A HUGE THANK YOU to joanhello who gave such good advice and offered some truly fantastic ideas for continuing the story, which helped me wade through a morass of scenes and plot points. The unique use of railroad tracks in this chapter was suggested by her; any mistakes I may have made on the concept are entirely my fault.
Thanks to everyone for their patience and for sticking with this story!
Megamind's face burned with mortification. That was NOT what he'd meant to say. Maybe it was the stress, or the exhaustion, or...
The flask! Could've been the booze. Had Hot Flash spiked it? I'm going to kill her. Then again, he could get pretty loopy on liquor, especially on an empty stomach. He didn't remember the last time he ate, why had Minion let him go so long without eating? What the hell was the matter with everybody?
Roxanne's eyes were wide and startled, and he struggled to get control of his panicking thoughts and desperation to find someone to blame for his own idiocy.
"I...I mean, you're very attractive. I mean, you're hot. No! What I meant was, it's not you, it's me."
She arched an eyebrow at him.
He flapped his hands, grimacing madly. "That's not...I shouldn't've... It's a terrible cliche, but it really is me!"
His voice rose in pitch until it was an octave higher than when he started. "There's nothing wrong with you. I'm the one that's a mess. A perfectly healthy autonomous woman in touch with her own needs and desires has every right to expect a similar response from..."
Roxanne grabbed his hands. "Megamind, you're spiraling," she said. "I'm telling you, it's all right."
She smiled, warm and understanding. She seemed amused and... possibly flattered? In the dim light it was hard to tell, but he thought there was a soft blush on her cheeks. Her warm hands and cooler fingertips were soothing. Her palm cradled his bony knuckles while she rubbed her thumb over the back of the other. He relaxed, relieved that he'd gotten his mouth to shut off, and flopped back with a heavy exhalation and she sat back, too, laying her head on the back of the couch.
"It's possible we're going a little too fast," Roxanne said, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I wish we could get a break and go on a date."
"Me, too," he said, with feeling. "A real date. Like normal people."
"Dinner at a great restaurant."
"See a movie."
"Bike rides in the park."
"Uh, yeah." Drat. He didn't know how to ride a bike.
She sighed and closed her eyes. "Hell, lounging around in sweats with a pizza and a DVD sounds pretty good right now. Get to know each other a little better."
He tilted his head. "But we kind of... know each other already, though, right?"
"Well, yeah, but only in a kidnapper/kidnappee-who-refuses-to-play-the-victim kind of way." She smirked.
"There must be an easier way to say that."
"The word hasn't been invented yet."
"Too true," he chuckled. He chewed his lip, trying to think of what other normal things normal couples did. "Or...a walk on the beach?" He sat up on the edge of the cushion. "Hey, we could go for a walk right now, if you want. Plenty of shoreline."
Her eyes snapped open. "Uh, yeah. Maybe," she said faintly, frowning at the ceiling.
Consternation flooded through him and he blushed. "I mean...well... Not the beach where you were viciously attacked today," he said. "Definitely not there. But the south shore actually has quite a nice old boardwalk."
She turned her head toward him. "And watch the zombies glide up through the water?"
"While the brainbots swoop in and tear them apart," he said, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Fun times." Exhaustion, which had been momentarily swallowed by his enthusiasm, came crashing back and he sagged.
"You're too tired, anyway. And so am I. We can figure out something later." She rubbed the back of her neck in a slow, thoughtful way, smiling ruefully at the rows of seedlings lining the greenhouse.
He swallowed and looked away. The unconscious, innocent gesture on her part sent nervous sparks up his spine.
Women sometimes touched themselves when they wanted someone else to touch them. He'd read that somewhere.
He lifted his hand to... to stroke her arm, but stopped. A little smudge of blood was visible on the large bandaid on her forearm. Silently he pummeled himself again. Idiot.
Walk on the beach?
God, no, she wouldn't want to go to the beach.
Gently he reached out and touched her wrist with the backs of his fingers. "You've had an unbelievably bad day, too," he murmured, half apology, half sort of an opening to encourage her to talk, too, if she wanted.
Her soft smile faded away and the corners of her mouth turned down. "Megamind, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it."
Sorrow washed through him, and he gathered her into his arms and pulled her close, settling her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder. He slipped his right arm around her waist, careful to not touch her hurt arm too much.
"It's all right, please don't be sad, I deserved it." He wanted to call her sweetheart and dearest and love of my life but was afraid that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop.
I need you, I want you, I love you. Two out of three wasn't bad, but aaargh, he was a total coward, he couldn't say the last of it. What, he could tell her he wanted to have sex with her but not that he loved her? Where was the sense in that?
It just...didn't feel like the right time.
When was the right time? Was there ever a right time? It'd been a long day and he was wrecked, pure and simple.
But oh, how wonderful was this, to hold each other and soothe the hurts they'd inflicted on each other. She was letting him touch her and hold her and... and they were talking, really talking about things.
So this was love, too. Not only the butterflies in the stomach and helpless yearning and desire, but this. This talking and sharing.
"You don't deserve to get yelled at," she said. "Don't say that."
"But we had an understanding that I'd at least clue you in on when I'd take action. And I plowed ahead anyway. I didn't mean what I said, either. 'Know-it-all' was a cheap shot." He grimaced, ashamed of himself. "I happen to love your brilliance. All the better to become Evil Queen."
She let out an undignified snort. "Don't trot me off to the altar yet. Geez."
"Yet? So, it could potentially, possibly be a..."
"Megamind," she said, her voice almost a growl.
"Okay, I'll quit it." Warm little sparks danced in his chest. He gave her a little squeeze and nuzzled her head, her hair tickling his nose. Intriguing. Lightly he moved his face back and forth, feeling the sensation of individual hairs brushing over his cheek and lips. "I wished you were there at the barricade. So you could see me in action."
"Yeah. You know, maybe I was a little mad, too, that I missed out on that scoop! I like how you keep fighting. How you never give up."
That made him pause his nuzzling. "Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"I thought that irritated you. My perseverance."
"Eh." She shrugged and nestled into his neck again. "You've got a lot of energy. Your crazy plans to defeat Metro Man. That was just you constantly throwing yourself at a brick wall. I didn't like seeing you get hurt."
"Since when? You always seemed pretty relieved when your lover boy came to free you."
She sat up so she could face him. "Because it meant I was going to get out of those damn ropes," she said sharply. "I did not like that." Her teeth came together with a click as she bit off the last word.
He bit his lip and twiddled his fingers together. "I suppose," he said, "that now might be a good time to apologize for kidnapping you?"
"Yeah. Was that it?" She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms to form an impassable barrier. "Because I'm not impressed."
He slid off the couch onto his knees. Carefully, watching for adverse reactions, he drew out one of her hands and cradled it in his own. "Miss Ritchi, I most humbly beg your pardon for repeatedly kidnapping you, tying you up, and putting you in countless death traps. Will you forgive me?"
"And terrorizing the city?"
"Yes, and that."
"How about when you crashed the family reunion at my mom's and kidnapped me right in front of everybody? Because that was incredibly humiliating. My aunt Tina and her stupid son, Brandon, still won't shut up about it."
"Of...of course. Very sorry about that, too." Uh oh. She had him where she wanted him. If she was going to run down the list of his evil acts, this would take a while.
Imperiously she studied him from under her lashes, and then relented, her stern face relaxing into a smile. "All right. Apology accepted. God, you look like you're worried I won't forgive you. Get up already."
Grinning, he got up and, after brushing off his knees, resumed his seat and raised his arms to invite her into his embrace again.
But she clasped her hands together in her lap. She seemed to steel herself against an inner conflict, then took a deep breath. "And he wasn't, you know."
"Wasn't what?"
"Metro Man wasn't my lover boy. We were never a couple."
He gasped. "You're kidding! Seriously? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Oh, like you would've believed me. You would've thought I was trying to get out of being your number one victim."
She scoffed at his slack-jawed expression. "It was something everyone assumed, and we played along. Great for ratings. You know how it is. But he wasn't really my type."
"I thought he was every woman's type."
"Not mine." Her eyes flashed. "Especially now." With determination, she settled firmly back into the circle of his arms. "I don't even want to talk about him anymore."
He didn't want to talk about Metro Man, either, and he pressed his cheek into her hair again. Ooo, the hair tickled his nose, too.
"What are you doing?"
He froze. "Oh. Um. Your...your hair. I guess I was...feeling it. It's such a new sensation. I didn't really appreciate it before. Um. Is that weird?"
She chuckled, sending a pleasant tremor through him. "No, not at all."
"And it smells so nice."
"It should. I washed it twice to get that zombie gunk out." She tossed her head irritably. "Ucch, my bangs keep falling in my face. I lost my barrette."
"Why don't you have Britney give you a trim?" Megamind said. "I'm sure she'd be happy to. She's a hair stylist."
Roxanne became very still in his arms. "No, I don't think so."
"Why not? I'm sure we could rustle up some scissors."
Roxanne gave out a little sigh that sounded oddly aggravated. He had a feeling that something wasn't quite right, but what exactly was wrong, he couldn't say.
"Is Britney bothering you?" he asked.
"Why do you say that?" she said, a bit sharply, he thought.
He shifted in his seat, feeling more confused than ever, and he wished he hadn't said anything. It felt like another argument was about to happen, and he didn't even know why. "I guess I... well... Want me to kick her out of the Lair?"
"What? No," she said, shocked. Then, cautiously, as if trying out the idea, "You'd do that for me?"
"Sure. She could find another perfectly good floor to sleep on somewhere else in the safe zone." He wrinkled his nose in distaste, thinking of Hal. "I suppose I'd give her a taser and see to it that she has a lock on whatever door she sleeps behind, so... yes, if she's that much of a..."
"Er, no, I'd hate to have her run into Hal. She can stay." She turned her face up to his, stretched up, and gave him a soft kiss. "Thanks for the offer, though."
She snuggled back in his arms and he hugged her close, feeling like his heart was full of sunshine. It was good of her to be concerned for Britney's safety, even if she didn't like her. Roxanne truly had a noble heart and mind. Despite her sharp tongue she cared about the welfare of others, and he believed she felt as strong a loyalty for this city as much as he did.
He was just glad there hadn't been another argument because he would have had no idea how to apologize for it.
After a minute or two of quiet bliss, Roxanne said, "Still can't break through the frequency jamming?"
"No. I might have to sneak out to the jamming towers and disable each one individually."
"Or you could use a really big piece of metal."
He cocked his head speculatively as she clearly had an idea, and looked rather smug about it, too. "Such as?"
"Railroad tracks," she said. "Hook a line up to a track. Signals travel a lot farther through metal than through air. The signal will be broadcast all along the track for a good two hundred miles or so, and will be carried well outside the range of the jamming towers. A radio station on the east coast tried it a few years ago, and the authorities made them stop because the transmission was so powerful it was interfering with other communications."
He tapped his chin. "That...would work. Except they might blow up the track." But his mind was already buzzing with possibilities. Blowing up the tracks was a pretty drastic response, they'd probably be reluctant to damage infrastructure. What's more, there were at least three tracks he knew of that went outside the city limits. If one track was disabled, there was always another.
"They won't be able to tell how the signals are getting out. But even if they did, the railroad companies are still a powerful national business. The army won't dare blow up the tracks. Even if they do, well, then, we'll find another way."
"I was thinking much the same, Miss Ritchi. I love it when you're devilish."
"You would," she said, eyes dancing with merriment. "You need to make a public service announcement. An official call for aid."
"But I already did. Remember? You were just yelling at me about it a little while ago."
She sat up and flapped her hand with only a trace amount of guilt, but vibrating with new energy. "Yeah, yeah, and I'm sure it was very villainous. This one will be for civilians. In a mayoral way. A little bit less confrontational. But serious, somber. Damn, maybe we should do it in the morning, so there'll be shots of citizens in the background. The hustle and bustle of the rescue efforts. I'll write you a script."
They made their way downstairs, but once Roxanne took over Bernard's desk (nudging Bernard aside, as he seemed to be sleeping under it) and began scribbling away, someone came along and dropped a couple of twenty pound weights on his eyelids. He dropped into the swivel chair and sank into oblivion.
After some time, Minion nudged him in the elbow and said, "I let Tony loose, Sir. He had to take a leak. And I made sure there were guards on the border. Round the clock human watchers, to help out the brainbots. One cop, one henchman. Sir?"
Megamind squinted up at him. The words made no sense and he lowered his head again.
Minion sighed. "Okay, off to bed with you, Sir. Miss Ritchi's brushing her teeth." He hoisted him to his feet and the Overlord stumbled off to bed.
Even when Roxanne curled up against his back, he barely stirred.
After midnight, the clouds parted. The moon gilded the tents and jeeps white, and made the armor of the superheroine known as Silver Knight sparkle. She strode through the army encampment, a flyer from the self-proclaimed Overlord of Metro City in her fist and a terrible knot of shame and rage roiling in her stomach.
Metro City. The little spit of land inhabited by the supervillain Megamind was as brightly lit as ever, a sliver of light against the black hulk of the city.
Beacons against the night.
Only the lights had spread since the last time she'd visited the stricken city, she was sure of it. Megamind had obviously connected at least two more streets to his electrical grid, and another oasis of lights had appeared a mile away from Megamind's Evil Lair, which, a soldier had whispered to her, they thought might be the water treatment plant.
It was hard to say. They hadn't gotten any real intel, except from satellite photos, for weeks. The brainbots kept eating the drones.
But why bother connecting other parts of the city to his grid if the population was dying off? There was no point, unless Megamind had gone truly mad.
The fact of Megamind's survival was proof that his alien biology was not susceptible to the virus, fair enough, but quite frankly she'd never been wholly convinced that the army and its supportive superheroes had successfully contained the supervillain. Megamind was a master of escape. So why hadn't he made an escape attempt? Maybe he really was insane, and too stubborn to abandon the city.
But sending out flyers? Well, she supposed a madman might get it into his head to pretend the citizenry still existed. Except the text was perfectly coherent, hardly the ramblings and pompous declarations of a self-absorbed madman.
And its assertions chilled her to the bone.
Not fatal. The virus had changed.
She'd just been in Chicago to investigate rumors of a zombie sighting, that the darn thing had lurched right out of the lake, which made no sense at all. Everyone knew zombies didn't go into water more than three feet deep. A lot of cities and towns were investing in moats for this very reason, but maybe it would all be a wasted expenditure, if the zombies really had somehow figured out water posed no barrier to those who didn't need to breathe.
She'd been treated with outright hostility from Chicago's mayor, the city council, and the police force, all of whom denied that there had been any zombie. The League of Heroes must have heard wrong, she was told.
Even the city's super-powered Defender, Apex, was cold and distant, backing up everything the city authorities claimed. No, there was no zombie. Had never been a zombie. Chicago was clean of the virus.
And so, no need for a quarantine. He said it in such a way that she got the feeling an attempt to quarantine the city would lead to complete rebellion.
Their hostility was palpable, and she felt lucky to get out of Chicago in one piece.
And now this.
She marched up to the trailer that served as army headquarters. The soldiers guarding the door glanced at her, but didn't make any attempt to stop her.
She flung the door back with a crash.
Four men looked up. Major Rutherford standing by a projector, and the two other superheroes from the League, Powerhouse and Stratego, and Stratego's sidekick Rook.
Her colleagues. The ones she trusted. The ones hiding things from her.
The video projected onto the screen showed a still of a video. The corner of a humvee and the back of a helmeted soldier's head. And beyond that, some little ways down the deserted highway, Megamind on the Spider-bot with a swarm of brainbots with evil glowing eyes. Images of four men, strangers to her, were projected above his head.
The hulk of a burned out SUV was visible between the Spider-bot's legs, and three people with a gray body bag. Further back, another vehicle was just visible on the road.
With long practice of taking in the sweep of a battlefield at a glance, she observed all this, including the tiny glint of metal which might have been a police badge hanging from the neck of one of the people lifting the body bag, before Rutherford clicked off the screen.
"So there are survivors," she said.
"Not so loud," Powerhouse growled. He went past her and slammed the door shut, making the trailer rock on its foundations.
She held up the flyer. "I think the secret's out. I'd like to know when you were going to tell me that little detail."
Stratego winced. "We meant to inform you once we finished assessing the..."
"This flyer," she said. "This flyer is clearly a public service announcement. How many?"
"Sil, maybe you ought to sit down."
"How many people," she thundered, "are yet alive? How many have we trapped inside with hordes of zombies?"
"Didn't seem to bother you before," Powerhouse said.
She whirled, her anger flowing through her veins white-hot. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her Sword of Justice. "Say that again," she said.
Scowling, Powerhouse said, "You're not focussed on the real problem. As usual. This supervillain takin' over is..."
Stratego snapped. "Enough of this! Both of you, sit down."
Powerhouse brushed past her to go back to the table but he didn't take his chair again. Silver Knight remained standing, but she let go of the sword hilt.
She said, "I was told, you told me, in fact, that the virus had become so vicious that it would burn through the population in as little as seven days. That there was only one way to stop it from consuming the nation, nay, even the entire planet. That a complete quarantine of the three infected cities was our only hope, no matter how distasteful the action. And now what are you going to tell me?" She laughed without humor. "That we might have made a mistake? It's been weeks. People are still alive in there! They must be starving. We need to end the quarantine immediately."
Powerhouse groaned and rolled his eyes. "Told you," he said to Stratego.
"These are delicate matters, Sil. And your sense of justice is a little... too strong. We need clear heads to make decisions."
"Him? A clear head?" Silver Knight said, pointing at Powerhouse.
"In any case," Stratego said loudly as Powerhouse bristled, "only Congress can authorize an end to the quarantine."
"But if this is true, then the virus isn't fatal."
"How could Megamind possibly have determined that? Whatever his methods, he's no medical doctor. Even if it's true, think about it for a minute. Think about how it'll warp society if this virus gets out. You'd have to stand at Grandma's deathbed with a rifle to make sure she stays down. It'd be standard procedure at morgues and hospices. Might as well forget about forensics. How can police solve murders if the victims get up and leave the scene?" He paused to let his words sink in.
Silver Knight thought about Apex. He'd lied to her face about the zombie sighting in Chicago, she was sure of it. But she had no proof and she wasn't going to share her misgivings with Stratego. Not anymore. It might be too late to contain the virus in any case.
"We've begun tests on the Louisville population," he continued. "The National Institute of Health and V-Tech Labs are on the job. Should take about eight weeks or so. They'll find out whether or not this virus has truly evolved. Once we have the results, we'll have a better idea for how to proceed."
"You want to wait another eight weeks before you'll even consider sending in aid? Why?" She couldn't wrap her head around his cruelty. I never should have agreed to support the quarantine. I knew it was heartless. Not the sort of thing that heroes should agree to. It's become a slippery slope of 'for the good of the nation, we must make sacrifices.' Only we're not the ones being sacrificed.
"We can't simply do nothing! Food and medicine are being delivered to Louisville."
"Supplies are being sent to the Louisville camps," Stratego said. "In a controlled environment. Megamind's brainbots are everywhere. Any aid we send into the city will most likely be either confiscated or destroyed. He could re-sell it to the citizens to make a profit or use it to force people to do his bidding. It would be a waste of resources. Imagine how the press would present it. We're getting hammered by the media, Sil. They'll present it as another example of the League's incompetence. We may even be accused of aiding a supervillain."
Anger rose in her again, a cold, silent fury that filled the room. "People are facing starvation, and you worry about our image."
Stratego's cowled face was taut with anger of his own. "There are other important considerations. Our food supply isn't as... robust as most people think it is."
"Are you saying we're facing a shortage? The United States?" She almost laughed. "Our national grain reserves alone are enough to..."
"They were liquidated five years ago," he interrupted. "Seen as redundant and sold. The money was funneled into more lucrative projects."
He sighed at her shocked expression. "It barely made a dent in the business section. At the time, no one cared. World trade was so good, and, as you said, this is the United States. Famine doesn't happen here. Or so it's long been believed. You know China and Argentina have halted trade with us until we ensure the virus won't spread to their shores. And California is threatening secession."
"What? When?" California produced over seventy percent of the nation's produce. Secession?
"Since they started erecting checkpoints along the state line. Announced it an hour ago." He leaned on the table and held his forefinger and thumb close together. "Our country is this close to fragmenting. We must show a united front, Sil."
She narrowed her eyes. He hadn't informed her of this secret meeting, nor notified her of Megamind's takeover of the city. Her head was spinning, but she no longer trusted him or his information.
"We ought to see what Metro Man and the other League members have to say about this do-nothing plan of yours," she said, and began to stride out.
"I have complete authority to act on the League's behalf. To offer assistance to the military in whatever capacity they need, and right now, this is what's needed. To contain this new threat."
Rook stepped in front of the door. Powerhouse shifted his stance. There was a dangerous silence. For the first time, Silver Knight realized that Powerhouse, Stratego, and Rook all owed their superpowers to U.S. military programs.
And she did not.
She dropped her hand on her sword hilt. "If you mean to stop me, go ahead and try."
"Rook, come on," Stratego snapped. "Step back." He glanced at Rutherford, who was gaping at this breakdown among the heroes, and waved his hands impatiently at Powerhouse to stand down.
He only intervened when it was clear I was prepared to fight my way out, she thought scornfully. She wondered if it would have gone differently if Rutherford hadn't been there.
Stratego put his hands behind his back and took a few steps closer. "I'm sorry, they're overzealous. Just a few more minutes of your time. Please."
Slowly she moved her hand away from her weapon and, at last, gave him a little nod. She at least could honor courtesy, would pay respect to those who showed respect.
Stratego said, "We can't bother Metro Man with something he can't do anything about. Besides, we need his help in dealing with the Robber Barons. We need that oil."
Many of the League heroes, including Metro Man, were up to their eyeballs in containing the Robber Barons, who had taken control of southern Texas along with its crucial oil refineries.
She felt a moment of disorientation, as if something had brushed across the back of her mind, and she shook her head. Of course it would be selfish of her to call them away to deal with the problems of one city. Of course it would.
She blinked and cast her gaze around the room, feeling slightly dizzy, and then Stratego's voice, clear and steady, captured her attention again. "I understand your concerns, Silver Knight," he said quietly, looking deep into her eyes. "But the fate of our country is in the balance. Rest assured that Metro City will be dealt with, in good time."
His cool voice washed over her and she found herself nodding in agreement. "Yes, of course. The fate of our country is at stake." She bit her lip, feeling vaguely embarrassed for failing to understand Stratego's motives. Of course he was acting for the good of the nation.
She said, "I'll start my patrol. To show we're still on the job."
Stratego nodded gravely. "It's important to keep up morale. The League appreciates your dedication."
"I'll go, too," Powerhouse said. "We can..."
"No," Stratego snapped.
Silver Knight rocked back on her heels, feeling as if a needle had passed through her head.
Stratego glanced at her. "I mean, yes, by all means, go out on patrol, but maybe you should check on the guards at the barricades. The men could use some cheering up."
Silver Knight rubbed her temple. The pain had departed as quickly as it came, thank goodness, and she turned to go.
Stratego called to her and she paused on the threshold. "If you have any more concerns, come see me right away," he said.
After Powerhouse had also left, Major Rutherford turned on the video again and they somberly regarded the holographic images of Megamind's prisoners. "I'll run this through our database," Rutherford said. "See if they're really part of the army."
Stratego waved his hand. "Don't trouble yourself. Megamind was making it up on the fly, manufacturing hostages in an attempt to coerce supplies out of you. They're probably not associated with the military at all. I'll run it through the League database, see if we can identify them."
Rutherford shrugged and plodded off to his quarters.
"Why didn't you want Silver Knight and Powerhouse to patrol together?" Rook asked.
Stratego snorted. "Are you kidding? He makes her so mad she'll start thinking for herself again. I can't keep planting suggestions or she'll really start rebelling, and I'll lose all influence over her." Gingerly he sank into one of the chairs, feeling like he could sleep for a week.
His influence over Powerhouse didn't take much effort, as the muscle-bound hero was mostly on the army's side anyway, but using his psychic influence over the strong-willed Silver Knight exhausted him. He had a reputation as a brilliant strategist and negotiator, and usually his verbal skills were enough. But sometimes a little psychic persuasion was necessary to achieve the desired results.
His psychic power, subtle and known only to a few, was a gift from the military, along with increased stamina, greater-than-average strength, and a body that looked great in spandex.
He couldn't achieve utter control over a person, but he could persuade, he could shift a person's perspective, get them to see the light, or at least the light he allowed to get through.
And it would wear off over time, which is why he planted the suggestion in Silver Knight's mind to come talk to him when she started having doubts so he could talk some sense into her again.
"Who do you think those prisoners were?" Rook asked. "Megamind seemed to really think he had a hold of somebody important."
Stratego stopped rubbing his temples and took a harder look at his sidekick. Rook was asking more questions than he usually did. And had there been a note of accusation in the kid's voice?
"Rook, how about you get me a wet washcloth. I've got a headache." he said. He should be alone when he talked to Iron Eagle anyway, and when the door closed behind his sidekick, he reached for his comm. "Hey, Eagle. Found your father, and your brother, too. Now, for the bad news..."
Megamind slept like the dead, or at least like the dead used to sleep, until morning.
He was awakened by a sharp rap at the door and coldness at his back. Roxanne had left, but maybe she'd just gone to the bathroom and would be back soon, or maybe...
The knock sounded again, managing to sound both impatient and peevish. He staggered to the door and, remembering just in time that he was wearing pajamas, hid behind it and opened it a crack.
Doris stood there, prim and proper, with a plastic rain hood covering her gray hair, jacket buttoned up to her neck, and her purse in a white-knuckled grip. A bulging wicker bag sat next to her feet.
This was definitely not how he'd hoped to begin the day.
Megamind studied her for a moment. "You know, Doris, you're not actually going anywhere. Not as such."
"From your perspective, maybe," she said with a sniff. "I'm not leaving anything behind for people to paw through. You can dehydrate my things along with me, can't you?"
"I guess so." He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. "I can't tell you how flattered I am that you've chosen me to dehydrate you. Separation anxiety?"
"I didn't come here for smart remarks." She hesitated, then drew herself up, fixing him with her usual expression of disapproval, though seasoned by a touch of nervousness. "I would consider it a great personal favor if you became guardian of my grandchildren."
