Roxanne's second awakening of the day is distinctly less pleasant than her first.
Her head is pounding, she feels a little nauseous, and, also, she's been kidnapped by Psycho Delic.
When she said she wanted to be kidnapped again, she sure as fuck didn't mean like this.
Her hands are in manacles, much heavier and tighter than anything Megamind has ever put her in, and she's lying on her side, on a hard, gritty surface—the ground, she's pretty sure, though she keeps her eyes shut, wanting to learn as much as she can without her captors knowing that she's awake.
Because it's very definitely captors, plural. She can hear them talking.
"—not gonna show, Psycho," a male voice is saying.
"Oh, he'll show, all right," Psycho Delic chuckles. "Roses in the goddamn street, man. What a fucking laugh. He'll show."
"Forgive me," an icy female voice says—sort of a—sort of a familiar voice? "But I thought you said he left the apartment. And that you then put the note in the apartment? What, exactly, makes you think he's going to be reading your note any time soon? Some of us have better things to be doing than standing around in a dirty trash heap all day."
"Lady," Psycho Delic says, "trust me. He went back to the apartment. That was not the kind of argument you just walk away from without going back for some makeup/breakup fucking."
"This is my hideout," a deep bass voice rumbles. "It ain't no dirty trash heap, lady!"
"So sorry to offend," the icy voice says, in a not-at-all-sorry tone.
"Damn right you—"
"People, people," a new male voice says in an exasperated way. "Can we please try to stay civil, here."
"—don't appreciate her sayin' that about my hideout—"
"Roses in the street," Psycho Delic laughs. "Shit, he'll show."
"I certainly hope so, after all this trouble," says the icy voice.
"Agreed," someone hisses.
"No kidding," says someone else.
"—volunteered my hideout and this is the thanks I get—"
"Blue's too smart for this," sighs the 'let's all be civil' voice. "When you said you had a plan, I thought you meant you had a workable plan."
"Honey," A second feminine voice gives a husky chuckle, "even the smart ones get stupid when they let their dick lead."
"Man, I'd like to let my dick lead with sugar here," Psycho Delic purrs. "Put that ass of hers to good use, you know what I'm saying?"
"Does he even have a—" begins the husky feminine voice in a tone of morbid interest.
"I really don't see that as relevant," says let's-be-civil stiffly.
"Hey, a girl gets curious," says the husky voice with another chuckle. "Not curious enough to actually touch that, mind you, but curious."
"Personally, I find this conversation disgusting," says the icy voice.
The husky voice barks a laugh that sounds like whiskey and cigarettes and aerosol hairspray.
"'Course you do."
"Well, you'll be glad to hear that you can satisfy your curiosity by asking someone who doubtless knows the answer to your question," says the icy voice. "She's awake."
"Hey, rise and shine sugar," says Psycho Delic, "welcome to the party."
Since there's no point in pretending further unconsciousness now, Roxanne opens her eyes and sits up.
She is, indeed, on the ground; she's been lying in the powdery gray dirt and is now sort of covered in it. Her manacles are attacked by a long, heavy chain to a stake that's been pounded into the ground.
"Wow," Roxanne says dryly, to disguise the way her voice wants to shake. "Zero out of ten for presentation. What kind of cut-price damsel-in-distress display is this?"
Her assembled captors blink at her in varying degrees of surprise. What, were they expecting her to scream with terror? Even Megamind can't manage that.
Roxanne recognizes most of them; they're the minor villains of the city: Psycho Delic, of course; and Hot Flash, the fire-powered, flame-haired villainess and a taste for younger men. Also another woman who Roxanne thinks is Lady Doppler, her long white-blonde hair in a high ponytail above her golden mask—something about Lady Doppler seems, somehow, familiar, though Roxanne has never met her before—
And there's a man in a ridiculous, old-fashioned coat with lace ruffles and an honest to god cravat (he's a fairly minor villain, Roxanne thinks, what's his name again—oh, right, he calls himself the Conductor, that's why he's holding that useless-looking white stick). Also Judge Sludge, who is literally a gelatinous green mass dressed in judge robes, and the Destruction Worker, who has power tools attached to his arms in place of hands and who wears a construction cone as a hat.
Looking deeply uncomfortable to be standing beside these (admittedly rather odd and oddly dressed) people is a big, blocky man in a very expensive suit. Roxanne doesn't recognize him, but it's clear that the two other, even bigger men (in slightly less expensive suits and also looking embarrassed to be in company with the costumed villains) standing behind him are bodyguards of some sort.
"I didn't know the circus was in town," Roxanne says to the man in the very expensive suit and sees his lip twitch involuntarily.
"We ain't the circus!" Destruction Worker bursts out. "We're the Doom Syndicate!"
"Really," Roxanne says in a deeply unimpressed tone. "Never heard of you."
"That's because we're a new—"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, can't you see that she's just goading you?" Lady Doppler snaps impatiently, and ha! That's why she seems so familiar!
"Eleanor!" Roxanne says. "Eleanor Prigmore! I knew I recognized you. We met at one of Wayne's mother's charity events. You were so kind as to let me know that I was wearing last season's shoes."
Lady Doppler freezes.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Roxanne says insincerely, "was that supposed to be a secret? Whoops."
Lady Doppler's gloved hands contract into claws, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. Overhead, the sky darkens suddenly.
"You really should learn to keep your mouth shut," Lady Doppler says, raising a hand.
Thunder rumbles ominously.
"Get yourself under control," the man in the expensive suit snaps. "No zapping the hostage."
"Excuse me?" Lady Doppler says, in a voice like an ice sickle, sharp and cold and pointed. She turns to the man in the expensive suit. "Did someone put this thug in charge while I wasn't paying attention?"
The man in the expensive suit glares and his bodyguards reach beneath their coats. Thunder rumbles again, louder this time.
"Listen," says the man in the expensive suit, lip curling, "I don't care what kind of PMS you're going through right now, lady, but you need to calm the hell down—"
"PMS, seriously?" Hot Flash says, the flames of her hair crackling higher. "That's the crack you're gonna go with, you sexist asshole?"
"She has been nothing but unpleasant, this entire time," Judge Sludge hisses. "One has to wonder."
"Bitch called my hideout a dirty trash heap!"
"Don't you call her a bitch, you—"
"Oh, give it a rest, you post-menopausal harpy!" the Conductor shouts.
"Harpy?! Harpy?! Oh, that is it—"
Hot Flash's eyes narrow and her hair flares even higher. She raises her fists, flames jumping out of her clenched hands. The Conductor raises his little white stick; the bodyguards step in front of the man with eh expensive suit, and Judge Sludge begins to glow a lurid yellowish color. Lightning cracks across the sky as the Destruction Worker's chainsaw and jackhammer prosthetics whirr to life.
"Hey!" Psycho Delic shouts. "Get it together, all of you! Goddamn it, we don't have time for this!"
The members of the Doom Syndicate glare at each other, but all of them back down. They all lower their weapons, but the tension remains.
Holy shit; this Doom Syndicate thing is a goddamn time-bomb; Roxanne is tempted to push just a little farther and make them self destruct—
But this is clearly a very unbalanced set of individuals. There's no Megamind here, with his carefully arranged 'non-combatant safe zone' around Roxanne, no Minion keeping an eye on her.
If this crowd explodes into violence, Roxanne is probably going to end up very very dead.
"As fascinating as this conversation is," Roxanne says, forcing herself not to panic, "what do you say we just skip to the part where I scream and Metro Man comes and drags you all off to jail?"
One of the suited bodyguards draws a gun from beneath his coat and levels it at Roxanne's head, and Roxanne goes very, very still.
"None of that, Miss Ritchi," the man in the very expensive suit says. "We won't be requiring Metro Man's presence today."
"Sorry," Roxanne says, her eyes on the gun, "I'm a little confused here. That's usually how it works, see, I get kidnapped and then Metro Man comes. I'm sort of at a loss as to what I'm doing here if you don't want Metro Man."
"We don't want Metro Man," Judge Sludge hisses. "We're waiting for your boyfriend."
"I think maybe you're the confused ones, actually," Roxanne says slowly. "Do you want Metro Man or don't you?"
"We ain't confused," Destruction Worker says with a scowl. "We're waiting on your real boyfriend."
"Blue boy should be along any minute now, sugar," Psycho Delic tells her. "No point in lying now."
The man in the expensive suit, evidently satisfied that Roxanne is not going to scream, nods at the bodyguard holding the gun. The man slides the weapon back beneath his coat.
They're—they've kidnapped her to use as her as bait for Megamind? Because they think that he's—
Oh fuck. Oh fuck her.
If she's not Megamind's girlfriend, then these people no longer have any reason to keep her alive.
This is really fucking bad.
While she was pretending to be unconscious, Psycho Delic said he'd left a call-out note for Megamind in her apartment. But there is no damn reason for Megamind to come back to her apartment: there will be no makeup sex because they aren't together. And even if, by some chance miracle, Megamind does happen to return to her apartment, why the hell would he risk his life to come and rescue Roxanne?
He doesn't care about her. He doesn't even like her; the cruel joke this morning sure as hell proved that—
Oh god. Oh god, she's going to die.
She's going to die here in this—
—this is the old strip mine, isn't it? She can see the stepped sides leading up to ground level and the towering piles of dirt and shale and the hulking, rusted shapes of abandoned mining machines and who the fuck cares where she's at; she's going to die.
She's going to die in her ugly pajamas and—
"Jesse!" Hot Flash says suddenly. Roxanne turns her head in the direction of the woman's gaze; a muscled young man in tight red lycra shorts, thigh-high red boots, and nothing else (except an obscene amount of body oil on his naked chest and a rather incongruous watch on his left wrist) has emerged from behind one of the piles of rubble.
He's carrying a shovel and has a confused expression on his face.
"What are you doing here, sweetcheeks?" Hot Flash asks in an indulgent sing-song voice, walking towards him.
Lady Doppler rolls her eyes; the others merely look impatient.
"You're supposed to be guarding the perimeter, Jesse," Hot Flash says. "Remember, hon?"
Jesse doesn't answer; Hot Flash frowns.
"Jesse?"
He swings the shovel hard in an upward arc; it connects with the side of Hot Flash's head with a sickening crunch, the force of the blow sending her to the ground. She doesn't get back up.
"Sorry," Jesse says, baring his teeth in a smile that is too wide, too sharp, somehow, for a human face. "Jesse isn't here right now." He reaches for the watch on his wrist and twists something on it, and his face, his body, flickers impossibly, and then it's—
Megamind.
Megamind is here.
Roxanne's heart stops beating for a moment.
to be continued...
(thank you for all of the lovely reviews!)
