"People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict." -Lemony Snicket, The Grim Grotto

Chapter 25

Harry Chambers stood in line at the post office, waiting to mail his daughter her wedding gift. She had eloped two months ago. The letter she'd written him had been full of enthusiasm, begging him to understand, and declaring that Duncan was the love of her life.

Harry's ex had called him while he was still in prison to voice her disappointment.

"She says she's not pregnant. I don't believe it," she'd grumbled. "That useless, no account...Says he's a poet. Sits around staring at trees all day or some damn thing. I'll bet she'll end up supporting him!"

He went to stand behind a middle-aged woman with two fidgeting children and fished out the photo that Brianna had sent him of her and her new husband. They both wore big smiles and Harry thought the guy had a kind face. He felt sad that she hadn't had a regular wedding. Couldn't she have waited until he was out? She'd known when his parole was going to start.

Sighing, he tucked the photo back into his pocket and shifted the package of bath towels under his other arm as the line began to move forward. After this he would go spend some time at the track. If Brianna had married a nice man, surely that was good luck, and he held onto that thought. He had to work up the positive vibes to increase his chances. He dug around in another jacket pocket for the racing form to study the numbers. Positive vibes and the right calculations, he just had to find the right combination to help him win. After a few moments he tucked it back into his jacket.

Wiping his watery eyes with a handkerchief, he took another step forward and looked up into a poster of Megamind and Minion tacked to the wall.

WANTED, the headline said, and, underneath that, $200,000 REWARD.

He gaped at it, frozen, then forced his eyes away and stared hard at the backs of the people in front of him, but his heart thudded heavily in his chest. The children giggled and swung around on the posts that marked the aisle while their mother scolded them.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

His scalp prickled with sweat with all those zeros staring at him. He had embezzled a lot of cash in his life, but it had all been spread out over about twenty-two years or so. He'd never seen that much money in one place at one time. Ever.

Shock at that impossible amount made his palms sweaty. He shifted the package under his other arm and wiped his free hand on his pants. He'd had no idea that they were so...so wanted.

Couldn't this stupid line move faster?!

It was with considerable relief that he got the package delivered and he marched out of the post office without looking at the poster again, but that gigantic number followed him out the door.

Walking down the sidewalk to the bus stop, his brain clicked and began working again, buzzing with possibility.

The full enormity of hiding the most wanted fugitives of Metro City hit him like a sack of bricks.

Of course, he would never...he just couldn't...

Pretty Paulie was running in the fourth race that afternoon, at 43 to 1 odds. Next weekend, another long shot, Light As Air, was running, currently at 57 to 1.

Imagine what he could do with that lump of cash!

With winnings like that, he could move out of that roach motel, buy his own car so he wouldn't have to take the bus anymore, get some decent clothes that hadn't come from Big Savers or the Salvation Army, clothes that nobody had ever worn even once...

He ran both his hands across the back of his neck, mouth dry. Somehow he reached the bus stop without tripping over his own feet and stood at the curb, staring down the street.

A grubby white man who had been sitting on a low concrete wall sidled over to him but he ignored him. If he didn't make eye contact, the panhandler would be less likely to ask him for spare change.

"That you, Harry?" the man said, tilting his head, and Harry recognized Vic Spinelli, one of the uncles.

"Oh! Hey, Vic," he said, forcing a smile. Why now, why now, why now? he thought miserably, feeling like an anchor had dropped into his stomach.

"Good to see you," Vic said, grinning with yellow teeth. "How ya been? Been out long?"

"No, not too long," replied Harry, looking around for the damn bus again. Hopefully Vic wasn't taking the same bus.

Vic had only gotten into Blue's uncles by bribery. He'd been in kicked out by another gang for being a stoolie. Constantly ducking and hiding from his former buddies, he began slinking around after Blue and Minion, because any disturbance around them tended to draw the protective presence of the uncles, thereby bringing a small measure of protection for Vic. And he knew Blue was a sucker for candy, so he'd wormed his way into the group by slipping the kid a steady supply of sweets.

None of the uncles liked him much but driving him away took a time-sucking amount of energy that none of them were willing to expend right then. Vic could take an enormous amount of abuse and come back the next day, slinking and wheedling and begging for a place in the group. The amount of force necessary to drive him off for good might have upset the kids too much, so the other uncles, very reluctantly, allowed him to stay. And he was an okay guardian, so long as the others were around to keep an eye on him. He wasn't dangerous, exactly, just a nuisance. The other uncles never would have allowed him in if he really posed any sort of threat to Blue or Minion, but he was careless and couldn't keep from running his mouth off.

Of course, Vic's skulking and eavesdropping sometimes proved advantageous to the uncles as well, so his continued presence in the group depended heavily on this skill as, over time, even Blue and Minion came to look on him with distrust and pity.

Vic launched straight into a rant about how not only the cops but the feds themselves kept coming around and pestering him with questions about the kid.

"I been tellin' 'em, I haven't seen him, not hide nor hair, not that he's got much of that," he giggled, "but my mom is getting mad at me, like it's my fault these guys keep bangin' on the door." He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "But man, you see those wanted posters at the post office? I was just in there the other day, I've got my own PO box. Got some mags I don't want comin' to the house, know what I mean?" He winked broadly and laughed, nudging Harry on the arm with his elbow. Harry nodded and pressed his lips together in embarrassment.

Vic huffed out a long breath. "Think about what you could do with that cash! I mean, I would never, ever, say nothing, right?" He waved his hands in the air and shook his head. "Not like I've seen him anyway. But man, those feds were the worst. Damn 'em." He frowned and muttered something under his breath.

"So what are you up to these days?" Harry said, struggling to remember if Vic had any kind of job, or did anything other than try to wriggle out of shoplifting charges.

Vic glanced at him sideways, "Why? Who wants to know?" he said suspiciously.

"I...uh..."

Vic burst out laughing. "I'm just messin' with ya! Geez, man, chill out. Not doing too much. Went to the movies yesterday, told mom I'm looking for a job just to get her out of my hair. I'm looking at my options, got some stuff lined up, but nothing's come through yet," he said vaguely. "So where you headed?"

Harry peered down the street, willing the bus to come and put him out of his misery. "Oh, you know, the track. Got some good tips."

"Gonna hit the big time today, I'll bet!" Vic said jovially, nudging him again. Harry took half a step to the side to get out of elbow range.

The bus swung into view around the corner and he took a deep breath of relief. "I think that's my bus. Nice to see you again, Vic. Take care of yourself, now." He stuck out his hand and Vic shook it with a goofy grin.

"Hey, that's my bus too. But hey, you look busy. Don't let me keep you! See you around, man." He slapped Harry's shoulder and wandered over to the line loosely forming by the bus stop sign. Harry gritted his teeth and got in line too.

Vic sat at the back. Harry took a place near the front on the hard plastic seat with worn covers.

Harry looked out the window while his thoughts chased each other around like rabid squirrels and became even more treacherous.

Maybe it really would be better off if those boys were returned to the warden. Surely Mister Parker would never turn them over to the ones who had treated them so cruelly, no matter what sort of warrants they came up with. He knew Parker had a good lawyer, she could protect them, couldn't she? Build a wall of legalese around them so tight that no one could get at them.

And if so many were hot on their trail, especially with a reward like that, wouldn't someone get the reward anyway? Why shouldn't it be Harry?

He pulled both hands down over his face, blinking hard.

How could he even think about it? Megamind slipped out every night with Minion strapped to him, and always came back laden with food, and bags of mysterious gadgets that he'd stow away in a corner. The corner cabinet was so full of Pop Tarts you could hardly get it closed.

And just the other day Harry found four hundred dollars stuffed in his wallet that definitely hadn't been there before, but when he tried to give it back, Megamind waved him off.

"You saved our lives, Uncle Harry. I won't forget it." He'd grinned and tapped the side of his big blue head. "I couldn't if I tried!"

Megamind had once again become his usual hyperactive self. Both he and Minion healed so well that Harry actually had trouble remembering how messed up they'd been when he first found them lying on his couch. Other than the thin white lines that marked his forearm, Megamind appeared to be unscathed.

There was no evidence that they'd been beaten. Now Harry wished that he'd taken some pictures of their injuries, but he'd had little opportunity to buy a camera, even if he'd thought of it. The buses didn't run on Sunday, he'd had to go in to work on Monday, and before the week was out, both of them had already healed.

What if Harry turned them in, and Parker didn't believe them about the beating and handed them straight over to the ones who'd roughed them up?

Harry felt so miserable he almost got off the bus. If he got off at Tyndale Avenue he could catch another one that would take him home.

Just in time he remembered that weasel Vic.

By casually turning his head he could see him out of the corner of his eye, still sitting in the back. He couldn't remember if Vic had said where he was going. Harry didn't want him to wonder why he hadn't gone to the track like he'd said.

Harry sighed. He'd better go through with his original plan, though he didn't feel much like betting anymore.

When the bus stopped at Winchester Downs he got off quickly, and walked about half the way to the grandstand before stealing a glance behind him. To his relief, he could still see Vic sitting in the back as the bus pulled away. He continued on to the race track.

As he walked away, he didn't see the bus stop again at the corner and Vic step off and follow him.

Vic sidled through the crowd at the track, being his usual invisible self. It was easy. People were forever ignoring him or, having once seen him, did their best to forget he existed. But that was okay, it didn't do to bring attention to yourself. He got along very well, not existing. You could hear and see a lot that way.

Right away he could tell something was funny. Harry hadn't wanted to see him, and that was okay too, nobody really liked seeing him, but his alarm was more than just discomfort at running into an old pal he didn't want to talk to. He had been afraid, and he could hardly meet Vic's eyes. What was Harry feeling so guilty about?

Now, Vic, being a practiced liar, could look any cop or his own mother straight in the eye without flinching, but a lot of people couldn't. Harry always was pretty easy to read.

Come to think of it, it was kind of funny that the cops hadn't been around to visit Harry, when they were practically knocking down everybody else's door.

So he found a little nook out of the wind, watched the horses racing by for a couple of hours, watched Harry, who stood at the rail. Man, he'd never seen Harry so excited before, his droopy hound dog face lit up with intensity. Harry shouted and cheered the horses on, then he'd double over and groan when the results showed up on the board.

Then Vic went and got a soda, went to the john, came back, had a little panic attack when he couldn't see Harry anywhere, then caught sight of him heading for the exit, shoulders slumped. He ambled out after him.

It was touch and go on the last bus as the crowd thinned, but Vic hid behind some guy lugging a tuba case and successfully avoided notice.

"Ta da!" Megamind sang, waving his arms at Minion with a flourish. Minion, so tall now that the top of his containment unit almost scraped the ceiling, waved his fins and blushed. The floorboards creaked under the weight.

"Well, look at that," Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face. "You got your robot suit back!" He did not wonder how they had gotten it back. He was getting really good at shutting down that part of his mind that asked inconvenient questions.

"This calls for a celebration," said Megamind. He leaped over to the wobbly kitchen table and waved his arm at the Chinese takeout containers. "Behold, a feast!"

Harry's mouth watered in spite of himself. He'd smelled the delicious food out in the hallway. "Well, that's just fine," he said, grinning. "Guess you boys are back in business, huh?"

"You could say that. And what's more, I have an announcement to make." Megamind's grin became strained. "We've found a new lair." He straightened his shoulders and crossed his arms. "It's quite close by, actually, though of course I am not at liberty to tell you where, you understand." He cleared his throat self-consciously.

"Oh."

Megamind shifted his feet. "Um. Yes. Because I promised we would only stay for a little while and I think we've stretched the definition of 'a few days' to its limit."

"Oh," Harry said again, feeling awkward. He had gotten used to having them around. Minion smiled bravely but his spines drooped. Megamind crossed his arms and looked out the window.

"It's a fine place, Uncle Harry..."

"Once we get the pigeon poop scraped out," Minion muttered.

Megamind shot him a glare. "It's not that bad." He sniffed and examined his nails. "And what do you mean by 'we'?"

"Aw, come on, Sir, you said you'd..."

Laughing, Megamind stuck his fingers in his ears. "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala!"

A pounding on the floor under their feet indicated that the downstairs neighbor was banging on the ceiling with a broom handle.

"Shhhhhh! Shh!" said Harry, grimacing and waving his hands. Simultaneously, Megamind put his hands over his mouth and Minion put his hands over his containment unit where his mouth was. They looked at each other for a moment, their eyes bright with glee, then lowered their hands.

"Let's eat," Megamind said. "Help yourself, Uncle Harry."

"Uh, listen, guys, you can still drop by anytime you want. In fact, I'd like it if you stayed." I am not like Vic, Harry thought, his lips tightening in determination. Looking for an angle, a scheme, an advantage. He would prove it. He would do the right thing.

"Really? Do you mean it?" Minion said.

Megamind brightened, but he also looked hesitant. "I don't...know..." he said. "We may have overstayed our welcome. Are you sure?" He glanced at Minion. The old pigeon coop was quite large and had proved adequate for planning their operation against the federal building. It was more spacious than the shed they'd first bunked in, but he really hadn't been looking forward to sleeping there.

Harry assured them both that he would love it if they stayed. He didn't tell them he'd run into Vic Spinelli, since he knew they were not all that friendly with that particular uncle.

Night had fallen, and the shadows were deep. Vic stood in a doorway and lit a cigarette and watched Harry go into a slipshod boarding house with crumbling steps. A minute later, a light came on in one of the upper windows.

Hmmm. That one had shown the blue flickering light of a TV screen. Had he left the TV on all day while he was gone?

Something to think about.

Vic would never, ever, ever go around telling stories. It pained him when people accused him of blabbing. It was just that, sometimes in a pinch, the right words in the right ear could save him a world of hurt, especially during those little misunderstandings when he was innocently minding his own business and just happened to pick up a few unregarded items that no one would miss anyway. Strange how mad people got when it was clearly their own fault if they left doors and windows unlocked, and valuable stuff just lying around.

Vic collected little bits and pieces of intel the way some guys wandered around with metal detectors, looking to see what they could dig up. Sometimes they dug up a real treasure.

He liked that word, intel. Sounded so military, like he could be a spy, a real espionage agent. Or, as the blue kid might have said, "es-pye-oh-nadge."

For a second he thought he saw a large shoulder outlined against a curtain and frowned. Harry wasn't that tall, was he? But it was only for a second, then the shadow was gone as whoever it was moved deeper into the room.

It wasn't much, really, but Vic filed away it as another thing to think about. He had another cigarette, mulled things over for a while, then stomped out the stub and made his way home.

It was while he was clearing out some old files that Brad came across the recordings. For a moment he couldn't place them, since Corbin hadn't given him any surveillance duties lately, but then he remembered that he had never turned off the tracking system.

What with Megamind tracking them down at Agent Corbin's place he'd completely forgotten about it.

But there it was, all this time it had been faithfully sending out its little signal, and recording everything on audio.

Out of curiosity he opened the program and listened to the most recent recording.

"This is where we like to set up camp when spring comes, man," an eager voice whispered, coming out of the speakers. "Gets a lot of cross wind, so's we don't get the smell from the dump, and we get a nice view, and the roof here is still pretty solid, man. When you come to Earth, I'll show you where..."

A more distant, wearier voice said, "Curly?"

There was a scratchy noise, as if the device had been dunked under a covering, and the first voice said, "Yeah, Reg?"

"Can you tell your little blue friends it's time for bed?"

"Uhhhhh, I don't know what you're talkin' about, man. Don't know about you, man, that's crazy talk." The voice chuckled nervously.

Brad listened to muffled sounds of what might have been a body turning over in a pile of newspapers. There was silence for a while, then the voice came back, Curly presumably, in an even quieter whisper. "That's all for now, blue men. And blue women, too, and your kids. Oh, and when you come to Earth, just let me know, I'll let the ambassador know. Or I'll try to, anyway. He is a nice kid, I got to shake his hand once, remember? But hard to get a hold of, you know? I gotta go. Signing off from planet Earth."

A few more rustling sounds, then silence. Brad leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pulling on his lip thoughtfully.

Man, he ought to let Corbin know right away. It sounded like some homeless dude had pocketed the tracking device, but he talked like he knew Megamind. Unless he was completely off his rocker, but if Corbin somehow found out that Brad knew about this and hadn't told him, well, Brad didn't like to think of his chances for survival.

The map indicator showed the exact location of the tracking device, on the east side of town, a few blocks from a junkyard. This Curly guy would be easy to track down. Brad picked up the phone and dialed.

Megamind leaned back so far in the kitchen chair he was in danger of falling over. With his fingers steepled in front of him, he kept one foot on the table and idly adjusted his position as needed to maintain balance.

A small container of half-eaten frozen yogurt quietly melted on the table. Despite Minion's assurances, it didn't taste all that much like real ice cream to him, and certainly not like real chocolate.

Perhaps later he would get some Rocky Road, after the unpleasant business of the evening was completed. Yes, that would give him a bit of incentive.

His eyes gleamed in the glow of the television, the only light in the apartment.

Little reflections showed on Minion's bowl where he stood with his back to the wall. With the kitchen cleaned and the dishes put away, he had nothing more to do except watch TV and wait. He felt no need to pace, and his robot body never tired so he didn't need to sit down either. Harry snored on the mustard yellow couch, a copy of the Metro City Times sports page lying on his chest.

"Have you decided, Sir?" Minion said quietly.

Megamind gave a long sigh through his nose and lowered his hands, resting one arm on the table and letting the chair settle onto the floor.

He pressed his lips together. He was not looking forward to the next part of his plan, which would necessitate his coming into contact with people he did not want to associate with, but if they wanted to survive, he had no choice.

The hard part was deciding who to contact first, as both options were disagreeable. One was more public, and therefore more exposed, more dangerous. The other somewhat safer, but less palatable.

Walking over to the corner where his possessions lay in a loose pile, he retrieved the de-gun in its holster and buckled it around his waist. He picked up the sonic pest dispeller from the floor to make sure it was still working. One of these devices sat in each corner of the apartment and for the first time in its existence, it was pest-free. The black Inverness coat lay across the back of a chair and he swept it on, the short cape hanging from its shoulders flaring out briefly.

Adjusting the high collar he padded over to Harry's blue denim jacket where it lay over the back of the couch and slipped the wallet out. As expected, there were only a couple of one dollar bills left. How in the world did Harry even make it through the day, he wondered, as he reached for his own pocket.

"Sir," Minion whispered as he pulled out a roll of cash and began counting out bills, "We might need some money ourselves."

Megamind glanced at him, then stuck five hundred dollars into the almost empty wallet and tucked it back into the jacket. "He is our benefactor, Minion."

The big robot feet shuffled unhappily. "I know. It's just... don't give it all away."

Megamind raised an eyebrow and held up the thick roll of cash. "Don't worry. Still plenty here. More than enough to cover street value. And I plan to bargain hard." He clapped Minion on the arm. "Let's go, my scaly friend."

Harry gave a snort and rolled over. The newspaper drifted to the floor of the empty apartment.

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