CHECK OUT MY NEW MEGAMIND STORY, INSECURITIES! IT'S INTERACTIVE, THE READERS PICK WHAT TO DO NEXT! FWEE!
Two days they'd been gone. Two days the genius had tried desperately to call, bound by his word to do nothing more than pace the empty halls, knowing full well he could not leave. Not without risking their entire operation, whatever that may be. He could not concentrate, could not think. Was this what it had come to? Abandoned by his best friend and the woman who had tamed him? Was he supposed to go on alone? Was this it? His life returned and forced into a solitary existence? He gripped the edge of his desk more firmly.
Who was forcing him? No one, he didn't need to stay, but he did. He was right, Roxanne was an excellent trainer, no other could command such obedience from him. He was an obedient little pet, oh yes, and just like the mongrels humans left on the side of country roads he'd been abandoned. He supposed he should have been grateful not to have been put to sleep, but he wasn't. Only hurt.
He had considered many times the possibility that something terrible had happened that his friends were in danger, hurt, lost, dead. Something must have happened; they must need him, surely? Yet he'd searched the school, not once or twice, but dozens of times, and there were so little remnants of Roxanne's stay that he could very well have imagined it. No clothes, no trinkets, no phone, nothing. She'd just taken it all and gone. Even minion's food was missing, and if that didn't scream abandonment Megamind didn't know what did.
So now he'd play the waiting game, lick his emotional wounds and if no one returned for him, he'd move on. That was his plan, now. I miserable, stupid plan, but he could barely think, let alone scheme. He drummed his fingers along the wood of his desk, staring out the window at the overgrown school yards, hoping that he'd see movement, that he was forgiven and his friends would come home.
On the fourth day it rained.
Musky, warm, damp and humid. Sticking, sweating, his clothes gripping him, strangling him. His skin, it burned, his clothes touched, grasped. Clammy hands, desperate, pinning him. He couldn't breathe, it hurt, it hurt.
He took his clothes off and distracted himself with trivial math games.
On the fifth day, it was colder, but there was no rain.
On the sixth day his phone beeped, unknown number, "Tomorrow."
On the seventh day, he waited.
What had the message meant? Was it Roxanne, telling him she was coming home? Had he been forgiven? His mistakes forgotten? Was she no longer mad? He hoped so. He spent most of the day trying to find something suitable to wear, something more dazzling than old shirts and jeans. He missed his leather, his spikes, his typical bad guy attire, but mostly he just missed the friend who had made them for him.
By late afternoon he'd given up, a black button shirt and the same black jeans he'd worn the day before. He'd gone back to his desk by the window, staring out into the grounds, or what was still visible beyond the weeds a dead grass. Something murmured in the back of his mind at the intricate science of biology and the fascinating cycle of nature, which he used to be more than happy to feed until his mind was completely occupied, but today he pushed it aside. Today he didn't care, because what good was a genius mind with no one to share it with? He scoffed, what kind of villain was he that he needed the comforts of 'friends' to be at his peak.
He stayed in his chair for hours, moving little and disregarding any ideas or inspiration that tapped at the back of his head. He didn't want to invent, he didn't even want to think, but his mind would never allow him the luxury of silence, oh no. Instead his mind threw vivid imagery, the small of Roxanne's breath, the feel of her dress under his fingers. Each time those thoughts came unbidden to his mind his stomach knotted and his heart fluttered and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself, one part embarrassment three parts idiocy. He regretted his actions immeasurably.
He sighed, his head hurt, like a bug had nested somewhere in there and was slowly but surely gnawing away at his brain leaving nothing but putrid waste in its wake.
Chomp, bite, chew, nibble, consuming, eating, hungry, famished, starving, emaciated, bony, thin, little, small, petite…
He groaned. Half the time he didn't even know what he was genuinely thinking about, he was just thinking, allowing things to crawl up from the depths of whatever hole they normally lay in, pushing aside those blasted thoughts of that infernal woman.
He stared vacantly at the setting sun, warm, the way he imagined a loving home to be, the way Roxanne made him feel. The colours appealed to him, they reminded him of positive things, things he'd never known, never experience. His only understand that which had been obtained through books, movies and art. Humans were such a wildly unpredictable race, nothing they did he could fully understand, their concepts, their behaviour, abnormal. No two the same. Did that make him the odd one, or the only sane one? He chuckled, he could feel his brain oozing from his ears.
He needed something to do.
He stood slowly, stretching out his overly relaxed muscles, massaging the back of his neck to release the tension, stretching his cramped fingers, now accustomed to being immobile for long periods of time. Minion was gone. Roxanne wasn't coming home, it had been a week. He'd sulked for long enough, now was the time to do something, anything. Maybe build something? There would be enough materials for a brain bot, surely. He missed his little bots, such sweethearts. He smiled fondly at the memories of them chasing after his tools.
He walked around the school a bit, stopping in the doorways of rooms with no lights, staring through broken windows. There was a lot to be done to get the school running at its best, nothing he couldn't do alone, but it would take time. Structural damage was the biggest concern. It had held its own long enough, neglected for so many years. He patted the rotting framework sympathetically. "Don't worry, pal." He whispered, more to himself to the structure.
He stood there, captivated by a crumbling wall of old bricks when there was a creek, barely noticeable in the sheer size of the school, but he'd been here long enough to know the sounds of the building, and the sounds that were not. He stiffened, listening for any indication that something was amiss, and within moments another far more audible groan of floorboards under a heavy boot. Not something either Minion or Roxanne wore.
The genius had little in the way of weaponry at the moment, but he could easily outwit a human opponent, weapon or not, so with unnatural haste he made his way down the halls towards whoever had entered unwelcome.
A door to an empty room hung ajar, the hinges close to rusted through, the smell of wet earth and crushed grass seeping from the darkness. The stranger had likely come through the yards, tracking mud and filth from the outside. The genius curled his lip in irritation, stepping around and pushing the door open slowly.
"What are you doing here." He hissed, the sound of his voice enough to put most people on edge, the inhuman growl that followed nothing short of unnerving.
"S-sorry!" the boy gasped, stepping back closer towards the window, dropping his bag. Megamind could see little of his features, just the heat of his body, glowing vibrantly in the dark. "I-I-I'm Iggs, R-Roxanne told me I was supposed to come here." He stuttered, his heart beating erratically.
Roxanne, Roxanne had sent him? Who was he to her? His mind raced. "Where is she." He demanded his tone dangerous and low.
"M-metro City, sir!" the boy replied, a tone of confusion in his voice. "She said she'd meet me here, o-once I was settled."
"Why did she send you." The genius now snapped, his voice rose with irritation and worry, he could barely breathe. They had not... They had not abandoned him?
"I-I-I Build- I build things, sir. I mean. F-fix, repairs and t-things!" the boy stuttered, stepping back closer to the wall. Megamind found it impossible that the male could be deceiving him, his panic was earnest.
"You… You will make yourself useful, or I will kill you. Do you understand?"
"Yes!" the boy replied enthusiastically. "I promise, I won't let you down, sir!"