Chapter Eight
(dedicated to all the readers and reviewers who provided inspiration for a lot of Roxanne's reactions)

By the time she finished reading what Megamind had spent the last two weeks writing, Roxanne had gone through most of a box of tissues and had gotten her beau's iPad so spattered with expectorated gunk, he was thinking of finding his thickest pair of lab gloves or a set of tongs before touching it again. He wasn't really grossed out by the thought of touching her lachrymal secretions (he did, however, have issues with the occasional nose nuggets), but her reaction was considerably more extreme than he'd anticipated, and thus he found himself thoroughly befuddled.

"I don't understand," he admitted after she'd finished reading and had set the device aside on the coffee table of his video/living room on what he called the "non-business" floor of the Lair. She had been sniffling, sobbing, growling, snarling, spitting, and otherwise offering up the most peculiar sounds imaginable (to him) as she read, while snuggling her back against him on the comfortable leather couch. In that position, he hadn't minded at all that it had taken her the better part of two hours to reach the end, especially since she'd gone back from time to time to reread certain parts. Now that she was done, she'd sat up and was using several more tissues to dry her eyes and otherwise tidy her face. "You asked me to write the story of my most memorable Christmas, for you," he said, confused. "Did it really come out that badly?"

Roxanne finished with a ladylike honk of the nose for good measure. "Of course not, you big blue idiot!" she finally said, her affectionate tone making it an endearment, not an insult. "I just didn't expect that you could write anything so... touching. Which makes me wonder: just how much of this was exaggeration?"

The ex-villain was genuinely shocked. "Exaggeration? Why, none of it! I've told you time and again, I made a solemn promise to myself never to lie to you again — and I was serious!"

Roxanne's mouth quirked into a lovely, if skeptical, half-smile. "Oh, really? Then what was that story you fed me last Friday about having an important appointment you'd forgotten about so you could ditch going with me to the Press Club Awards Banquet?"

She had to give him one thing: when he was caught red-handed, Megamind at least had the decency to blush so furiously, he might as well have whipped out a neon sign declaring "GUILTY!" and nailed it to his considerable forehead. He cleared his throat. "Ah..." he hedged. "Uh..." He coughed. "Well..." He blushed an even deeper shade of purple. "I..." He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then folded his hands in his lap like an errant schoolboy and hung his head. "Okay, I did lie about the appointment — but not to get out of going with you to that dinner! I would never have even thought of it, especially if you'd been nominated for anything! Do you think I actually wanted to let another man take you, and be seen with you in public?"

He had a point. "Well, I could've gone alone, but Marty needed a last minute date after his boyfriend came down with the measles, and at least with him, nobody would think either of us were cheating on our significant others. Everyone knows how often the call of duty interferes with the social lives of superheroes, and they also know that Marty's my regular cameraman and is in a committed relationship. So why did you ditch me?"

The alien looked positively forlorn. "I would never ditch you, Roxanne, not even as a joke. I..."

He paused, nervously rubbing the back of his long neck. "I was having trouble getting anywhere with this thing you asked me to write, beyond that little part you saw two weeks ago. Friday afternoon, Minion and I were called to investigate an unusually large break-in and theft in the warehouse district, not very far from the place where Nick Cabela once lived. On the way home, we got to reminiscing, and it brought everything into such clear focus, I wanted to write down as much as I could before I lost the inspiration. You know how I abhor listening to people blather on with mindlessly self-serving gushyfests disguised as acceptance speeches. Going to that dinner would've killed any inspiration I had for sure, provided you didn't kill me first for fidgeting and muttering rude comments. I did it for you, but I do wish I hadn't needed to lie. I... just wanted it to be a surprise."

The reporter could have sensed his sincerity even if she'd been totally blind and deaf, but seeing his face and those huge green eyes, not to mention his willingness to admit to misbehavior he hadn't done, but certainly would have... She would've caved, even if she'd been positive he was lying through his teeth. "Apology accepted," she said, not needing to hear the words. "Then you didn't exaggerate the story at all? Not even for dramatic effect?"

He shook his head. "Not a word. I asked Minion to read it and verify the facts — funny, he had much the same reaction to it as you, nearly overflooded his fishbowl. Some parts did involve a bit of extrapolation to include the actions of others besides myself and Minion, but Warden Thurmer and Officer Davis and Nick all told me their side of things a long time ago. Even Wayne corroborated what the Warden had already told me about their conversation outside the shkool." He was working very hard on some of his more egregious mispronunciations of common words in an effort to improve his heroic image, but there was still a lot of work left to be done.

Roxanne digested this without much difficulty. It was true, ever since that Friday, Megamind had been working very hard on some new project he'd kept shrouded in secrecy, so secret, in fact, that he hadn't been anywhere near the labs or workshops or any other part of the Lair that he typically used for such purposes. At least twice, she'd come looking for him, only to find him in odd corners of the living floor, busily doing something with his iPad, which disappeared as soon as her presence was noticed. She'd thought that he'd found some compelling new game app that he was determined to conquer. It had happened before, although this time, there had been no suspicious cries such as, "Beware, vile and foul-smelling anti-avian swine! Prepare to be totally obliterated by my Wickedly Awesome Avenging Eagle of Death!" which struck Roxanne as somehow a wee bit inappropriate banter for a hero, even one who was the new kid on the block, but still, it was charmingly Megamind...

Okay, girl, focus, she mind-slapped herself. It was only now that she realized he hadn't been playing or even planning; he'd been plotting, literally, writing down the story of his most memorable Christmas. She'd asked him to do it two weeks ago, after they'd had a little private celebration of his birthday, which Minion had told her most emphatically was December third, no doubt about it, once adjusted to Earth dates. Roxanne had thought it interesting that in prison records and thus to most of the public, Megamind's birthdate was listed as December seventeenth, and Wayne Scott's birthday was officially registered as November fifteenth. She'd always felt that Metro Man was slightly older than his supposedly villainous counterpart, but as she came to understand their non-Earthly origins, she'd also wondered if the Scotts had simply pulled the date out of a hat to suit the apparent age of Lady Scott's "Christmas present." Both Minion and Megamind were very certain of the blue genius' precise age, but privately, Roxanne had a feeling Wayne didn't really have a clue as to his own.

Whatever the case, Roxanne had to admit that over the past week, her boyfriend's behavior hadn't been exactly what she'd call normal. She'd given him the iPad as a birthday gift, along with a custom black leather slipcase embossed with his electric blue lightning-bolt logo, which conveniently concealed the appropriately mushy engraving she'd had etched onto the back of the Pad's metal case. It was one of very few techie gizmos he didn't own but had actually expressed interest in eventually acquiring. It wasn't the device itself that entranced him so much as its myriad apps, which fascinated him and drew him in like a kid to a candy shop. Hero work apparently left less time for indulgence in such mundane things as shopping and entertaining computer programming than did villain work. Even Minion hadn't had the time to do much gift hunting for the boss's birthday; his little at-home party and a few gift cards had been the best he could manage, given time constraints.

But Megamind had been delighted nonetheless (really, he was surprisingly easy to delight), especially since two of the cards were for iTunes, and provided sufficient funding to let him go app shopping to his heart's delight. Roxanne had been the one to suggest that he might want a word processor, since of late, he had been called upon to give more written statements and opinions and interviews than he'd ever been asked to do in his life. To familiarize himself with it — and for her own curious edification, given the time of year — she'd asked him to write the story of his favorite Christmas as a child, thinking it would be a quick lark, and possibly something she might be able to use for an article to help the people of Metro City get better acquainted with the more human side of their new defender. She'd expected him to rap it off in ten minutes; instead, it had taken him nearly two weeks.

The result had been nothing less than stunning to her, not only because of its length or the poignancy of the story it told, but also because it showed that he had communication skills that went well beyond his flair for wild dramatics. The tale had taken her from amusement to agony to anger and, yes, even a bit of awe, and she was admittedly impressed.

But impressed or not, knowing that it was pretty much an accurate account now left her with several significant questions. Still thinking about all she had just read, she picked up the iPad for a moment, scanned the last page of text it displayed, then set it down again. She shook her head, not in rejection, but confusion. "Nick was right, then: you were a smart, sweet, nice little boy. What happened? I mean, I know you and Wayne have had this rivalry going back a long time, but it's not like there was nobody in your life who cared about you. The warden, some of the guards — they practically treated you like you were their own son! How could you decide to become a villain and turn your back on them?"

Megamind said nothing for so long, Roxanne thought he was not going to answer the question. When she looked at him, however, she could see his mind at work behind his unfocused eyes. "It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't lived through it," he finally said softly. "I was aware of the fact that the warden and others at the prison were trying to help me live a normal life — but in the end, it was impossible. I was a blue-skinned alien child living in a prison. No matter how kind some of the people were, there were many more who were there for very good reasons. On one hand, I was shown occasional acts of kindness by those who cared, but every day, I saw a great deal more ugliness, the contempt and hatred and bitterness many of the inmates held toward the entire world."

He sighed. "That prison was specifically designed to house criminals who were by and large incorrigible sociopaths, people with dangerous gifts and attitudes that made them highly unlikely to ever reintegrate with the rest of society. The first time I was sent into the outside world, what happened? I encountered an arrogant, super-egoed bully and a teacher who was prejudiced against anyone who came from a background without money and power. Those 'li'l gifted kids' were 'gifted' only because they'd been born into privileged, wealthy families. My gifts were different. They were real, but they couldn't hold a candle to Wayne's showy powers and his family position. With that kind of setup, it was inevitable that I'd come to believe I was like the other inmates: a congenital sociopath who was destined to be condemned as evil."

He paused, his eyes focusing on the iPad, then on Roxanne. "I know that I made some bad choices that I can't blame on anyone but myself, and I do regret how they hurt the people who had genuinely tried to help me and protect me. But when I made some of my worst choices, I was still a kid. I was hurt and I was angry, eventually very angry, and I lashed out against anything and anyone that seemed to be a part of those people and systems that had hurt me." Somehow, despite the serious topic, he managed a wan smile. "But it could've been worse."

"Worse?" Roxanne echoed, taken aback. "That's hard to believe...!"

"Oh, but it's true," he assured her with a shockingly casual wave of one hand. "In the past twenty years, I may have been responsible for considerable property damage and general mayhem, but I never once hurt anyone, never killed anyone — I even went out of my way to keep the damage to a minimum when I could, since too much uncontrolled destruction would've risked injuring innocent people. Yes, I kept trying to eliminate Metro Man, but I always knew that killing him would be impossible. I focused my energies on him because my entire point was to prove that just once, somehow, I could beat him at something! Why do you think I enjoyed all that ridiculous back-and-forth banter? It was the only kind of battle of wits I could get him to engage in! If he'd been willing to sit down and face off with me in a public game of chess, or even Trivial Pursuit, I probably would've been just as happy!"

Unexpectedly, Roxanne found herself chuckling. "So if Wayne hadn't stuck to the brawn over brains approach, we could've gotten an endless round of real games out of the two of you and not all the physical fighting?"

Abashed to hear it put that way, Megamind flushed, but nodded. "I think I could've lived with that. All I really wanted was for people to recognize that a powerful mind can be just as awesome as a powerful body. I just wanted to have my talents recognized and respected for a change. But it didn't happen that way, not even when I was a child. Peer pressure and bad examples and even worse circumstances pushed me into thinking that I would get nowhere trying to imitate Wayne and all the 'good' people in my life. Still, I was never as... consumed by my anger as I might've been. If not for the occasional kindness of people like Nick and Officer Davis and Warden Thurmer, my anger could've grown much, much worse, more destructive and vicious. Fortunately, they were in my life at the right times, and they had a positive effect on me that most people never noticed. There were times when I could've chosen to take a much darker, much more genuinely evil path — and every time I took one step in that direction, I practically ran screaming from it in terror."

Roxanne couldn't help but laugh at the image. "Yes, I can see that, all too clearly."

He feigned indignation. "Laugh all you want, my dear, but it's true."

"Oh, I know it is, sweetie," she assured him, patting his arm in a gesture of affectionate consolation as she leaned forward to offer a brief but reassuring kiss. "You may have acted scary at times, but you were never really all that terrifying. It didn't take long before I began to think that doing something truly evil — I mean, serial killer, mass murderer, wholesale death and destruction, nuke 'em 'til they glow type evil — terrified you just as much as it did any sane person. You were giving it your best shot, sure, you wore the whole Master of Evil get-up and you talked the talk, but you never really walked the walk. Plenty of other people bought the act, and you could be one serious pain in the butt, but I think that's why I could never bring myself to hate you, why I even kind of liked you, even when you kept turning my life into a three-ring circus. Under it all, I could see the rejected little kid, just wanting to get some kind of attention, some kind of notice that he wasn't totally insignificant and unlovable. A lot of us have issues, that way. But for most of us, it never got even half as bad as it must have been for you."

For a second or two, she was sure Megamind was about to pout, but instead he sighed again and offered her a small but grateful smile. "Thank you for not coming right out and saying that I was the most pitiful excuse for a villain in the entire history of villainy — not that I was," he added, for the sake of his bruised ego. "Say what you might about the effectiveness of my plans, but at least I always executed them with style!"

The reporter laughed, kindly. "Now, I can agree with that one hundred percent! So," she continued more gently, "I do understand what you meant about people like Nick being positive influences, but were you really so angry that you actually turned on Warden Thurmer and made him hate you?"

The fingers of the alien's left hand drummed on one black denim-covered knee while he considered the matter. "I would say yes I was, but to be honest, he never has acted like he hates me. Oh, he's gotten boiling mad at me, and there have been times when I thought he would have a classic medieval dungeon built for the prison just so he could lock me in it and throw away the key, but... well, you've seen the special cell they had built for me, haven't you?"

"The one with the rainbows and fuzzy animals and happy thoughts painted all over the walls?"

He winced. "Yes, that one. Apparently, the idea of using cheerful decor to try to stimulate my better nature was his handicapped son's idea, something he came up with after seeing the negative effect sterile utilitarian surroundings have on patients in mental health institutions. I don't think he suggested what was actually used — I've heard a rumor that the specifics came from one of the guards' eight year old daughters — but it surprised me that he was even willing to try, after I traded in my surly juvenile delinquent teenager bit for full-scale attempts at supervillainy. I'm afraid that over time, our relationship degenerated into just another version of The Game I played with Metro Man, and even though he could and did get very angry and upset with me, I believe the warden was actually much more disappointed in me. He had tried his best to protect me from people who wouldn't have thought twice about hurting and killing me in the name of science or religion, he did care about me, and I repaid him by turning against him — by turning all he had done for me into a cruel joke."

He paused, his eyes filling with genuine sadness and deep regret. "It was a terrible thing to do, as it is for any parent who wonders where they failed when their children go wrong. I realized that while I was writing this for you, and it might make you happy to know that I intend to apologize. I'm not sure how, yet, but I will, as soon as I can."

Roxanne's smile was full of confident encouragement. "I'm sure you will. If there's one thing you've learned very well since turning hero, it's how to face up to your mistakes and apologize. Wayne could use a few pointers, that way," she added with a soft snort. "He still needs to realize that he owes the citizens of Metro City an apology for walking out on them."

Surprisingly, the ex-villain was willing to be more charitable. "At least we got him to agree to the story about losing his powers so I could be publicly cleared of his murder, which never happened. Don't hold your breath waiting for more, my dear Roxanne. His skull is every bit as thick as his hide. I figured that out on the first day I saw him again in shkool."

Roxanne conceded the point, but her expression suddenly turned hard and angry, causing her beau to flinch in confused fear, wondering what he'd done wrong now. She forged on before he could ask. "Which brings me to my next question: how the hell was a narrow-minded insensitive bitch like your Ms Driscoll allowed inside the walls of a school — any school? My God, you were six years old, and you jumped off a moving bus on a freaking expressway! I don't care what kind of troublemaker she thought you were, she should've made it stop immediately and called the police! Hell, if it'd been me, I would've pushed that little Osgood creep out instead!"

Her face turned red-hot as her entire body stiffened and bristled with her furious and righteous indignation; she seriously looked as if she wanted to find the woman and punch her lights out. Megamind smiled, relieved that her anger wasn't aimed at him, and took his turn as the voice of reason. "Calm down," he suggested in his best soothing tones, which were actually quite good. "Remember, it all turned out for the best. If she hadn't been such an insensitive bitch, as you say, I would never have met Nick, and that experience is one I treasure very much. Besides," he added, his smile turning deliciously wicked, "she got what she deserved, in the end."

Roxanne scowled, not yet willing to let go of a good rant. "What, did she get a week at the Rack and Thumbscrews Spa for Christmas?"

"No," he said wistfully, "it did take a few more months before she got her comeuppance. Remember what I told you about how Wayne's hideout had been our shkoolhouse, and how he took it away the day I was expelled?" She nodded, still fuming. "Well, for once, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes didn't get a gold star for his 'heroism.' That afternoon, the parents came to pick up their kids at the usual time, only to find the entire building, and their children, gone. They went ballistic, calling the police, demanding to know who had kidnapped their little darlings, what had happened to destroy the shkool. Both Wayne and Ms Driscoll had a lot of explaining to do. He was able to hide behind the excuse that he was only a child and didn't know any better. Ms Driscoll tried to shove the blame onto me, but there was no way she could deny that she'd actually encouraged Wayne to rip the place up from its foundation and fly it miles away, endangering the lives of an entire group of unprotected children. The parents were screaming for justice, most of them pulled their kids out of the 'dangerous environment,' the Scotts had to pay settlements to keep from getting prosecuted for Wayne's actions, and one of the other parents, a state senator, started an investigation to get Ms Driscoll's teaching certificate and shkool charter revoked."

"Did he?" Roxanne demanded, still not entirely appeased.

There was a certain ever-so-innocent wickedness in the hero's answering grin. "Oh, he did more than just that. He found out that Ms Driscoll didn't even have a valid certificate or charter. She'd forged all of her certifications — and what's more, it hadn't been the first time, far from it. It turned out that she was really Doreen Blake, a college flunkie from Texas, and she was wanted in at least eleven states east of the Mississippi for pulling this same scam, setting up special shkools for 'gifted' — a.k.a. 'rich' — kids. She'd take in as many as local laws permitted, charge an outrageous tuition for glorified babysitting, then close down after one or two semesters at most, whenever something happened to get one of the parents suspicious, and move on. Since the kids never really learned anything, and her idea of a progressive education made Lord of the Flies look like tea with the Queen, it never took very long for the truth to start coming out. The senator was out for her blood, and she wound up charged with fraud, forgery, child abuse, extortion, everything he could make a case for. It wasn't hard, since there was plenty of incriminating evidence. She tried to get off on an insanity plea — which almost worked, since she was obviously crazy — and was extradited to the other states where she was wanted on the same charges, and a few others." He snickered gleefully. "Last I heard, she was still going through the courts and piling up more real life sentences than I ever did."

"Not bad," Roxanne allowed, still calming down from her explosion. "Though I still think the rack and thumbscrews would've been a nice touch."

"No argument here."

She took a few deep and steadying breaths, let go of most of her remaining anger, then, like a good investigative reporter, moved on. "What happened to Nick?" she asked. "Do you know?"

Megamind nodded. "Warden Thurmer found him a job with the Department of Corrections, working as a teacher in the education department of a women's medium security facility. I kept in touch with him through letters for a few years after he settled into an apartment of his own. After I was kicked out of shkool with the idea that I was destined to be a bad boy, he tried very hard to convince me otherwise. It wasn't a wasted effort; for five years, I didn't want to disappoint him, so I didn't throw myself into it as hard as I eventually would."

"What happened to change that?"

His entire face suddenly flooded with deep sadness. "He died," the ex-villain said softly, but bluntly. "Of perfectly natural causes, of course. It was a massive myocardial infarction, caused by a congenital heart defect. He didn't suffer, but it broke my heart when I heard. I did know he wasn't really Santa Claus, but I thought if anyone on Earth deserved the job, it was him. At least I was able to console myself with the thought that because we'd met, he was able to have a job and a decent life during the time he had left, though part of me was angry that he couldn't be saved. Dr. Schneider tried to explain to me how serious his condition actually had been; he told me that if he'd continued living on the streets, Nick would probably have died much sooner. He passed away when I was twelve — and thankfully, he never had to see my public career as a supervillain. I'm afraid that would have broken his heart, more than any mere defect of nature."

Roxanne heard the honest remorse in his voice. She knew there was really nothing she could say to ease such grief, so she settled for expressing her sympathy through a long, quietly loving hug, which he gratefully accepted. For a long time, they remained that way, as she waited until he was ready to continue before releasing him.

"So," he eventually said in a lighter voice, allowing the remembered sadness to pass, "do you have any other questions, Ms Nosy Reporter?"

She sat up straighter, smiling at his willingness to tease. "Just one. Is your name really Michael?"

"No," he replied with traditional Megamind haughtiness. "It's Mykaal."

She cocked one eyebrow in equally traditional Ritchi skepticism. "Really?"

"Really. For once, you are the one doing the mispronouncing!"

She remained deliberately unconvinced. "You sure about that? I could just see you picking a name like Michael..."

"Why, because it means I am like God?"

She punched his arm playfully. "It's who is like God?, not I am. Actually, I was thinking of the story about St. Michael."

"I don't know it," the alien admitted. "I only know about the meaning because one of the guards, Mike O'Malley, told me when he thought he'd heard Officer Davis call me Michael. There are so many religions and myths and legends on this planet, I wouldn't know where to begin studying them."

Roxanne had to agree. "That's true. This one is just something I remember hearing in Sunday Shkool — darn it, you've got me doing it, now!" He grinned triumphantly at her slip, and she pretended not to notice. "I heard it in Sunday School when I was a little girl, and I remembered it mostly because of my Uncle Mike, who was a beat cop in New York. St. Michael was one of the archangels, some say the greatest. He was the one who threw down Satan and defeated him, and became the great Defender of the People. Some considered him a healer, and others thought he was the angel of death and justice. I remember from somewhere that the colors associated with him are blue and black — your favorites. Now, if I can keep all this information in my puny human brain—" She tapped her head with one finger. "—I figured you might've researched it yourself, just out of curiosity." The same finger lightly poked him right between the eyes.

Megamind, having been focused on her finger, uncrossed his eyes and conceded the possibility. "I might have, but I didn't. It's interesting, though, and I can see why you thought I might be familiar with it." He laughed, quietly amused. "You know, if Officer Mike had told me things like this, I might've reconsidered going the supervillain route. Having a name so similar to that of such a powerful figure of good might've felt like a stronger proof of destiny than Ms Driscoll's abuse and Wayne Scott's brattiness! As it was, all Officer Mike's information did was give my growing sense of egotism further fuel for the fire."

Roxanne snickered. "Ah, so you admit you've got an over-inflated ego, eh?"

The genius remained resolutely unruffled. "An over-inflated ego, and an underdeveloped sense of self-esteem. It's a bad combination. But I never really thought that there might be anything more behind the name. It's just a coincidence, anyway. My name is Mykaal, not Michael."

"Are you sure of that?" Roxanne asked, the sparkle of challenge in her eyes.

As always, Megamind was up to it, his green eyes glinting back, accepting the challenge with a boyish energy and enthusiasm she loved. "Positive. Would you like to see the proof?"

She couldn't resist. "Only if this isn't another way of asking if I'd like to come up and see your etchings."

He rolled his eyes and he sniffed. "Really, would someone with my impressive intellect stoop to using such a trite and dated cliche if my intentions were..." He waggled his eyebrows impishly. "...less than honorable?"

"Why not? You've stooped to it before..."

"Never with you — well, not often, anyway," he amended, the tips of his ears turning an interesting shade of fuschia. "Come along," he said primly, suddenly standing up. "I'll show you, and I promise you won't be offended."

Smiling, Roxanne let up on the teasing, accepted his gallantly offered hand to rise from the couch, and happily retained her hold on it as he led her to yet another part of his Lair.

TBC...