Wow, would you look at that, an update that does not take five months! How nice! How surprising! I'm not sure if this is going to be a pattern, but here's hoping. It's tax season so I'm doing 55 hours a week now, so my writing schedule is completely stupid, but I'll do my best.

Thank you to my good friend MageofLime for finding out about using acetic acid instead of sulfuric in the production of hydrofluoric acid. My idiot glassworker is one of those people who plans things really well but executes them really poorly.

As usual, I own nobody but Drew. And Vitre, for a change, but who knows how long that will last.

Chapter 15

The first load of laundry isn't quite finished when Linda gets downstairs, so she's tidying up the living room when she runs across a folded sheet of paper stuck between two magazines. Blinking at it, she carries it over to the kitchen and holds it up. "Orson, have you seen this?"

He barely glances at it. "Oh, yeah, those are his folks," he answers. "He drew that after you went to take your shower. Think all the 'family togetherness' was getting to him some." He shrugs. "With the tree and everything, y'know."

She raises her eyebrows, surprised, and turns the sketch around to give it a more interested inspection. "I thought he was an infant when they died."

"A few days old, from what I've heard." He scooches the last of the bacon around in the pan, hissing and shaking his hand when the grease splatters. Then he turns to start gathering other ingredients while the bacon cooks, but he cocks a glance at her on his way past, eyebrows raised. "Got a memory like you wouldn't believe. I swear."

She tilts her head and studies the sketch for a second. "He also has his mother's nose."

Orson, who is focusing on pulling various ingredients out of various cupboards, the arrangement of which has changed twice since the last time he was home long enough to cook, makes an absent-sounding agreeable noise. "We all come from somewhere."

Linda looks at the drawing for another long moment before she heaves a sigh. "Yes, well. I suppose even monsters have mothers."

"Linda, for Christ's sake—"

"I know, I know." She sighs and presses her lips together, wishing the painful knot in her shoulder would go away. It's been bothering her for the past three days; it always twists up again when she's stressed. "Why couldn't she have just found a nice human?" she asks wistfully. "Or Wayne, if she must go for an offworlder? Why him?"

Orson shrugs. "Dunno. Why'd you choose me 'stead of Allen or…oh, what's-his-name, that kid with the Mustang?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, like I'd have ever married Al. He was so boring. And Raoul didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground." She pauses, then adds, "Besides, you're the one I wanted."

He turns to look at her, grinning. "Yeah, see how well it turned out? Not nearly the disaster my mother predicted, was it?"

Linda grimaces. Orson's mother had hated her until she gave her a granddaughter. Orson chuckles at her expression. "Yeah, that's the spirit. Also, you're forgetting the two important questions," he continues easily, and Linda's brow furrows. "One, pancakes or French toast? And two, where in hell you hiding the flour these days?"

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Breakfast is surprisingly civil, from Megamind's point of view. He was expecting all kinds of fireworks from Linda about the whole sex thing, but she doesn't say anything about it and he's certainly not about to bring it up. After a while he starts to wonder if maybe it's okay, maybe they're just both going to ignore it and move on? It seems like that might be the case, because mostly she just ignores him throughout breakfast. That's fine; he's used to being ignored, and with everyone there it's easy to carry on a conversation without being obvious about the fact that neither of them really wants to look at the other.

But then Orson stands up and says, "Well, it's about that time," and Megamind has a brief moment of actual disappointment. He'd never expected to be disappointed about somebody he barely knows leaving—he's always been pleased when it happened in the past because it meant there was one less chance for him to mess up socially. Wanting somebody to stay is sort of new.

"On a scale of one to ten," he says, looking up at Orson and trying to hide his grin, "how bad would it be if I kidnapped you from the summit meeting and brought you back here?"

Orson chuckles. "Yeah, that'd be a bad plan."

Megamind hesitates, looking around as though thinking hard. "'Bad' in this case meaning…?"

Roxanne elbows him. "You're gonna give my mom a coronary."

Megamind's lips twitch. "Sorry. Have fun."

Orson grimaces. "'S not really a fun kind of thing, but thanks."

Megamind cocks his head. "Good luck, then?"

"Luck works. We're gonna need it." Orson walks over to the door and shrugs into his jacket. He's not wearing anything particularly special, jeans and a tee shirt again.

Linda meets him at the door with a Stetson fedora. "You're sure you don't want to wear a suit?"

Orson shakes his head. "Everybody else is wearing what they feel most comfortable in, and half the people there won't have any idea this isn't formalwear."

"Is Rod coming?"

Her husband shrugs. "Said he'd try, but it's hard to guess where he'll turn up and when. He's not needed, strictly speaking."

She kisses him quickly. "Well, if he does show up, drag him home with you."

"Will do. See you tonight."

Megamind frowns. "Tonight?" he echoes as the door swings shut. "I thought this was going to be a two-day event."

Roxanne looks at him, puzzled. "No, it's just for today, but it'll probably run late."

"Oh well that's good," he says, sounding relieved. "I thought he was going to miss Christmas."

He can't really explain it, but he's never bothered to celebrate Christmas with Minion. This will be his first Christmas as an adult, and he knows it's the first Christmas Roxanne has been able to spend with her family in years. He's unspeakably glad Orson made it down for the holiday, and he'd been honestly upset to learn that Roxanne's father wouldn't actually be there for the actual holiday. Learning otherwise is a big relief. He wants tomorrow to go smoothly—it's probably just a pipe dream, but he feels like he may have reached some kind of uneasy peace with Linda somehow, and he's really hopeful that tomorrow will be okay. Really hopeful.

He hasn't felt this hopeful about something in years; usually all he feels is wanting accompanied by hopelessness. But now he has friends. He's building a little family out of Roxanne and Minion and Wayne and Drew.

Speaking of Drew, he comes bouncing up to Megamind as his dad roars away on the motorcycle that had been hiding in the garage. "I'm gonna watch Lilo and Stitch and you should watch it with me."

Megamind pulls back and blinks at him. "What?"

Roxanne appears at his elbow. "No he should not," she says firmly. "That's a terrible idea, pick a different movie. Pick Titan AE or something."

"I hate Titan AE," Megamind says flatly, "and I'm not watching it. What's the other one about?"

"A blue alien supergenius abomination who crash-lands in Hawai'i," Drew replies, grinning from ear to ear.

Megamind blinks again, this time excitedly. "That movie exists?" He turns to stare at Roxanne. "I want to see it!"

She takes a deep breath and resigns herself. "Fine, but it's going to make you cry."

He rolls his eyes. "Psh. I'm not going to cry."

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"I am going to cry," he wails an hour and a half later. "You guys are mean, why did you let me watch this?"

"What's wrong with you?" Linda asks, passing by with a book. She glances at the screen, where animated creature is saying something about finding a family all on its own. "What is that thing?"

"It's little…and broken. But still good."

Megamind makes an anguished noise and flops backwards onto the couch with one hand over his eyes. He flaps the other one at her imperiously, wiggling his long blue fingers. "Go away, I'm having an emotion and you aren't invited."

Roxanne glances over at him. "You okay?"

"No!"

"Awww, poor hon." She pats his knee. "Are you having alien feelings?"

He sits bolt upright and glares at her, half-outraged and half-amused at himself. "I watched my entire planet dissolve into the gravitational vortex of a collapsar and then came to a planet that hates me! Yes, I'm having alien feelings! And Cobra Bubbles isn't helping! Although his name does," he concludes in a more reasonable tone. "Your overlord hereby decrees that from now on all nameless government agents shall be referred to as Agent Bubbles."

She grins at him. "Fear not, my lord! I will protect you from the Bubbleses of the world."

Megamind splutters, gives her a look that says that he appreciates the reassurance even if it is completely ridiculous, and topples over again—but this time he puts his head in her lap and settles down to watch the few minutes left in the film with his hands balled under his chin like a child. "I like this movie," he says eventually, as Roxanne rubs a hand absently up and down his side. "I'm not usually one for watching television, but this was a good movie. I'm going to have to make Minion watch this one."

"You know how you live in a warehouse?" Drew says. At Megamind's questioning glance, he continues, "You should totally make a big room with good acoustics and put a big screen in it. And tons of giant squishy pillows and blankets all over the floor. And a fireplace. And possibly a minibar."

Megamind frowns, perplexed. "Why?"

"Because it would be the perfect sleepover room, that's why!"

Megamind snorts. "Yeah, okay, for all of the tons of massive slumber parties I have all the time. Tell you what, that can be your room when you come visit."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Drew says, pointing at him. "That and my birthday corset."

"Hey, I said if you were good." Megamind smirks, then jumps a little and looks up at Roxanne. "When's that lunch date of yours?"

Roxanne looks at her watch and swears. "Oh, damn. Yeah, I should have left five minutes ago. You're sure you'll be okay here on your own for the afternoon?"

Megamind laughs at her and shakes his head. "It's fine, don't worry about it. Go have fun with your friend, I'll be fine here talking chemistry with Drew."

Roxanne grins sheepishly. "Okay, okay. I love you, I'll see you later."

"See you," Megamind returns fondly.

"Drew, you mind if I take your car?" she asks her brother. He blinks at her, confused. "The invisible one was visible at Javier's last night and I don't want to attract any unnecessary attention." She doesn't know if anybody took any pictures of it, but better safe than sorry.

Drew shrugs and nods. "Sure, go ahead. Gas tank's full and I changed her oil last week, so you should be good."

She smiles back at them, the two geniuses on the sofa—one of them is inhumanly smarter than the other, but both of them are wearing similarly stupid grins. "You two try not to burn the house down while I'm gone."

"I make no promises," Megamind says primly. Drew just grins widely at her and mimes striking a match.

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Roxanne is sitting in Molly's, waiting for Nubia to come in, when she finally dares to check her phone.

Twenty-three texts and fifteen missed calls. Thirteen new voicemails. She checks the texts—roughly a third of them are from friends, while the remaining two-thirds are from people she hasn't seen in years and whose faces are a blur to her. One or two are from numbers she doesn't recognize.

She silences her phone and ignores everything, stowing it back in her purse and doing her best to similarly ignore the strange feeling of creeping dread. Somehow, she hadn't expected such a big reaction right off the bat like this. Oh, she'd known people would be curious and angry, confused—but twenty-three texts? Thirteen voicemails?

They don't know him, she tells herself. They don't know him, they don't know us, they don't understand. That's all. As soon as we're able to explain, maybe do a few well-advertised interviews, this will all blow over.

She's still pointedly ignoring her silenced phone when a bright-eyed, dark young man comes and plops into the seat across from her. He smiles brilliantly. "Hullo, Miss Roxanne."

It's probable he saw her picture on the internet and recognized her—after last night, it's far from unlikely—so she smiles back. "Sorry, I'm waiting for someone so I can't talk long. What can I do for you?"

But he only smiles wider and says, "I know. Don't you recognize me?"

She tilts her head, but he doesn't look familiar. "No. Should I?"

"Gilbert? No?" He shrugs, leaning on the table and toying with an sparkling pendant on a long chain. It looks like a glass seashell. "We must have different online circles. That's okay, I don't care. You wanna go for a walk? Let's go for a walk."

Roxanne doesn't move. "I said, I'm waiting for someone."

Gilbert rolls his eyes. "And I said, I know." He peers at her curiously. "Do you trust every random number that texts you saying they're an old friend?" Roxanne's smile begins to fade, and Gilbert shrugs and gives her a sly smile. "Shit, girl, I thought it'd be way harder to get you here."

Roxanne stands up, suddenly very aware that something is wrong. "I think I'd better go," she says, but Gilbert grabs her wrist.

"I think you'd better stay," he says. He sounds pleasant enough, but he reaches forward towards his water glass with his free hand and just brushes the spray of flowers on the table on his way past—and then there's a quiet crackling like ice or fire or—

"Glass," Roxanne says, and glances down at where he's still holding her wrist. One of the daisy blossoms falls on the table and breaks in half.

Vitre's ever-present smile grows wider. "Hullo," he says again, and nods at her chair. "Take a seat."

Slowly, Roxanne sits back down. "Hello," she replies carefully. Vitre lets go of her wrist and folds his hands together neatly on the tablecloth. "So…how does that work? Does it have to be skin-to-skin?"

"Skin to organic material. I can't do much if it's an inorganic compound." He sighs and shakes his head. "But everybody's got to have a limitation, right? Even what's his name, the angry one in Metro City. All brains, no brawn, dating you…" He snaps his fingers as though trying to remember. "I'm awful with names, sorry."

"Megamind?"

Vitre points at her, eyebrows up, delighted. "That's the one!"

Roxanne frowns. "Didn't you say you saw our picture online?"

"You have weird taste in guys, by the way. So what is he, like…an alien or something? He's pretty private about his origin story, I have to say." He rests his chin on his hand, looking terribly interested. "How's that working out for you?"

If the situation weren't so serious, she would have laughed. "Yeah, he's from space. I think it's going well, we're pretty happy together."

Vitre beams. "That's wonderful! Congratulations! Excuse me, waiter?" He looks at Roxanne, black eyes sparkling. "What'll you have? I want to buy you a drink. I'm going to buy you a drink. What do you want?"

Roxanne plays along. "I'll have one of whatever you're having."

He laughs. "I like you, you're smart. I wasn't going to have anything, but since you insist…two appletinis." The waiter nods and disappears, and Vitre turns back to Roxanne, nodding at the ring on her left hand. "So that's, like, a promise ring, then? It doesn't look like an engagement ring."

Roxanne is quiet for a moment. Vitre sounds surprisingly candid, very open, but she's not sure yet where he's going with all this. "Yes, it is. So, are you going to…what's the word, glass me? Is that the plan?"

Vitre looks appalled. "Oh, no! Certainly not. No, sorry, don't worry about that, I'm not quite there yet. Maybe next time," he adds with a wink that says he's still joking. "As for what the plan is…I'm still a little new at this, so bear with me. I'm so glad it's you," he adds. "You've got some experience under your belt. And the word is 'vitrify,' by the way."

Roxanne smiles and nods and looks down at her hands. "Aha, I see," she says. "This is a kidnapping."

Vitre grins at her, shows her all his crooked teeth, but his eyes are surprisingly kind. "Ding ding ding! You win the prize," he exclaims. Then he leans forward and lowers his voice. "The prize is I warn you before I drug your drink."

Roxanne snorts. "Well, I have to say, that's more than Megamind ever did. Thanks."

Vitre sketches an odd little bow. "I try to be as courteous as possible."

"In that case, would you also mind not removing my clothes while I'm under?"

His eyebrows fly up and he waves both hands at her. "Oh no no no no no," he says very quickly. "Oh good heavens no, don't be vulgar. No I won't do that, don't worry. Scout's honor," he adds.

Roxanne nods, then hesitates. "My cell phone isn't in my bag anymore," she says slowly. "Is it?" She'd been going to text for help. It was a long shot from the start, and since she can't find her phone in its usual pocket, she figures it's a lost cause.

Sure enough, Vitre shakes his head. "Sorry, no. I've already confiscated it. Aha, here we are! Thank you, love."

"You have good taste in drinks," Roxanne remarks. "And I have to say, this is probably the most civil kidnapping I've ever experienced."

Vitre beams. "L'chaim," he says, holding up his glass.

Roxanne blinks, quickly remembers the phrase she wants. "Chag Chanukah sameach," she says, and Vitre nearly chokes in surprise.

"Beautiful, experienced, and speaks Hebrew! Your beau is a lucky boy."

Roxanne chuckles. "That's quite literally the extent of my Hebrew."

But Vitre's smile doesn't falter. "It's enough," he says. "Thank you."

Roxanne sips her drink slowly, looking around the restaurant. So far, no one has seemed to notice her predicament. "You realize he'll come for me," she remarks, and suddenly her companion's whole expression changes—just for a second, but it's there.

One of the flowers pulls itself from the vase, stretches, warps and curls itself between Vitre's fingers and then, as he reaches forward and pulls Roxanne to her feet, coils and loops around her wrist in a parody of a corsage.

"How about that walk?" he says, then closes his fingers around her upper arm and steers her towards the door, smiling like a snake.

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Noon comes and goes. Two o'clock passes with no word from Roxanne. Megamind and Drew have moved onto discussing the finer points of multisensory integration when they look at the clock and realize that it's past four.

Megamind checks his phone, but she hasn't called or texted. "What's going on?" he murmurs.

Linda comes in and lowers herself slowly onto the sofa. "Drew, you mind if I watch the news?"

Drew shakes his head. "No, go ahead."

I don't mind, either, Megamind thinks, but he says nothing. He figures that's probably safest.

When the television flicks to life it shows a man talking excitedly about something or other, and Linda goes to change the channel to CNN. But Megamind suddenly sits forward in his chair. "Wait, go back," he says. "Go back to the other one."

He peers at the curly-haired youth on the screen, tilting his head to the side. "What the…why is he…"

Drew glances over at him. "You know that guy?"

Megamind scowls. "I think that might be Vitre. Something he said…didn't he just say something about power without control?"

"I wasn't really listening," Drew says with a shrug.

But Linda says, "Power without control is no power at all."

"Maintain control," Megamind mutters. "Maintain control…"

"'Only through the constant maintenance of control will you ever rise to power.'" Linda nods, then glances at Megamind. "Wordy bastard, isn't he?"

Megamind grins but doesn't look away from the television. "I'm glad somebody besides me keeps an eye on these things."

Linda nods absently. "He must have hacked into the news station," she says.

"But it's too soon," Megamind murmurs. He's frowning at the screen, deep furrows between his eyebrows. "Unprepared, hasn't made enough of a reputation yet. What's he thinking?"

Drew blinks. "What are you talking about?"

Megamind points at the television. "He's set up shop in a random chemical supply warehouse. Look at the shelves, the acid vat behind him."

"Is that what that thing is?" It's huge and doesn't look particularly well-made.

Megamind snorts. "He probably welded it together himself this afternoon. And those shelves are still full of supplies for your average lab, not a proper Evil Lair. He should have them covered in his own things if he wants to make an impression." He falls silent for a few seconds as Vitre moves out of the way and gives the audience a clearer line of sight to the vat, and then he shakes his head. "It's just sloppy."

"Metro City standards?" Linda says.

"My standards," Megamind tells her. "Not to mention good old common sense. Acid vats were never my style but even I know you don't skimp on a thing like that. A good one should be solid Pyrex."

Now it's Drew's turn to snort. "He doesn't need Pyrex for fake hydrofluoric. Maybe real hydrofluoric, but he messed it up."

Megamind glances at him. "Did he? I didn't catch that part."

"When he was running through his ingredients. Said he used acetic acid. Should have used sulfuric." Drew shrugs. "The stuff in that vat isn't inert, but it's not hydrofluoric." Then he frowns. "Wait, Pyrex makes hundred-gallon vats?"

"If you know who to ask," Megamind says airily, waving his hand. "But that's not important. I just can't understand why he's doing this now."

"Now, later…what's it matter?" Linda asks. "He's making his move, like you said he would."

"He's snapping, like I said he would," Megamind corrects her. "Timing is everything when you're just starting out. A talent like his in a city this size? He hasn't built up nearly enough respect among the populace. He's not a threat yet—right now he's still just a nuee-sance. I'm telling you," he finishes, leaning forward and studying Vitre's round, enthusiastic face as he talks excitedly into the camera, "it's too soon. Nobody's going to take him seriously."

Linda frowns at him. He sounds totally serious, even a little bit frustrated. She risks an honest question. "What do you mean, he hasn't built up enough respect?"

"I mean if he goes outside after this, he'll be arrested immediately," Megamind growls. "The proper thing to do would be to instill an appropriate amount of fearful respect in the people he'll be terrorizing before he goes public. That way they'll already be wary of challenging him, and he won't be forced into doing anything desperate."

He leans back, gestures broadly at the television with both hands. One eyebrow heads for the sky, the other stays exactly where it is. "This…this is just…petty. Small-time stuff, criminal stuff, nowhere near true villainy. He should wait until he's enough of a threat to warrant actual news coverage; he shouldn't need to hack into a news station." His voice drips derision.

Linda looks at Vitre, but this time she keeps quiet and just listens to what Megamind says. He's sounding more and more irritated by the minute.

"And it's out of character. I told you before I've had my eye on him, and I'll admit he has potential, but he's always been cautious. This is very bold, doubly so because it's a holiday. The time of year is perfect, I'll give him that much," he adds, sounding reluctant. "But the timing in his career? No way. It's too early for this kind of stunt. He's still on vitrification of trees, for crying out loud!"

"What kind of stunt would this be?" Linda asks. She sounds distant, lost in thought, but she's looking at Megamind now rather than at the screen, watching the way he moves his hands as he speaks, the way he moves his eyebrows. He really is genuinely upset by all this.

He shrugs hugely, exasperated. "This is like playing poker with your back to a mirror! He's just turned around and shown everyone his hand before he's even bet anything." He rubs his sharp chin distractedly with his thumb as he pulls his feet up onto the edge of the couch and hunches over, staring fixedly at the television. "He's just got past the ante and now he's going public? Something must have tipped his hand. Some catalyst."

He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, glaring at the screen, chewing his lips, teeth gritted. He rubs a hand rapidly, almost angrily, back and forth across his forehead, then hunches forward. "What is it?" he hisses. "What am I missing? It's got to be big, it's got to be huge, something really big and obvious, like an actual plot or a kidnapping or—"

As if on cue, Vitre darts around behind the camera and hastily pans out. Linda gives a little scream, one hand flying to her mouth, and Drew takes a long, slow breath and sits back in his chair. Megamind's eyes go wide for a split second, then narrow to hate-filled slits as he straightens and moves his hands to his knees. "Or a very, very stupid challenge," he says.

"Oh oh oh! And look who I found snooping around town earlier today! Her picture's all over the web these days." Vitre pops up in front of the camera again, beaming, and waves a hand at the gagged woman hanging above the vat of acid. "The Ritchi reporter from Metro City! In for the holidays with her alien beau, but I don't really care. Figured she'd be someone everyone would recognize, amirite?" He laughs and claps, looking for all the world like a child on Christmas.

Onscreen, Roxanne looks warily irritated. She's clearly not sure where she stands, but she's trying to hide it. She also isn't struggling; that's not a good sign. Drew's hands clench; he wants to break something.

"No," Linda whispers. "No, no, no. Not him too."

"No," Megamind echoes softly, but it's not a denial or dismayed exclamation. He sounds almost like he's saying 'false,' as if the events unfolding are something he can negate. Something in his voice makes Linda look at him, startled tears standing in her eyes. Megamind's lively face has closed and is as flat and hard as his voice. "We're not doing this."

"I really think we are," Drew says shakily. Megamind's gaze flicks to the top of the screen, and half of his mouth curls into a brittle little smirk at what he sees there.

"Not for long." He stands and turns, looks over at Linda. There is nothing human in his green eyes, only a banked fire, a burning anger. "If you would be so kind as to excuse me," he says flatly, but he doesn't wait for her response before heading for the stairs

He has work to do.

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What he really wants to do is just grab the disguise generator, set it so he looks like he's in full costume, and hit the road as soon as he can. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately, but that remains to be seen—he's going to need some protection, so he dashes upstairs and dresses faster than he probably has in his entire life without the brainbots.

He's struggling into his leather over-shirt when the door to Roxanne's room opens and Drew ducks inside. Megamind turns around and reaches behind his back to flap the sides of his shirt at him. "Help me with this zipper," he says over his shoulder. "I can get it myself, but it's tiny."

"Uh—sure." Drew comes up behind him and grabs the two halves of the shirt up at the base of Megamind's neck. Megamind stiffens.

"It zips up," he says tightly.

"Oh—r-right." Drew lets out another nervous laugh and fumbles for the bottom of the zipper. "Sorry. I'm kind of…distracted. At the moment."

"You don't need to be," Megamind tells him in a more relaxed tone of voice, rolling a leather glove up his thin arm and buckling it around his bicep in a single efficient motion. It's sort of comforting to see him so relaxed; he looks like he's been doing this all his life. Especially when he touches his left wrist to check that his lockpicks will be readily accessible should he need them. He looks so practiced. "I'll have her out of there in no time."

"But the acid, I mean, he said he'd kill her—"

Megamind snorts. "Oh, puh-leeze," he says, sounding more certain than he feels. "She's his hostage. She's what caught people's attention. As soon as he offs her, boom." He sniffs and makes a dismissive gesture with one hand. "The audience's interest switches from what he's doing to what he's done and he loses their attention."

"You're the expert," Drew mutters, tugging at the leather shirt in a vain attempt to bring the two sides together. "I just hope he knows all that. Uh, could you maybe exhale or something?"

Megamind cranes his head around to glare up at him over his shoulder, but he's genuinely worried and angry and he forgets to tone it down. Drew falters.

"I'm not wearing stays," Megamind spits. "The leather isn't going to tear. Pull."

"Maybe you'd better do it," Drew says, backing away. Nobody can pull off a glare quite like Megamind.

The blue alien huffs and reaches back again, jerks the two halves of the shirt together, long fingers fumbling for a moment before the zipper catches. He drags it up to the middle of his back, and then Drew quickly reaches forward and pulls the miniscule tab up the rest of the way while Megamind squares his shoulders to make it easier. Then he steps away, shaking his arms out and stretching a little. After a moment, he nods. "Good," he announces, and plops down on the bed and reaches for his boots. "Sometimes the spandex gets twisted and I have to take the leather off and start again."

"Yeah, what's with the double layer thing?" Drew wants to know. "What's wrong with regular spandex?"

"Have you ever fallen off a motorcycle wearing nothing but Lycra? My job involves a lot of leaping around sharp, pointy objects and working with fast-moving parts, many of which are hot.

"Belt, please. On the dresser. Thank you.

"Honestly," he grunts as finishes tugging on his boots, "I should be wearing a newer suit—the old ones have stretched and there's too much wiggle room." He he pushes off the bed and vaults over to the chair where he's draped his cape. "But if this was a new suit, I'd need a shoehorn and five extra minutes just to get into my pants, and I'm on a time crunch."

Drew winces reflexively. "That sounds…painful."

"Hmm?" Megamind looks at him, then grins. He takes the spiked shoulder array and collar from the chair and buckles them together, and then turns them around so he can fasten his cape properly to the back of the shoulder array. "Oh. Right. Yeah, I guess I'm lucky in that respect."

Drew, who has been watching Megamind assemble his uniform with some fascination, looks confused. "What? I don't…"

This time when Megamind looks up at him, he sounds surprised. "I'm sorry, were you not referencing the general awkwardness of human male genitalia?"

Drew blinks. "No, I…yeah, that was the idea, but…"

"I thought so." Megamind executes an odd little dance with his shoulders to get the shoulder array into place, then clips it in the front of his chest and secures the hidden clasps on his shoulders. "But I'm not human."

"Haaa…wha—?" Drew blinks again, and his face runs through a few emotions as if trying to decide which one to wear, shock or confusion. It finally settles on total bewilderment. "But…how do you…"

"We make it work," Megamind says distractedly, pushing Drew gently aside and peering at himself in the mirror. He shrugs a few times, adjusts his collar, tries an experimental scowl, pokes at an eyebrow, then nods. "Aright, we're good."

"Pee!" Drew exclaims, eyes bugging out of his head. "I was going to say pee! That's my sister you're talking about, I don't wanna think about that!"

Fortunately, Megamind chuckles and opens the briefcase he had brought with him, and Drew's horror is distracted when he sees what's inside it. The briefcase is foam-lined and filled with a variety of weaponry that would make any mobster proud. "Whoa," Drew murmurs, leaning over to look at it. "That's fantastic."

Megamind runs leather-clad hands fondly along the edges of the case. "It is, isn't it?" he says. "Minion made it for me. He developed the foam himself—it molds to whatever I put in it."

Drew carefully lifts a small, sleek pistol out of the case. It's silver and blue and looks like it could probably break the sound barrier if he threw it just a little too hard. "What's this?"

Megamind takes it from him, checks the battery. It's low, but there's nothing he can do about that now. "I'm proud of this one," he tells Drew. "Target-specific disintegrator beam. It's a modified version of last year's death ray."

"Target-specific?"

"It only affects inorganic material. Can't hurt anything living." Then his smile disappears and he turns businesslike again as he hooks it into his belt. He turns back to the briefcase and picks up a coil of silvery rope that the light seems to be actively trying to avoid, a knife, and two thin, solid batons.

Then he guides Drew towards the door, plucking the disguise generator off the dresser as he passes. Pavel will attract less attention if he's seen than Megamind will, and driving while wearing the shoulder array isn't easy. He slips his watch on, twists it, and Pavel appears, looking almost hilariously normal considering what's underneath is armed to the teeth and covered in spikes and black leather.

But when he smiles, the smile is all Megamind—all bright white teeth and grim determination. He takes the stairs three at a time.

"Oh," Drew remembers halfway down. He'd gone upstairs for a reason, but had gotten distracted. He had never realized the supervillain's uniform involved so many little pieces before. "Hold on a sec. Take this."

"It's dangerous to go alone!" Megamind cries, bounding over the last few stairs and landing lightly on the floor. Then he turns around and blinks at the blank white card Drew is proffering. He reaches for it, turns it over. The other side is blank, too. "What is it?"

"My key-card. I'm pretty sure the warehouse Vitre's in is affiliated with Larken Labs. You can use this instead of breaking and entering and setting off the alarms."

Megamind cranes his head to peer over Drew's shoulder. Linda is sitting on the couch, glaring at the television. He drops his voice. "Thank you," he says. "But I don't break. And I never trip alarms."

"For luck, then," Drew tells him. "Listen, how sure are you that you can do this? How are you going to find her?"

Megamind sighs and begins to walk towards the door, clipping the key-card onto his belt as he goes. The disguise generator flashes and incorporates it into his design. "If those bags on the shelf above the vat are what I think they are, then ninety-five…no, call it ninety-two percent confident. Our main concern is going to be getting out of there without getting vitrified. And as far as finding her goes…I'll just listen for the sound of utter stupidity and gross incompetence and follow that."

"And if the bags aren't what you think they are?" Drew swallows, his eyes on Megamind's back as he bounds down the porch steps. "Then what?"

Megamind unlocks the invisible car and looks back up to where Drew is standing in the doorway, meets his eye with a smile that carries absolutely no emotion. "I'll kill him." He pulls the door open, puts one foot inside—he'd take the jet pack that's in the trunk, but Roxanne will need somewhere to sit on the ride home and he doubts Vitre bothered to take Drew's car along to the warehouse. "Wish me luck!" he calls, then ducks into the car and slams the door. It roars to life, and two seconds later, shimmers out of the visible spectrum and roars away.

"Luck," Drew says quietly, heart twisting in his chest. He closes the front door slowly and leans against it for a moment, frowning. The trouble with being friends with Megamind is that, when your sister gets kidnapped, you can't just worry about her. You worry about him, too.

Worrying about Megamind just feels weird.

He goes back to the couch and hops over the back of it, plops down with a sigh to watch Vitre's diatribe.

"You think he can pull it off?" Linda asks after a moment.

Drew sighs again and scratches at his beard. "If anyone can, it's him," he finally says.

Linda blinks. She feels sick, though she can't tell whether she's sick to her stomach or sick at heart. Or sick with worry.

Drew watches his mother for a long, long moment, then stands. "I need water. You want anything while I'm up?"

"Gin."

Drew rolls his eyes. "Mom…"

Linda turns in her chair. "Andrew D'Artagnan Ritchi," she says flatly. "I am about to watch a megalomaniacal evil bastard with a Napoleon complex the size of Las Vegas rescue my daughter. I need. A drink."

"Only if you promise to try to be rational when they get home."

"I have also discovered," she says loudly, as if he'd said nothing at all, "that I feel better knowing he's going to rescue her than I would if I knew the police were going to try it. I am more confident in Megamind's abilities than those of the SFPD, and I am not sure when or how that happened." She presses her lips together for a moment, brown eyes flashing, before concluding, "I am just a little bit conflicted right now."

Drew shrugs in defeat. There's no arguing with his mother when her voice goes shrill like that. "One gin'n'tonic comin' right up."

Linda turns around again and clamps her arms over her chest, glaring at Vitre. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to get drunk. I just need a drink. That's all."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They always find me, Roxanne thinks, amazed and exasperated. How? How do they find me? The question is mainly rhetorical; her picture is all over the web right now. Still, it's galling he was able to find her number so easily. Mental note: be less trusting.

But he rants for the camera, for all appearances inexperienced and drunk on the attention, but Roxanne remembers the way he'd smiled. Her memories after that are somewhat fuzzy, but she remembers her question and she knows the answer.

Oh yes. Vitre knows. He's counting on it. She is merely bait, and he's made that abundantly clear by gagging her—he has no use for her beyond drawing Megamind out.

Oh, and the stuff in the vat is acid. Hydrofluoric. She can't remember exactly what that does, but she's pretty sure it's the one that goes through your skin and dissolves your bones if you touch it. Or maybe it's the one that eats through everything except glass? That's unlikely, since the vat itself is some kind of metal. Either way, she remembers it's a nasty chemical and she does not want to touch it.

Roxanne really, really doesn't like dangling. Megamind never dangled her anywhere, not after that accident with the lasers. Even Carn-evil hadn't dangled her, even though he definitely could have. Dangling simply isn't safe; a lot can go wrong.

Also, Vitre doesn't look like a guy who knows knots. Roxanne is having a hard time picturing him as a Boy Scout.

She dangles for a good five or ten minutes, her feet and hands slowly going numb. To his credit, she isn't revolving. She isn't swinging, either; it's possible he vitrified the rope and she's hanging by glass strands—she's loath to check in case something breaks. There's a weight on her feet which probably isn't necessary but is a nice touch nonetheless. She waits, slowly cramping; she's out of practice. But she still remembers her breathing exercises and relaxing techniques from years of conditioning, so the discomfort isn't nearly as bad as it could be.

Abruptly, blue flashes in the corner of her vision and a creaking, tearing sound above her, and before she has time to worry if the rope gave way, a bunch of burlap bags splash into the vat below her. One of the shelving units above her has just broken in half.

At least something is happening. The acid below roils and hisses, bubbling frantically, and for a minute it's a bit like old times. Vitre whirls, his expression patently surprised, and exclaims, "What?" only to be interrupted by—

Well, it's not what Roxanne was expecting. She'd been expecting some kind of entrance. An evil laugh, maybe, because Vitre's laugh hadn't carried nearly far enough and it was irritating. Or Megamind fading slowly forward out of the shadows. Or something.

The reality is much colder. Vitre turns, but Megamind is already striding forward with an iron rod in each hand, his face like grim death and in full costume, and he swiftly brings one rod around to sweep Vitre's legs out from under him with absolutely no preamble whatsoever.

Roxanne stiffens; the cavalry is here and Vitre is prepared.

But. There's something wrong. The look on Megamind's face is making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and perhaps Vitre isn't quite as prepared as he thinks he is. After all, he'd probably been expecting a game—but Megamind isn't playing.

Vitre topples sideways with a yelp and cracks his shoulder on the second rod on his way down, but still manages to turn his fall into a hasty scramble out of the way. Which is good, because half a heartbeat later one of the iron bars slams into the cement where his head had been.

Vitre stumbles, rolls out of the way, tumbles to his feet and backs quickly out of Megamind's reach.

Megamind stands like a stone just outside of the shadows, vibrating with anger, murder in his eyes, so tense the tendons in his neck are clearly visible even from this distance. Roxanne has never seen him so grim.

"Give her to me," he says quietly. "Give her to me now, and we'll turn around and walk right back out that door and you'll leave this place in one piece."

Vitre's eyes bug. He looks delighted in spite of the bruise rising on his neck, a stark contrast to Megamind's stony demeanor. "What, you're here? You're her hero? Oh. Oh my fuck, that is priceless. Fan-fucking-tastic. Dude, I'm a huge fan, can't wait to see what you've got up your sleeve with this 'good' kick you've been on—"

Megamind tries to hit him again, but Vitre skips back and slaps the rod away. "I'm nobody's hero," Megamind says in the same quiet tone, slinking forward. And he does slink, his shoulders and hips rolling in figure eights like he's walking on water. Roxanne stares at him, mentally screaming at him to look at her so she can warn him, but Vitre just sets his head on one side as he backs away and looks terribly interested again in a way that makes her heart sink.

"Are you wearing leather?" Vitre asks, pulling a big red button out of his pocket. He holds it easily by his hip, smiling like a snake. Roxanne watches it warily. "You really should have just gone with the spandex."

Megamind doesn't even glance at it. "Give her to me."

"No," Vitre replies brightly, with a wide white smile. "You gonna tell me—ow, fuck!"

Roxanne lets out a surprised shout, too, but it's muffled by the gag. Megamind just lunged, which isn't how the game is played at all, he just—just cut Vitre off mid-sentence, and now he's leaping forward and dancing back, skipping to the side and staying out of Vitre's reach, whirling a length of rebar in either hand, twirling one in a complicated S formation and blocking with the other.

He strikes Vitre in the arm and the box with the button goes flying to clatter across the floor, and now it's just Megamind and Vitre dancing together, except Megamind's expression is flat fury while Vitre's is livid delight.

This isn't how you play the game, Roxanne thinks, staring at Megamind. He's not holding back, that's the really startling thing, he's fighting—well, not to kill, necessarily, but it's like he really doesn't care if his opponent lives or dies. She wonders if Vitre realizes.

She hadn't expected this. She's never thought Megamind had it in him to do this. Maybe, maybe if Vitre dropped her in the acid and she died, maybe that would be enough to turn him into a killer, but this…this is cold and hard and brutal, this is bruises and cracked ribs, this is a black eye. This is ruthless.

Vitre ducks and darts forward with his hands outstretched, but something in Megamind's gloves makes the other man yelp and stumble back just enough for Megamind to bring his stick around and jab the tip with clinical precision into the pressure point in Vitre's thigh. The glassworker's eyes cross and he goes to one knee, topples sideways.

And grabs the button from where it fell, laughing. Megamind's cold eyes go very wide and panicked and he makes a noise like NO—

Roxanne falls out of sight with a gasp and splash that makes Megamind's blood run cold. He halts in his tracks and whirls towards the vat, stunned. The reaction hadn't had enough time to be safe. That's still acid—weak acid, but that's still acid. This isn't the game, this isn't regulations, this isn't anything like how it should be, but then…

It never was, was it?

He whips around and flings himself at Vitre with a shriek.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Roxanne hits the liquid and knows immediately that something is wrong. It should hurt. Vitre said it was acid, and while he's inexperienced he doesn't seem the type to lie about something like that. But it doesn't hurt, it just tastes kind of salty and itchy. She isn't going to open her eyes; she's not stupid, but some of it does get in her mouth and it tastes like salt and something else.

At least she was able to take a breath before she went under, since the weight attached to her ankle makes swimming impossible. She has to focus on getting free. Now that her arms aren't stretched above her, it's almost easy—all she has to do is twist to the side and reach the shard of glass she'd grabbed off the floor of Vitre's van (a van, he'd used a van and it's so cliché and amateur it's almost insulting) and slipped into her pocket earlier. It takes a minute because she's flying blind, but her lung capacity is pretty good. Years of practice have conditioned her to be able to hold her breath for more than two minutes, and freeing herself doesn't even take half that time. Once her wrists are free, she cuts the rope binding her ankles and kicks off the bottom.

She retains the presence of mind to surface quietly, without gasping and with a minimum of splashing. If Vitre and Megamind don't know she's alive, they won't consider any surprise attacks.

But surprise attacks with what? she wonders, and then remembers the weight she'd left on the bottom of the pool. Most of the sacks that fell when Megamind hit the shelf earlier are soaking wet and have sunk, but one or two still float on the surface.

She squeezes her eyes closed again and dives. It takes a few achingly long seconds of scrabbling around on the bottom before she finds the weight, but once she has it she claws her way back to the surface and drags herself to the side of the vat, looking around. Megamind and Vitre are on the other side of the room, fighting hand-to-hand, and Roxanne takes advantage of the pool's high walls as she scrambles over the side and drops to the floor, out of sight of both of them.

The weight is heavy and unwieldy, but she remembers her knots and ties the wet sack securely closed around it. Wrapping the excess rope around her left hand, she hefts her makeshift hammer in her right. She'll need room to spin, and she'll have to be careful not to hit Megamind when she lets it go. Is it worth the risk?

She peeks around the side of the drum. The two men are closer now. Megamind has stopped screaming and his face has become a mask. Vitre, by contrast, is laughing uproariously as he blocks everything Megamind throws at him. They're both very quick, possibly cut from the same cloth, but Roxanne isn't spending a lot of time thinking about Vitre. She sees the shelving high above, the ladder half out of sight in the shadows, and she remembers a catwalk and a nuclear reactor only a few months prior. The high support beams of the warehouse will work just as well.

She waits until they're on the other side of the massive drum before running to the ladder and climbing up it as quickly as she can. She doesn't really expect to make it. Any moment now, one of them will turn and see her and say something, but it doesn't happen and doesn't happen and then she's crawling from the top of the shelving unit to a crossbeam and she knows she's more or less safe.

She creeps along the beam until she's standing almost directly over the two of them. A little farther, she thinks. "Come on," she hisses through gritted teeth. Holding the weight out in the air is tough on her shoulders and back, but she's too angry to care. "Come on, come to Roxie, you asshole…"

The weight drops with a crash just as Vitre dodges to the side. He and Megamind both jump almost out of their skins when twenty pounds of glass hits the floor and bursts into messy shrapnel. Vitre lets out a shout of pain; it crushed his foot. Roxanne swears, ducks back out of sight into the shadows and starts making her way back to the ladder. With any luck, they'll think it was just something that was weakened when Megamind shot the high shelf.

The next cry is Megamind's, but the sounds of fighting continue so he must be at least mostly okay. Roxanne doesn't turn to see what's happening; she's past caring. As far as she's concerned, Vitre is a dead man.

The forget-me stick is in the invisible car. Megamind must have driven here; if she can just get to it…but no, that's impossible. She doesn't know where he parked, she'd have to get outside, and searching for an invisible car is the absolute height of folly. Biting her lip as she crawls down the ladder, she glances around.

Luck is on her side once more. Just to her left are several stacks of packages that proclaim to each contain one hundred half-inch balls of lead-antimony grinding media. Roxanne isn't sure exactly what that means, but she sees 'lead' and 'balls' and opens one of the packages and finds herself blinking down at what looks like massive buckshot. Perfect. She scrambles the rest of the way down the ladder, pulls off her shoe and sock, then puts the shoe back on, hopping a little to get her heel down so she won't have to unlace and re-tie it. Then, remembering what Megamind said once about slocks, she pours some of the lead balls into her sock. The two men are on the other side of the vat; miraculously, she still has not been seen.

She runs to duck behind a stack of sealed drums, where she crouches with the slock swinging in her grip. The other two are coming closer. She allows them to fight towards her hiding place, until Megamind leaps back, long fingers reaching for his gun, and Vitre follows—

She steps out from behind the drums and brings her weapon around to connect squarely with the back of Vitre's head. He stumbles to turn with a startled roar of pain, staggering, hand out to vitrify whatever is attacking him, but his aim is off and Roxanne drops to the floor in time to catch the side of his knee on her backswing. By this time, the slock has built up enough momentum to make the joint do something it really wasn't meant to do and Vitre's furious shout turns into a high-pitched scream of pain and he falls gracelessly onto his butt, clutching his shattered knee and staring up at a dripping-wet and absolutely irate reporter.

"You really think I never learned anything?" she snarls, and raps the slock smartly against the side of his head. He's out before he hits the ground.

Then Megamind is there, his hands fluttering over her shoulders, her face, her hair. He's shaking and pale but he's barely breathing and when he pulls her against him his arms are like steel. Roxanne feels a flutter of alarm that she quickly squelches down. He's worried, that's all. That's all this is.

But, God. She's never seen him act like this before. Not even after Carn-Evil, but then again, he hadn't loved her then. They weren't all but engaged then. They weren't sharing a bed then, they weren't sharing a life. The game has changed.

She wraps her arms around his back, holds him as tightly as she can. He fists both hands in her shirt, presses his forehead hard against hers and shuts his eyes. Dimly, she registers that she's saying something—"Okay, it's okay, I'm here, I've got you, everything's okay, you're gonna be okay."

Megamind draws a breath that sounds like nails on a chalkboard and opens his eyes and looks at her. "If he ever tries anything with you again," he says in a low voice, "I'll break his neck."

He looks at her for another second, and then the corners of his mouth pull down and his face sort of crumples. His eyebrows twist together and his nose when it wrinkles up squeezes tears from his eyes just before his gaze slides to the side, he can't look at her—he's scared, she realizes, and he's probably not just scared of losing her. She goes to pull him back in but he twists away, looking around the room in a kind of daze, he gulps and arranges his features into something desperately calm. "You need a shower," he says, a little too quickly, his voice still a little too high.

"You need to calm down," Roxanne replies, wriggling her shoulders. She itches all over. "I'm sorry I scared you. I was scared, too. But I bet there's a slew of reporters and cameramen out there, and they've got us surrounded." She grimaces and wriggles again, scratching her nails up and down her arms. It only makes the itching worse.

Megamind blinks at her. "Roxanne," he says, "I have an invisible car." And then his eyes go very, very wide and he thrusts her away from him. "Shower," he says again, "Over there, come on, let's go."

"What—" Roxanne manages, but that's all she has time for before Megamind is dragging her across the room. She struggles, but his hands are like vises. It's easy to forget just how strong he really is; he very rarely gets physical with her outside the bedroom. "Hey, don't—I will bite you—"

"Stand there," he snaps, pointing, and she is too bewildered to do anything but stand where he puts her. Megamind reaches up, pulls a chain, and both of them are abruptly drenched when a large showerhead high above kicks on. Spluttering, she tries to back away, but he makes a low growling sound and steps directly under the shower, yanks her back hard enough to make her yelp. He does not apologize, does not speak, only hangs onto her like grim death and holds her under the freezing downpour. It makes sense, once she has her brain in order again—the acid must not have been particularly strong, but it was still acid, and the faster they get it off of her, the better.

She isn't sure how long he forces her to stay under the water, but it feels like hours before the water finally slows to a trickle and shuts off. The itchy sensation has faded.

She wraps her arms around her chest, shivering, and scowls over at Megamind. "H-happy now?"

He still looks stricken, but he nods. He opens his mouth to speak.

Then the door falls in with a crash, and Megamind whirls and shoves Roxanne behind him with a wordless shout that is more of an inhuman snarling hiss. The de-gun is in his hand, he's not sure when that happened.

Then he sees the cameras and relaxes slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Took you long enough," he says coldly. "Where the hell were all of you?"

The lead reporter looks pained. "Please, Mr...uh, Megamind, if you could just watch the language a little bit."

It was the wrong thing to say. Megamind's eyebrows go up and his lips thin. He fits the de-gun softly back into its holster. "Language?" he echoes. "R—Miss Ritchi nearly died," and now he's really snarling, "and you want me to watch my language?"

Roxanne puts a hand on his arm, smiles at the video camera. "Sorry, everyone," she says, and he turns to stare at her, "we're fine. I had a bit of a scare, but I'm fine now, really, thanks to Megamind." She turns to blink at him, looking amused and faintly bewildered. "Speaking of whom, I didn't expect to see you so soon. You must have made good time. How did you find me?"

Unfortunately, he's still too shaken to really put much conviction into being civil. "Yes," he says flatly, "I don't really do the whole 'traffic' thing. And Vitre's encryption was no match for my enormous brain. I tracked his broadcast on my phone." He swallows hard and glances at the cameras, then back at Roxanne. "Speaking of Vitre, I'm going to go make sure you didn't actually kill him. You should get these cameras out of here; the light in here is terrible." He stomps off towards the huddled figure on the floor.

They aren't far away from the door, so Roxanne follows the camerawoman and reporter out into the sunset, away from the building and across the parking lot, one arm still folded tightly over her chest. She isn't sure what she's saying; she's in media mode at this point and doesn't really have to think too hard. They ask a question or make a comment, she laughs and responds—usually with another question because she's not very good at being the interviewee. It's non-threatening, unthinking, unstopping.

Then there's a popping sound behind her, followed by a muffled shout and a crackling, tearing rumble, the shriek of twisting metal and crumbling brick as the warehouse collapses inward. And that's when everything stops.