Clive cringed as he was shoved past rows of criminals hidden deep within the bowels of the AVL. Each new face seemed to stare at him more maliciously than the next. He didn't exactly have a real heart, but nevertheless, he felt as if the plastic piece in his chest was beating hard. He kept whimpering and tugging at the restraints, but the agents just kept tightening the handcuffs no matter what he did.

Suddenly, he came upon a face that reminded him of something. A face that was so painfully 80's that it almost made Clive nauseous. There was something about that mustache…

Clive jumped as the man spoke. "Clive! There you are! I'm so sorry I didn't come back for you! Are they taking you too?"

"My name is Ninja," Clive said. He looked away and continued to roll along the rows of cells.

The man shook his head. "Clive, what's happened to you? Have you forgotten me already?"

Clive sighed. He felt badly for the man, who was clearly mistaking him for someone else. "I'm sorry. You must be mistaken. My name is Ninja, and I have never seen a man like you in my life."

At this, the man's mustache wilted. Clive, feeling guilty, tried to roll away as fast as he could. The agents suddenly brandished tasers, and he screeched in alarm. "Stop trying to sympathize with Bratt," growled the agent with the Fu Manchu, pressing what felt like a firearm into Clive's back.

Clive felt like cockroaches were crawling around inside of his stomach. "Who is Bratt?"

The agents scowled. "You know who he is. Stop playing coy," said the one with the cowlick.

Clive shook his head. "What are you talking about? I belong to Edith Gru. I've never had any other owners."

Clive yelped as he was tazed again. "Either you go in that cell or you tell us what Bratt's been up to ever since he started passing notes from his cell!" yelled Fu Manchu.

Clive didn't want to lie, but he had no choice. "I...uh...errr...I think he planned a heist?"

Cowlick leaned so close to Clive's face that Clive could smell the roast chicken on his breath. "Can you be more specific, sir?"

Clive shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Umm, I saw one of your agents and they knocked me unconscious before most of the heist took place. I'm sorry, sir, but all I remember is waking up on Edith Gru's lawn. I can't tell you anything else. That's all."

Fu Manchu scowled. "You're lying."

"H-how do you know that?" Clive said.

The agent tapped something on Clive's wrist. Clive gasped. The agents had slipped a lie detector on his wrist, and they did it so subtly that Clive hadn't noticed until it was too late.

Clive tried to make himself look as cute and convincing as possible. "Sir, something must be wrong with your lie detector. I'm not lying."

Fu Manchu and Cowlick grabbed him by the arms and dragged him unceremoniously down the hall. "Hey-what's going on?" Clive yelped.

"We're just putting you where you belong," Fu Manchu said. Before Clive could ask what Fu Manchu meant, he found himself thrown in a cell. Fu Manchu and Cowlick chuckled as they locked the door with a satisfying click.

"Hey-I didn't do anything wrong! Let me go!" Clive protested.

Cowlick smiled evilly. "Of course you didn't. That's why we're going to keep you for questioning," he said as he and his cohort exited the hallway.

Clive banged on the bars and tried to open the door, but the thing really was locked tightly. Then he smiled. He knew what he'd do. When the agents left, he'd take out his drill and drill a nice big hole into the wall. They'd never know!

As though they had heard Clive's thoughts, the agents turned around with a scowl. "We also removed your drill and hammer when you weren't looking. Didn't want you trying anything, now did we?" said Cowlick.

"Don't leave me!" Clive said, feeling helpless as the agents chuckled and turned a corner. As soon as they had left, Clive did the only thing he could. He curled up in a corner and cried himself to sleep.

…

"Clive! It really IS you!"

Oh no. Not him again. Why does he think I belong to him? And why is he ruining my sleep?

Clive lifted one tired eyelid to see Bratt staring into his cell. He jumped and crawled away from him. "Go away! I'm not yours! I belong to Edith Gru, and you're not a girl, so you can't be her!"

Bratt laughed. "Clive, stop playing games. You know it's me! Don't be afraid, I'll get you out in no time."

Clive looked at Bratt suspiciously. He didn't know why the man kept talking about someone named Clive, but if he could get him out alive….

"Okay, I guess," Clive said.

"That's the spirit!" Bratt said. "Now, where did I put that boom box…"

"BOOM BOX?!" Clive exclaimed.

Bratt winked. "Wait and see, Clive. Wait and see."

Just as Clive was about to ask just what the heck was going on, Bratt triumphantly pulled out a boom box big enough to crush an elephant's skull. "Ah, here it is! Woohoo!" Bratt said. He scrabbled at the wall until he uncovered something that he plugged the boom box into. Suddenly, loud 80's music blared throughout the room.

Clive shrieked and fell back onto his bottom. "Turn it down! You're hurting my ears!"

For a moment, Bratt looked miserably disappointed. "Clive, don't you like my music? You used to say this was your favorite song!"

Before Clive could reply that he'd never heard this song in his life, and, quite frankly, he thought it was rather trashy, one of the bars of the cell shattered. Bratt broke out into a dance that induced deja vu in Clive for some reason. Bratt kicked out some bars as the music continued to shatter even more. Before long, there was enough space for Clive to crawl through the bars unaided.

"Thanks for getting me out," Clive said as soon as he got out.

"No problem, my little friend," Bratt replied. Then he scooped Clive up under his arm. "Now let's get out of here so I don't have to have a dance battle with those agents!"

"Let me go!" Clive screamed. Bratt didn't seem to hear him. Instead, he did an admittedly masterful moonwalk across the floor before dancing out the hallway. A few more turned corners and weird dance moves later, Clive dazedly found himself strapped into a weirdly 80's boat as Bratt drove away, singing something else Clive didn't recognize at the top of his lungs.

"Can't you just give me my own boat?" Clive snapped. "And, by the way, your taste in music is terrible."

"If you hate my music so much, then why don't you go with THEM?!" Bratt burst out as he pointed to Gru and Lucy, who were watercycling furiously after the boat.

Clive sighed in relief. "That's them! Do you mind dropping me off with them?" he asked Bratt.

Bratt scowled and slapped Clive upside the head. "Of course I'm not! Clive, what is wrong with you? Don't tell me you got bubblegum stuck in your head again!"

Clive winced and rubbed his cheek. "I've never had bubblegum stuck in my head. What are you talking about? YOU'RE the one who smells like gum."

Bratt muttered something under his breath. Then he straightened up and grinned maniacally. "Well, if you don't want to come back with me...it looks like there's only one other option!"

"And what's tha-?" Clive started. Before he could finish his sentence, Bratt was tossing him out of the boat and into the water. Clive screamed. "I'm going to die if I land in that water! I'll s-s-short out! You can't do that to me!"

"Yes I can," Bratt said smugly, before popping a wad of sugary gum into his mouth. "I guess if you're not going to be loyal to me, I'll just have to make ANOTHER one of you."

Clive would have made some snarky comment back about not caring, but he didn't have time. That's because he hit the water and started flailing, trying to keep his head above the surface. "Help! Help! I can't swim!" Clive shouted. He winced as he felt something inside him start to spark and shut down. He figured he had about fifteen seconds, max, before he was out for good.

Then he heard a familiar Russian guy yelling. "Stay zere, Neenja! We'll have you in een no time!"

"Whew," Clive said. At least he wasn't going to turn into a mushy mass of metal. Unfortunately, he realized that Gru and his wife were still several feet away from him. Frantically, Clive tried to kick his feet and paddle over, but it was no use. His feet were about as good for kicking as Gru's head was for growing hair. Quite frankly, his arms were pretty useless too. All he could really do was just bob there and wait for help.

After what felt like eighty years, Gru finally pulled the barely-functioning Clive out of the water. "Neenja! Are you all right? You look terreeble," said Gru.

"No," Clive mumbled before a huge spark accidentally shocked Gru. Gru screamed and dropped Clive into the water again. Clive only had enough time to groan before he passed out.

…..

So cold...so cold…..so cold so cold so cold….

"Ninja!"

Clive snapped awake with a gasp. He was wrapped like a mummy in about ten towels and was being looked at by a very worried Edith.

"Ninja, are you okay?" Edith asked.

Clive shook his head. "No," he mumbled. He shivered, still unable to get the chill of the ocean water out of his memory. He glanced at the clock and noticed it was about five o'clock. "What...how long was I off…"

"I don't know! Like, five hours! And that was AFTER Dr. Nefario fixed you!" Edith said.

Clive felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry, miss. I've never mixed well with water."

"Oh, it's not your fault! Bratt was really mean!" Edith assured him.

Clive wasn't used to that. He still didn't know if he'd ever really belonged to Bratt or not, but for some reason he thought he remembered an older owner who hadn't been very patient with him when things like this happened. "Thank you," Clive murmured, looking down at his towel-shrouded torso. "But why are all these towels here?"

"Because you kept saying how cold you were in your sleep," Edith said. "And, uhh, Dr. Nefario told me to dry you off because he said he couldn't work on you if you were wet."

Clive smiled weakly. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. Then he remembered something important. "Bratt….did he escape? What happened with those agents? Do they still want me?"

Edith hopped up and down excitedly. "Dad totally tricked Bratt into thinking that you were dead, and Bratt said he didn't want you anymore. Mom said she told the agents the same thing, so now I can keep you forever! Isn't that cool?"

Clive hugged Edith. "It is," he agreed, unaware that someone was planning to get him back at that very moment.

…..

The sounds of Michael Jackson blared through Balthazar's house as he tried in vain to ignore his phone. Eventually, he cautiously crept up to it, wielding a hammer wrapped with old leg warmers. "Hello?" he asked as he picked up the phone.

His eyes widened when he realized who was on the other end. "You're my prison guard? What do you want?"

Balthazar rolled his eyes at the answer. "No, I am NOT giving you my autograph!...yes, I know we had a deal, but who said I was going to keep it?"

Balthazar waited impatiently as the man on the other end ranted. "Yes, I understand you have written five thousand fanfics-WHAT? You think Clive and I should've been a couple on Evil Bratt? And you want to marry ME?! Listen, pal, I don't know what you think you're doing, but-"

Balthazar sighed. "Yes, I know, we had a deal, but you are not getting ANY of my personal stash of action figures, nor are you getting my autograph. Look, I appreciate that you passed notes for me in prison. It was wonderful! But it doesn't matter that you have ten tattoos of me on your arms, your chest, your legs, and your butt. I'm not giving you my autograph and that's final! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

Balthazar looked over at a large shape hulking in the shadows. "Look, Andy, this guy's not shutting up. Can you do something about it? And when I say do something about it, I mean ANYTHING. If you need to roll him into the ground, just do it. Please."

A robot that looked like a bigger, scarier version of Clive rolled over. "Yes, sir," the robot said.

"Thanks, pal," Balthazar said before scowling at the phone in his hand. "Man, the nerve of some people!"

Andy giggled. "He was a fool, sir. But he won't be one for long."

Balthazar beamed. "That's my boy! Do you need any bubblegum or exploding Rubik's cubes?"

Andy smiled. "I don't think so, sir. My chainsaws are in excellent condition." At this, he brandished a new pair of arms with disco-ball-esque chainsaws on the end.

"Excellent! Well, I'll just give you the address of the prison and you can do your thing," Bratt replied. "Just look for a man with about a million tattoos of me with a bald head, a nose ring, and short-shorts. Don't ask me HOW he got to wear short-shorts as part of his prison guard uniform, though. The guy is a complete lunatic!"

Andy nodded. "It will be done, boss."

Balthazar made a shooing action with his hand. "Great! Now get out of here and kill the guy as soon as you possibly can." He shoved a piece of paper into Andy's hands.

Andy nodded and giggled again. "Oh, boss, this is going to be SUCH fun."

"Oh, it sure will be! Tell me all about it when you get back," Balthazar said.

Andy waved before stepping into an elevator. "I'm taking the boat, right, boss? And I can use your cassettes?"

Balthazar frowned. "Yes, you're taking the boat. No, you can't use any of my cassettes, not even the ones from my weird phase. Just GO already!"

Andy looked slightly disappointed, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he pressed a button, and the elevator doors snapped shut to the theme song of Evil Bratt.

Balthazar rubbed his hands together. "Now I get to prepare my victory dance!"