A jiggling at the handle… a slow scratching noise… and the door to Roxanne's apartment was flung open, bouncing hard off the wall beside it.

"AH HA!" Megamind shouted, rushing inside with his arms thrown wide. "Prepare to meet your doom, you recalcitrant reporter! You-" Pausing, he looked around for his audience.

A lamp provided some light, but the apartment was empty. Or rather, it appeared to be.

Ok. I'll play. "Thought you could hide from me? As if!" Stalking around the brief living space, rattling the can of knockout spray, he pounced behind couches and curtains, into the kitchen and under her desk, continuing his soliloquy of triumph.

"I'm sure you thought you were pretty clever, but did you really think you'd get away with this? I mean, come on! You're up against the biggest brain on the planet!" The rattling stopped as he turned in a thoughtful circle for a moment before spying a closed door. Ah! Too easy. He nearly tripped on the cape once again, kicked it out of his way, and then glided silently over.

"There's no getting out of it, nosey newsie," he muttered, grasping the knob and pausing to bite his lip. "Might as well… come OUT!" Flinging the door open, he stopped.

An empty bedroom. He slowly deflated, disappointed and even somewhat perplexed. Then he flipped on the light and got down to peer under the bed before standing again. Searching pensively here and there, he frowned and sat down to think. This was her bedroom.

Suddenly he seemed to become more aware of the furniture he was occupying and looked down at it. This is her bedroom…

(ART: Megamind Trying Out Roxanne's Bed) He smoothed a hand over the comforter and with a naughty grin reclined and stretched out full length, staring at the ceiling, lacing his gloved fingers behind his head. I'm on Roxanne's be-ed! I'm on Roxanne's be-ed! Oh, what gloriously wicked thoughts blossomed in his head! Testing the springs with his hips, he smiled wider, one eyebrow raised in approval. Mmm, bouncy!

Then he noticed the closet door ajar.

Leaping up, he stared at it, eyes narrowed in concentration as his ears pricked. Nothing. He tiptoed in long strides and sprang.

"GOT YOU!"

Only her blouses and dresses appeared startled, disturbed by the door's sudden movement. With a sigh, he turned his head to look at the empty room once more, then turned back to the clothing. Walking his fingers spiritlessly along the garments on their hangers, he selected a sweater dress he recognized and pulled it out. Looking it up and down, he remembered her wearing it in the fall for a news report at the park, thinking the slightly fuzzy texture looked so snuggly on her. Huggable. And the clinging fabric showed off her curves perfectly. He had no idea what that report had been about, but it had been a pleasure to watch.

He looked in the mirror hung on the inside of the door as he held the dress up to himself. Not his color. Bending his head to the shoulder, he touched his nose to the fabric and smiled. It still smelled of her. And it didn't look half bad against his winter suit. Their softness matched in a way. Imagining her in it, he wrapped one arm around the waist. Caught in his clutches, mwahaha. The evil overlord and his prey. Or maybe, his queen… Ice Queen.

An audible sigh escaped him. Clearing his throat he hung the dress up again and looked over some of the other things, recognizing many of the items. Guess she's not home after all, he thought, absentmindedly opening a drawer.

He froze, eyes wide. Well, well... Two fingers hooked around two slender straps and lifted a delicate bra to nearly eye level. A sheer bra. Lacey. Red.

His mind was a blank, more blank than he could remember it having been before. Not that there wasn't a reaction being stirred, but it wasn't one of conscious thought. It was nothing but primal. Instinctive. Animalistic. He could feel his mouth watering and swallowed but couldn't stop devouring the exquisitely personal piece of her property with his eyes.

How does it do that, he wondered, staring at the way it perfectly reminisced the shape of her. Wow.

For a moment he considered shoving it down the front of his suit. Stealing it. But what if his wardrobe bots found it? He could just see them, excited at finding the new toy daddy had brought home, tugging and fighting each other for it, shooting it across the room like a rubber band before he could get it back. And Minion spotting its trajectory from the curtain and having a hissy fit.

After a guilty glance around, he gently crushed it in his hands, pressing it to his nose as his eyes rolled closed. One long drawn whiff and a throaty groan… and he stuffed it quickly back in the drawer and forced himself to leave the room.

Resolutely pulling the door shut, his chest expanded and contracted in a deliberate, cleansing breath. This was how he'd gotten in trouble in the first place. Affection was a weakness. A distraction! Not that he felt affection for her, he corrected himself quickly, but… Oh all right, he felt affection for her. It was her fault though, tempting him the way she did, that femme fatale. And it had caused him to be vulnerable in ways he could not afford. He still couldn't believe she had gotten to him like that. Penetrated his black heart! But never again. Their relationship had to be nothing more than a contract. Well, not actually a contract but like a contract. Both gave something and got something. And allowing himself to think there was any more to it was a mistake.

All right. Now there must be some clues around here about where she is. Where she planned to go for the day. Returning to the living room, he spied her desk and moved toward it hopefully. It looked promising, if untidy. Very untidy. What was she, some kind of squirrel? With his own notes hung in precise formation, connections outlined in red string, he could hardly imagine working in conditions like this.

Searching through her papers revealed little other than that she enjoyed doodling. He could just about imagine her scribbling while on the phone. Her jottings were brief, only a word or two, a phone number. She didn't bother to explain to whom or what they pertained. He put down the slips and pieces of paper he'd collected between his fingers and frowned, turning around.

How did I miss that? A camera sat on the table beside her couch. He'd seen her using this for work. Picking it up and studying the little buttons and symbols, he soon found the photographic record of where she had been most recently. At least places she had taken pictures.

Ah, there was a photo of his handiwork. Seeing an example of his graffiti on the little screen brought a smile to his face. She hadn't given up on him completely. He scrolled back through more pictures taken of the effects of his deep freeze around town. Oh! There was that water main break that had happened just yesterday! A fountain of water shooting into the frigid air, flooding and coating the street and cars and sidewalk and everything around it in ice almost instantly. He chuckled. Oh yes, that had been particularly satisfying.

Thumb pressing the little button, he chuckled as the tiny pictures rolled back, until the montage of destruction abruptly ended. Now why would she have a photo of a dumpster? He decided that one must be a mistake since it was in extreme close up. He passed it by. Then stopped. The next picture was of two men walking away from the camera. Half the screen was a darkened blur, as though something had obscured part of the shot. The two looked as though they weren't aware of being photographed. In fact, their faces could hardly be seen. But he recognized one of them. And his level of concern about Roxanne's absence had just shot through the roof.

ART: Megamind Trying Out Roxanne's Bed ...art/Megamind-trying-out-Roxanne-s-bed-395635814