"'I am very disappointed to learn you have rejected my offer of peace,'" Megamind read aloud again as he paced. "'You have now forced me to take more drastic measures. Remember that you are to blame.' Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad." He slapped a hand against his brow. "Of course, the brewery was a test! He was watching! He wanted to see first if I'd show up! I should have known!"

"Sir, please," Minion pleaded. "Calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down?! Minion! Do you realize what this means?! Right now, he's planning to hurt someone in my city because I took his bait!"

"Our city," Minion reminded him. "And beating yourself up won't help."

"He's right, Megamind," Roxanne said. "We need to figure this out. What's he likely to do now that he knows you're involved?"

Her lover paused and ran a hand over his bald head. "Something public. In a crowded place. He'll want to make a statement."

"I thought you said that wasn't his style?"

Megamind shook his head. "This is personal; it's different. He knows I'm the Defender of Metrocity, and he wants to punish me, undermine me. He'll hurt as many people with one blow as he can, and if he can make it somehow significant to me as well, he will."

"Right," Roxanne looked at Minion. "What public events are happening this weekend?"

The henchfish turned back to the computer and started typing. "Well, there's an art exhibit opening tomorrow at eight pm—"

"No," Megamind shook his head. "Ares won't destroy art. It's against his code."

"There's the Metro City Junior Dance Competition… And the Winter Nights of Lights, of course—"

"He doesn't kill children."

"The First Methodist Church Chili Cook-Off?"

"Too small! He wants to rain down terror, Minion! Terror! Not frighten a few dozen bean-eating retirees!"

"What about the Dog Breeders' Club? Let's see, the Metro Ballet is currently performing the Nutcracker, and there's a party at the Speakeasy Cocktail Club— Oh, that's invitation-only, though."

Megamind pushed past Minion. "No, no, no, this will be something big, something very public, and something involving hundreds of adults." He began clicking through entries. "Quilting circle… Charity dinner… Pinup Angels' Jinglebell Rock Burlesque Show? No, that's in a historic theater. Against the code," he continued searching. "Astrology lecture— the new observatory is far too remote... Book signing… Basket weaving class? Do people seriously go to those? No… Definitely not… HERE!" he shouted in triumph. "Metalocity is playing an Iron Maiden cover concert in the Harlequin Club, twenty-one and over! Curse him! Ares knows I love Maiden! And it's tonight!" He tapped a few more keys, then swung around, cloak swirling, and thrust a finger into the air. "Minion! Ready the hoverbike! You!" he shouted at one of the brainbots. "I want every one of you available armed with buckets and pitchers of water! If it will hold liquid, use it, and meet us at the Harlequin Club! I've just sent the coordinates!" The little robots began buzzing around obediently. "You and you!" he called to the two nearest brainbots. "Bring out the battle attire!"

"It's going to be fire, then, Sir?" asked Minion.

"The Harlequin is loosely themed on Dante's Divine Comedy," Megamind answered, pulling off his regular boots. "It has three levels: Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell. This show is in the last. That section based specifically on the Inferno's sixth level of hell; the decor is mostly fake fire and mausoleum-like artifices. And black lights. And glow-in-the-dark paint. That's not important," he waved a hand. "The point is that there will be a lot of pyrotechnics, and it won't take much to make them go awry." He dashed over to a circular device on the floor— a sensor of sorts that helped the brainbots dress him— and began stripping off his shirt. "Ares would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation, and he's no fool. Take those to Mommy!" He added as one of the brainbots darted near. The cyborg dropped several items at Roxie's feet. "Put them on!" Megamind said and his small robotic pets began helping him dress.

"Megamind," despite the dire situation, Roxanne was touched. "You made me a suit?"

He stepped out from the round privacy curtain one of the bots was holding up. "Minion made it, I just designed it."

She threw her arms around her lover, startling several brainbots, and kissed him quickly but soundly. "Thank you."

"You're my partner, too, after all. Now hurry and dress. You can use the curtain," he motioned the brainbot over. "There's no time for modesty; we have far more pressing concerns."

"I always thought your clothes were leather," Roxanne commented, pulling on the suit, "but this stretches."

"Apart from the pauldrons, belt, and gauntlets, most of it only looks like leather," Megamind said absently as he tugged his collar up straighter.

"Pauldrons?"

"Brachium armor," he said, and gestured his spiked shoulder guards.

"Huh. So what's the rest of it made from?"

"It's a synthetic material of my own design: lightweight and anti-conductive with the water-resistance of neoprene and impact absorption surpassing Kevlar. It is also fire retardant, but that's not the same as fireproof, so you'll need to be careful."

"Anti-conductive?"

"So excess electricity is channeled away and grounded. Mine has circuits and controls for some of my devices built-in."

"That's amazing!"

"I know. Here," he fastened a stylishly feminine black watch around her wrist. "This one I did make."

"Is this…?"

"Your own holowatch."

She kissed him again.

Minions' voice crackled over the speaker in his master's watch. "Code: the hoverbike is ready, sir!"

"Excellent, Minion! Code: ready the Nimbus Generator!"

"But, sir, we haven't fully tested the Nimbus Generator yet!"

"What was that?" Megamind asked. "I can't hear you."

Minion sighed on the other end of the connection. "Code: we haven't fully tested the Nimbus Generator."

"Code: I know, but we'll have to risk it."

"Code: are you sure, sir?"

"Code: just do it!"

"Okay, so what do we do when we get there?" Roxanne asked as she and Megamind raced over the city.

"We stop Ares, and capture him if possible," he shouted back.

"What, that's it? That's your plan?"

He grinned back at her. "Well, we wouldn't want to make it too easy, now would we?"

"I'm serious!"

"We don't know where he is in the building or exactly what he's got up his sleeve, so we're going to have to improvise a little on this one," he admitted. "I want you to focus on getting people out. Let me handle the rest."

"Megamind, please be careful."

"Careful is my middle name."

"It's not really, though, right?" With Megamind, one never knew.

"No, I don't have a middle name. There was never even one attached to Lee Vice. I'm sure my parents must have called me something, but I have no idea what. Megamind is the only name I've really got."

"What about the one Ares—"

"I don't use it. That's not me. Now get ready, we're almost there."

She reached to turn the dial on the watch Megamind had given her, activating a disguise. With a blue flash that dissipated like static, she was transformed into the living image of Officer Hanesley. If the woman ever found out Megamind had scanned and copied her likeness while she wasn't looking, she was going to be pissed.

"Okay," Megamind shouted, speeding down toward a large, square building glowing with neon lights. "I'm letting you off on the lower roof. There's a trap door that leads down to the backstage. Try to convince the band to announce there's a problem, and if that fails get up there and do it yourself. Then get out. Do you understand? Be careful, and Roxanne," he added seriously. "If you see Ares, do NOT engage."

She nodded as she slid down from the hoverbike. Megamind he tugged her arm and leaned down from astride the contraption for a quick, unyielding kiss.

"You just kissed a cop," she managed to joke.

His face remained serious as he brushed her cheek. "I love you, Roxanne," he said. "I don't ever want to let you walk away from me without saying that."

"I love you too."

"Don't forget: make the announcement, get people moving, and get out." He finally grinned at her then. "Now, let's show Ares how we do things in Metrocity." He revved into a higher gear and sped away.

Roxanne climbed down the ladder leading from the roof with some difficulty. She might look like Officer Hanesley, but she still felt her own body, and seeing something different from what was actually there made it difficult to know whether she was placing her feet correctly. Reaching the floor, she crept through the backstage until she neared an area where, she felt, a cop on event security detail might reasonably be expected to appear. She straightened and headed around the corner, only to dart back quickly. Taking a deep breath, she peeked back around the corner to ensure she'd actually seen what she saw.

Yes, there talking to a roadie or stagehand of some sort, was a familiar female figure.

Roxanne groaned under her breath. Of course Hanesley would have to be one of the cops willing to work an event for a little extra pay. Why not?

She ducked back around the corner. "Um, Megamind?" she whispered into the watch. "We have a problem."

"Code: what is it?"

"Shhh! Not so loud."

"What is it? What's wrong?" he whispered back, concern creeping into his voice.

"Hanesley— the real Hanesley— is here."

Megamind sounded relieved. "Just avoid her, then."

"That's going to be sort of hard if I'm pretending to be security."

Minion's whisper joined the conversation. "Code: why don't you make her say 'code' for everything?"

"Code: because you're my best friend, and that's our thing."

"Code: but you said 'code' to her."

"Code: Not now, Minion! I'm trying to think!"

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "Could we focus here, please?" she paused, examining her watch. "Megamind, how do I work the scanner on this thing?"

"Press down on the outer dial and turn it forward a quarter turn to scan. Release the pressure, and turn it backward one click to activate the disguise. Don't turn it too far or you'll activate a previous one."

"I remember," Roxanne took a deep breath and started walking the opposite direction. "Right. I can do this."

The stage door was open to the night air. Outside two young women, dressed in enough black leather and band paraphernalia to make even Megamind proud, were smoking. Both had backstage passes hung around their necks.

"I'm sorry, but Metallica is overrated," one of them was saying. "Their first album was good, but the next few were basically sell-outs riding on their own coattails."

"You're full of shit," the other objected. "Can we help you?" she added to Roxanne in a tone that clearly said a cop wasn't a welcome addition to the party.

"Just, ah, checking all the exits," Roxanne glanced around quickly before activating her watch.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" the closest woman demanded.

"Listen, they're having some problems with the pyrotechnics, so you girls may want to clear out," Roxanne said as she kicked away a broken piece of cement serving as a door prop.

"What?!" One of the women started. The heavy metal door slammed shut with a bang and a satisfying click.

"Hey!" thumping and voices echoed from the other side. "Hey! Let us in!"

Roxanne turned the dial one click and was momentarily blinded by blue light. She hurried away, then, pausing to glance down and ensure she had the right image projected, she took on a casual pace and made her way through the ordered chaos of concert preparations. Slipping down a short corridor, she found her way to the control room.

"Miss," a voice called. "You can't be here!"

Turning, Roxanne saw a harassed looking man approaching.

"Oh, I have a pass—"

"Backstage passes are for the meet and greet area only."

"I got lost. Can you tell me where the bathrooms are?"

"Back in the club," the man answered pointedly.

"Uh, right," Roxanne gestured vaguely behind herself. "I'll just..."

He wasn't listening. "What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, but he wasn't looking at Roxanne.

"My job," another man's voice said dryly. "I'm the new pyrotechnics technician."

"New tech? Where the hell is Greg?"

"He had to leave. Family emergency. I was on call."

Roxanne took the opportunity to slip away and duck behind a concrete support pillar as the first man— she was guessing he was a stage manager— marched up to his new target.

"Well, then, you need to get your job right," the manager was saying. "Greg already checked those thirty minutes ago."

Ares. It had to be. Squatting low and peeking around the pillar, Roxanne wasn't sure what she expected to see, but it wasn't an extremely ordinary man in his mid-forties. He was almost surreally average. The face he turned briefly toward the stage manager was neither handsome nor ugly, his dark eyes, close-trimmed beard, and plastic-framed glasses completely unremarkable. With his medium build, short brown hair, and forgettable features, Ares was the sort of person she might pass in the street a dozen times and never really notice. He was standing at a control board, fiddling expertly with some of the dials, his jacket thrown over the back of a folding chair behind him. Even as the other man approached, his stance remained completely casual, and he looked for all the world like he belonged there.

"I am only doing what I have been told," Ares was saying.

"Which is doing the same thing twice?" the manager asked.

Crawling as quietly as she could along the floor, Roxanne made her way behind a stack of heavy plastic containers that looked as if they usually held sound equipment. The metal folding chair was only two feet away from her.

"I am simply making some last-minute changes," Ares said, attention still focused on his work.

"Who told you to do that?"

"Greg. Before he left. He said he didn't finish."

The stage manager wasn't listening. "Where the hell are the auxiliary controls?! Damn it, Greg!" He swore under his breath. "Okay, we've got a wireless and a three-pin. Over here. I'll show you. I assume you know how to sync them in," he added in a voice that suggested he believed the opposite. The two men moved away.

There was a vaguely rectangular bulge in one of the jacket pockets. Shaking with adrenaline, Roxanne carefully reached in and snatched out a cell phone. Ducking back behind the crates, she quickly scrolled through the apps. Nothing. Well, what did she expect, that there would be something called Explosions4U?

"This one is Cobra Systems," the manager was saying from the other side of the room, "and the other is a three-pin XLR, so you'll have to use the jumper leads to connect the wire terminal controller—"

Tuning them out, Roxanne began desperately scrolling through the photos and hit the jackpot. Several images of sketched plans, downloaded diagrams, and, for some reason, images of a house from several different angles. Pressing the mute button on the side of the phone to avoid sounds that might alert Ares, she began texting several images to her own phone.

"And Greg didn't explain this to you why, exactly?"

"That is a question you would have to ask him."

The phone only had three bars of service here, and the large text messages were taking a little time to send.

"Come on, come on," Roxanne breathed, heart pounding.

"Well, just hurry up," the manager was saying. "We've got barely twenty minutes, and security needs to check this area before the show gets started."

"Really, why is that?" for the first time, there was a slight undertone of tension in Ares' voice.

"Oh, last time a couple of dumb college kids got down here and started messing with shit. The club's increased security since. That's why they've paid out the nose to have two cops on-site along with our team."

Task done, Roxanne deleted the recent conversation from Ares' texts, and slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket.

It wasn't a moment too soon. She had barely ducked back behind the crates when she heard the two men's voices heading back.

"Indeed," Ares was saying, strange amusement in his voice. "Those hoodlums ought to be more careful. They might cause a fire."

Roxanne crawled quietly back toward the door, slipped out, and, letting out a deep breath, hurried down the corridor. Now to find the green room, or whatever they called it in the music profession.

The sound of laughter and talking led the way. It all went silent the moment Roxanne burst through the door. Several long-haired men dressed in an assortment of black leather, denim, swordsman shirts, and tees depicting a zombie hoisting an electric guitar stared at her. The two or three other people in the room gaped, one dropping a bottle of beer on the industrial brown carpet and cursing.

"You've got to stop the show!" Roxanne gasped without preamble.

"Oh, my God, Crystal!" A young woman Roxanne didn't recognize hurried forward. "What happened to you? You're covered in dirt! Where's Abby?"

"What— No!" Roxanne pushed the door closed with one shoulder and deactivated her disguise.

"What the Hell?!" someone yelled.

"Look, my name is Roxanne Ritchi, and I'm with—"

"You're that reporter! The one dating the city's hero!" the woman said.

"The guy with all the cool gear?" somebody asked.

"Yes, and he's on his way," Roxanne said. "Listen, there's going to be a fire!"

"What?" one of the men, sporting a black ponytail, earrings, and eyeliner, jumped to his feet.

A voice crackled over the intercom. "Fifteen minutes!"

Another man, this one with darker skin and a multitude of tattoos showing under a sleeveless shirt, pushed the button with an automatic motion Roxanne guessed was born of habit. "Uh, thank you, fifteen..." he said

"What do you mean there's going to be a fire?!" the first man demanded.

"Look, you've only got one pyrotechnics guy, right? Greg? Well, someone else was just down there messing with the system, and Megamind believes this place has been targeted for an attack tonight! You've got to get everyone out!"

"Is this for real?"

Roxanne fought— really fought— not to roll her eyes. "How many people do you know with an alien tech disguise watch?!"

"Oh my God," the woman breathed at the same time one of the men let off a string of profanities.

"Shit," the black-haired man agreed. "Daniel, get everyone out from backstage!" A man dressed in relaxed-fit jeans, a Metalocity t-shirt, and a headset nodded and hurried out, already talking into his microphone. The black-haired man then pushed the intercom button. "Samantha, we've got a situation. Get everyone out of the club right now."

There was only crackling silence in response, and Roxanne's heart leaped into her throat for a moment before a voice answered: "What are you talking about?"

"The Defender sent us a message."

"The blue guy?"

"He says there's a terrorist planning an attack on the club," the man said. Roxanne could have slapped him. The last thing they needed was panic.

Darting around him, she pressed the button herself. "We need to get everyone out without alerting him that we know he's here, if possible."

"Who are— Hold on, someone else is buzzing in."

"Wait!" Roxanne started, but the intercom was dead.

The woman returned in a moment. "Did you call the fire marshal?"

"No," answered the man.

"Yeah, well, he's in the main part of the club saying it's overcapacity and making everyone leave."

"Megamind," Roxanne whispered. "Oh, you wonderful, clever man." She turned to the musician with the ponytail. "Now we just have to get everyone out of the performance space."

The crowd roared with cheers when Ponytail, who turned out to be the guitarist and lead singer, went on stage, his bandmates hanging back. Roxanne, once again in disguise, had worked her way to the edge of the crowd to help direct people out.

"It's great to see everyone tonight," he began. "But I've got some bad news. The fire marshal is outside saying we've got to clear the building. We're having to cancel the show."

There were boos and sounds of disbelief mixed with confused cries. The singer held up one hand. "It's out of our control. Hang onto your tickets," shouted above the noise. "We'll do another Iron Maiden show for you soon, and your passes for tonight will still be good."

Most of the crowd remained where they were, voicing their displeasure, but few people started moving toward the doors. There was a sound of rattling before someone exclaimed: "they're locked!"

"What—" the singer started. A boom shook the floor and knocked him back with a yell. Flames exploded up from the front of the stage floor, leaping to the curtains and decorative panels surrounding the stage. Screams filled the air. The crowd became a mass of jumbled, pushing bodies. Beyond the chaos and the raging fire, Roxanne could just make out two band members rushing forward to pull their fellow out of danger.

Iron Maiden's Aces High suddenly blared through the room. A second explosion thundered as, with a burst of blue electricity, the doors blew to pieces. With a roar, Megamind raced in on the hoverbike. People started pouring toward the open door.

"This way," Roxanne yelled so loudly her throat hurt. "Don't push! Everyone get out!" She saw Officer Hanesley and another cop, along with two men in security shirts, doing the same. A skinny boy Roxanne seriously doubted met the twenty-one-and-over rule got jostled to the floor. His shout turned to a bellow of agony as a fleeing patron stomped his hand. Without thought, Roxanne dove into the crowd to pull him up before he could be trampled. Someone knocked into her back and she nearly joined the young man on the floor. Throbbing stars exploded in her vision as she took an elbow in the side of her face. She growled and practically hauled the prone youth to his feet.

There was another bright blast of energy as Megamind blew a hole in the roof. Concrete pebbles and bits of plaster rained down. Brainbots started pouring in, dumping water on the flames.

"Roxanne!" she could hear Megamind shouting above the turmoil, his voice amplified. "Roxanne! Where are you?!"

"Megamind!" she started moving toward him just as another explosion flung her off her feet. The world swam for a moment. Somebody tripped over her, kicking her stomach as they stumbled, and she jerked in pain.

"Roxanne!" Megamind's voice was still shouting.

Struggling to her feet, she clambered up onto the neon-lit bar. "Here!" she screamed, fumbling with the holowatch to dismiss her disguise. "I'm here!"

Megamind spun in midair and dove toward her, but he wasn't the only person whose attention she'd gained. Just beyond the destroyed doors beside the bar, she could see a familiar, terribly ordinary man struggling against the crowd, his face twisted in rage. As if in slow motion, she saw his arm lift straight.

"Gun!" someone shrieked. "He's got a gun!"

Ares aimed. A blue flash shocked the air, and suddenly he was clutching his empty hand, doubled over in pain. Bright blood stained his sleeve and splattered the floor.

That hadn't been a dehydration shot. Megamind had used the destroy setting, and Roxanne was surprised Ares' hand was still attached. The pistol must have been blown to bits. Ares seemed to be having similar thoughts. Still squeezing his bloody hand, he ducked into the mass of pushing, jostling bodies, and was lost in the flood.

A roar blotted out all other sound as someone grabbed Roxanne's waist and practically flung her up. She scrambled onto the hoverbike, clinging to her lover. For a disconcerting moment, she was completely weightless as he whirled the machine in mid-air. Gunning the engine, he sped over the flames, heat licking at their legs, then shot toward the ceiling.

"Megamind!" Roxanne hid her face in his shoulder as the solid structure raced closer. There was another blast, a painful scattering of hard lumps and sharp edges, then cold night wind stinging her skin.

She dared to look, coughing dust, eyes gritty and streaming, just as Megamind shouted into the watch. "Now, Minion!"

Something that vaguely resembled a small blimp began emitting gray-black fog. It looked similar to a device Megamind had used before, but something was different. The fog was darker, more roiling…

No, not fog, Roxanne realized. Clouds.

There was a rumble of thunder as they grew wider and denser, blotting out part of the stars. Lightning flashed. Icy rain began pouring down, flooding into the two holes in the roof.

Megamind flew the hoverbike out of the affected area and darted down toward the crowd pouring out of the club's outer doors. He touched a finger to the side of his helmet's face shield and began scanning the mass of bodies. Then he growled.

"He isn't there," Roxanne could feel the tension in his body. "He escaped."