to hurt my feelings, Miss Ritchi. No, this is regarding something far more serious: your journalistic integrity."

She laughed, incredulous, and folded her arms across her chest. "My what?"

"Regarding last night's broadcast!" He gestured violently with his gun, and the woman beneath the table squeaked. "A comprehensive examination of crime in Metrocity, and yet I couldn't help but notice you only mentioned me three times. Three times, Miss Ritchi!"

"Oh, is that it?" She relaxed. Her hip crooked, rounding. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her legs. The skirt drew tight over her thighs.

"I have a reputation, Miss Ritchi," he told her. "A very horrible, frightening, evil reputation that I have worked hard to maintain over the years."

She hummed agreement. Roxanne tapped the teaspoon lightly on the mug. He neared her, but though the man nearest whimpered as Megamind's cape brushed his shoulder, Roxanne did not lower her eyes. She sipped at her coffee. Her lips were very red and they left soft smudges on the mug.

He leaned in, and her lashes dropped low over her eyes. She smiled around the mug.

"Now," he said, "what does it tell people when you, the city's most beloved reporter, don't bother to talk about my criminal activities?"

"Mm, I see your point," she said, nodding. She cradled the mug to her chest. "Little detail, though. Just one I think you missed." She tipped her head. Her breath ghosted warm and bitter-scented over his cheek. "It's a four part series."

He paused. Her lower lip shone, slick with coffee. Her cheek dimpled. He blinked twice, clearing his eyes.

"It's a what?"

Roxanne settled. She looked out across the room. "It's an important issue. I thought it would be best if we spread it out, really gave everything the attention it needs."

"So there's more," he said, testing.

She smiled. "I think you'll like the next episode." Roxanne raised her hand, gliding it through the air before her: "'Megamind: Mayhem in Metro City.'"

"So— Wait." He frowned. "I get my own episode?"

Roxanne pursed her lips. She hitched her shoulder high. "You are the master of all villainy."

"Oh," he said. Maybe he should have paid attention to the commercials.

Then he roused, shaking retrospection from his shoulders. He straightened, his chin set.

"Well, good. So long as you remember your place, Miss Ritchi. Cowering at my feet!" He stabbed his gun toward the ground, and the man nearest made an awful gurgling sound deep in his throat.

"Oh, yeah. I'm cowering," Roxanne said. She set her mug down. "Do you mind? I kind of have my job to do."

He started. "Oh, of course." Megamind stepped aside to allow her to slip past. Her hips rolled, her skirt fluttering at the backs of her knees; it clung tantalizingly to her rear.

"Until we meet again, Miss Ritchi!" he shouted after her.

"Right, I'll see you Thursday," she shouted back.

Then she was gone.

Megamind remained a moment in the break room, tapping the dehydration gun against his thigh. He felt restless, stirred up and left to simmer, thinking of the way she'd smiled over the mouth of the mug, her eyes crinkling—how she'd relaxed beside him as if—what?

"Um," one of the men ventured, "sir? Excuse me? Are you going to—"

He went ahead and dehydrated the both of them, then the woman as well. The itching in his chest settled some. It wasn't quite enough. Perhaps he'd see about blowing another wall or two down, and Roxanne was here; surely it couldn't be too hard to snatch her. He might be able to draw Metro Man out. He needed a fight, Megamind thought.

He pushed away thoughts of Roxanne's skirt, thin over her thighs, and the little, folding corner of her red, red mouth as she smiled at him.

"Honestly," he said to the glowing blue cubes littered across the break room floor. "It's almost as if I cared about her." He laughed at the thought, then he passed out of the room, leaving the disquiet there.