Chapter Text
This is not going to be a good night.
It wasn't a good day to begin with, but that wasn't exactly surprising. A new contact reached out to Megamind in desperation in the late morning and alerted him to a…gap…in his knowledge of one of his particular areas of concern in Metro, and he knew immediately: his life was about to suck for the next thirty-six hours, minimum.
First of all—and least of all—that should not have been how he found out. Sitting in a dusty chair in one of his meeting spaces, a 'condemned' building overlooking the lake, with a young woman awkwardly facing him down with her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw set…
That should not have been how Megamind found out.
"And how long has she been missing?"
"Four days. Three nights, and I know my sister, she wouldn't disappear like that. I'm—and—and the police won't do shit, you know they won't." She waved a hand, lip curling with scorn. "I filed a report but you know they're just gonna sit on it. They don't give a shit about us." She paused, but Megamind didn't reply; he just kept glaring at nothing in the shafts of dusty sunlight scattering through the broken floors and windows of the old silk mill's massive windows. After a second, she spat, sharply enough to echo in the empty space, "She's a kid."
"Mmm. Not technically." He pulled a slow breath through his nose. "And you think she fell in with Rick Vulthern because…"
"She wouldn't listen to me. Said there was better money running with his girls, said she had an in. Some name I don't know. I know everybody in the business—everybody safe. We argued about it and then later that night I lost track of her with a client, and she never came home after that."
"Mmm," he said again, fingers steepled in front of his mouth. His eyes narrowed.
She was right, of course. Of course the police wouldn't do anything. Family from the lower south side of town, no connections? Missing person engaged in a profession that commands no respect from anyone in a position of power? Alleging foul play connected to someone very much in a position of power? Five-star recipe for a big ol' nothing burger.
"Why come to me," he said, almost absently.
"Because this doesn't happen," she replied, flat. "Not normally. Not in Metro. Metro's safe, we've got standards here. And that ain't his doing, so…gotta be yours, right?" She shrugged, her expression sort of frantically angry. "So something's up. And yeah, you'd probably find out one way or another, but 'or another' doesn't bring my little sister home."
Megamind nodded.
After a long few seconds, the woman on the other side of the room said, "So?"
He took another breath and finally looked up, forced his expression clear and flat. "You are correct. This sort of disappearance is unacceptable. And I am going to fix it." He got to his feet. "Ordinarily my intervention in missing persons cases does involve a sort of…finder's fee, but frankly this whole situation should not have been possible at all without my knowledge, so it's on the house. I'll be conducting a thorough audit of my various…systems. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. You'll be fairly compensated, just as soon as I find out how deep this particular rabbit hole goes."
She nodded. Bit her lip. "Anything I can do?"
He shook his head. "Sit tight. I'll text you as soon as I have any information."
Megamind availed himself of the remaining daylight hours to look into the information she gave him. She had done a fair amount of digging on her own before approaching him, probably even before approaching the police, but Megamind is nothing if not thorough. He likes to have his bases covered, he likes to know he already has all his opponent's bolt-holes and excuses filled and burned down. And he needs to know how this happened. Thorough investigation…well, it's the smart thing to do, isn't it? Of course it is.
But. Also. He…also does not want any of this to be real.
If this is real, then certain of his people have been in serious trouble for some time now, and the fact that none of them reached out to him directly does not point to anything good. Megamind knows what it is to be without resources and unable to call for help, and he is furious. This does not happen to his people, not in his city, not here. Not in Metro.
If this is real, then Megamind is going to come down hard on the man who is running the show. Rick Vulthern. It won't be the first time Rick and Megamind have been at odds, won't be the first time Megamind has needed to put him in his place. Nor the second, nor the third.
Rick has been…useful, at times, over the years. He has been a key player in several of Megamind's more politically sensitive endeavors. Megamind has kept him around despite his repeated attempts to bypass or ignore the underworld systems Megamind implemented and enforces, but now, it seems, Rick may be getting too confident in his own indispensability. He is not indispensable. He never was.
In fact, Megamind realizes as he pages through his files and searches his memory…Rick has not proven himself so much as useful in quite some time. Even in small ways.
His heart sinks, and Megamind sighs and sits back in his chair, rubbing his temples in slow circles as the reality of the situation finally sinks in.
So. This will not be the first time Megamind has had to correct Rick Vulthern, but it will be the last. One way or another. Megamind has other assets; he can afford to liquidate this one.
If he needs to. He may not need to. But he will need to be prepared.
He tips backwards in his chair, his eyes closed and his mouth set in a grim line. Fuck. Fuck fuck, he does not fucking want to touch any of this with a ten-foot pole…but it is his job. Megamind is Overlord. He claimed the title; he does the job. No one else is going to do it.
He sits for a long time while the shadows slowly lengthen around him. Minion quietly drops off lunch, but Megamind ignores it—he is thinking, planning, exploring options and alternatives and hypotheticals. Running mental simulations.
And trying—failing—not to think about Roxanne and what she would say if she knew what Megamind was doing. What she would do. She loves him, but she has never seen him act in his role as Overlord. Not in an enforcement situation. God willing, she never will, but—
Well, but what if she does? One day? What then?
Well then it will be over between them. Obviously.
Megamind does spend nearly one whole minute thinking of whether he can maybe take a lighter hand with all this, if a lighter hand will mean Roxanne would be less upset with him if (when) she finds out—
—and then he snarls under his breath, disgusted with himself. Roxanne is a bright morning star of light, a warmth in his heart, but she is absolutely irrelevant to his role as Overlord and she needs to remain that way. Megamind cannot afford to act differently simply for her sake. Not in this area of his life. He hates having to do any of this but he cannot use Roxanne as an excuse to avoid doing what needs to be done.
And this is where he gets…stuck. For a while. Because on one hand, if (when) she leaves, she leaves. Oh well, such is life. It was always going to happen; it might as well happen now. But also…
He doesn't want to do what needs to be done. He is so fucking tired of all of it. Can't he just let go? Let himself let go, let himself give up and…and keep Roxanne? He knows he doesn't deserve her, not with everything he's done, but…he could try to change what he does now, at least, couldn't he…?
…No.
If he stops what he is doing, Metro City goes back to the way it was when he was a kid: a polluted, corrupt free-for-all. People will get hurt. Men like Rick Vulthern will build thrones of lies and human lives, will foundation their empires with the corpse-dreams of people they never touched directly but whose futures they stole all the same. It'll be like everywhere else, and Megamind…can't.
He can't. Not here. Not in his city. Megamind does not allow that shit in his city. So Roxanne…just…doesn't need to see him this way! The way he will have to be, for this! She doesn't need to see that.
But the prick of his conscience is not something Megamind has ever been good at ignoring. It doesn't always hit him the way a human's might, or in all the same situations, but on the occasions where his conscience does feel uneasy, he can't really let it go. And there is a part of him that can't let go of the idea that Roxanne deserves to know what he's capable of. If the worst should happen this evening. Yes, she as good as told him to go ahead with Price, but—that was under the shadow of a near-death experience. She meant what she said, he's sure, but it's—different, it's—not—talk is cheap. Talk is cheap! She couldn't really have meant it, not really. Humans are so odd about death.
"She's not like other humans," Megamind mutters, kicking his swivel chair over to the lunch Minion left for him an hour ago, gone cold now. "Shut up."
The guilt of not having told her about Price yet twists in his gut, and Megamind snarls again and tears into his fish.
It doesn't matter, in the end. Megamind is overlord. He does his job. He's good at his job. It's part of who he is, anymore.
Even the parts of it that he hates.
Megamind has several skills he doesn't get an opportunity to showcase in his battles with Metro Man, one of which is the ability to enter unseen. He knows the value of making an entrance, and he lived and breathed Go Big Or Go Home in his younger years, but with age and experience he acquired an appreciation for subtler entrances as well. An entrance can be big and showy, yes, but a subtle entrance can be equally effective.
Long after the sun goes down, he lets himself into the offices of Toomey and Paular. The building was locked hours ago but Megamind enters without issue—he rarely if ever has any difficulty letting himself into locked spaces. Getting into position is a little trickier, but Megamind has all the tricks and doesn't run into any particular difficulties there, either.
Which is good. Rick Vulthern is not someone Megamind enjoys interacting with on a good day, and this is manifestly not a good day. Megamind had spent a solid fifteen minutes in the Invisible Car upon arriving, just sitting with his eyes closed and remembering his uncle Mitch's breathing techniques, remembering Guduza's philosophers, sinking his mind into steadier patterns, sinking his heart into empty peace until finally he was spinning in the undertow—himself pulled back from a world sharp-edged in color, and blank as stone inside.
(This is another thing Megamind does not enjoy. He can only maintain it for so long before it sinks him deeper. But it does help him to keep up the uglier sides of villainy and stewardship without flinching in the moment, because tonight, he knows, will very probably require some ugly.)
Rick's office is opulent to the point of obscenity, all walnut and bronze and scarlet accents. Megamind takes his position by the window across the room from the door, standing straight, gazing out at the city below with his head up and his gloved hands clasped behind his hips, his shoulders back. He is dressed to impress, but practically, all in black and gray. His clothes fit close to his skin and the impenetrable undersuit he wears, his sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows to allow him to keep his long gloves and spiked vambraces underneath his collared shirt and tailored waistcoat.
He knows the moment he's been seen, by the sudden intake of breath behind him. And of course Rick is surprised: his desk faces the windows. As far as he knows, Megamind either opened the door behind him and crossed the room entirely without his noticing or materialized there somehow.
"...I wish I was not here, Rick," Megamind says. "But you have answers. Currently, you are my only lead on those answers. I am not happy about that, Rick. But we also," he sighs, turning and crossing his arms over his chest, "need to discuss your recent decision to…hm, expand beyond your core competencies. So. Two birds, one stone."
At his desk, Rick leans back in his chair. "I suppose you're not exactly in the habit of making social calls, no." He pauses. "So. You heard."
"Mm. And not from you." He pauses, cocks an eyebrow.
Rick frowns. "I was not aware I needed your approval before branching out in my own business. Speaking of which—"
"Yes, yes, I should mind my own, blah blah." Megamind twirls a slim wrist, brushing this aside. "Of course you do not need my signoff. But I do need to be informed. This is not the first time you have failed to keep me informed."
Rick sighs. "It is too late at night for this shit."
Megamind doesn't react. He just waits.
Waiting, like a subtle entrance, is its own magic. Most humans cannot stand silence for very long, not when someone is looking at them. And Rick is a man accustomed to people being obsequious to him—accustomed to power. He funded and managed the private equity buyout of a Fortune 500 company more than twenty years ago, and he has held his position as CEO since then, withstood the firm's association with Arthur Andersen in 2001 and two recessions afterwards. He owns penthouse condos in several major cities. Was the recent recipient of what appear to be very expensive hair implants and probably some kind of—facelift—botox—nonsense thing, as well; Megamind isn't wasting attention trying to figure out specifics.
The point is: Rick is a man accustomed to getting the things he wants.
Megamind hates men like that. He avoids interacting with them whenever possible, but.
This is. His city. His.
He does not share well.
Rick breaks first, as Megamind had known he would. "I don't know what your problem is," he says, leaning back in his chair, leaning on one elbow. "I assumed you had bigger fish to fry than my foray into greener pastures. What is the phrase you young people use…? 'My bad'?"
"I made myself very clear, I thought," Megamind says evenly, "the last time we had this conversation, that you were to keep. me. informed. I do not enjoy repeating myself."
"Don't, then," says Rick.
Rick's stance is still open. Calm but annoyed. Megamind sighs fractionally, then breathes himself back down into the undertow, into the blank place he was in when he arrived. It's easier now, when he's getting angry.
"The girls you have working for you," Megamind says. The lights in this room are a bright, warm amber. They highlight the wood, the scarlet trappings. They don't offer many shadows, but that's fine. Megamind did not need shadows to handle Price; he does not need shadows for men like Rick. "They seem…green."
Rick shrugs. "Eager beavers, excuse the entendre. They're inexperienced, but they're keen."
"I rather think that's down to the same reason no one with more experience wants anything to do with you."
Rick blinks.
Megamind looks at him fully, makes eye contact and holds it without blinking. "Where is Honey, Rick?"
"Honey?"
"Yes, Rick. Honey. She turned eighteen three months ago. Her older sister was showing her the ropes and then she fell in with you and now her family has not seen her in nearly a week; where. is. she. Rick."
Rick's lip curls. "This is fucking ridiculous." He stands, goes to the credenza with its little hutch. He's taller than Megamind by at least a head, but that's fine, that's whatever. Megamind is used to people being taller than he is; he's not intimidated.
"Used to be, a man could make a buck in this town if he just kept his good sense and stayed in his lane." Rick pulls down a glass, pours whiskey from a crystal decanter and red vermouth from a bottle he takes from where it was waiting on the corner of the hutch. "Used to be, all a man needed was to show respect to his peers." Splashes bitters across the liquid. "And they'd mind their business, and he'd mind his. And that was the end of it."
He follows all this up with a cherry on a ruby-topped martini spear and an ice cube from a cleverly-hidden miniature refrigerator, then returns to his desk. Sits down with a sigh.
Megamind waits. Watches. Breathes.
"And then you fell out of the sky. And you decided—hey, nobody likes me, nobody wants me here, nobody asked for my input. You know what would make sense? If I made a bunch of silly rules, got in the way, tripped everyone up, and made an enormous fuckin unnecessary mess that helps no one, because I'm an alien and I think I've got some kind of claim to this city that doesn't even want me." He sips his drink, adds, "Wasn't Teddy going to handle you? Thought he had some surefire plan to get you off our asses for good."
Megamind blinks once, and then he narrows his eyes and pulls his lips back from his teeth, pulls his eyebrows low in the middle of his forehead as he finally drops his upright stance into something more directly predatory: head down, eyes flashing. "Oh," he hisses, hauling the corners of his mouth up around a Cheshire Cat threat of white white teeth as certain things Ted Price had said earlier that week spin into position and finally click down into sense. "Ohhh, ho ho. I see the problem. I have not been hands-on enough in recent months. I thought," he says, "that I had been clear about how things work in this town. I thought," he says, "that perhaps I could offer your crowd some autonomy. Leeway. Slack on the reins. As a show of—what was it?—respect. And now I hear that you—and Teddy—have mistaken my goodwill for weakness of authority."
Rick frowns. Leans to the other side of his chair, moves his hand to his lap, crossing his center line and sending a flash of Ha, I Win! through Megamind. "What did you do with—"
"No, no," Megamind cuts him off, begging in a man's voice that isn't his. The words and panicky tone don't match his snarling expression at all. "No, please—I understand! I—I get it, I get it—I didn't know before! I didn't know! Argh—I have kids—I have kids!—pleasepleasepLEASE—
"—I don't think," he says, quietly in his own voice, "you'll be hearing from Theodore Price again."
Silence.
Rick is very still and his eyes are very narrow.
It's nothing Megamind hasn't heard before. You aren't wanted, you don't belong here. But this is the first time in a long time that he's heard multiple contacts are moving against him in tandem. And for what? A play for power? No. Megamind would have taken less offense at that. This was to be…a return to tradition, a simple fucking backslide into the old familiar ways that benefited absolutely no one but themselves. As Megamind had known they would.
It. chafes.
"I am not running this town because I am an alien," he hisses, cold fury tugging at the edges of his hyperawareness. "I am running this town because I can. Because you and your ilk can't stop me. Oh, Teddy did his best," he adds, flashing his teeth and biting around the name. "But he did not even come close to cornering me.
"So now I have a problem, Rick," he says, turning on his heel and beginning to pace. "Now we," he gestures back and forth between the two of them, "have a problem. Because you have been scheming with Price and who knows who else, now we have a dilemma."
Rick sighs loudly, but there's a wariness at the edges of his expression that wasn't there a minute ago. "Listen. We were not scheming. He mentioned he had a plan, that's all I know."
"And rather than come to me, which might have earned you some leeway in this situation," Megamind snaps, "you sat back to watch and see what happened. No."
"This situation," Rick sighs, "is just good business. You create a—"
Megamind cuts him off. "I do not give one single solitary shit what kind of business this is. What I care about is profile. I have been, I think, very clear about this." He moves to the credenza as he speaks, lifts the crystal decanter of amber liquid and tilts it, inspects the liquor inside as though bored. "If you want to get into the administrative side of sex work…fine. No one said you had to stick to drug trafficking."
"I don't—"
Megamind rolls his eyes and Looks at him. Cocks an eyebrow.
Rick closes his mouth.
"No one said you had to stick to drug trafficking," Megamind continues. "However. There are certain responsibilities that come with managing employees of a certain profession."
"Employ—they aren't employees!"
"Fix that." Megamind looks him dead in the eye as he replaces the decanter on its credenza. "Records, Rick. Records are important. You have forfeited the privilege of flying under the radar."
"Privilege—"
"If you want to continue operating in Metrocity," Megamind says, raising his voice, "then you are now going to assume some risks as a show of good faith. Because yes, Rick: we do have rules about sex work here, particularly when it is organized and overseen by someone like you. And those rules START," he lifts his volume to a shout, "with do NOT get your people hooked on the heroin mix you're running up through motherfUCKING ONTARIO!" He throws a hand in the air as he stalks to the desk, teeth still bared and eyes blazing with fury. "This is not a secret, Rick! You knew this, Rick! And you decided you would play fast and loose with MY rules and MY PEOPLE'S HEALTH IN SPITE OF THIS," he slams both palms down on the desk and leans so far forward Rick can probably feel his breath on his face, "and I do not look kindly on that, Rick, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, but—"
"Finish that sentence and I will drop you where you stand." Every word is clipped and hard as Megamind leans back and straightens up. "Your nephew may be wet behind the ears but I imagine he, at least, understands how to follow directions. You will be easily replaced and you will not be missed. The last drug lord who tried me this way certainly wasn't missed, and he had his rotting purple fingers in far more pies than you do."
Rick is tense and angry, but he still spits, "You cannot be fucking serious."
"Do you think this is a game," Megamind hisses. "Do you think this is a friendly-ha-ha-joke between friends? Do you honestly think I am remotely in the vicinity of fucking around? I am," he switches his voice over to Rick's, repeating his earlier words, "not exactly in the habit of making social calls."
It is at this point that Rick fully ruins both of their evenings.
"You really gotta cut it out with the parrot shit."
Megamind snarls and springs forward. He's over the desk in a single bound and all the way up in Rick's face in an instant, booted feet on the arms of the expensive desk chair as it skids on the floor, hauling the man's head back with one hand twisted in his new hair and his other hand wrapped hard around Rick's throat and squeezing.
Choking, Rick grabs at his wrist. His palms are no match for Megamind's spiked vambraces; Megamind feels the pressure ease as human skin gives way and blood starts to flow.
"And how does it feel," Megamind hisses, rattling a warning in his chest under the words, "to know that you have lost the privilege of breathing, as well? Ohhh mistake, mistake, mistake: you thought I would be civilized? I'm not even human."
He rears back, one fist still clenched in Rick's hair, and backhands him so hard across the face that the follicles tear free like velcro coming loose when Rick's head snaps sideways. Megamind slams his handful of hair down with his fist still clenched, drives his knuckles against Rick's groin. The man makes a noise like a dying horse.
Megamind straightens, standing on the chair arms, still lost in the undertow and dizzy with rage and the sharp tang of blood in his nose, and then he spins easily on the ball of one foot and steps neatly down as the chair crashes sideways and spills its occupant across the carpet behind him.
It's a shame he lost his temper before he could get the information he needed. Still, he's confident enough in his…abilities…to ensure the problem will be promptly dealt with to his satisfaction. For the time being, at least.
"I want them on payroll, Rick," he says. He straightens his shirt and vest with a couple of sharp movements, cracks both wrists with a couple sharp pops. The leather of his glove is a mess of hair and sticky blood between his fingers, and his lip curls in disgust as he plucks the clinging strands into a matted wad. "I want them on payroll, I want them clean, I want them home with their families. And you are going to give me what I want, Rick, because we are such good friends. Aren't we."
Rick nods, clutching his throat, and Megamind throws the bloody hair implants at his face.
"And just so we are absolutely clear, you had better be fucking grateful you aren't dead or missing. Say thank you."
Rick wheezes. It does sound vaguely thank-you-like.
"Good. How polite we are as friends." Megamind crouches by his face, makes eye contact again, holds it. "I'll be watching," he says flatly. "If Honey and anyone else you have in training is not checked into Metro General by midnight tonight, I will be back, and by all the salt of my blood, Rick, I will flay the skin from both your arms, fry it, and feed it to you while you squall like an infant and both your god and devil look on and whisper Isn't That A Bit Much. Do you understand?"
Another nod.
Megamind gets to his feet in silence, turns, and heads for the door. Opens it.
And blinks a couple times at the blonde behind the desk outside.
Oh. A secretary.
Of course Rick would have a fucking secretary. That should have occurred to him hours ago. And Megamind—he knows—does he? Know her face? He thinks—he is not—entirely himself, but—ah, well, what the hell; he can make a gamble.
"Evening, Donna," he says, hauling his expression into a pleasant (tired) smile. "How are the kids? Did Eloise make the honor roll again?"
She nods, pale. She doesn't ask how he knew her name. That's fine; the answer is the same every time someone does ask: Megamind does not forget faces. Not ever.
Megamind pauses. And then a thought occurs, and he cocks his head. "Tell me. Donna. Is Rick a good boss?" Perhaps this problem can be fully dealt with tonight, after all. "Does he treat you well? Does he speak to you with respect?"
Sure enough, her mouth goes sour despite the fear in her expression. Megamind studies her face for a moment.
And then he draws his gun. He strikes the barrel spinning against his thigh, twitches it to land on a setting that sparkles a dark, emerald green, and he aims it back into the office he just exited without looking back, his arm straight out to the side in a duelist's stance.
(he is so fucking tired)
"Do you know his passwords," he says, lifting an eyebrow at the woman behind the desk, unsmiling. His aim never wavers. "Could you hear us. And do you know enough to get me what I need."
(of all of this)
Donna's wide-eyed gaze travels from his face, to the gun in his unmoving hand, to the door to her boss's office.
(most of all he hates that this sort of thing is fucking worth it)
"If you're hoping he'll show you some gratitude for covering for him," Megamind says, "I wouldn't bother. He would have to see you as a person, for that."
Her expression pinches. "I…"
"Do you know enough to get me what I need."
She nods.
"Good." His eyes never leave Donna's face. "Then I'll find the girls myself, and we can wrap this up tonight, after all! How very nice that will be for all of us."
A sound of strangled alarm from the office. "Wh—n-no—"
The gun jumps in his hand. Donna flinches at the crackling thunderclap. Megamind doesn't.
"Donna will help me, I'm sure," he finishes, and holsters his weapon. He smiles at her with all of his teeth. "But call an ambulance first, though, won't you? I'm afraid there has been a terrible accident."
But his eyes are flat and dull, and that doesn't change as the night wears on. He finds the people he's looking for, gets everyone where they need to go, gets contact information to send word to their families (for those who have any. Only a few of them have anyone who might be looking for them). He makes some more new connections, then rouses a man in his twenties out of bed to let him know his uncle has passed away under mysterious circumstances and Megamind will be watching his career with interest. Oh, and here is a list of job candidates; don't call any of them for three months but make sure to offer entry-level positions starting at $55,000 a year, plus benefits, do you understand? Be the trickle-down I want to see in the world? Yes? Good. Your uncle did not understand these things, god rest his soul. Don't get greedy with the shareholder distributions and I'm sure you will go far.
He returns to Evil Lair around six AM with the sun at his back and a newspaper in hand. He likes the puzzles, and he thought maybe they would take his mind off the night's unpleasantness.
Unfortunately, his eye falls on a headline: Why Doesn't He Leave? and the first sentence is, "You only have to look at our city's supervillain to know he'll never belong here," and…well, that about does it for the flickering hope that today might not be terrible. That hope dies with a wisp of smoke and barely a whisper as the newspaper disintegrates and its ash blows away out over the lake.
It's fine. Minion won't mind; Minion probably will have his own copy anyway, stolen from someone's porch and delivered via brainbot. As usual.
He's tired. His stomach is queasy. He still has blood on the spikes on his wrist. And that parrot business has him remembering awful things; Rick wasn't wrong when he said Megamind wasn't wanted.
He strips out of his leathers and his shirt after refusing even a cursory attempt at breakfast and heads down to the lair's weight room, ignoring Minion's concern and his questions. Sometimes the gym equipment he keeps is enough to stabilize him; sometimes he can find clarity in endorphins and exhaustion. Megamind tries this today, tries to work back into himself, but he's still cut away and drifting when his trembling arms won't cooperate on the bench press anymore.
He sits up with a sigh and goes down to the reef pool, aching now in every part of his body as well as his soul.
He thinks of Roxanne as he peels himself out of his clothes: Roxanne, his girlfriend, Roxanne, who loves him. He would give anything to see her right now. Maybe she could squeeze him back into himself, talk his soul down from its ledge and back into the tired empty husk that calls itself Megamind.
But no, no. Girlfriends are for people who—
Girlfriends are for people.
Girlfriends are for people, and Megamind is, right now, an unwanted unmoored thing with its soul gone wandering. He can't inflict that on Roxanne.
He strips down and swims to his preferred hole in the rocks and corals, and he curls himself up there, staring out at his fish without seeing them.