In which there is fanservice and lots and lots of foreshadowing. And there's a few red herrings, as well. Good luck telling which is which! Who knows, they might all end up being red herrings. Let's hope so, for Megamind's sake!
But anyway, the fanservice. Trust me, if you saw this vest, you'd agree that it is completely necessary to stuff Megamind into it. Do me a favor and Google Image search "Sylvain nuffer modele chambellan" but without the quotes. It is a sexy, sexy vest. Speaking of sexy, this story might be rated M soon.
Also, guess who's employed! (hint: it's meeeeeeee ^w^) But I still own nothing. Please keep your lawyers to yourself.
All the good parts in this are thanks to my excellent beta, KarenBJones. You should have seen this thing before she went through it. The whole second half was just…I mean, it was okay (it was better than the original Chapter 4 of True North, if any of you folks remember that little nightmare), but it certainly wasn't great. It was just really disjointed. And then Karen went through with the proverbial red pen and fixed it like a BAMF. And it was awesome.
Well, I thought it was awesome, anyway. I hope you think so, too!
Chapter 12
Megamind's throat closes and he takes the drawing with a jerky nod. Orson turns to go, but that's when not knowing finally gets to be too much and Megamind can't stand it. He knows it's unorthodox, knows that nobody just comes right out and asks—it's probably like how nobody mentioned how rare it is for Orson to actually show up for the holidays, everybody just politely ignores it instead—but Megamind can't take it anymore, he's done.
"So you do work for the PHED, then," he says, and there it is. Orson's back stiffens and Megamind frowns. "Sir," he adds hastily, for good measure. He's well aware there's probably a reason Orson's employer's identity remains a mystery even to his children. But he needs to know. Otherwise, he thinks, I'm going to go out of my impressively oversized mind.
Orson turns back, harrumphing uncomfortably and rubbing his tattooed arms. He's wearing a Horizontal tee-shirt even though it's December and chilly in the house by human standards—the Ritchis keep their thermostat in the mid-sixties in the winter, which Megamind is completely fine with. "In some capacity," Orson says, "yes." He scowls at the wall above Megamind's head. "You could say I'm…close to the director."
Megamind's mouth turns up at the corners and he says wryly, "I was aware of that."
Now Orson looks down at him, his expression somehow surprised and wary all at once. "And just how long have you been aware of that?"
Megamind grimaces. He understands the man's distrust. Megamind's knowledge of Roxanne's family connection to PHED make his motives even more suspect than they already were, so he can't blame Orson for being worried. For all Orson knows, Megamind could be planning to use Roxanne as some sort of leverage against the PHED—and if he's being completely open with himself, he really wouldn't be above doing that with someone other than his girlfriend. As it is, he'd spent a good portion of his villainous career using her to lure Metro Man right into his traps. Never mind that her safety wasn't really as precarious as it had seemed; it still doesn't look good.
Luckily, though, his recent ignorance plays in his favor this time. "Three days," he answers honestly. "Roxanne told me on the drive down."
Orson's relief shows all over his face as well as in the set of his broad shoulders. Even Megamind, alien and still relatively unsocialized as he is, can read him easily. After the inscrutable Linda, it's a comforting change. Most things about Orson are comforting, or at the very least nonthreatening, and Megamind can't help but think this is hilarious. The only people he's seen who are roughly Orson's size are Metro Man, who is much bigger, and Uncle Mitch, who is slightly smaller around the shoulders but otherwise just as massive—and both of them are extremely intimidating when they want to be. Maybe it's just that Orson doesn't want to be intimidating right now? But that doesn't make sense either, since Megamind is an outworlder and a criminal and is dating the man's daughter, and therefore he is exactly the person Orson should be trying to intimidate.
But instead Orson just kind of slumps a little and shakes his head. "Aw, hell, son," he says, "That must've been a nasty shock. You had to hear it from Annie? You never dug into it yourself?"
"I really couldn't," Megamind replies, blinking down at his toes. He's never looked into the PHED too closely. He knows the names of the higher-ups but hasn't dared to go looking for background information on them. He shrugs. "Didn't want to draw too much attention, you know?"
"Well, yeah, I know, but…" Orson shakes his head, lets out a sighing whistle between his teeth. He's clearly been expecting this. Expecting, and hoping to avoid it. "Listen, I'm awful sorry I can't tell you any more than this—but don't worry about the PHED."
Megamind snorts. "'Don't worry about the PHED,'" he repeats, struggling not to sound bitter, because even though he's feeling pretty okay right now it's still hard not to be bitter about certain events. He chuffs out an involuntary humorless laugh. "That's rich."
"No, kid, I'm serious," Orson says, and he looks it. "You don't have to worry about a thing. The statute of limitations doesn't exist for the stuff they did; they're runnin' scared."
That gets a confused blink, but then it sinks in. Megamind's eyes go very wide. "I could press charges," he realizes, dumbfounded. That idea has honestly never occurred to him. He isn't human, so why should he be protected by human laws? He wasn't before. But it looks like that silver card might be good for something, after all.
Orson nods grimly. "I'm not at liberty to tell you much more without clear declaration of intent," he says, which is fine. "But there are some powerful folks who would shit their extremely expensive trousers if you ever looked like you were going to do that. Things have changed since you were there."
Megamind grins, all teeth, but above his wolfish smile his eyes are glad. "That's good to know." Understatement of the century. "Thank you."
Orson nods again and stands—good lord, he's tall. "Sorry to cut this off here, but I've got to go change, we've got to leave in a half hour or so."
"It's fine," Megamind says, and means it. "Thank you. Thank you." The thought that he has some advantage that could protect him if he needs it is the best news he's had in months.
But as Orson passes the loveseat where Drew is still diligently pretending to read his magazine, the big man slows, then stops in the doorway. He seems to be thinking hard; he tips his head back and his shoulders slump again. Megamind watches, tense again, as he turns back around. There's an oddly flat tone in his voice as he says, "You shouldn't be hearing this from me."
From the way he sounds, it isn't bad news, just awkward, maybe serious too. Megamind cocks his head but doesn't relax. It's Roxanne, who's been silent up to this point, who asks, "Why's that?"
Oddly enough, Orson seems even more uncomfortable answering her than when he was talking to Megamind. "'Cause it ain't me who owes him." He blows out his upper lip, fluffing his mustache and harrumphing again, frowning under bushy eyebrows. "Son, listen, the research division got shut down about twunny-two years back. Orders from on high." His mouth twists. "I wasn't s'posed to tell you, but you need to know. You were the last."
Megamind stares at him, looking like he just sat on a tack. Whatever he'd expected Orson to say, it wasn't that.
"Christ, they said they'd tell you, but I figgered from how you were sounding you didn't know." He chuckles, looking more awkward than ever as he tugs at the sides of his mustache, smooths it down. "Merry Christmas, I s'pose."
He starts to turn around again, but Megamind swallows, blinks, and lets out several rough breaths he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "No, wait—you can't just go, you can't just tell me that and leave!" he exclaims, half-frantic as he scrambles to his feet. The wall behind him looms closer than it should; he lurches out into the room, towards Orson, before it can hit his back. "What happened?" he demands, punctuating the question with a kind of full-body spasm.
Orson sighs and scowls. "Well, it wasn't my department, so I don't rightly know," he says, apologetic, "but Rod was out for blood, I tell you that. Wanted to shut down the whole thing completely. Could've done it, too. Said he built this ship and he could sink her just as quick."
"Rod?" Roxanne echoes faintly. "As in Uncle Rod?" She glances at Megamind, who is distracted and doesn't appear to notice. Even standing still, he's all motion, tense and jerky, looking around, fiddling with his hands—his eyes are everywhere, which means he doesn't know what to think about first. Roxanne, in contrast, isn't sure she's capable of thinking at all. "I…what the hell does that mean, he built this ship?" She knows her mouth is open; she can't help it. She's remembering what Megamind said in the car two days prior: I wasn't aware Rodland and Eric Allbright were related. He's, what…Under Secretary of Homeland Security for Science and Technology?
Megamind's restless gaze settles on her for a second or two, and he sends her an amused glance and pulls himself together enough to form a few coherent sentences. "He's the founder," he tells her, grinning now in spite of himself—this is the best news he's had in months, and with Orson throwing secrets around like rice at a wedding, he's not too worried about what's classified anymore. "Organization like that? Of course he's Director too."
Roxanne shakes her head, horrified. "But…no, that's…he can't be."
"The world is a tiny little place," Drew says, finally glancing up. He's been quiet until now, content to sit back and just listen. He doesn't sound upset or surprised at all—he doesn't sound anything—but his jaw is set and he's started chewing on his nails.
"And it's getting smaller," Roxanne agrees shakily, still staring at Megamind in shock. "Are you telling me my uncle founded the group that…that…"
Megamind shakes his head. "I'm almost certain Rodland had no idea what was going on."
Orson nods and starts talking before Roxanne can respond. "And he was furious when he found out. Like I said, he was ready to shut down the whole Division, but that was right when things skyward started getting real hairy. We couldn't stop the refugee placement services, not after—well, anyway, so they re-organized Washington, instead." He shakes his head, watching calmly as his daughter catches her boyfriend's eye, a nonverbal request that the blue man responds to by returning to his spot on the couch. He scoots sideways to press against her side, nets his thin fingers with hers and squeezes. She rests her head on his bony shoulder, her temple brushing his cheek, and he leans into her, seeming to center himself between one breath and the next. Interestingly, Roxanne visibly relaxes with him, which Orson hadn't expected.
He keeps talking as though he isn't watching their every move. He knows that the blue man was hurt grievously as a boy, but that doesn't exonerate him for his villainous career as an adult. Roxanne insists he's changed, but regardless of how smitten he appears, Megamind is still undeniably dangerous and Roxanne will always be Orson's little girl. "Last either of us heard, someone was s'posed to go to that prison and let you know how everything turned out. Guess that never happened." He isn't unreasonable. He believes in second chances. So he watches and reserves judgment for now.
"I didn't hear anything," Megamind mutters, troubled, before looking back up. "Then…why take Minion?"
Orson shrugs. "Like I said, I'm in refugee placement and integration. The Intelligence Department picked up Minion."
"Your best guess, then."
"Best guess?" He scrubs a hand over his moustache. "Info-gathering. Scans. Didn't bring him in for study, that's for damn sure, not after the clusterfuck with you. They had Rod staring over their shoulders the whole time, they would've been on their best behavior. But they probably did run some non-invasive tests. Headquarters takes what they can get, these days." His eyes flick up to the wall clock and he curses under his breath, "Christ. Listen, I'm sorry. I need to go or we'll miss our reservation. We'll talk later, yeah?"
Megamind nods, still half-dazed. "Okay, yes, sorry to have kept you…" he trails off as Orson clumps away.
Roxanne squeezes his hand again to try and get his attention. "Are you okay?" she asks, now that they're all but alone—Drew is trying so hard to be invisible that he can't possibly count. Megamind has gone strangely still next to her, especially considering his earlier fidgeting, and she can't help but worry.
He glances over at her, looking completely confused and bewildered. "I'm honestly not sure. I think I'm okay. But I think a lot of things. Right now I'm not really sure what I'm thinking. I'm—"
Across the room, Drew turns a page and speaks, seemingly at random. "The next statement is true. The previous statement is false."
Megamind blinks. "Wha…how's…" A line appears between his eyebrows as he considers the apparent non sequitur.
Roxanne frowns down at her hands, trying to work through it herself. Then she looks at Megamind, who has both hands on the sides of his head and is mumbling fragments of increasingly frustrated sentences, staring into space.
She looks back at her brother. "Did you just find his hard-reset button?"
"Gave him a paradox to concentrate on." Drew grins at her. "He'll be fine," he assures her cheerfully, then adds in an undertone, "It's not like he has a choice, you know?"
"I can still hear you," Megamind snaps.
"Think harder, then!" Drew snaps back. Megamind makes a noise like blaagh and glares at him, feeling pressure in his sinuses. "Look, whether you're okay or not, you'll figure out what you're doing eventually."
Megamind growls. It's not in his nature to just go along with someone telling him what he'll do, but then a thought occurs to him. He nods instead of arguing. "Right, fine," he says, and some of the sinus pressure eases. Got you, he thinks smugly. "What am I doing?" He takes a deep breath. He's sitting. That's what he's doing, he's sitting. He's sitting next to his girlfriend. His almost-fiancee. And they're in her parents' house, and the day after tomorrow will be Christmas, and he's just learned more about the PHED in five minutes than he has in over twenty years. Information which, surprisingly, seems to completely eliminate the threat he'd always believed the PHED posed to him and Minion. He's a little wary of trusting that because it seems far too easy to be reliable. But what is he doing? Looking for trouble? He has enough to worry about already. If the PHED's not a threat, great! One less problem.
Problems. He's solving problems for people in Metro City. He's worried that something bad is going on that he doesn't know about. He's slowly making friends with his old enemy. But what is he doing?
Drew's voice distracts him. "Sorry, I guess that wasn't helpful after—"
"Oh will you shut up," Megamind says sharply. "You know your problem? You can't let people just think, you always have to say something. Shut up. Let me think."
Drew blinks and recoils. "All right, all right. Sorry."
It's a good question. He's not doing much with his life, purpose-wise. He's always had a clear sense of purpose before, but now he's not sure what he's supposed to be doing anymore, let alone how to do it. It's worth thinking about, but it'll take more time than he has right now.
Well, he'll think about it later. For now, he settles for aiming a finger and a scowl at Roxanne's brother. "You need to stop doing that."
"What," Drew says, turning a page, "interrupting you? I said I was sorry."
"You aren't. But it doesn't matter, I don't care. I was talking more about the…" He pauses, realizing he doesn't actually have words for it. That's irksome at best and infuriating at worst. Megamind hates not having words. "The other thing. The thing you keep doing."
Drew's gaze flicks up. "What thing?"
"I rely on a more complex chemical biosystem than humans do," Megamind says impatiently. "You know this. Just because I'm harder to affect doesn't mean I can't tell when you try."
Roxanne turns to look at him, frowning, and Drew blinks carefully. His sudden bright interest closes down somewhat. "I have no idea what you mean," Drew says. "You feeling okay?"
Megamind scowls at the change in subject, watching him suspiciously. "I feel fine."
"Good!" Drew stands, suddenly grinning, excited. "Good, because the party starts in an hour and a half and we should leave in about forty minutes to get there fashionably late. If you got sick it would destroy me."
Megamind lets it go and grins back—it isn't worth starting right now. "Destroy?" he echoes. "I had no idea you were so fragile." Next to him, Roxanne rolls her eyes.
"My brother the over-dramatic," she groans, then nudges Megamind in the side with her elbow. "My dad's the same way. It's no wonder I'm so attracted to you."
Well, that sure de-railed his train of thought. "Wait, what?" He's heard the over-generalized cliché that women pick men who remind them of their fathers, and he's never put much store by it. But even if that statement was true, Orson is big. Big and loud and scruffy and smelling of mint and tobacco. It would make more sense for Roxanne to be attracted to…well, to Wayne, who is also big and scruffy. Newly scruffy and not so loud, but still.
"C'mon, the drama? The huge, sweeping gestures?" She looks at him, but he just stares blankly. "You two are a lot alike."
"I—I hadn't noticed," he stammers, but isn't that what Linda had said earlier that afternoon? He has a flair for the dramatic. This is exactly his kind of style. Maybe Roxanne is right. It's hard to tell. At least it explains why she's never seemed bothered by his own penchant for drama in daily life. He's wondered about it a few times, but it never seemed important enough to say anything about.
But…if she grew up with it, then her being okay with those particular eccentricities would make some sense. Oh, he thinks, looking at Roxanne and feeling like some piece of a giant cosmic puzzle has finally fallen into place and given him an inkling of what the picture is. Well. That's okay, then. He smiles, reaches for her. "Come on," he says. "Let's go upstairs."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"So," Roxanne says, fumbling with the clasp of her necklace. "Party!" Usually Megamind would help her with this, his long fingers cool at the top of her spine, but tonight he's preoccupied. She can't really blame him; he's never been a particularly social creature. She's talking to him from the open bathroom door—the other door to the bathroom, the one that leads to her brother's room, is closed.
"Yes…!" Megamind says, making a half-hearted attempt at enthusiasm. "Party. House full of people. Going to go to a house full of strangers. Going to mangle and make small talk, it's going to be the…the hippiest thing I've ever done."
"I think you mean mingle," Roxanne says. "Mangle means something different."
"Does it?" Megamind sounds distracted. "I suppose it does. I'll probably do both. Mangle my mingling." There's a soft phlumphing noise from outside the half-closed bathroom door; he's flopped down on the bed. "Roxanne I don't think I can do this."
"You'll be fine," she assures him, although really she's concerned, too. This is Megamind's first attempt at socializing on a large scale with people who might share some of his interests. He gets nervous and edgy even about minor social functions at home in Metro City, but here, at a holiday party full of science types…if this goes badly, Megamind is going to have a hard time working up the nerve to go to many more social events. He'll go, of course. He always goes where he's needed. But these are his people, and if tonight goes south he'll be even more jittery about socializing than he is now. Roxanne really doesn't want that for him. Megamind isn't supposed to be nervous and jittery; he's supposed to be wildly confident even when he has no idea what he's doing.
She zips up the back of her dress by herself and re-checks her mascara. Then she steps out of the bathroom and looks over at the bed.
And lets out a startled yell. She stumbles back, one hand at her chest, and Pavel looks up at her from the bed, his thin face inscrutable. Roxanne recovers quickly, half-laughing at her silly reaction to Pavel's unexpected appearance, but Megamind just looks ruefully sad as he gazes down at his pinkish hands.
"There's the reaction I'm used to."
"Megamind…" She walks over, stunning in her black dress and slingbacks. She's wearing her anglerfish pendant, which Megamind suspects reminds her of Minion although she's never said anything about it, and pearl earrings. She's gorgeous and he doesn't deserve her. Doesn't deserve her hands on his shoulders. "Megamind, turn that damned thing off and look at me."
He looks up at her, and she turns off the watch without needing to look at it before cupping his jaw in one hand. "You're going with your own face and everyone will love you. And if they don't, it doesn't matter because I love you," she says firmly. "You are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me." He blinks, eyebrows twitching skeptically upwards. "You are. And if we need to leave early, that's fine. I don't care one way or the other."
"But—"
"No. No, because you are way more important than some stupid party." Besides, she doesn't add, a party with Drew's friends is not exactly my idea of fun, so I'm certainly not going to complain. Instead, she just smiles ruefully and says, "I know this isn't easy for you. None of this is easy for you."
He quirks an answering grin and sighs theatrically. "I should've just fallen to my death instead."
"And if you'd died, where would I be?" she demands, taking a step back and putting her hands on her hips. "Dead in a fountain? Minion probably wouldn't have survived either, his suit was smashed. And who knows what would have happened to Wayne."
"Well, that was dark." Megamind blinks at her, amused now. "I was joking, as a matter of fact."
"I wasn't," she says, looking away. "I can't joke about that. Not yet, anyway." She hadn't meant to go there, but thinking about that day with Titan always makes her feel a little bit queasy. "Besides," she mutters, "dying's easy."
Megamind snorts quietly. "It's harder than you think." She looks at him, and he quickly holds up his hands. "Joking! Again!"
She finally smiles back at him. It's a shaky smile, but it is a smile. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Me too." His lips curl and he tips his head to the side, eyes wide open and clear and obscenely green. "Living's hard, too, but it's so worth it," he says matter-of-factly, and when Roxanne leans down to kiss him she feels him smiling into her mouth.
When she finally pulls back, he follows her up to standing and touches foreheads, his hands resting lightly on her waist. "I suppose I can make it through one little party," he murmurs.
Roxanne nuzzles him. "If you get uncomfortable, Drew will make a diversion. He's good at diversions."
"He's good at a lot of things," Megamind mutters darkly. He goes to the mirror to put on his tie, flicking his collar up so he can fit it better.
She comes up behind him, smoothing his collar down as he finishes the knot. "You don't need the tie. He said it was pretty casual, remember?"
In the mirror, Megamind looks pointedly at her dress. "That's not casual."
"It's a little black dress," she protests. "With a cardigan over it and a belt over that. It counts as casual."
He turns around, smirking, eyes twinkling at her. "If you were wearing flats, it would be casual." He points at her feet. "Heels make it dressy."
"Says the man with lifts in his shoes."
"I am short, with very narrow feet." He says this as a matter of simple fact, with no defensiveness. "Lifts help my shoes fit better and they make me appear taller."
Roxanne studies their reflection in the mirror. With Megamind in his sock feet and her in her heels, Roxanne would be a good two or three inches taller than him if his head wasn't so large. "Okay, hon. You want me to wear flats? I can wear flats."
"No," he blurts quickly. Too quickly, and he colors a little. "No, I. I like the heels," he purrs, his voice going from nervous to sexy in a split second.
She smirks. "I knew you would."
The thought that she might be wearing what she is because she knows he likes it is almost too much for him, but the thought of the little surprise he's packed for her is enough to keep him from going googly-eyed and mushy. "A-anyway," he says, turning back to face the mirror so he can make sure the double Windsor is straight, "I like ties. They look nice."
She wraps her arms around him from behind. "They do look nice, but you're gorgeous in everything." She glances around the room—there's a charcoal sweater draped over the back of the rocking chair in the corner. "It's a nice sweater."
"Button-down, of course," he says, and she smiles.
"Of course."
"Because turtlenecks don't go over my giant blue head."
She laughs and kisses the back of the aforementioned cranium, then uses her thumb to wipe the smudge of pink lipstick off his skin. "I know. I remember."
He turns around, smiling, and nuzzles her. "You go on downstairs. I'll be right down, I've got to put my shoes on."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Drew has already folded himself back into the loveseat, but his long hair is brushed into a low ponytail and he's wearing a snug-fitting burgundy hoodie over dark jeans. There's no way he bought that sweatshirt himself; it fits him too well and there aren't any quirky sayings on it.
Roxanne sits on the end of the sofa. "You should really wear a belt with that."
He doesn't look up from his book. The magazine he'd been engrossed in before lies forgotten on the coffee table. "Don't care."
"You're putting in effort to look nice. Don't leave it half-assed."
He groans, but tromps away upstairs. Roxanne rolls her eyes at the ceiling this time. She's a grown woman with a career, her brother has his PhD and his career, and yet she's willing to swear that nothing has changed since they were teenagers.
Drew tromps back downstairs and throws himself back down into the loveseat. "Happy now?"
She takes one look and can't stifle the snort of laughter that betrays her, but still manages to sound appropriately appalled. "No!"
"It's a belt."
"It's Hello Kitty!"
"It's a belt," he exclaims, a giant grin sprawled all over his face. "You wanted me to wear a belt, I'm wearing a belt. It's red, it even matches."
"Your shirt is burgundy," she says flatly. He scoots his neck back and peers critically down at his own chest, holding his long beard to the side so he can see better.
"It's maroon," he allows.
"Burgundy," Roxanne insists, then gives up. "Oh—whatever, fine. Just promise me whoever gave you that top isn't going to be at this party."
"I'm not stupid." Drew, still grinning, shakes his head, then glances at the stairs and then away—Megamind must have come down and caught his eye.
Then he looks back at the stairs and says, "Holy wow," his eyebrows slowly rising, and Roxanne turns, intensely curious because anything that makes Drew stop and look twice is worth looking at. She isn't disappointed. Megamind is smirking at her from the bottom of the steps, one eyebrow cocked, and Roxanne is hard pressed to keep her mouth from falling open. She hadn't expected anything like this.
He's on display. The off-white, collared shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows and sleek grey tie are only the beginning—his charcoal jeans have obviously been tailored to fit; they hug his legs with every move. His shoes are long and pointed, probably Italian. But what makes Roxanne blink and stare is the fact that he seems to be wearing what looks like a cross between a vest and a corset, the sharp silver clasps skimming down from his chest flanked by what has to be boning, the blue-patterned side panels slimming from just under his pectorals and narrowing to his waist. Angular wings from the back curve down his sides to brush his belt, the lines of the black panels before them making them look even sharper than they are.
She doesn't even realize she's staring until his eyebrow comes back down and his smirk spreads into a slow, pleased smile. "Yes," he agrees with her mute approval, "I thought you might like this." He hooks a thumb in his pocket and cocks his hips, fingers splaying over his thigh. The move is suggestive enough that Drew automatically blinks and turns scarlet.
"Dude!" he protests. "Dude. Why."
"Jealous?" Roxanne murmurs absently.
"Psh. No." The contradictory yes hangs unsaid in the air. "What've you been doing all these years, hiding in some Lair? Flaunt it. Fuckin' strut."
Megamind just smirks and approaches the sofa. "I'm sorry, I thought that's what I was doing."
"Better late than never," Drew says weakly. "Man, now I feel underdressed."
He preens. "So I look bad?"
"That's not a word I'd—"
"Appalling," Roxanne says with approval, standing up and circling him slowly. He holds more or less still, but follows her with an amused eye. "Where did you find that thing? Minion never made that, and I seriously doubt you got it off the rack. Since when do you follow men's fashion?"
"I had help," he admits. "Not from Minion."
Her gaze snaps to his face, too astonished even to laugh. "You got that from Wayne?"
"Oh, like I could ever fit his clothes. No, I got it from his tailor," he explains, then smiles. "It was hilarious. He took one look at me, said 'oh my god put this on,' and wouldn't stop giggling for the rest of the fitting."
She can't help it, she has to touch. He's pure sex, all clean lines and angles against almost-curves. Yes, there's definitely metal sewn into that vest. And it is a vest, really, just with a big folded collar and boning to hold its shape and force Megamind to stand straight. As if his posture ever needed correcting.
He steps away, cocking an eyebrow and smirking again, and she meets his eye and pouts at him for moving out of range of her hands. He just smirks harder, and she huffs and rolls her eyes at him until he laughs and settles carefully onto the couch.
Roxanne sits a safe distance away. He's being provocative like this on purpose, she's sure of it. Well, his plan is going to backfire spectacularly. Later, she tells herself firmly. Backfiring spectacularly later.
Drew's voice reminds them he's still there. "Can you turn in a circle?"
Megamind laughs. "Why? So you can look at my butt?" Drew nods, completely unabashed, and Megamind has to try not to preen. "It's the jeans," he demurs. "They're kind of snug." Behind his back, Roxanne catches her brother's eye and mouths, It's not the jeans. Drew groans and glares at her.
"Little Sister. If you do not take full advantage of this opportunity, I am going to be so disappointed in you."
"Opportunity?" Megamind echoes, puzzled.
Drew shoots him a wide-eyed stare. "I dunno what else to call it, so yeah. Very disappointed." He laughs and finally stops insinuating. "So tell me, where do I go to acquire one of those things?"
Megamind chuckles uncomfortably. "Well, when one has friends with discreet tailors who are used to making things for, ahem, unique body types…it helps?"
Drew settles back into the loveseat, nodding. "I see. Gotcha. So I have no chance of getting one, then."
"Well, give me your measurements and if you're good I'll see about your birthday," Megamind quips. Then he looks at his watch and stands up. "We should probably go, right?"
"Oh! Right!" Drew pops to his feet. "Uh, who's driving?"
"Megamind, probably," Roxanne says, looking at him to make sure that's okay.
He shrugs. "Since I can't drink, I'm the logical choice."
The look that settles on Drew's face can only be described as gleeful. "Does that mean we're taking an invisible car?"
"It's pretty visible right now."
"No but it doesn't have to stay that way, right? Does it feel like you're flying? I bet it does. I want to drive, can I drive?"
Megamind isn't really sure if he's allowed to laugh at this or if Drew will be offended. Not laughing is proving pretty difficult, but he manages to turn a snort into a hasty cough. "You do realize that only the outside goes invisible, right? The inside doesn't change."
Judging by the way Drew's face falls, no, he hadn't known that. "Aw. Bummer."
"Don't feel bad," Megamind says, reaching for the keys in their bowl by the door. "If you ever come to visit, I'll introduce you to the Invisible Jet Ski."
"We have an invisible jet ski?" Roxanne says under her breath as Drew locks the front door behind them.
"Give me a week's notice before he visits and we will," Megamind mutters back.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Drew winds up driving for several reasons, the most reasonable of which is that he's the only one who knows where they're going—the rest mainly involve wheedling and dangling files with "Larken Labs" stamped on the outside tantalizingly out of Megamind's reach. In the end, all that needs to be said is that Drew is driving, Roxanne calls shotgun, and Megamind winds up perched in the exact middle of the back seat with the specs for Drew's shady brain drug spread all over his lap. It's going to be a nearly forty-minute ride out of town, which should give him ample time to come up with some ideas, and he's already scowling down at the papers and muttering under his breath.
"Is he sure he really wants to be wearing that?" Drew says in an undertone to his sister as he starts the car. He'd been sort of disappointed upon finding out the car has a fairly normal interior—Megamind had upgraded this car to an automatic transmission so that Roxanne wouldn't have to learn how to drive stick just for the drive down to California. He was slightly comforted when the alien told him that his usual Invisible Car is a completely custom job. "Don't get me wrong, he looks amazing, but people are going to stare."
Roxanne glances back, but Megamind either hasn't heard or is ignoring them. "That's probably the whole point of that outfit."
"I don't follow."
"People will be looking at the clothes, not him. It's…" She falters. This has only recently started to make sense to her, and it still sounds strange when she tries to explain it. "Putting himself on display is how he hides."
"I almost went in full villain regalia," Megamind says distractedly from behind them. "But the cape would get tangled on stuff and the collar tends to knock things over. And the last thing I want to do is accidentally gut somebody with my gloves. I just had the spikes sharpened." There's a shuffling of papers and a muffled curse. "Besides, I got this vest so people could look at it. I am incredibly handsome in this vest and that is a fact. And it does amazing things for my posture."
"You're incredibly handsome anyway, dear," Roxanne says fondly.
"Yes, thank you," Megamind replies.
Drew glances over his shoulder. "How's it going back there?"
Megamind doesn't reply immediately. He's frowning hard and he is extremely glad that the car is dark and the other two can't see his face very well, because what he's looking at is disturbing on many levels. "Give me a few minutes," he says. "This is complicated and not really my thing."
"Whatever you say, man. I'm just happy to have a second opinion," Drew says.
Roxanne frowns. That sounded like a deflection. "You okay?"
"Yes, fine, thank you."
She decides to let it go. It's entirely possible that Megamind really is just distracted; after all, this really is complicated and it is outside the realm of what he usually does.
Megamind runs his fingers over the word magnuencephalic and bites his lip. This isn't good. This really is Not Good. He'd been starting to relax a little, starting to forget about what's been worrying him in Metro City. Sundown's odd behavior, the unshakable feeling that something, somewhere, is wrong. The fire at Scott Mansion. Bernard's absence and sudden relocation to the most unpopulated state in the country. Those are all problems that he'd thought couldn't follow him to San Francisco…
But whoever this drug is for is not human and probably not a super, either; supers may be powerful but they're still human-ish. No, this is almost certainly for an outworlder. Drew probably already knows that. There's even the possibility that he's worried about this and hoping Megamind will confirm.
Somehow, though, this is related to what's wrong in Metro City. It's too big a coincidence to be anything else. Megamind doesn't know how, exactly, but he's sure that this thing Drew is working on is being designed for him. His initial reaction is to wonder if the PHED is behind it, but no, Orson has more or less put those fears to rest. But if not the PHED, then who?
The worst thing about all this is that he can't even try to look into it. If there's one thing he's sure of about Sundown, it's that the man is deeply worried about something and trying to keep Megamind from getting involved. He also has some interest in keeping both Megamind and Roxanne alive, which is both comforting and terrifying at the same time. Megamind hates being ignorant, but his options are limited. Relying on Sundown has paid off in the past—the man may be insane, but he's extremely dependable—and Megamind knows him well enough that he can trust him to some extent. Probably. He wonders if Sundown knows anything about Drew's designer drug.
Staring down at the papers Drew has given him, Megamind isn't so sure he can just sit back and wait to see what happens.
Trust. He's just going to have to trust people; he can't run off and take this on his own, not this time. If he says something to Drew, the other man's curiosity will get the better of him and he'll either look into it—which, worst-case scenario, would end in his death—or quit the project—which will tip off whoever commissioned him and result in his and Megamind's deaths, and probably also Roxanne's. So he'll just have to trust that Drew knows what he's doing and won't create a drug that would cause lasting damage to its user. And he'll have to trust Sundown not to be…well, not to be Sundown.
He half-smiles. I'm going to die, he thinks. Aloud, he says, "This is pretty much beyond me, I'm afraid."
Drew chuckles. "Oh, well. It was worth a shot!"
Megamind shrugs and starts reorganizing the pages, putting them back into the thick folder, still deep in thought. After a few more minutes, he finds a blank piece of scrap paper and writes down a quick note, then slips his hand up and around and slides the note into a pocket that doesn't belong to him. Try binding an aminobutyric acid to something like acetylcholine. You could also do something with reserpine. Let me know what you come up with. He's reasonably certain he could develop an antidote to the former, and the latter is a substance that his body metabolizes fairly well.
Looking at all this with Roxanne in the car was a mistake. He'd really like to discuss everything right now but there's just no way she wouldn't immediately freak out, and paranoia aside he's very certain that the fewer people know about his concerns, the better. Besides, Roxanne is naturally curious, it's what makes her so good at her job. She isn't just a talking head on the television, she really does work to get to the bottom of problems—unfortunately, this problem is one that shouldn't be delved into.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
He's still unbelievably nervous as they get out of the car at the house. There's this feeling of indeterminate doom hanging in his mind, and he really wants to turn around and leave or maybe just fade into the shadows by the shrubbery for a while, but instead he squares his shoulders and arranges his facial features into a calm mask. After all, he knows the feeling has more to do with the unresolved problems in Metro City than it does with tonight's cocktail party. If he turns around and goes back to the house, it will just follow him and ruin his night there. At least the party should distract him for a few hours.
Roxanne slips her hand around his elbow. "We can go home," she says quietly, but Megamind shakes his head.
"No," he says. "No, this is okay. I'm okay." This is just another adventure. Just another crazy attempt at finding his place in the world. Sixty years from today, he thinks, this party won't matter.
"And I'm so glad you're a good liar," Drew says fervently, "because I'm really looking forward to seeing their faces, and if you said you were going home now I might cry."
"Well, if it will keep you from crying." Roxanne rolls her eyes and Megamind snorts. Drew grins wildly at both of them, then bounds up the brick walkway to the front door and stabs a finger at the doorbell.
"Don't come in just yet," he tells Megamind. "I've seen you, you don't do so hot when you're cornered."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Megamind says, and that's all he has a chance to say before the door swings open and someone pounces on Drew with a squeal of "You came!"
"Not yet, darling, but the night is young," Drew says, and she laughs and shoves him.
"Andrew Ritchi, if you turn my party into an orgy—"
"—Everyone would thank me," he finishes, nodding wisely. "Come on, Birdie, you know it's not a party until someone loses their panties."
"Usually you," she quips.
"I wear boxers, as you know." His grin turns wicked and he rushes ahead before anyone can comment. "But I'm on my best behavior tonight! I brought family. I hope you don't mind, but I convinced my sister and her boyfriend to tag along." He glances over his shoulder, "Kids, this is Bernadette, the lady of the house."
"Oh, hush, you know guests are welcome. Especially if they can curb your debauchery," Bernadette says fondly, and then she looks around him to say hello to Roxanne and Megamind and she freezes. Her eyes are very wide.
Megamind shifts his weight to his other foot. "I'd introduce myself," he says from where he's standing just off the porch, "but I think you already know who I am." He smirks the way he used to for the cameras in Metro City, but it actually feels forced. It never used to. Wearing this mask used to come naturally to him; he had to concentrate on taking it off, but now…
Bernadette lets out a delighted scream, both hands flying to her mouth, then turns and yells, "Javier! Drew's here and he brought his sister and an old friend!"
"Old friend?" Megamind echoes blankly, and this time it's Roxanne's turn to snort.
"No, it's not you, I'm not laughing at you," she assures him quickly when he raises an eyebrow at her.
"Good," he says, and puts his hand over hers and hugs her to his side. "Good, because I'm not letting go of you ever for the whole night. You're my boffer."
"Buffer."
"Whatever."
"Guys," Drew says impatiently, still looking over his shoulder. "Guys would you please stop your weird flirty bickering and come here. You're giving me a crick in my neck and I want you to meet Javier." He turns back to the man who has appeared in the doorway, and there's a strange note in his voice as he says, "Hey, mi rey, how you been?"
"Been good, been bad," Javier says easily, grinning at the pet name and slapping the taller man on the back. "What's all this about a friend? Birdie's going nuts in there."
Drew grins and steps to the side so he can wave Megamind up. "Megamind, this is Javier, a good buddy of mine and our host for the night. I'd give you his full name but I can never remember all of it." His tone says he's joking, and the way Javier laughs and punches his arm is unmistakably friendly. "You speak Spanish, right?"
Javier has bright dark eyes and a wide smile and Megamind blinks at him—he almost knows that smile. Almost. "Maldito, Andrew, I never thought you were serious," he says in a rush, shaking Megamind's hand, then Roxanne's, then Megamind's again. "You really brought him, I don't know what. Hey, hombre, ¿cómo andas?"
Megamind smiles, startled and trying to hide it. "M-mal, pero me divierto," he stammers, and Javier snorts and grins. "I actually speak Spanish better than English, sometimes. It's more phonetic. English pronunciation—" He stumbles and stops, remembering what Drew said about the people he knows from work. Megamind tends to forget himself with new people, especially when speaking in languages he's comfortable with, and he doesn't want to over-explain or look like he's scrambling and eager to please. Spanish was one of his first languages, almost before English and isiZulu; Mitch and Guduza hadn't claimed him until he was nearly a year old. He finishes lamely,"Well, if what Drew's told me is true, you've probably heard me."
Javier nods, grinning broadly. "Germanic Anglo-Saxon nightmare with French influences, yeah. Moved here almost thirty years ago, I still mess up sometimes. How about that vowel shift, hey? Birdie's a linguist," he adds, by way of explanation. The silver pendant he's wearing under his thin scarf is unmistakably a scale model of a dopamine molecule, so he's probably in the neurosciences, but if his wife is a linguist then it would make sense for him to know about such things.
Megamind nods his understanding and rolls his eyes. "Urgh, tell me about it," he agrees, and Javier laughs.
"If you talk linguistics, Birdie will love you. Well, I tell you, you go meet the rest of the crew and maybe you and I will talk more later. Good to meet someone with some sense!" Then he gives a little jump and lowers his voice conspiratorially, leaning in. "I have to go mingle, it's a social thing, but…you're an introvert, like me?" He raises his eyebrows, and Megamind nods. Javier gives him a knowing smile. "Your friend Andrew here, this concept is alien to him, pardon the expression." Drew glances over and sticks out his tongue. "But there are quiet rooms upstairs. My study is at the end of the hall on the left. There also are a couple of bedrooms, but the study is safest. With Andrew here, you never can tell what is happening behind a closed door. I could tell you stories…" He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. "If the crowd is too much, please, do not hesitate to disappear for a while."
Megamind doesn't comment on the warning about Drew, but makes a mental note not to open any doors without knocking. "Thank you," he says fervently. "I hope I'll be okay, but…thank you."
"We understand." Javier winks, nods, and starts to turn around, but Megamind takes a half-step forward.
"Wait. Do I…have we met? A long time ago, maybe?" He's frowning now, his curiosity having gotten the better of him.
Javier blinks at him, looking amazed. "You remember me? God, you were tiny. I can't believe you remember." He lifts up the scarf, revealing an old tattoo on his neck—a spiderweb. Megamind's whole face lights up.
"You! You were there when I landed!" he exclaims. "You brought the flashcards!"
Javier grimaces. "I'd forgotten about those."
"And you got me the blowtorch…" Megamind trails off. "My first blowtorch."
"The first of many, I think," Javier says, then reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. "You turned out okay, kid. I left before you were walking but I'm proud of you." He half-smiles, then whips around and hurries back inside, leaving the door partly open behind her so the other three won't feel like they've been abandoned on the porch.
Megamind glances up at Drew to find the taller man watching him with a smug expression plastered all over his face. "Told you you'd make friends here," he says.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
And he does make friends. Rather, it feels more like he's finding friends, which feels odd since he also has the slightly shivery, panicky feeling that he always gets when he's surrounded by people he has to talk to. Two or three of the people he starts conversations with seem as uncomfortable as he does at first, but they aren't rude about it and it's clear everybody understands each other's mutual discomfort.
He gets smiles, loud greetings, invitations to similar parties (which he declines, with promises that he'll try to come back next year), and two hugs. One of the hugs is an extremely tight one from a young lady who excuses herself quickly after letting go of him. Megamind briefly considers following her because she looked distressed, but he hadn't stood still for more than two seconds before somebody else came up and started talking to him. It's a blur of faces, but luckily, Megamind is very good with faces and names and most of the people at this party are easy to remember.
It seems that each new acquaintance eventually asks if he'd mind if they took his picture, usually with Roxanne since the irony of him dating his former abductee is not lost on anyone present. He honestly loses track of the number of cellphone snapshots that are taken of him and the girlfriend he can finally publicly acknowledge. He expects that, before the night is over, their images will be all over the internet. The uproar in Metro City will begin with the morning news cycle, but probably won't carry over to San Francisco since they're both more local than national celebrities. He feels a twinge of guilt for leaving Minion to deal with the initial onslaught all on his own, but they'd discussed it. Minion agreed that it was the best way to handle it and he's prepared. There's no going back now. They are officially out.
Eventually Roxanne extracts herself from his arm to go chat with some of the wives and girlfriends of Drew's coworkers. They're the closest thing to laypeople to be found in the house, and she's ready to have a conversation that doesn't involve obscure scientific theories or attempts to exploit various and sundry laws of physics and thermodynamics. Megamind lets her go without protest because, surprisingly, he's found his feet and is reasonably confident that he won't make any major social gaffs.
Besides, even if he does mess up, it's a pretty safe bet that nobody here will call attention to it. For once, he isn't the most socially awkward person in the room!
Somewhere along the way he'd been sort of swept into a smaller side room with fewer people, and now he's standing by the wall, and there's a tall, middle-aged woman who he hasn't met yet standing next to him and surveying the partygoers. Her sleek black hair is pulled into a low bun with the ends fanned out like a fin down her back. She wears a dark grey sweater and black pencil skirt, both well-tailored and expensive-looking despite their simplicity. A sparkly broach adorns her collar, her one concession to the season—it's a delicate snowflake depicted in silver and diamonds.
She stands near him long enough that Megamind starts wondering if he's supposed to say something. He clears his throat. "Hi, um…"
"Edie," she says by way of greeting, without looking at him. "Edie Larken, good to meet you."
"Edie, hi," he says. "Do you know if Javier—oh." He pulls up short as the name belatedly sinks in. "Ollo."
Now she glances over at him. "Oh, don't you start."
"I wasn't going to," he recovers smoothly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Larken." He sticks out his hand.
Edie Larken has a firm grip and a confident smile. "Likewise, Dr. Mind. I've been following events in Metro City. Should I expect to see some competition from Michigan in the near future?"
"I assure you, nothing could be further from my plans." Truthfully, he'd be pretty pleased if the near future delivers nothing more than the continued safety of himself and his rather unorthodox family. He's made no plans to start anything so complex as an actual business.
"I'm relieved," she says calmly. "I've looked into your work. You would be a formidable opponent."
He hides his flattered smile by aiming it briefly at his shoes. "It would be counter-productive, given my personal interest in your company's well-being."
She raises an eyebrow, turning towards him a little. "What's your personal interest?"
"A personal, financial interest, actually. Nine percent, give or take, and I must say, your returns this past quarter were extraordinary. Are you looking to expand?"
"We've considered it." Her tone is completely non-committal. "We are doing very well."
"Yes, we are." Incredibly, he's starting to relax. Edie Larken may be wearing a skirt, but she's a suit at heart, and lately Megamind has gotten very good at mingling with the upper echelons of business in Metro City. He knows the lingo, knows the topics. He's been dabbling in investments since he was a child, after all; all that's changed is that now he interacts with people face-to-face instead of hiding behind screens and false identities. All those board meetings and presentations to the city council are really paying off.
"What do you think?" she says suddenly, her eyes narrowing.
He raises an eyebrow. "Of expansion?" She just looks at him, her expression unreadable. Megamind smiles thinly. "I think you should either go big or go home, but that's always been my personal philosophy when it comes to these sorts of things, so I may not be the man you should listen to."
"Go big…" She pauses, and finally faces him. "Dr. Mind, I would like to offer you a position as an off-site consultant and independent researcher for Larken Labs."
It's so completely unexpected that his mouth actually falls open, although he pulls himself together pretty quickly. "Whaa—you can't possibly be serious."
"I am entirely in earnest."
Megamind blinks. "I don't take directions very well."
"I don't care. You make decisions and you stand by them. You're focused. You're driven. You organized the rebuild project with almost no assistance." She looks at him for another few moments, then nods. "We would be delighted to have you on board."
He stands like a stone, staring at her. "I…couldn't…"
Larken sniffs and stalks into the hallway, sweeping her coat off the rack and shrugging into it with short, brusque movements. Megamind trails after her. "Just consider it, Dr. Mind. I'm not the only one who needs to think about where to go from here. Somebody is going to try to either shut you down or acquire you. If you want to continue being a mad scientist, there are certain legal obligations that are less onerous if you are affiliated with an established laboratory rather than operating independently. I assume you'd rather not submit your personal research space to a government inspection?"
"No," he answers, "I…value my privacy." There are several impossible things residing in the Lair that he'd rather the government not be aware of, the cold fusion and muon reactors being merely two of those items. Of course, he'd rather Larken Labs remain ignorant of them as well.
She smiles ruefully, "As do we all, Dr. Mind. I think you would find working for us to be mutually beneficial." She looks him square in the eye. "If I were you, I would be concerned about your prospects. Not everyone is willing to overlook such an extensive criminal record."
"But you would? Why is that?"
"You would be a uniquely valuable asset to my company," she says flatly. "Provided you truly are done with the supervillain business, of course. It's a risk. But…" Her eyes narrow in thought. "I don't think you'll disappoint me. And I don't think you'll get a better offer from anybody else. Certainly not from Novo Nordisk or Roche. I know National Instruments would love to have you, but I seriously doubt they'd let you keep your intellectual property."
That gets his attention. It's a constant concern of his. "And you would?"
She hasn't broken his gaze once yet, and Megamind won't be the first to look away if it kills him. "Absolutely I would. I wouldn't expect you to part with all of your inventions for love or money. You're far too canny for that."
"Thank you," he says flatly. If she thinks to sway him with compliments, she will find him disappointingly strong-willed.
She raises and lowers one shoulder in a cool shrug. "The point is, Dr. Mind," she continues, stepping close to him as she pulls on her gloves, "I want to own twenty percent of your brain. Anything that comes out of your head as a result of your work on our projects, I want a twenty percent share of the revenue. That's not a lot to ask and it's much better than you'll get from anybody else."
He's still pretty stunned, but he doesn't miss a beat. "I'll need a formal offer."
"Of course you will," she says with a thin little smile. "Of course you will. I'll send it to your post office box in Metro City. Good night."
"Drive safe," he says, and she's gone, leaving him wondering if that really just happened, if he really just made that connection. Edie Larken? What was she even doing at this party? She owns the lab where most of these people work, but her company is already enormous and she lives in San Diego so what is she doing here? Did she come here just to see him? No, that's silly. It's only happenstance that they were both at the same party. Of course, there has been an awful lot of that lately. He's beginning to lose his faith in coincidence.
He considers her offer. An honest-to-gravity, legitimate, legal job offer. This is a real first for him. At least, he assumes it's legal. If it isn't, that could be why she's not bothered by his criminal record. Also, she does own the lab trying to make a drug probably specifically designed to be used against him. He wonders if she knows and whether if Larken Labs frequently takes on projects of such questionable morality.
Well, even if he doesn't take the position, he's flattered by her interest. He frowns. What on Earth would he do with a job? It would give him a purpose, he supposes, something he was just lamenting the absence of earlier today. But is it a purpose he's interested in pursuing? It certainly isn't something he needs to support himself. Larken's high-pressure reminder of the inspection requirements for independent laboratories really only applies if he starts an official business, which he has no plans for at present…
He isn't given much time to think. Drew comes charging into the foyer a moment later, glancing around as if searching wildly for something until he spots Megamind. "Oh good!" he exclaims. "You're in here, good lord, I've been looking all over!"
Megamind tenses. "Why? What's going on, is everything okay? Where's Roxanne?"
"I think she just followed Mirian and Allison into the bathroom. And everything's fine except they've started the karaoke and you're not there. Come on!"
Megamind frowns and tilts his head, listening to the sounds of voices raised in poorly-tuned song emanating from somewhere under his feet. "Who is George and what is he writing?"
"Sheesh, you get a few drinks in these lab rats and suddenly they're all performers. Yolanda brings a karaoke machine everywhere she goes, I swear she must keep it in her car—"
"Well, o-of course," Megamind stammers, confused. "Why would you keep a karaoke machine at home? You can't share it with anybody at home."
Drew blinks and stops short. "That actually makes complete sense. I never thought of it that way."
"I'm not just a pretty face," Megamind says.
"I should hope not," Drew says. "Anyway, we always swear we're not gonna touch it but you know half the guys here are in this band, I used to play drums for them before Karl and me split—never mind. Come on!" He grabs Megamind by the wrist and drags him down into the basement, which is finished and has a door leading to the backyard because Javier and Bernadette's house is built on a hill. Megamind follows more because he has nothing better to do than out of any real interest in watching people sing. That, and he's still half-thinking about Edie and what she'd said.
And there's a drug built especially for him and a fire and a madman and…no, no! Not here!
A small group is gathering around the piano, where a blonde man grappling with a set of speakers looks up and grins when he sees Drew. He doesn't see Megamind, who hangs back near the stairs. "Hey, Ritchi! C'mon, do Sixteen Tons! Let's get some variety up here."
"Naw, man," Drew grins, "I don't sing, you know that."
"Doesn't matter, it's that time of night," Tristan grins, and Drew makes a rude gesture with one hand.
"Tell you what. You do Sixteen Tons, and Megs and I will do the elements song."
Megamind pulls back and looks at him, startled, all thoughts of Edie Larken and mysteries flying out of his exceptionally large head. "We will do no such thing!"
It's too late, Tristan has already pushed his way to the front and is snapping his fingers. "Sommmme…people say a man is made outta mud—"
"I can't sing at all," Megamind says faintly.
Drew glances at him. "But you do know it?"
"Of course I know it," Megamind snaps, starting to get indignant. This is ridiculous. He's the Master of All Villainy, he isn't going to back down from a challenge! Still, he's not exactly happy about it, either. "I just don't sing." He glances around. "Where's Roxanne?"
"You want me to get her?" Drew asks, rolling his eyes. "There's time."
Megamind glares at him. It's a good glare, too, with eyebrows and a bit of a lip curl. It makes Drew step back, but Megamind doesn't bother feeling bad about that; if the other man is going to volunteer him to sing in front of a group of people he can suffer one or two glares. "No," he says flatly. "No, I do not want you to get her. I don't want her to see this, do you?"
"Not if it makes you look like that. Chill out."
Megamind smirks. "What do I look like?"
Drew blinks at him, then grins reluctantly. "Honestly? You look dead sexy when you're sneering."
That gets an actual smile. "I imagine the vest helps."
Drew groans. "It's just not fair."
Satisfied, Megamind turns back to watch as Tristan finishes the song. Then he glances at the computer. "Drew, if you tell me that machine has the elements in the style of—"
"Doesn't matter, we got a piano and a room full of geeks. Thomas, you know Lehrer's Elements, right?"
A surprised-looking young man with skittish hands nods on reflex. "Y-yes, but I—"
"Awesome, great, you're wonderful," Drew says, and Megamind notices Thomas was already sitting on a low bench in front of the upright piano. "I knew you would. Okay, Megs, get up here." He pushes his way to the front.
Megamind backs away. Perhaps he's not quite the Master of All Villainy that he used to be. "No. No way."
"C'mon, what happened to presentation?"
"But I don't even work in your lab!"
"Neither do several other people here, but you're one of us. Come on, I'm even singing it with you, you chicken."
That does it. He pulls himself up and dons his very best Evil Glare—or possibly he will start calling them Sexy Glares, since technically he isn't evil anymore but Handsome Glare just sounds wrong—and says stiffly, "That won't be necessary," and stalks to the front of the room. The ominous effect is dampened somewhat by Drew's undignified cry of "Wheee!"
Megamind scowls at the assembled stunned partygoers and clears his throat, glances over at Thomas. "Whenever you're ready."
Thomas offers him a shaky grin but asks, "You want to do this double-time?"
"Can you play it double-time?" Thomas nods and cracks his knuckles. Megamind shrugs. "Take it as fast as you want, I can keep up." Yes, he's throwing Drew to the wolves, but the taller man deserves it. "And anyone who wants to can join in, I guess." That will help to cover his own off-key warbling, he figures.
"I knew you were cool," Thomas says, then looks extremely surprised at himself and launches into the opening riff.
Most of the people who join in singing stumble over the words and fast tempo and end up laughing at themselves, but one middle-aged woman with a deep voice keeps pace without faltering all the way through "and also mendelevium, einsteinium, nobelium" and thence to the end of the song.
Megamind turns and stares at Thomas in undisguised surprise. "Wow," he exclaims, "well done!"
Thomas grins and blows on the tips of his fingers before shaking out his hands. "'Well done' to you too," he calls over the clamor. "Usually it's only Barb who can keep up with that," and the dark-haired woman from before waves at him, "and she used to be an auctioneer."
"It paid for grad school," Barb says loudly, stomping forward and seizing Megamind's hand in a death grip. "Barbara Grant, neurobiologist. Good to meet you, Dr. Mind. Love to pick your brain sometime."
"Y-you too," he stammers. "Figuratively or literally?"
She just grins and winks, then excuses herself and heads out to the deck. Unfortunately, her advance seems to have broken the ice, and Megamind is suddenly the center of everyone's very loud attention once again.
He is used to this sort of thing from the press, but not from his fellow scientists, and the person to whom these people are talking is very different from the one who usually appears at press conferences. He stumbles and forces a smile, his mind spinning as he remembers a dozen new names and faces from fifteen minutes ago, he's trying to answer fifty different questions that each have multitudes of possible answers—
A hand closes around his elbow and he looks down to find a short, inexplicably familiar dark-skinned man at his side. "All right, all right, fucksake fellas, let him breathe, will you? Come on, Dr. Mind." He parts the crowd like a very small tank, and Megamind is reminded of the Duke of Lancaster.
The next thing he knows, they're in the kitchen. "Name's Ulrich. You might remember me as Mayhem, we met briefly at the convention in Metro a couple summers back. Get you a drink?"
Megamind blinks at him as he bustles away to the line of bottles and mixers on the counter. "I remember you! Yes, you were in the harlequin outfit, weren't you? Green and gold. How are you? Oh—" Ulrich holds up a bottle, and he shakes his head. "No thank you, I don't drink."
Ulrich nods and hands him a red cup of plain Coke instead. "Retired, like you. Don't worry, this stuff is imported from Mexico. None of that high-fructose shit."
Startled, Megamind looks up. "How did you—"
"I wrote my dissertation on extraterrestrial toxicology. Read your file, referenced it a lot." He sips at his own drink. "You'd be surprised how few outworlders can process HFCS. Honestly, it's a miracle humans can, and even we can't handle it very well. Might be like that thing with avocados, I dunno."
Megamind determinedly ignores the mention of a file and makes a mental note to look up 'things' with avocados. "Where'd you get my file?"
"Off the desktop of an ex-PHED guy named Stevenson. I used to be a hacker, among other things and there he was without even a firewall. Guy was askin' for it, if you ask me."
Dr. Robert L. Stevenson, whose parents must have hated him even more than Officer Bradley's had. Megamind remembers him. Good to know he's not still working for the PHED. "And yet you still offered me vodka?"
"Reflex," Ulrich shrugs.
Megamind turns his head—voices trickle down from the dining room at the top of the stairs, and he thought he'd heard the sound of high-heeled shoes on parquet floors.
"Dude, who brought gummy bears?"
"Who cares? The question you should be asking is did anybody think to bring potassium chlorate?"
"What are you guys doing?" Yes, that's Roxanne's voice.
"We're opening a portal to Hell! Here, put on these goggles." Megamind is tempted to go see what's going on upstairs. Surely they're not really opening a portal to Hell, but if they are and he missed it? He starts to stand, intent on joining whatever irreverent antics are approaching when Ulrich glances at something over his shoulder. "Oh, crap, the vultures are coming. Quick, to the deck." He holds the door open for the alien, who hesitates, looking back at the stairs. Unlikely portal to the underworld, or semi-solitude? Decisions, decisions. Ulrich sighs loudly. "Come on."
Megamind rolls his eyes and goes out into the chilly air, then blinks in surprise at the temperature difference. "It was hot in there," he exclaims, and Barb raises her glass to him from the round table.
"Why d'you think I came out here?" she says. "Sweet baby Jesus, I can't stand being warm."
Ulrich glances at her. "You're black," he says, as though this explains his confusion.
She looks back at him, nonplussed. "I'm from Minnesota. Also, you're an ass." She stubs the cigarette in her left hand into the ashtray on the table. Then she pulls a pack from her pocket and gets a new one. "You want one?" she offers Megamind, but not Ulrich.
Megamind shrugs and takes one. He isn't drinking tonight, but that doesn't mean he can't indulge in another vice. Besides, smoking is partially a social activity and he is trying to be social. She lights her own and passes him the lighter. Megamind lights up, breathes deeply, then looks at the round table and the wooden deck chairs and points at the closest one. "Is this seat taken?"
"It's yours now," Barb shrugs, and he sits down with a grateful sigh and gives the lighter back. Ulrich plops into a chair on the other side of the table, uninvited, and drinks deeply.
"Hate these stupid parties," he mutters into his cup.
"Why do you come?" Megamind asks, surprised.
"'Cause they're better than what happens if I don't come," is the bleak reply. "I mean, okay, you're from Metro City. Say you're invited to that Valentine's Day shin-dig they've always got up at the rich bitch's place. You'll go, right? Of course you'll go. You don't like parties but you'll still go 'cause if you don't ain't nobody'll let you hear the end of it."
"I'm about the last person who would ever be invited to the 'rich bitch's place' so long as everyone knows I defeated Metro Man. Besides, Scott Manor burned to the ground two months ago," Megamind tells him stiffly, "so I doubt the Gala will be held this year." He isn't sure he likes Ulrich very much.
"No, they're still having it," Barb says, and he looks over at her and decides that he much prefers her company to Ulrich's. This feeling strikes him as being strange until he realizes that he's finally in a place where he can afford to be choosy about who he hangs out with. "She's supposed to get out of the hospital this evening. According to my sister's friend's cousin's partner, who's a nurse there, she wants to start rebuilding the day after Christmas." Then she blinks at him. "Who are you texting?"
"Friend of mine," Megamind says lightly, and puts his phone on the table.
Ulrich is giving him an odd look. "You have friends?"
"Yes," he answers cautiously. Barb was right, the man is an ass. "What? Blue people aren't allowed to have friends?" He'd thought so as a child and the memory still stings a little. But damned if he'll ever admit it.
"I was thinkin' villains don't." He glares down into his vodka. "I never did."
"Well…being good has its perks." He can't believe what he's saying.
"Yeah, I just bet it does. Like that brunette you're with," he adds abruptly, and Megamind's head comes up. "She looks perky. Wasn't she Metro Man's?"
"Oh Christ," Barb mumbles.
"No. She wasn't." Megamind's voice is cold.
"Oh, so she was yours all along." Ulrich nods, completely oblivious. "That makes sense. Bet that made things easier."
"That is not what hap—" His phone lights up and buzzes, and he glances at it.
So does Ulrich. "Who's W. Scott?"
"One of my many, many friends," he answers sarcastically, hoping that will be the end of it and wishing he'd reprogrammed his phone with Wayne's new fake name. Maybe a distraction is in order. "So, do you work for Larken Labs?"
"For three months as of…Monday? Something like that," he answers, tipping his plastic cup into his mouth.
"How do you like it?" he asks, taking a long draw on his cigarette.
He scoffs. "Better than prison."
"That's a very low bar," Megamind observes as he knocks the ash off the end.
"Oh, hell," Ulrich answers with a sigh, "they're not really so bad. I just don't like having a boss. I'm used to doing things my way, on my schedule. And now I got to worry about deadlines and rules. They make me wear office casual, can you imagine?" he asks with disgust. "Me in a polo shirt."
"That is awful," Megamind agrees. "Why do you put up with it?"
"Not a lot of options. I wasn't doin' too well as Mayhem. Captain Sunshine destroyed my entire operation over the summer. A million dollars' worth of equipment up in smoke," and to Megamind's credit, he doesn't say, Only a million? Ulrich heaves a growling sigh. "Most of my henchmen imprisoned, a couple of them mutated and running loose in the streets somewhere. Chemicals, computers, money, all of it gone. I mean, I ran quick enough when I saw it comin', but what was I running to? I'm too old to start over from scratch, even if I had the savings. Edie offered me this position and it seemed like my best shot. Besides, I didn't have many prospects. Not everyone is willing to overlook such an extensive criminal record."
Megamind's blood chills at that phrasing. Exactly how Ms. Larken had explained it to him earlier. "Does Larken make a habit of hiring ex-supervillains?"
"Why, you thinking about joining up?"
Megamind gives a non-committal shrug, examining the cigarette pinched between his forefinger and thumb intently. "Just curious."
"Well, I'm the only one on staff now, but they've hired a few. More than most labs, I think."
"They left? What happened to them?"
"Couldn't keep their noses clean, from what I hear. Only one of 'em was here when I was. Girl named…Carrie-Ann, I think. She was a ghoul, but real cute. Problem was she got hungry one night and ate the night security team. Surprised everyone because she'd always been a scavenger before. No one expected her to go huntin'."
"It was such a shame," Evangeline pipes up, and Megamind jumps; he hadn't noticed she was there, but there she is, standing in the shadows. "She was terrific biologist and she had a little daughter who was only three. Cutest little thing you ever saw. I think she got put in foster care. Carrie's in the supermax in Atwater now. Victor still visits her sometimes," she glances over at Megamind, "They were dating when it happened. He still doesn't believe she did it."
"Did she?" he asks.
"Pretty sure," Barb answers. "Bite marks match and there's video footage showing her chowing down."
Video footage and bite marks, my blue butt. It sounds like a setup if he's ever heard one. "Did the other ex-supervillians go out that…gruesomely?"
"Oh, no. With them it was just the usual villain shit. Embezzlement, arms smuggling, terrorism, hacking. One of them used company equipment to make an infectious agent that shut down the city for a whole day. That was almost fifteen years ago, though. Not long after the lab was founded."
"I hadn't heard of any of that."
"Well, you wouldn't. You think the company wants that sort of thing to get around? Truth is, Larken lets her pet villains play fast and loose. If they come up with something profitable, great. But if they go too far, she cuts 'em loose and turns state's evidence claiming she had no idea what was really going on. She's got good lawyers too. Hardly ever catch a whiff of it in the press."
Megamind frowns. "If they're that unreliable…"
Ulrich leans forward, glaring at him. "Look, I'm not idiot enough to go back to that life. I'm too old to be livin' in the back room of a secret lab in some abandoned factory building. I'm tired of running from the heroes and looking over my shoulder all the time." He grins, but his eyes are still angry. "Here, sure, they'll throw you to the wolves if you screw up. But that's if you screw up. I ain't goin' to. I'll stick to the rules if it kills me."
Barb chimes in. "To be fair, any company will turn you in if you become a liability or start stealing from them. That's just common sense. I don't think they give the villains any more rope to hang themselves than they do any of the other researchers. At least, not that I noticed with Carrie or Ulrich here. It's just that the villains are more likely do something criminal than someone with a clean record. No offense, Dr. Mind."
"None taken." She calls him Dr. Mind; he couldn't be offended at her if he tried.
"And, to be fair, the only one that was recent was Carrie-Ann. We've only heard stories about the rest. I wouldn't put too much stock in Ulrich's rumors."
Ulrich opens his mouth to respond, but the sliding door opens then and Drew sidles onto the deck. "Hey! How you doing out here? I see you've met Barb. Goodman," he adds, nodding at Ulrich, who nods back but doesn't smile. Drew turns back to Megamind. "Anyway, it's calmed down a bit in there. C'mon back inside."
"Yes, I think I will," Megamind answers, glad for the excuse to leave. He stubs out his cigarette and leaves the butt in the ashtray. "It was good to meet you, Barb. Ulrich, good luck with your new career."
Back inside, Drew leads him over to the stairs and stops him before they go up, in the relatively private space. "Ulrich is a sneaky little shit. Always finding out things he shouldn't know. I don't even know why he's here. He hates parties." He takes a breath, as if to say more, then decides better of it, "Never mind. Office politics, it doesn't matter. Come on, Roxanne's been looking for you." He turns and leads Megamind into the living room. Roxanne is standing by the couch with her back to the door. Two other women are with her, one of them holding a Wii controller and Roxanne and the other laughing as they watch her.
Megamind walks up behind his mate and wraps his arms around her waist. She relaxes into his body the moment he touches her, as if she belongs there. "Hey, sweetie, I was starting to worry where you went," she says. Then she frowns as she notes the smell of cigarettes on his breath, "Have you been smoking?"
"Yes," he answers, "but you've been drinking, so we're even."
"How are you holding up? Do you want to go home?"
"I think I'm okay for a while yet. So tell me, what happened with the Hellgate?"
She snorts. "It wasn't really a portal to Hell."
"Oh?" He hooks his chin over her shoulder, watching the dancing figure on the television screen. "Where was it a portal to, then?"
"Jersey."