Author's Note: And now we come to the end of the tale — and the beginning of the next. I've said from the start that the biggest purpose of this story is setting up what will come after, and believe me, what will come after has grown into something much more complex than I'd ever thought it would be. So worry not, gentle readers, this isn't the end, far from it. As I see things now, there will be at least two full novels to come after this, as well as several other short stories. (Still gotta tell the tale of Wayne's interview, which deserves space all of its own, and the story of what the heck Typhoon Cheese really is — after all, I'm from Wisconsin! And I'm sure there are other little bits and pieces outside the main story arc to be told as well.) Thank you very much to all of you for your patience, your support, and your feedback. Even though I don't often respond directly to reviews (if I did, I would spend all my time in email conversations rather than writing, and I think I know which most people would prefer me to do!), I assure you, each word is read and treasured. Bless you all for coming along for the ride.

And now, the final, long, long chapter. Small warning to those who may take offense: these folks are now a married couple, and they do occasionally talk about their love life. But not in detail. I'm not a writer of smut, just an occasional moment of mild steam, in what is hopefully a tasteful manner, as between two loving and committed adults.

Epilogue

Two months later, on a dark and damp November evening, Roxanne came home from an exhausting day at work, wondering for the umpteenth time how she could spend most of a day sitting at her desk, doing nothing but research, and still feel more exhausted than she had a few years back, literally chasing after the news on the city's streets. She tended to underestimate the stress of dealing with a lot of strong personalities in pursuit of information, or how tiring it could be to find ways of bringing sensitive topics to light without obscuring the truth or watering it down. This last week had been particularly bad, as she and Wayne had been working out the final details of the interview that would be his confession to the city of how he had tricked them, first into believing that he had been killed, and then into believing that he had lost his powers so that people would stop asking him for help. Coming up with an approach that would tell the whole truth and not turn everyone against him had been very, very difficult.

By comparison, dealing with the repercussions of Maybelle's attempted treachery in September had been a piece of cake, largely because it had been virtually effortless. When Roxanne returned to the station after the press conference and the meeting with the City Council that day, she'd discovered that Maybelle had already been given her walking papers. It turned out that most local stations — KMCP included — had broadcast the press conference live as breaking news, and thus there had been no editing of what Maybelle had done or said.

Jack Kincaid had been watching, and he'd found the woman's plainly bigoted behavior and her outright lies so abominable, he fired her even before she returned to the Metro Media building to attempt damage control. When Maybelle attempted to call Lena Albright to get her support to save her job, she got Sam Albright instead. The station owner had been on an extension during the conference call between his wife, Maybelle, and Kathleen earlier in the day, after the nurse had called them to warn her cronies about Megamind's visit to Grand Rapids, what he now knew about their conspiracy, and what he had recorded. And then, not even ten minutes after Maybelle had attempted her slander, when Wayne Scott had come marching in with a full Presidential pardon...! It made the woman look so bad, both Kincaid and Albright couldn't get rid of her fast enough.

Albright backed up Jack's decision to fire her, considering Maybelle to now be a liability to the station. To put an end to the ongoing melodrama, he'd convinced Kincaid to come clean with his wife about his first son, as he intended to come clean to the authorities about his own involvement in covering up the details of the accident in which Stewart Mitchell's parents had died.

In the end, Kincaid's wife had been understanding, and though the revelation of Abright's involvement in cover-up fifteen years ago was something of a scandal for himself and George Duke, it wasn't as bad for the two men as it might've been. When they came clean on their own, Megamind actually asked the judge who reopened the case to show them leniency, partly because they'd finally done the right thing, and partly because as a former inmate, he knew that putting them in prison for such relatively minor crimes would penalize society by forcing taxpayers to cover the costs of their upkeep. Instead, he recommended stiff fines and a lot of community service, the former of which would hit them where it hurt the most, and the latter of which would do more good for the society to whom they owed the debt.

Any debt owed to the Mitchells' surviving son had already been paid in full by Lena Albright — who, on the other hand, was now facing serious charges of fraud, embezzlement, and a host of other charges associated with her perceived need to pay off her nephew, who in turn had used the money to fund an operation that trafficked in human lives. Maybelle did indeed get smacked with charges of being an accessory, since she had used her position at KMCP to blackmail people in order to cover Lena's wrongdoings. Lena was roundly condemned for using her granddaughter's disappearance as an excuse to embezzle money to pay her nephew's extortion, especially when it came to light that she'd known Amelia was alive and well and hadn't even told the young woman's parents. The two women stayed out of prison again only because of Megamind's intervention on their behalf, but their reputations and standings in high society were destroyed for good.

Which to the ex-villain's mind served up a very cold dish of revenge to those who deserved it the most. Behind bars, they would become objects of pity to at least some people, believing them to be older women who had been too harshly sentenced. Allowed to serve their time as their husbands did, through heavy fines and extensive community service, they then became beholden to the alien they hated who had intervened on their behalf. This again saved the taxpayers the money that would've been spent on their incarceration and humiliated them so thoroughly, they would never wield such power over others again.

Kathleen actually managed to come through the whole thing relatively unscathed, since her dealings with the two real culprits had been minimal, and her own worst actions little more than simply keeping her mouth shut. In speaking with the lawyers involved in the prosecution, Megamind had suggested she be left out of the charges but called as a witness against her own cronies. If she fought against testifying, it would indicate that perhaps she should be included as an accomplice; if she didn't, she would ultimately punish herself by abandoning her friends. She chose the latter to save her own hide. Roxanne hadn't been at all surprised, since she herself had been thrown under the bus by her mother for the sake of her career, many times.

So, between the court intrigues, ordinary work, preparing for Wayne's big reveal to the city, the coming anniversary event at the Museum, and the usual ramping up of stress as the holidays approached, it had been a very busy two months, made easier only by the honeymoon trip they'd taken in early October. That lovely week back at the quiet lake house now seemed like it had been months ago, and as she returned home that night, Roxanne was hoping she wouldn't find her husband hip deep in some important project or out on an emergency that only he could resolve. Wayne had been helping him learn to recognize when he should say no to calls for help, and he had taken the lessons to heart. As a result, while the brainbots were kept busy, he and Minion were freer to live their own lives between the calls in which they were genuinely needed. The police and other servants of the people were finally given a chance to learn and do their jobs properly, and shine as they should, so it was turning out to be a win-win situation for all involved.

After parking her car in its customary spot in the Lair's garage area, Roxanne gave tired greetings to the brainbots who came to do their jobs in keeping it clean and serviced. The scents of oils and gasoline and rubber that were typical of any garage were overlaid with much more appealing aromas that were wafting down from the kitchen in the living quarters above, a sure sign that supper would soon be on the table. She could just barely hear Minion singing along with something playing on the radio while he worked; the music coming from Megamind's thinking area was much louder — though not as ear-splittingly loud as it could get when he was upset. No, this was just his normal "I'm trying to work something out in my head" volume, yet it sounded... weird. Roxanne recognized the song as "Back in Black"; though his encounters with the parts of culture and arts that he'd never been properly exposed to during his villainous years was considerably broadening the blue hero's musical tastes, he would never lose his fondness for the classic rock that was his first love.

But it didn't sound quite right. The pronounced beat and guitar riffs were all there, but a counterpoint had been added, trading riffs back and forth with the guitar, sometimes weaving its own sound along with the familiar. Roxanne stood there listening for a full minute before she realized the other sound was a violin. What she was hearing sounded like a strange jam session between Jascha Heifetz and AC/DC, with the violinist deftly improvising around the classic rock song.

She couldn't have kept herself from smiling if she'd tried. She'd always believed that Megamind could do anything he wished, if he just put his considerable mind to it, and when he'd taken up the violin as a lark, then got good at it to play for her in public at the celebrity charity competition last March, she hadn't really expected him to stick with it. But during the difficult months in which he'd been fighting a very troublesome trio of supervillains and she'd been fighting with her new and demanding position at work, not to mention her sleazy producer, he'd gone back to it as a means of calming himself when life became almost unbearably difficult, to restore his balance so that he could think clearly again — just like Sherlock Holmes. And the more he'd stayed with it, the better he'd gotten.

The sound of it was peculiar now because it had been so unexpected, but the longer she listened, the more Roxanne thought it was very clever, and actually a pretty good improvisational sound. If the current AC/DC band ever decided to do a concert in Metro City, they should try this kind of jamming with their number one fan. It could be an interesting new direction for them to try, just for the novelty alone.

Roxanne walked toward the curtained-off area that was Megamind's favorite thinking place, moving slowly and quietly as she listened to the song. She reached the edge of the curtain just as it was ending, and waited until it was done before stepping around the edge of the red fabric, applauding.

"That was very... unusual," she critiqued, adding when he nearly jumped out of his blue skin in surprise, eyes wide but mouth half-frowning, "and also very good! I had a feeling that someday, you'd figure out a way to put your favorite music and that together." She pointed to the black solid-bodied electronic violin he'd almost dropped. "Have you done this before, or is this the first time?"

"Second time," Megamind replied, relaxing from surprise as he reached out with the bow and tapped a control on the console he was standing beside, turning down the volume of the music playing on the sound system. He was wearing his working jumpsuit, but had removed the cape and collar and gloves, which were draped on his tall-backed executive chair. Until Roxanne had made her presence known and he'd jumped with surprise, he had been half-sitting on the edge of the console while he played, lost in the throes of both musical improvisation and deep thought. "I don't know where the idea came from, it just popped into my head the last time I was up in the music room. How was your day?"

She sighed as she came over and snuggled up against him, feeling a need for closeness. "Exhausting. I'm glad today is Friday and we aren't taping the interview with Wayne until Sunday morning. Keeping the wrong people from finding out what it's really going to be about has been more stressful than working with Stewart Mitchell for three months."

Her husband set the violin on the console so he could wrap his arms around her and offer comfort. "That bad, huh? Aren't they buying the red herring about it being a retrospective thing to help promote the Museum's anniversary on Monday?"

"Most people are," she confirmed, settling her head on his shoulder. "But there are always the nosy ones who think they're clever and want to try to get you to spill the beans too soon, or the ones who suddenly consider themselves your best friend and are sure they can get juicy details from you if they pretend long enough."

Megamind frowned. "None of them are men with names that even vaguely resemble 'Stewart,' are they?"

He was at least partially serious, and it made Roxanne smile. It was nice to know that two months or so of married life hadn't changed him one bit, that way. "No, sweetie," she said, turning her head to press a kiss to his slender neck. "Closest thing is Manny Staziewski, and you know him, he's one of your fanboys. He wouldn't dream of getting you mad at him just because he's dying to know why we've been giving Sunday's interview such a big build-up. I think he's really more concerned that the late afternoon football game might run long and Mr. Kincaid'll cut it short just to make sure the special starts on time. It's the Metro Knights against the Packers, you know."

The green eyes rolled most eloquently. "I will never understand this obsession people have with this game! Nothing but a bunch of overgrown, hairy, Cro-Magnon brutes mangling each other to try to get a lopsided excuse for a ball — a rather obskeen excuse for a ball at that! — across a line painted on a field that usually isn't even real grass! And have you ever been inside that domed monstrosity they call a stadium? The noise is absolutely terrible!"

Roxanne sniffed, still smiling. "Yeah, I've been in it. Kidnapping 261, remember? But you're right, the noise was terrible!"

Now, he pouted. "It was supposed to be terrible! That's why it the entire plan was called Knight Terrors!"

Now, his wife couldn't help but laugh. "You know, that's still a really bad pun — especially since as 'knights,' the brainbots in what looked like tinfoil armor and spikes weren't very terrifying!"

Megamind lifted his chin in exaggerated haughty disdain. "It wasn't tinfoil, it was — oh, never mind," he said, abruptly deflating. "You're right, it was a lame attempt at villainy. But you have to admit, at least the laser light show that went with it was impressive!"

"That it was," she allowed, eyes sparkling brightly as she lifted her head to kiss him. He accepted it, both as the slight apology and the much stronger expression of affection that were intended. When they finally came up for air, Roxanne looked into her husband's eyes and saw that he was just as tired as herself. "So I take it the day wasn't all fun and games for you, either," she sighed. "I heard that last month's heist from the city's municipal salt storage turned up with some idiot trying to dump it all into the bay to pollute the city's water supply."

Megamind grimaced. "Oh, yes, it was our old friend Seymour Ratzenberg, out on bail and trying to make a name for himself again. Really, if he wants to be a total nuisance by finding new ways to pollute and litter and just plain turn the city into a garbage dump, he should at least come up with a better villainous name than Sewer Rat! And he should find a more subtle way of setting up his attacks — driving an open dump truck full of road salt right down the lakefront expressway is not going to be missed! The patrol bots have had instructions to keep an eye out for any private stockpiles or large movements of salt since the theft. They spotted him and reported in. I'll give Seymour one thing, he has been working on his nuisance factor. When the bots tried to nab him when he stopped on the bay, he released a huge swarm of flies that plastered themselves to the bots. They still managed to grab him, but not until he'd dumped the salt near one of the pipes where the city pumps cleaned sewage water back into the lake. The city sent a hazmat team to try to contain it before too much of the salt dissolved and did serious damage to the bay's ecosystem, but they aren't really equipped for desalinization."

"But you are," Roxanne smirked, already aware of the answer.

He preened. "Of course! Really, I'm sure that the people who do it for a fee make it seem so difficult only to squeeze money out of people who need fresh water and have depleted sources. It was one of the first things I came up with to help Minion's friends who want to protect the Great Lakes. A cheap, simple, fast process can provide ample supplies of fresh water for people in other parts of the country who've overtaxed their water tables and make them stop looking to take away our biggest natural resource. It took about fifteen minutes to whip up enough in the lab to desalinize the entire bay, and only another five minutes to fly over, drop it in, and let it do its work. It's really quite effective; the entire bay was clean again inside of ten minutes. Cleaning the flies off the brainbots was much more annoying and time consuming." His grimace eloquently communicated just how distasteful and grungy that job had been.

His wife chuckled. "Totally beneath the dignity of someone with your lofty intelligence, huh?"

"Totally," was his emphatic agreement. "But most of the other brainbots don't have the proper dexterity for cleaning in small crevices — something I intend to correct as soon as possible, let me tell you! — and I couldn't leave the entire job to Minion and the Brain and the other housekeeping bots that could manage it. Not after making him my partner."

Now, Roxanne stood straight again, though she didn't attempt to back out of the loose embrace of his arms still around her waist. "That would be mean, letting him do all the drudge work."

"It would. Besides, it gave me an excuse to put off talking with Bernard again."

The blue eyes widened. "Again? What's he bugging you about this time? Didn't everything for the Museum's anniversary get settled on two days ago?"

Megamind's mouth pulled to one side in a rather sour look. "I settled on it," he confirmed. "And I thought everyone else had, too. But apparently Bernard got wind of what your interview with Wayne on Sunday is going to be about..."

This time, she did step back. "He did? From who? We've been trying so hard to keep it under wraps, and some of those guys at the Museum are as bad about spreading gossip as Maybelle..."

The ex-villain smiled and lifted his hands from her waist to squeeze her shoulders while he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her nose. "No, not from them. It was an accident. Minion thought we were alone in the museum director's office, he asked me if I thought Wayne's confessions in the interview would cause problems with the anniversary celebration, and Bernard walked in and overheard. It was his office, after all."

The slip was innocent enough, though a small part of Roxanne wondered if the snarky curator might've been eavesdropping, as she'd caught some people at the station doing in their attempts to find out details. "So he thinks having Wayne do his confession the day before the gala would be a problem?"

Megamind waggled one hand. "If he does, it's because he thinks it'll increase the Museum's traffic on Monday and overload the staff and facilities. He's annoying me because he wants to know if I'll have some big surprise reveal for the Museum, too. Everything that came out the day after Labor Day did a lot for their business — and revenue — so with the Thanksgiving holiday coming, he was hoping to get something from me to entice people away from the malls and into the Museum."

Roxanne snorted softly as she reluctantly stepped back to shrug out of her coat, a necessary evil on these chilly, dark, damp November nights that started too soon and lasted too long. "You know Bernard, he'll never be satisfied until he knows everything about you and Minion and Wayne and where you came from — even if you never do."

Megamind sighed as he collected the violin and bow, flipping off the sound system as he did so. "I know, I know. I have a feeling he was disappointed when he didn't find out my real name before the rest of the world did, and he thinks we do know Minion's real name and are just trying to keep it secret out of spite or something."

Her shrug was only half to get out of her coat. "Well, you've checked that recording gizmo your parents sent with you, and it doesn't look like there's anything about Minion on it. So why don't you and he sit down and come up with a name he likes? Or tell Bernard to knock it off if he wants to keep his job."

Her husband grumbled to himself for a moment as he tucked the violin and bow under one arm. "I couldn't do that to him, not after leaving him dehydrated in my unwashed laundry hamper for... too long. And just making up a name for Minion isn't fair to him. Oh, I know he wouldn't complain, and he'd be happy that I wanted to do it, but what I really want is to find the truth!"

Slinging her coat over one arm, Roxanne picked up her briefcase and purse with the same hand so that she could slip the other through the crook in his arm that was holding the violin, drawing him close. "I know, sweetie, but you've been looking for it for years. I know how important Minion is to you, but you were the one who was most important to your parents. Maybe you can't find it in the records they made because they were so worried about taking care of getting things ready for you, they just forgot."

Megamind's sigh was even heavier, though he gladly leaned into her touch as they headed for the elevator to the living quarters at a sedate pace. Behind them, a pair of brainbots collected Daddy's discarded cape and collar and gloves, to be returned to their proper storage places. "I know. And it's possible that Minion's people didn't use names like we do, or that it's something only a fish underwater could say or hear. We've talked about it, and he thinks either notion is possible. We know that the neural implant he was given before we were put in the escape pod is to facilitate communication between him and me, or people like us, air breathers. But..."

Roxanne understood the disappointment she could hear in his voice. "But you want more for him. He does deserve it, but I can't think of what else you could do if the information you want just isn't there."

"I know that, too," Megamind admitted. "I just can't believe that my parents would have sent him with me to be my protector, to take care of me, and not include anything about him in their messages! It doesn't make sense! I keep thinking that there's something I'm not taking into account when I try to access the recordings. That's what I was doing when you got home, trying some of the techniques that can help my brain sort out things on its own when I can't do so consciously."

"And did it help any?"

He snorted as they reached the elevator. "Not with any flash of insight or sudden inspiration, still the same nagging feeling that I'm missing something, or forgetting something."

His wife considered this while they boarded the lift. "Maybe that's what you're missing," she said after the doors had closed and the car made its way to the upper floor.

He frowned. "What, inspiration? I already know I'm missing that...!"

She shook her head. "No, feeling. You always said there was something about the sphere that recognized and responded to your emotional states. If every time you pick it up you're feeling about the same, you're going to get the same response from it, right? And maybe it just doesn't have any built-in response to the kind of frustration you've been feeling."

His frown deepened a bit as he considered that. "It certainly responded to frustration when I was young — although then, it was always frustration driven by some other underlying emotion. Anger, fear, hate, confusion, despair..."

He shook his head slightly to dispel the old but still unpleasant memories; his expression then cleared. "You might be right. It's fairly obvious that whoever made it or programmed it did so with primarily emotional triggers. Frustration is an emotional state usually linked to another; purely intellectual frustration may not be enough of a trigger." With his free hand, he rubbed the back of his long neck. "I wonder why they made it so dependent on emotions..."

Roxanne's chuckle was gentle. "Maybe because most of what they put in it were things meant for you to hear when you were a child, and children are more emotionally driven than intellectually motivated. And face it, hon, you may have the biggest, sharpest, smartest brain in the world, but you're also a bundle of walking raw emotions, a lot of the time. It might be that this is the way all your people were."

The big head now turned slightly to look at her, startled a bit by the suggestion he'd never really considered. "You think so?"

She shrugged. "Why not? I know the classic image of aliens here is that they're either walking blocks of logical ice like Mr. Spock, or they're aggressive warmongers and parasites out to conquer the universe. Those are all stories cooked up in the minds of people who probably have phobias about the kind of 'aliens' who come over the border from Mexico. Just because you're smart doesn't mean you don't have emotions, and just because you weren't born on Earth doesn't mean the emotions you have must be bad. Your people may have been exceptionally sensitive and valued emotions as more than just an inevitable part of life. Heck, they may have actually understood them better than we do — in fact, I'd be willing to bet they did. They knew how to make that data sphere keyed just to you, combined with triggers that could only be tripped when you were in certain emotional states."

They reached the upper floor before she finished theorizing; Megamind listened quietly while they stepped out into the large rec room that was the central part of the living quarters. Roxanne gave his arm a little squeeze before heading to the closet where coats and such were stored. "I suppose that's entirely possible," he said as Pinky came bowging into the room to greet them, happily taking Mommy's purse and briefcase to put them where they belonged. "But if that's the case, there may be no new recordings to be found. You aren't the only person who's said I don't overact and overreact as much as I used to."

She laughed as Pinky returned to relieve Daddy of his violin and return it to the music room. "You don't, but that means you're only about twice as emotional as the average Earth human instead of three or four times. You might be right about having seen all there is to see, but it could also be waiting for a trigger it hasn't picked up on, yet. Can you think of any emotional state of mind in which you haven't ever picked it up?"

Megamind considered the question as she finished hanging up her coat, enjoying the view of her backside while he pondered. A broad, salacious grin crossed his face. "Oh, yes, but I think I'd feel uncomfortable, having a device programmed to show me speaking images of my parents in the same room while we're making love!"

His wife blew him a raspberry as she closed the closet door and turned back to join him again. "That wasn't exactly what I meant! Although I suppose that may actually be one major emotional state in which you've never handled it."

"Definitely," he said without needing to think about it. "Even when I was a rundy teenager in the throes of pubescent urges, I never touched it then, never wanted it anywhere near me! It would be like having your parents standing there, watching you... well, you know." His cheeks and ears flushed a lovely bright fuchsia as he merely thought of doing that.

Roxanne was sympathetic. "Yeah, I know. Girls aren't immune to hormonal urges, after all. Maybe it would be enough to think about the emotional aspects of what you feel when we make love, not the physical part of it, and definitely not while we're doing it! I know that some people believe that for men, love is mostly lust, but I know that's not true with you. For someone who believed he was destined to be a heartless villain, you're the most sincerely romantic person I've ever known — probably on the entire planet. That part is emotional, not physical."

He went quiet again for a bit, thinking, as they started ambling toward the master suite so they could both get out of their work clothes before dinner. Amid the clanks and clatters and rattles and hisses and other noises of someone busily at work cooking, Minion could be clearly heard singing along with the radio between snatches of talking with his new brainbot assistant, designed and trained specifically to help in the kitchen.

Madeleine — as the bot had been affectionately dubbed by Minion, after the French pastry — was only the second brainbot created as a female, the gender chosen because Roxanne felt Pinky could use the companionship of another female of her own kind, and because Minion had heard too many stories about conflicting personalities in the kitchen when either two men or two women had to share it. Madeleine had her share of territorial feelings when it came to other brainbots horning in on her turf, but after she'd learned that allowing other bots to serve the food and carry the dishes didn't mean they wanted to share her more specific culinary duties, she'd mellowed into an agreeable, chipper little helper, assisting Minion with cooking and prep and clean up, and even capable of whipping up simple meals when the ichthyoid was busy with other things.

"I'm glad Madeleine's working out so well," Roxanne commented as they moved down the corridor past the kitchen, headed for their private rooms. "What with being your partner now, Minion really needs someone else to take over a lot of the household chores he's been doing, and when it comes to the kitchen, you and I still need to take lessons."

Megamind agreed. He'd worked up to about a dozen reliably decent actual meals he could cook — which had Roxanne beat by nine — but he had less time on his hands than Minion, most days. "Maybe next time we go on vacation. Wayne said that friend of his who helped cater our wedding dinner offers lessons, if you make arrangements ahead of time. I just wish the laundry bots were picking up how to do their jobs as fast as Madeleine is."

That wish was so heartfelt, Roxanne knew exactly what he was thinking. The pair, which she had named, had made a few significant mistakes in the three weeks since they'd been activated. "I told you, it's okay, I was wanting an excuse to buy some new underwear, anyway. At least Fluff and Fold didn't get their little claws on everything I own and shrink it to death! And it was a good learning experience for them. Now they know that just because a piece of clothing is white, it doesn't necessarily go straight into hot water and bleach!"

The reformed villain chuckled throatily as he held open one of the double doors to the suite for his lady. "It wasn't a total loss, I suppose, since I very much enjoyed helping you pick out... suitable replacements. As she stepped past him, he waggled his expressive eyebrows most appreciatively.

Roxanne made a show of lifting her nose in the air and aiming a completely feigned swat in his direction. "Oh, yes, so much that I suspect you got their programming wrong on purpose!"

He returned with his best kicked puppy face. "I would never tell any of the bots to ruin anything of yours on purpose," he defended, not very strongly since he knew she was teasing. "No, no, it was an honest mistake on my part. I should've left that part of their parameters to Minion, since I've never done the laundry myself, not without botching it horribly. Why do you think we never got that strange musty smell out of the kidnapping bags? We had four of them, you know."

"No, I didn't," the reporter said as she sank down on the edge of the bed to remove her shoes. How it was possible for her feet to ache even though she hadn't been chasing around town in a news van seemed unfathomable — until she realized that she'd spent two solid hours in a studio, on her feet on concrete floors, working out the settings and lighting and such for not only Wayne's interview but also for another interview she'd be recording on Wednesday, before the Thanksgiving holiday weekend began. "Remind me to send my laundry out to be cleaned if I need something done in a pinch and you're the only one who can do it," she called after her husband when he disappeared into the huge walk-in closet. "What the heck was that stink?"

"Ah..." There was a pause during which Roxanne could hear the telltale sound of a protective polymer underskin being removed. Neither she nor Megamind had any inhibitions about undressing in front of one another, not anymore, but in the most recent improvement to the material that the genius used to make up for his lack of invulnerability in battle, he had altered the color of it from black to a perfect match for his blue skin. It helped to heighten the illusion that he was invulnerable should his outer clothing be torn during a fight, and thus made at least some of the petty criminals think twice before using firearms or other projectiles against him. He knew that sooner or later, it would also prompt some more devious villain into attempting a vastly more deadly attack on him, but by then, he hoped to have his armoring force field "skin" perfected, for himself as well as Minion and Roxanne.

In the meantime, it gave his wife the creeps to watch him take it off. It looked for all the world as if he was peeling away a layer of his own skin, and it was a sight she preferred to avoid, especially right before a meal. When she heard the distinctive squelch-pop! of it coming free, she knew he would be back out shortly.

He was, pulling on a loose silk robe as he headed for a dresser with his everyday at-home clothes. "It was a mix of things that were soaked into the rags that went into the wash with the bags. Butyl mercaptan, sulphur... I don't recall the exact combination. There'd been an accident in the lab earlier in the day and Minion was out getting replacement supplies. That's how I wound up on laundry duty. I'd never done it before, and I thought washing fabrics was supposed to remove odors, not spread them around. Minion really did try his best to wash the stink out of the bags — it became a matter of pride, after the first few rewashings — but he never managed it."

He was about to open one of the dresser drawers when he saw Roxanne still sitting there, rubbing at one foot. Concern flickered across his face. "Are you hurt?" he asked solicitously, forgetting about his clothes for the moment to come see if she was all right.

"Hmmm... not really, maybe a blister on my heel, here," she said after exploring the spot with her fingers. She stood briefly to peel off her panty hose, not wanting to risk having the blister pop and then glue itself to the thin nylon by drying against it. "I think I need to put this pair with my 'sitting shoes' collection. This is the second time I've gotten a blister from standing in them for more than half an hour."

After she'd spoken the diagnosis, Megamind changed direction for the connected bathroom and returned quickly with a familiar blue jar of his very effective healing salve. "They do look nice on you, but they aren't worth wearing if they hurt you," was his opinion. He sat down beside her and took the injured foot to liberally apply the ointment not only to the blister but to the rest of her abused foot as well.

She leaned back a bit and hummed appreciatively, enjoying both the soothing properties of the salve and the strength of the fingers carefully massaging her aching foot. "Oh, that feels wonderful," she purred, eyes closing in blissful relief. "You know, if you'd treated me to things like this instead of the smelly bags and the knockout spray, I would've screamed for you all along, just to make you happy."

Megamind smiled as he nudged her to shift position so that he could attend to her other foot as well. She happily pivoted atop the bed so that she could lay both feet in his lap. "It wouldn't've done much for my villainous image," he pointed out. "Not unless I decided to try a different kind of villainy. But Minion got uncomfortable whenever our bantering strayed too far into flirting, so being some kind of lootheerio was out of the question."

"Lothario," Roxanne corrected, purely on reflex. "I'd say too bad, but I wouldn't really mean it. This way, I get you all to myself." She sat straighter to drape her arms around his neck. "You know," she said in a low, sultry voice, "we could always test the theory about what kind of reaction you might get from that little sphere right after we've... ah... been together..."

"A very tempting suggestion," he purred right back, adding sadly, "but Minion and Madeleine have been working half the day on something special. Remember, Wayne's coming for dinner tonight, so we can celebrate his birthday. He plans to spend the actual day tomorrow with his mother."

The brunette groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Yeah, I forgot, and he and Minion both reminded me just this morning. Okay, then, I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. But let's not keep the party going too late. This is one experiment I really can't wait to try!"

The dinner party went quite nicely, especially now that Wayne knew about the existence of Megamind's meticulously constructed home and was permitted into it. The former hero was understandably nervous about the interview on Sunday; he was glad that they weren't doing it live but were taping it the same morning. That way if something went wrong, there would be time to redo it, and since the station management and some visiting network brass would be sitting in during the recording — this being Roxanne's first major spot on the network's highly acclaimed Sunday evening news magazine — they fully expected that there would be some powerful reactions. They both wanted that feedback to his big revelations, which had thus far been kept tightly under wraps; even Jack Kincaid and Sam Albright thought this was going to be a "Metro Man: Where Is He Now?" kind of story. If the small group of technicians and executives had too strong a negative response to his revelation of the truth, they'd already come up with several ways to present it that wouldn't be quite so shocking to the citizens of Metro City. Until then, all they could do was wait.

Fortunately, Wayne didn't want to stay too late, since he planned to begin his actual birthday with his mother by having breakfast with her at her favorite little restaurant on the lakefront. Lady Scott already knew what her adopted son was planning to do on Sunday, and though the elderly woman could often seem totally out of touch with the rest of the world, she was surprisingly supportive and understanding about this. Lies, she'd told him, never got you anything but trouble. Maybe she'd spoiled him too much when he was a boy, letting him gorge himself on attention when she shouldn't have, but he wasn't stupid, and they both knew it. He had had good teachers at excellent schools and plenty of role models for how to be a hero, in the history books alone. He should've been a proper man and a proper hero and learned the difference between answering a true cry for help and the whine of someone too lazy to do their own work a long time ago.

Wayne had been shocked when she'd told him this — every bit as much as his three friends were when he told them what she'd said. It was turning out that Lady Scott wasn't as vapid as he'd often believed, but had spent too much of her own life deferring to a husband who in turns was domineering and dismissive. Since Lord Scott's death, she'd started to return to being her own person, a person who had more spunk in her than they'd imagined possible. It was her idea for the two of them to spend Wayne's official birthday together, so that he might get a good solid grasp of himself as just a man before he went out and admitted his all-too-human failings to the rest of the world.

For all that they had been rivals for more than twenty years, Megamind actually felt genuine sympathy for his new, unlikely friend's position. Admitting that one had been wrong was hard enough; admitting that one had deliberately perpetrated a series of wrongs was almost too difficult to be considered. He himself had managed it only because of his love for Roxanne and his friendship with Minion. Wayne had many admirers and fans in the world, but until recently only one person he felt he could safely call his friend. Roxanne couldn't save him in the same way that she'd been able to save Megamind, but perhaps together, the support of all three of them and his mother might be enough to see the retired superhero through any backlash and difficulties that might lie ahead in the murky waters following his confession.

When he left that night, Wayne was at least in a hopeful mood, which was preferable to the anxious depression he'd been coming near when he'd arrived. Minion had put Madeleine in charge of the housekeeping bots to handle the clean up, and had gone off to power down and sleep so that he could get up bright and early the next morning to be the Grand Marshall of Metro City's annual Holiday Parade.

When they'd first asked him, the ichthyoid had suspected that the parade's sponsor, the Chamber of Commerce, had snubbed Megamind because their noses were still out of joint over his wedding taking place out of town, but the blue hero hadn't been the least bit offended. Not only did Minion have an easier time dealing with cold weather these days — especially since he was now in his brand new and greatly improved gorilla cybersuit with its temperature-controlled habitat dome — but he was undeniably popular with kids, suitable for what was an event heavily aimed at children.

Besides, Megamind had been invited the year before, and the day had started with icy winds and ended with the beginnings of an early lake effect snowstorm. It was an experience he was in no hurry to repeat, so he was just as happy to see Minion so honored. Regardless of the weather, he would be thrilled, and that was all that really mattered.

So it was still a reasonable hour when the couple retired to their suite, with plenty of energy to engage in Roxanne's suggested "experiment" — at least when they started. By the time they finished, they were both quite sleepy, and she was perfectly content to curl up under the covers, snuggled against her husband, ready to go right to sleep.

A very sated Megamind happily joined her, but an hour or so later he was awake again, his brain refusing to stay asleep. Consciously, he had not been observing and analyzing his emotional state during their lovemaking, but his subconscious brain was such that parts of it never stopped observing and analyzing, even during sleep or intense waking activities that either demanded full concentration or let his conscious mind simply let go and enjoy. For most of his life, he hadn't been able to deliberately access the information which that part of his mind collected; it tended to show up in dreams and sudden flashes of inspiration.

But lately, that was changing. Though he still had the odd, vivid dreams and moments of brilliant insight, he found that if he could still his more hyperactive surface thinking, the memories of things unconsciously observed would come forward into his conscious thoughts. Then, he could study them to his heart's content.

Of course, achieving such a state of calm wasn't easy; he still tended to bounce off walls in many ways, chasing after ideas as an energetic cat might chase after a mouse. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, and being patient enough for long enough to still his thought processes was frequently difficult. It wasn't at all surprising that he didn't bother with much in the way of conscious thought during sex; Roxanne actually seemed to prefer it when he followed his instincts rather than think about — and then overthink — what he was doing. So far, it worked splendidly for both of them, and he saw no reason to change what was proving to be such a magnificent recipe for delight.

Still, he couldn't shut off his subconscious, and the delicious physical relaxation that followed the release of lovemaking was exceptionally calming, to both mind and body. So when his body had rested long enough, his never-sleeping subconscious gave the rest of his brain a kick, prompting him to awaken. And once awake, all the thoughts and impressions about what he had been feeling on multi-layered emotional rather than on purely physical levels came bubbling to the front of his thoughts. For a while, still half-asleep, he was content to merely review them, but the clearer they became, the more restless he felt.

Maybe Roxanne had been right, after all. He hadn't ever gone to consult the data sphere while feeling these specific feelings; they were strong but also wonderful, and he couldn't imagine why they might make him want to seek comfort or counsel from his parents. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being able to feel such love, he knew that he was loved in return, and the knowledge was all the comfort and assurance he could need.

But separating the intensity of the emotion in those moments from the equally intense physical sensations of passion wasn't something he'd ever tried to do. Now that his brain had gone and done it for him, he wished that it had waited until morning before presenting him with its analysis, but the more he let things slosh through his head, the more interesting they became. He knew that a lot of literature and philosophy and art and even science had been devoted to studying the different kinds of emotional love, but he wondered just how much humans were capable of perceiving the fullness of it, the ways in which they differed and yet were all subtly one and the same.

Perhaps he was wrong; the analysis of his subconscious might well have been way off the mark. But his instinctive perceptions — the ways that had been born into him and were a part of all his people — told him that this was no mistake. This was important to the blue-skinned, big-headed race that had given birth to him, and thus it might be an important key to determining answers for his questions. He had to find out.

The room was dark, the most significant light the city glow filtering in through the arched leaded glass window above the bed, which from outside appeared to be another broken-paned, grimy window on the long abandoned power plant. The glow was enough to navigate by on even the cloudiest night, and in the soft filtered light, Megamind could see Roxanne curled up beside him. She had rolled over in her sleep so her back was now tucked into the curve of his side.

She looked so happily peaceful, he debated whether or not he should waken her. The idea of these loving emotions being a possible key had been hers, so he thought it might be rude to go see if she was right without her coming along. He should wait until morning, he told himself, but his mind wasn't wanting to go back to sleep, and a part of him was afraid that if he did, the things that were so clear in his thoughts right now would be lost or at least muddied.

Well, he could try. He turned onto his side and gently nudged his wife by squeezing her shoulder and softly kissing her exposed ear. "Roxanne?" he whispered, at a volume he hoped might be loud enough to get her attention, but not too loud to startle her. He'd made that mistake often enough, and he really didn't want another elbow in the mouth or eye or whatever other sensitive body part she happened to choose in her marginally awake state. "Roxanne, love, are you awake?" Well, that was the classic stupid question! He wondered if everyone trying to wake up someone else at an ungodly hour asked it.

"Hmmm," she mumbled back, clearly still a few fathoms below the surface. "Wh'sup, hon?"

She knew it was him and she hadn't hit him with the elbow or her heel, yet. A good sign. "I think your idea for an 'experiment' might've worked."

After another sleepy hum, she answered with, "Tha'sh good. 'gratulations."

"Thanks. I can't sleep so I'm gonna go see if it works."

"Great, hon," she said around a huge yawn. "Tell me 'bout it in th' mornin'."

He blinked. "Are you sure you don't want to be there, just in case it does work?"

"Nuh-uh. Wanna sleep. Ha' fun, sweetie." With that she burrowed more deeply under the covers and into her pillow.

Megamind stayed where he was for a moment, then decided she was in earnest. Well, it had been a hard day for her, from what she'd told him. She needed the sleep, and maybe she was right about him doing this alone, out of it though she was. Not that he'd object to her being there, but there was something very personal and private about this, something that might make him feel even worse than he might if the test failed.

Decided, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, smiled when she made soft happy noises, then carefully slipped out of the bed, tucking the comforter around her back to keep her warm.

Though they kept the living quarters quite adequately heated throughout the colder months of the year, the nighttime temperature was set lower for more comfortable sleeping (and snuggling). Mindful of this, not to mention the fact that he wasn't a big fan of shivering and cold toes, Megamind slipped into his discarded pajamas and robe and slippers before heading to the library, where the data sphere was kept inside a very secure display case. He silently tiptoed across the room and out into the corridor, closing the door behind him without causing his sleeping wife to so much as twitch an eyelash.

Halfway down the corridor to the library, he had to sidestep the Brain, who was out doing his nightly floor maintenance routine and would become very disgruntled if his work was in any way disrupted. Clean floors took precedence even over Daddy's nighttime wanderings, so Daddy made sure he never got in the way. He'd lost at least half a dozen pairs of slippers to the singleminded bot's retaliation.

Inside the library itself, all was quiet. Though a stranger wouldn't even know that the wall niche in which it was kept existed, Megamind had no trouble getting into it to fetch the small data sphere his parents had sent with him in his escape pod. Since it had been returned to him when he was six by Nick Cabela, the homeless man who had found it and kept it safe, the blue genius had learned many things from the recordings it contained. Most significant to him had been his personal name and the name of his family or clan, but too many of his most burning questions were still unanswered. What had actually happened to his home world, what had it been called, what was Minion's name and why had he been sent with him, why was he apparently the only one of his kind to have survived?

Time to try to discover if the answers were even out there to be found. After fetching the small case in which the sphere was stored, Megamind went to a corner of the library that was one of Roxanne's favorite places to curl up with a good book. The spot had her scent lingering about it to his sensitive nose, and that combined with many memories of finding her here, of sharing one of the big chairs with her while she read him something interesting she'd found, often segueing into tender sessions of kissing and cuddling, made it an excellent place to try to summon up all the remembered feelings of their shared love. He folded himself into the big chair much as she did, and when he was settled with his legs crossed, tailor fashion, he prepared himself for the experiment.

The softly cushioned high-backed chair made for a very comfortable little nest of sorts. The tall back let him sit upright and yet be supported, so if he accidentally drifted off to sleep rather than into a meditative state, he wouldn't wake up and find himself aching from having flopped into some awkward position. He opened the little box with the sphere and set it into a crook of one leg, where it would be safe and secure. He settled both arms on those of the chair, then closed his eyes and fell into the soothing rhythms of meditation.

He had learned how to do this years ago from his Uncle Wuxi in prison, a technique that was useful for many things. He had found it especially handy for helping his body recover from illness and injury, and so had kept in practice perforce during his years of battling Metro Man. These days, it was still useful for those things, but also for calming down and getting back some kind of perspective after dealing with such annoyances as government idiots who wanted to know why he couldn't make de-guns for the entire state police forces. At his own expense. Or why he couldn't design death rays and covert mind reading machines for the military and the TSA. Oh, how happy he'd been for that timely Presidential Pardon, which took away the last leverage such people might use against him to force him to use his gifts, and his assets, for their own profit, or for things that went against even the morals of a former supervillain!

Now, his familiarity with meditation allowed him to quickly relax back into that very pleasant state of mind he'd been in upon wakening, where the all feelings of his love for Roxanne were woven together in a single, beautiful tapestry that wrapped all about him like the softest and warmest and strongest of blankets. The emotions returned, washing over him, a wave that was merely echoed by the climax of physical love, then sank into him, becoming a part of him, easing a thirst that would always be thirsty for more.

When he felt himself in the peaceful state he desired, he opened his eyes again and slowly reached for the sphere. The blue fingers hesitated before touching it. What if he was wrong? It would be bad enough to face another disappointing failure, but would it be worse to fail when the hoped for trigger was something so precious to him?

No, that wouldn't do. The things he felt for Roxanne would remain precious, untarnished, no matter what happened now. Doubt, on the other hand, could poison the attempt before it began. So the green eyes closed again while he recentered himself, pushing away the doubt and latching onto that powerful determination and optimism that was so much a part of what defined him. When he was back in that emotional place where he wanted to be, he reached out, picked up the sphere, and opened his eyes.

He saw the familiar blossoming of beautiful lights that always appeared as the sphere responded to his direct touch, and for the first time, he understood that they were something more than a mechanism of whatever system projected the images that only he and persons in direct contact with him could see. They always extended beyond the area of the visual recording, always reached out and wrapped about him. He'd thought that it was a necessary part of the detection and projection process, but now he knew it wasn't. It was a visual representation of his parents' love for him, reaching out and gathering him into their embrace as they themselves could no longer do.

That realization brought tears to his eyes, as well as a firm certainty. Roxanne was right. This was the key that he hadn't brought to it before, the key of a love that encompassed so many things, so much both in himself and of himself and beyond himself. He was now not only a full adult of his own people, but a free and accepted man in his new world. He loved a woman who loved him in return, unconditionally, and he had finally come to love himself in healthy, positive ways, not the ways of an abused child desperate to feel wanted, to feel special. His inner child was more alive and more healthy than it had ever been because it was no longer a little dictator trying to run his life without knowing its own abilities and its own proper place. He was proud of himself, Mykaal, in the ways that he should be, for reasons that were true and not trumped up. He could come now to seek answers, and accept them for what they were, not demand that they be what he wanted them to be.

He watched and felt the embrace of his parents with a soft smile on his face, glad that he finally understood what this truly meant. He accepted it and allowed it to soothe him, making no effort to change things or demand information. And just as he reached a point at which he could have happily remained, content with this and wanting nothing more, the lights before him shifted into an image while those around him kept him in their embrace.

It was his father. He looked much as he always had in Megamind's memories, but also different. Tired, sad, on the edge of an exhaustion both physical and emotional. And even so, he smiled. "Mykaal, my son, if you are seeing this message, then our hope that you would find a good and happy adult life on your new world has come to pass. If you know nothing greater than this in your life, then you will have had a life well spent. And yet, this means that you have also come to that point where even more lies before you. It is not a path you must take, but it is one you may choose to take, if you so desire, and it is the path to a kind of greatness that even among us has seldom been known.

"We sent you to this new world, Mykaal, for several reasons. The first and greatest is that we love you. You are our only child, and we knew even before you were born that if you were born before the cataclysm came upon us, your life here would be brief, at best a matter of days. As any parents might, we were desperate to see you survive because of our love alone. And we were permitted the means to give you that chance because of what you are."

His father's smile, though still sad, broadened. "I know that this makes little sense to you. We know much about the planet to which we sent you, Earth, and we also know that its peoples are far behind us in terms of technology and knowledge and development. But we also know that they are inquisitive and inventive, and could provide the kind of environment in which your young gifts could grow and flourish. Part of why your mother and I will be glad if you see this message is because it means that you have achieved a degree of acceptance and stability and support that will make possible the destiny of greatness that still lies dormant within you."

Though intrigued, Megamind nonetheless sighed. "I wish I knew what that was," he whispered, mildly frustrated.

It seemed as if his father heard him. "Before we can show you how this potential can be unlocked and achieved, there are things you should know, about us, about the world that gave birth to you, and what lies within you, about how it was decided that you alone of all the children of our world should be given this chance. The capacity of the device you now hold is limited, and we could not fit both our messages for you and that tale into it. If your escape vehicle was not lost to you during these many years, you should take this recorder to it and place it into this spot, here."

A detailed image of his pod as it had been before being knocked around by asteroids and bounced across Metro City appeared beside his father. He pointed to an area on the inside just below the hatch, which lit up as he indicated it to make its position clear. "When this release is activated, a compartment will open behind the right passive control panel." That area also lit up. "Inside, you will find two flat boxes, one large and one small. The larger cannot be opened until after you have opened and made use of what is in the first. If you can fetch these things now, Mykaal, I will tell you what should be done next."

The image suddenly disappeared. Megamind suspected that the sensory detectors in the sphere had picked up and interpreted his reactions to the message, and knew that he did indeed have the pod and could do as instructed. Now very curious indeed, he wasn't about to balk at following those directions. He was also very glad that something in him had never let him literally disassemble the pod, or use bits and pieces of it in other projects. It was the biggest physical connection he had to his homeworld, and though he had examined it as thoroughly as he could without dismantling it, he could never bring himself to risk damaging it further.

Since the pod was in the outer part of the same secured display case in which the data sphere's niche had been concealed, it took only a minute or so for Megamind to follow the instructions. Once he had the boxes in hand — the smaller made of unmarked brushed silver, the larger fashioned of some shimmery blue metal, with an intriguingly intricate and presently meaningless symbol etched into what he presumed was its upper face — he removed the data sphere and returned with all three items to the chair.

After he had settled in again, he needed only a very brief moment to refocus before the message resumed. His father smiled, now a bit less sadly. "The large box you may set aside for the moment," he told his son. "The symbol upon it is that of where it came from, those who provided it; when you have heard the tale of your departure from us, you will understand what it means. The smaller box will open only to your touch, here."

Within the swirl of lights about him, those lights touching the silver box grew brighter, but not as bright as one spot on the center of the upper surface. Megamind pressed his fingers to it, and the box — which had appeared to be a solid cube, without hinges or seam — cracked open. He smiled. It was just like the little case he'd made to hold the sphere. He wondered if he'd seen such things during his short days on his homeworld, or if this was just some kind of lucky coincidence or even a strange racial memory.

When he raised the lid, he saw two things inside. One was a thin, extremely flexible silver-blue metallic band no more than an inch wide and only a small fraction of an inch thick, engraved with a beautiful tracery of fine-drawn patterns of bright silver and deep blue. The lines of the intricate filigree-work came together in a small circle at the center of the band, where a low, narrow ring formed an edge around a hole in the thin metal, a circle smaller than the tip of his pinky.

The second item in the box, nestled in the same soft black fabric that held and protected the band, was what looked to be a pearl or a glass bead, about the size of a single small pea. Its lustrous and shimmery translucence was almost identical to the material and appearance of the data sphere when active, so he presumed that this was also some kind of information storage device. It, however, did not respond in any way when he touched it.

As Megamind frowned at this, his father explained. "You certainly have already noticed the similarity between the message globe you are holding and one of the items within the box. They both store and transmit information, but in different ways. The message globe is intended to be accessed in a fully conscious state, and to be shared by those to whom you are close, and in direct physical contact. The data gem in the box is actually capable of storing much greater amounts of information, but is designed to be imparted during sleep. This gem contains what information concerning our world and its fate that could be quickly assembled and recorded for you; the work of assembling it was performed by my brother, as your mother and I have been spending all our time preparing things for your coming, and your journey to Earth.

"I asked Varaan to make this gem's information unlocked, so that others beside yourself might have a chance to know the tale of your origins, if you so wish. If Ootori is still with you, we hope that you will share it with him, at the very least. Tori's own parents wanted very much to save their son, and as he would grow and mature much more quickly, we agreed to send him with you, to be your protector, even as his own people have long been our allies and the protectors of our waters."

Megamind's mouth fell open as he listened, realizing that not only had he been given the name of an uncle he hadn't known existed, but he'd finally heard Minion's true name, and why he'd been sent with him. "Ootori," he echoed. "Tori." He decided he liked the shorter version better; the longer had a feeling of formality that seemed inappropriate for everyday use. But oh yes, he would definitely share anything he discovered now with his old friend, and his wife, and maybe even Bernard and — dare he even think it? — Wayne! But first, he had to figure out how to do this himself!

Again, his father's recording seemed to know what he was feeling — and all things considered, perhaps even as a recording, he did. Emotions were very definitely a powerful part of his people, and how they perceived the universe around them. "The process is very simple, Mykaal. The gem is to be set in the central ring of the band, where it will come into contact with the circuitry and activate it. The band should then be placed across your forehead, so that the inner curve of the stone touches the point just above and between your eyebrows. The activated band will self-adhere once put into place, and will induce a sleeping state within a minute thereafter. It is best to put it on while lying down or seated safely in a position that can be comfortably maintained during the direct transfer process. For you, the transfer of the the information stored in this gem should take approximately four Earth hours; it will be somewhat longer for Tori, and as long as nine hours for the average Earth human. There is no pain in the process, although you will feel a slight tingling when the active band adheres. At the end of the process, it will self-deactivate, and can be removed without any pain or difficulty."

It seemed impossible, but his father's amber eyes seemed to deliberately meet and hold Megamind's bright green ones; the expression in them tugged at his heart. "My son, the very thought that you have found or made a good life for yourself gives me great happiness, even as it brings me pain to know that I will never know or see the man you have become, until the Time After when all is but memory. I hope that you will understand why we did all that we tried to do for you, and that if it somehow brought you pain, you will someday find it in your heart to forgive us. All we can give you now is the memory of our love for you, and the tools that will help you achieve a great destiny, if you so desire it."

With that, the image of his father froze and held for almost a full minute before dissolving back into the swirls of softly colored light. Megamind continued to stare at the place where the image had been for a while, then took a deep breath and released it in a long, slow sigh as he turned his gaze to the box on his lap.

A sleep teaching device. He knew that such things were possible, even with limited Earth science and technology, but he had no doubt that this was every bit as sophisticated and capable as the message sphere still loosely held in his right hand. He transferred the still glowing ball to his left hand to use it as a light source while he picked up the tiny data gem and studied it more closely. It was smooth and perfectly round, iridescent like the material of the message ball. There was no visible evidence of circuits or wire or any other physical instrumentality; amazing to think that it was apparently even more dense a repository of information than the much larger sphere! Megamind rolled it between his fingers as he examined it, then made his decision.

He placed the round gem into the hole at the center of the metal band, pressing down gently to make sure it was secure. He felt more than heard a tiny click as it locked into place. When it did, the stone suddenly lit up, the light flowing from it into all the fine lines of the etched tracery that covered the band.

With it now aglow, he set aside the data sphere and picked up the band in both hands. The filigree, he saw, was engraved on both sides of the thin, highly flexible metal. It was now ready to do what it had been designed to do. And he was ready to receive whatever information it had to offer.

Remembering the caution that it would induce sleep very quickly, the excited blue hero decided to move to a nearby sofa, where he could settle down and not have to worry about falling out of the chair while he slept and learned. He placed the now empty box, the large unopened box, and the sphere with its case on the low table beside the couch, arranged the throw pillows to make himself comfortable, then stretched out on his back.

He was taking a few deep breaths, preparing himself for what he was about to do, when one of the household sentry bots doing his normal rounds happened by, saw Daddy awake, and gave a querulous little bowg.

Megamind started when he heard the unexpected noise, then relaxed and smiled when he spotted the brainbot. "It's just Daddy, Neddy," he told the bot, who like the other household sentry bots had been given a name that somehow meant guard. "I didn't have a fight with Mommy," he added when the bot gave a second, more unsettled bowg. "I'm just doing some special research. I'm going to be taking a nap here for a little while, so make sure I'm not disturbed. Oh, and would you bring me a blanket from the hall closet? Sounds like the wind's picked up, and it's getting a little chilly in here."

Neddy was happy to comply with the request, as a happy Daddy napping in the library while doing middle of the night research was much better than an angry Daddy hiding out because he and Mommy had had a nasty argument. Neddy remembered the unpleasant months of the spring and summer before Ms Ritchi had officially become Mommy, and if he never saw or heard another one of those awful fights, Neddy would be one very happy little brainbot.

As Neddy floated off to fetch the blanket, Megamind returned his attention to the device in his hands, lifting it up to hold it before his eyes. It was a truly beautiful thing, like the simplicity of the sphere and the intricate filigree work he used to embellish the de-guns. He wondered if he'd made those little embellishments on his own handiwork because of things he remembered peripherally from his few days after birth, on his homeworld. It could well be, just as it could well be that the information this new device had to impart would somehow answer that very question.

The thought of it and all this tiny glowing pea might have stored up, ready to be discovered, made Megamind both eager and impatient. His father had said that it would take a minute before it induced sleep, hadn't he? It surely wouldn't take that long for Neddy to return, and excited as he was, he would probably take longer to go under, whether or not the sleep was forced.

Unable to wait, the reformed villain raised the band a bit higher and positioned it carefully so that it would rest across his forehead in the way his father had instructed. He felt the cool stone touch the proper point, then slipped his fingers out from under the flexible band, letting it drape across his brow. As soon as the shimmering metal touched the skin there, he felt a sudden but not painful tingle, as well as the odd sensation of the entire band adhering to his flesh, a feeling almost like suction.

For a moment or two, Megamind felt perfectly wide awake, certain that he would remain so for a while. And then without any conscious thought, his eyes closed, his entire body relaxed, and sleep washed through him like the inrush of a rapid storm-driven tide. On its heels, completely undetectable to any outside observer, came a flood of information, entering his lightning-quick thoughts like a dream so vivid, it couldn't possibly be a mere dream, but was life itself.

When Neddy returned before that first minute was ended, he saw Daddy fast asleep with the most peaceful of looks on his long blue face and an odd, softly glowing thing across his brow, shimmering like some strange half-coronet. Mindful of what his master had said about the chill in the room, Neddy draped the blanket across Daddy's slim body and carefully tucked him in before continuing with his rounds.

And in the morning, when he woke with all the new stories and information now perfectly settled into his thoughts and memories, Megamind couldn't wait to go wake up Roxanne and Minion and tell them both a tale that would change their lives forever.

The End
(for now)