Chapter Text
“You’re such a cynic.”
Megamind glared at Roxanne and then put his nose in the air. “I am not a cynic,” he replied haughtily.
“Totally a cynic.”
“I am not!” he snapped, starting to get annoyed.
He wasn’t!
“Do you think that people are only motivated by their own self-interest?”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay—yes, I would say that is usually the case. But—” he added quickly, cutting off what was sure to be a smug taunt from her, “—that is simply a matter of survival. Most creatures are built to put themselves first. And—” he said, cutting her off again, “—even the species that seem to exhibit altruism are simply acting out a social behavior that was built into them. In species where community is necessary to thrive, any attempt to help another member of your community could be argued to be self-serving, as it enforces the bonds between the individual and the group. The stronger those bonds, the higher probability that the individual will receive support in a time of need.” He shrugged.
“Cynic.”
“I’m not—not that it matters! Why are we even talking about this?” He twisted the transmitter on his watch. “Minion! What’s the status?”
“Uh, he’s still busy,” came the grainy reply. “Now there’s a fire in one of the high-rise condos downtown.”
“This is ridiculous!” Megamind exclaimed, throwing his free hand into the air in frustration. He and Roxanne had been waiting for well over an hour, but one thing after another had prevented the so-called ‘hero’ from coming to rescue her. He’d turned off the cameras twenty minutes ago and sent the brainbots to stand guard while he did his best to ‘menace’ Roxanne—though it frequently felt like their roles were reversed—but he could only keep things going for so long.
“Sorry, Sir.”
Megamind sighed. “It’s fine, Minion. Just… just keep me posted.” He turned the watch off and spun about, facing Roxanne. “Well, Miss Ritchi, it seems today is not your day. How does it feel knowing that your beloved Metro Man has chosen the needs of the many over the needs of the… you,” he sneered, as wickedly as he could.
“Ah, butchered Star Trek. My favorite,” she retorted, giving him a vexingly charming smirk. “Now. Back to my point—”
“I am not a cynic! I am a realist, at the very least! I’d even say I’m an optimist! I mean, how many times have I gone after Metro Man?” he said, gesturing with both hands. “If that’s not optimism, I don’t know what is.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why is that optimism?”
He stared at her blankly. “Because he’s Metro Man.” Wasn’t it obvious? “He’s indestructible!”
She quirked a brow.
He frowned. “What?”
“He’s indestructible?” she echoed, as if in question.
He narrowed his eyes. What was she…?
“You said he’s indestructible,” she said, looking at him pointedly. “So, you believe that he can’t be destroyed. Which means you don’t think you have a chance of defeating him. Not exactly optimistic.”
“No, I—that’s not—you’re twisting my words!” he sputtered, aiming a finger at her. “That is a flawed interpretation! He’s indestructible—so far! Which is why I’m still working on it! With—with optimism!” He marched away and tried to think of something else to monologue about. He really needed to get this conversation back under control.
“Fine,” she said. “If you’re not a cynic, why don’t you prove it? Let me out of these ropes and we can, I don’t know, play a game or something.”
He let out an annoyed growl. That was how this whole conversation had started! The second he’d turned off the cameras, she asked to be released, claiming she wouldn’t try to escape. After laughing at her utterly ludicrous suggestion, he had assured her that he wouldn’t fall for such an obvious trap.
And then all the cynicism talk had started!
His growing aggravation was no doubt part of her plan. She was clearly trying to irritate him until he gave in and untied her. Then she’d slip away the first chance she got!
Maybe he should just go with it. It didn’t seem like Metro Man would be arriving anytime soon, and it was getting late. Letting her escape was somehow less embarrassing than having to drive her home because her idiot boyfriend was too busy to come rescue her.
And—and how the hell was that possible? Too busy? He was too fucking busy? What kind of a braindead ass would leave the love of his life in the hands of an evil fucking supervillain, just because of a goddamn fire in some upper-class lofts? That’s what the fire department was for!
The—unappreciative, son of a—
Did he not realize how—unbelievably lucky he was? To have someone like her?
Megamind bit the inside of his cheek and let out a long, slow breath.
No. There was no point in getting upset. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It was just how things were. Accept it.
Move on.
He blinked and realized he’d been pacing. And she’d been watching. And he’d probably been making some rather intense faces. Shit. He straightened up and raised his chin.
“Very well, Miss Ritchi, I accept your challenge. I shall prove that I’m not a cynic by releasing you. We’ll wait here together until Metro Man arrives.”
Or until she ran away. Whichever came first. As if there was any doubt.
“Great!” she exclaimed, a dazzling smile lighting her features.
He busied himself unknotting and loosening her bindings until they fell to the ground around her chair. She stepped out of the pile of rope and Megamind dutifully began gathering it back into a coil. His listened closely to the clack of her footsteps as she moved through the room behind him but was careful to appear as though he were solely focused on the task at hand.
“Wow,” her voice echoed through the vacant foyer. The plot of the day featured a laser-shooting pipe organ with legs, so it had to take place in Metrocity’s historic Orpheum Theater. “The architecture in here is so beautiful.”
He smirked to himself. A comment about the architecture. Next, she’d want to explore the auditorium. Then she’d slip out the back before he had a chance to catch up. It was so obvious. By the time he was done coiling the rope, she’d be gone.
“Do you mind if I check out the stage?”
Ha! Too easy. “Do as you like, Miss Ritchi,” he said indifferently.
Her footsteps disappeared into the distance, and he heard a door open and close. He deliberately ignored the nagging disappointment in his chest. Maybe a small part of him had hoped she’d stand by her word…
Oh well. No point in deluding himself.
He stowed the coil of rope and made his way to the auditorium. Once through the ornate doorway, he glanced around, fully expecting the room to be empty. But, to his great surprise, she was standing on the stage, front and center, looking out over the audience.
“Oh!” she exclaimed upon seeing him. She took a step back and smiled self-consciously. “This—uh—this really is such a gorgeous theater. I’m actually kind of glad Wayne is busy. I’d hate it if this place got destroyed.”
Megamind glanced around at the lavish baroque-style decor as he made his way down to her. She’d inadvertently struck on one of his main concerns with this particular location. That was exactly why he’d set things up in the entrance. The tentative plan was that Wayne would burst in—probably through the roof, like the galumphing idiot he was—and then Megamind would surreptitiously lure him out into the theater’s courtyard, thereby technically hosting his plot at the appropriate metropolitan venue without risking too much damage to the magnificent interior.
But he couldn’t admit something like that to Roxanne, so he stayed silent as he took a seat on the edge of the stage.
“I used to come to shows here when I was younger,” she said wistfully. “My grandma brought me, when she was still around.” She smiled and sat beside him. “I actually had a minor obsession with Shakespeare for a while and we used to go to the Shakespeare—”
“—Spectacles?” he finished for her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “The performances put on by the Antiquity Troupe? Yes, I remember those.” They had been some of his first lessons on effective staging.
“His female characters always seem so elegant,” she continued. “I used to idolize them.”
Understandable. The costumes. The language. “Anyone in particular?”
She grinned. “At the time? Juliet.”
He made a face. “Wh—with the ‘o happy dagger’ stuff? Why on earth would you idolize that?”
She laughed. “I thought her story was so beautiful and tragic. And romantic—obviously. And then I grew up and realized that she and Romeo were basically just starry-eyed kids who didn’t know the first thing about each other.”
“Well, you certainly don’t strike me as the Juliet type,” he intoned. “You may have her passion, Miss Ritchi, but the innocent, demure damsel character doesn’t suit you at all.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing you see me as a Kate? A shrew to be tamed?”
He tipped his head to the side, thinking. “No… I’d say you’re more of a… Beatrice. Much Ado. Clever. Confident. Loyal. Sharp tongued, yes, but not so spiteful.”
“Oh.” She looked rather pleased.
“Besides—taming you is clearly impossible.” He cast an exaggerated sidelong glance at her, and she laughed again. He found that he quite liked the sound…
“And what about you? Who’s your character?”
“Ha. I should think it was obvious. Who could I be, but Caliban?” he said with an especially e-vil smirk.
She wrinkled her nose. “Caliban? Why?”
The smirk faltered. Did he really have to say it? “A villain ‘not honour’d with a human shape.’” Constantly put in his place by someone he hated… tempted by another someone he couldn’t have…
She gave him a look of incredulity. “But you’re nothing like him! Nope. I veto that choice.” She narrowed her eyes, surveying him intently. “If I’m Beatrice, you have to be Benedick.”
His eyes went wide. Benedick? Beatrice’s romantic counterpart?
A moment later, Roxanne seemed to realize what she’d said and tittered nervously, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I—I mean—with our ‘merry war,’” she said, gesturing between them. “Besides, his character kind of fits. Dramatic. Histrionic. Clever. Competitive. Funny…. Fun.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Suits you.”
Except— “But he’s such a misogynist! I’m not like that!” He paused. He did regularly ‘threaten’ Roxanne in order to lure her boyfriend to battle…
“Beatrice asks Benedick to kill someone for her. Am I like that?” she asked flatly.
“Ah. Right. Er—no, you’re not.” An uncomfortable silence settled around them and Megamind fidgeted with his hands, trying to think of a way to fill it. “So! I’m sure you gathered that I too attended the Shakespeare Spectacles as a boy,” he said, jumping to his feet.
“I did,” she confirmed, her eyes twinkling.
“Would you like to see my usual seat?”
“I would.” She climbed to her feet as well.
“This way,” he beckoned, making his way backstage to a hidden spiral staircase he knew very well, though it had been ages since he’d used it.
“Up there?” she questioned with a bemused grin.
He gave a sharp nod. “My Uncle Morrie worked here,” he explained as they climbed.
“Your uncle?”
“Er—my—uh—” He winced. He hadn’t quite meant to bring that up. “Not a real uncle. One of the… people from the—uh—the place where I grew up.”
They both knew what he meant.
When he first began kidnapping her, she’d done some digging into his past and learned that, through a statutory loophole and the warden’s sheer determination, he’d been held as the only juvenile member of the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted. Of course, she had confronted him about it and asked a series of questions—like how that could possibly be legal—but when he remained tight lipped, she eventually gave up, letting the subject go. He worried, for a while, that she would use it as fodder to tease him with—she wouldn’t be the first—but she didn’t.
It had remained a largely unaddressed topic between them since then. Until now.
He cast a stealthy glance over his shoulder, but her expression didn’t give much away, so he cleared his throat nervously. “… Anyway, Uncle Morrie helped with the lights here, after he was… released,” he went on, hesitantly. “The warden would bring me over sometimes, and Uncle Morrie would let me watch the show while he worked.” At the top of the stairway, he tapped lightly on the railing. “Here—you, uh—you might want to hold on. The walkway is a bit tree-cherous,” he said, fluttering his hands in warning.
She half-smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Uh… thanks.”
He led her slowly, carefully down the narrow catwalk to his usual seating area. When he was a kid, he used peek around the lights and marvel at the bird’s eye view of the stage. He felt like royalty, watching the show from his own private box. That is, until he told one of the kids at school about it.
And they told everyone else.
And they all called him a ‘freak’ for not using a real seat like a normal person.
… Why did he bring Roxanne up here again?
She stood beside him quietly and peered down at the stage.
This was a stupid, horrible plan! Everything looked so tiny! The stage was miles away! And there were wires and lights cluttering up the view! Why the hell did he show her this?
“I… erm… I know it’s a bit… different…” he stammered.
“This is incredible,” Roxanne murmured. “You used to watch shows from up here?” she asked, turning to him.
Huh. It didn’t sound like she was mocking him. “I… Yes. I did.”
She grinned. “I’m so jealous! We always had seats in the back. And I was pretty short, so inevitably some big guy would sit in front of me and block my view,” she said wryly. “Watching from up here must have been amazing!”
“I—uh—yes. I… I thought so.”
“Do you still go to shows?”
He shook his head sadly. “Uncle Morrie died nearly a decade ago—not long after I began my career as a supervillain, actually. And I’m too famous to ‘sneak’ anywhere, these days.” True, he could use the holowatch to disguise himself, but the idea of hiding amongst the audience felt… wrong… somehow.
Roxanne hummed in sympathy. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. And that’s too bad—though I can’t really speak; I haven’t been here in a while either. It always seems like there’s too much to do.” She sighed. “It’s strange. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place. I suppose I should thank you for bringing me here and reminding me,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“Um… you’re… you’re welcome?” he offered, his eyes wide.
“Sir?”
Megamind actually jumped as Minion’s voice blared from the watch. “Ah! Yes! Er—what is it?”
“Metro Man’s just about wrapped up here. He should be heading over any minute.”
“I see. Thank you, Minion.” He turned off the watch. “Well, that’s our cue to return, Miss Ritchi. And don’t even think of trying to escape!”
She snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides—I’d like to get back before Wayne crashes in here and wrecks the place.”
They were almost to the stairway when she came to a sudden halt in front of him, and he had to scramble to keep from crashing into her back.
“Wait,” she said slowly, drawing out the word. “Is—is that why you set everything up in the foyer?” she asked, turning to him, a shrewd smirk on her lips.
“In the…? Oh! Uh…”
“Of course,” she said with a laugh. “You don’t want to see this place damaged any more than me, do you.”
He sniffed and turned his head to the side dismissively. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Miss Ritchi.”
She arched a brow and leaned forward conspiratorially, putting her hand on his arm. He had to force himself not to shy backwards from her. “Don’t worry—I won’t let anyone know you were actually trying to protect something,” she whispered slyly, sending his heart into palpitations. She grinned at his most likely ridiculous and definitely thunderstruck expression and turned to walk down the stairs.
x.x.x.x.x
The plot ended almost as soon as it began. Metro Man made quick work of the pipe-organ thing. Roxanne’s breath caught as he hauled Megamind from the smoking contraption and threw him across the courtyard into one of the decorative statues. She exhaled in relief when Megamind shakily climbed to his feet but winced a moment later as he was tackled to the ground by a waiting team of policemen. She continued watching with a frown, as the officers cuffed him and shoved him into one of the squad cars.
Wayne offered to take her home, but she declined; he looked exhausted. She suspected that was why the fight today had been so short—and brutal. The frown stayed on her face all through the long cab ride home and it deepened on the walk up to her apartment. It wasn’t until she was safely alone and secluded that she let herself sort out the myriad of thoughts bouncing around in her brain.
She hated it when the fights got violent, like that.
It didn’t happen often. Usually, it started when Megamind or Metro Man crossed some mysterious line of ‘banter etiquette’ that only the pair of them seemed to understand—and if someone stepped over too far, things could get surprisingly vicious, surprisingly quickly. Or sometimes, it was purely accidental—the ricochet from Wayne’s laser vision, flying debris, exploding machinery—the battlefield was a dangerous place. But, very rarely, on days like today, Wayne just wasn’t in the mood and he’d use a little more force than usual to end things quickly.
Because he had to. He had to stop Megamind. Of course, he did. She knew that.
Megamind was the one who started it. He was the instigator. He was the culprit. Every. Single. Time.
But… it just… it didn’t always seem… fair.
She sighed and slumped down on the couch.
Today had been… weirdly nice. Aside from the kidnapping aspect. She was always surprised by how much she enjoyed Megamind’s company when he wasn’t actively threatening her.
… and sometimes even then. He could be very entertaining when he was playing the part of the villain. And she never really felt threatened. The theater wasn’t the only thing he seemed to want to protect. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t let her get hurt—beyond a few minor scuffs.
And he couldn’t hurt Wayne. He had tried. ‘With optimism.’ She smiled faintly.
Maybe that’s why it bothered so much when he got hurt. He was a lot tougher than he appeared, with his slender physique. He could take a beating.
… She hated that she knew that.
But he wasn’t invincible like Wayne. And no one was looking out for his safety. It felt like he was the only one with skin in the game. Brilliant, blue skin…
The worst she’d ever gotten was a twisted ankle. Over the years, she’s seen Megamind suffer countless bruises, scrapes, cuts, burns and broken bones. She’d seen him knocked unconscious a few times. He’d even been impaled by a rather large piece of shrapnel once.
God, had that been a rough day—trying to fight her way through the crowd of reporters who wanted a firsthand account of what had happened. And all she wanted to do was get to the damn hospital and make sure he was fucking okay! By the time she got there, he’d already been transported to the prison. Apparently, they had total jurisdiction over his medical care since they had the most experience with him. And when she’d gone there, she’d been rather rudely turned away because she was a member of the media.
In a way, she was grateful. She was sure he wouldn’t want people looking in on him in such a vulnerable state. And the guard she spoke to assured her that he was fine and recovering.
Still.
It would have been nice to see him.
Kind of like today… She’d been tempted to direct the cab driver to the prison. But it was late—too late for visitors. And it was… odd… for her to be checking in on him. Like they were friends or something.
Because they weren’t. Friends. Precisely. He didn’t trust her enough for that.
But they also weren’t enemies.
… Colleagues? Ugh—no.
She groaned. This wasn’t the first night she’d spent analyzing what they were to each other. And it seemed to be happening more and more frequently. Regardless of the answer, she didn’t want to see him hurt. The question was, what could she even do about it?
A part of her missed the old days, when things were… simple. Back when he was just ‘evil’ wrapped in a comically hapless package. And that was all.
Back when she might have agreed with, ‘who could he be but Caliban?’ Equal parts villain and fool.
But no. Now, her brain shoved that role aside and cast him as the Benedick to her Beatrice. And what did that say about the nature of their relationship.
She groaned again and shoved a throw pillow against her face, intentionally derailing the train of thought.
No. It wasn’t like that. They weren’t like that.
Nope.
Definitely not.
… She just… She’d learned a lot about him over the years. Without even noticing, she had developed a soft spot for him—for his over-excited explanations, and dramatic gestures, and teasing banter.
And the more she learned, the more she wondered—about who he really was, and what he really wanted… and how much of himself he was hiding behind that supervillain persona.