Fic - "Plunge"
Title: Plunge
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Hal, Roxanne. Megamind.
Word Count: 2,902
Rating: R
Summary: She broke his heart. He'll return the favor.
Warnings: The coarsest of language, a lot of nasty non-con business.
Notes: Three guesses who this was written for, and the first two don't count. (*cough*junosunderland*cough*) It's a missing scene from the film: the time between Roxanne's failed attempt to reason with Hal and the broadcast from the top of Metro Tower. As you can imagine, some unsavory things occur. I also have to say that writing Hal in a rage can be extremely therapeutic.
Roxanne shrinks down against the van, consumed by his shadow. She’s so fucking tiny. He slams a hand against the panel over her shoulder, arcs his back and looms over her, presses into her personal space until she gives an unconscious whimper of distress. Then he rocks back on his heels, hands up, harmless.
“Okay,” he laughs. “Okay, you want to spend some time with the real Hal? The Hal you know? Come on.”
He charges her and she instinctively throws herself back against the van, but he flicks the vehicle away with no effort. She staggers against its sudden absence in the split-second before he sweeps her up into his arms, and as she goes board stiff with panic, he grins.
“Let’s hang out.”
Up, up, and away. They go screaming up into the sky like a bullet, and he doesn’t slow down till they’re a good half-mile above the city. Then he slams on the brakes and delights in her terror as she realizes where they are and throws her arms helplessly around his neck. He winds his own tighter around her tiny, birdlike body.
“We’re gonna play a little game,” he murmurs into her ear as she shakes and begs no, please, no. “I’m gonna ask you some questions. They’re super easy. You’ll know all the answers---” One red-gloved hand catches her by the jaw and twists her head, forcing her to look into his eyes. “---if you were ever paying attention.”
“Hal, please,” she’s so fucking scared. “Hal, no--- please, please, don’t.”
God, the way she squirms and writhes against him, so desperate to cling to him, so frightened of the fall. It’s everything he ever wanted in the worst possible way, and he intentionally loosens his grip, forcing her to hold on to him with all her strength.
“Question number one,” he growls. “What’s my favorite movie?”
“Hal,” she moans, low and guttural.
“I mean, I definitely talk about it all the time,” he muses, as if puzzled by her failure to answer. “I hung up a huge poster in my corner of the office, it’s been there for like, ever.”
He removes one of the arms that was supporting her so he can scratch his head. She’s got him so tight around the neck that she would kill him if he wasn’t already beyond stupid shit like that.
“You know, I think I remember telling you directly, like, to your face, that it was my all-time favorite movie. In fact I definitely had a reason to totally tell you to your face. I told you. You smiled and nodded and everything, Roxy, so what the fuck did I say?”
There’s already a scream building in the back of her throat; his sensitized hearing catches the shrill whistling of her breath as her vocal chords start to peel open.
He lets go.
She hangs on for a few precious seconds, the scream slowly emerging as a whine of effort as she grips herself by the elbows over his shoulders. Calmly, he reaches up and easily pries her hands apart. She screams right in his face, her eyes glazed with total fear as he drops her into the abyss.
Down she goes, like a falling star, hurtling towards her future as the world’s newest crater. He feels--- nothing. But he dives and catches and shoots up again while she sobs and claws uselessly at his indestructible eyes.
“By the way, bitch,” he grumbles. “It’s Face/Off. And I told you to your face because you scored an interview with Nic Cage for some movie premiere, and you still took Danny as your cameraman. I told you, to your face, and you just didn’t give a shit. Strike one, Roxy. I think you know how many strikes you got left.”
“Oh, God,” she wails, and how right she is to call him that. “Hal! Hal, please. Oh God, please, don’t kill me.”
“Question number two,” he shouts over her hysterics. “What’s my favorite band?”
“I’m sorry!” Her voice is ugly with desperation. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I was never your friend, I should have been your friend.”
“I have given you CDs by this band on three separate occasions.”
“Please let me be your friend now.”
“I have offered you tickets to see this band in concert with me on four separate occasions.”
“Let me try. Hal? Hal, please.”
“Still don’t remember? You smiled and nodded then, too. I think we’re starting to see a pattern here!”
“No please please please!”
He shakes her off of him and it sets her spinning as she falls. He chases her down, keeps himself just out of reach of her grasping hands until they’re within spitting distance of cement. Then he hooks her around the waist and reverses the plunge, back towards the clouds.
“Powerman 5000, you unbelievable bitch!” he bawls at her. “Are you fucking serious? Three fucking CDs, four fucking concerts, and you still couldn’t pay attention to me for five fucking seconds?”
“You little piece of shit!” she shrieks, red-faced with rage now. “You’re fucking dead! Megamind is gonna tear you apart! Just you wait! You’re dead!”
“Last question, cunt,” he snarls, squeezing her so tight that she can’t draw breath for her next words. “Why did I miss my dad’s funeral?”
She stops fighting him. Her hands, which had been fisted in his hair, go loose in surprise. The realization of how badly she’s hurt him is only just beginning to show on her stunned and lovely face. She’s beautiful, even now, even when he hates her so much.
“Because it was the same day that you were doing a once-in-a-lifetime interview with Metro Man.” The words burn like acid as they leave his mouth. His teeth are grinding against the pain. “You wanted me for the job. You said I was the best guy. I always made you look the best.” His voice catches--- didn’t she ever once wonder why? “So I skipped the service. For you. For your interview. Because I wanted to be that guy for you, Roxy. I wanted to be the best guy.”
“Hal...” she whispers. “I’m---”
But he doesn’t want to hear it. He snaps, “Strike three, Roxanne. Guess you don’t know me after all.” And she clutches into his hair again, her back arching like a terrified cat as he bolts off towards downtown, her screams trailing behind him like a siren.
There’s a moment there, as he shoves her back against the spire of Metro Tower with one hand and hefts his newly-peeled girder in the other, where he almost fucking does it. He almost cuts her fucking head off. He wants to drive the girder into belly, to rip her open, see how she likes it, see how she likes to bleed and bleed and bleed but never quite die. She deserves it. Fuck, when he looks at her, when he thinks about what he’s done for her, how he’s ached for her--- killing her doesn’t even seem like it would be enough.
He’ll have to humiliate her first.
He uses the girder to bind her to the spire, her arms pinned at her sides and her back pinned against the unyielding steel. She won’t look at him.
“So, what were you saying back there?” he taps his chin. “Something about Megamind coming to get me, huh? Is this, like, the new world order? Megamind’s your hero and I’m the villain, is that it? Very funny. I like it.”
“He is a hero,” she says quietly, as if willing it to be so. “He’ll be here.”
“Okay, well, how about we give your hero a little encouragement, huh? Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
He skates nimbly down the front of the tower, his reflection rippling across the hundreds of glass windows on the way. It’s weird, but he feels, like, really good. The more she squirms, the more she suffers--- it feels so fucking good that he can hardly believe he used to be convinced that he loved her.
The realization brings him drifting to a halt on the scorched and split sidewalk next to the news van. He’s just remembered a conversation that he had with his father, right after the divorce, when he’d demanded to know why. Dad shook his head and sighed.
Sometimes you just fall out of love.
And Hal is seized with sudden remorse, because he remembers that he had foolishly answered: That’s impossible.
“Sorry, Dad,” he mumbles as he retrieves his old camera. “You were right.”
Really, it’s the perfect time of day to film a doomsday broadcast. The natural light is ideal at this point in the afternoon. Hal has the camera rigged to broadcast live, and he turns it on himself and musters his best vicious snarl. Feels good.
“Hey, Megamind!” Feels so good to be the boss. “It’s me, your greatest creation! I’ve got a score to settle with you. I’m at Metro Tower, and you have two hours to man up and face me or you’re gonna be wishing you had.” He turns the camera on Roxanne. “Got your girlfriend, Megamind! Smile for the camera, Roxy, your boyfriend might be watching.”
She stares at her shoes, mute.
“Well, maybe we’ll get something out of her later,” he chuckles, turning the camera back on himself. “Two hours, Megamind! And until you get here, I’m gonna be having a lot of fun, so you better hurry your ass up.”
For a while he settles for flying around and around the tower, filming Roxanne’s captivity from a variety of interesting angles. He counts down the time by watching the giant clock on the front of the Metro Insurance building, calling out the shrinking deadline every five minutes or so.
“You know, Megamind, I can see why you fell for her,” he rambles idly while he zooms in close on her face. “She’s fucking hot. She’s got that smart, strong chick thing going on, like she wears reading glasses sometimes, and she’s got that super short hair that’s not too butch, like, she’s still girly and wears skirts and stuff. That’s hot. She’s got a nice rack. Killer hips, right? And look at this face.”
He flies in close to her, hefts the camera into his left hand and extends his arm so that it’s turned on both of them as he cups her under the chin with his right hand.
“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly, like an auctioneer appraising an antique. “And you know it. You got those big blue eyes, eyes you could get lost in for days, and that cute little mouth, like, just enough mouth, the kind of mouth that just begs for it.” He leers at the camera, at Megamind, wherever that piece of shit is hiding. “She’s begging for it, man, just look at this bitch, she is fucking begging for it.”
She twitches and jerks like a rabbit in a trap. She already knows she can’t get away. This is just pure, stupid instinct, this is her adrenaline screaming danger danger run run danger and she can’t do a goddamn thing about it. He has wanted this, has always wanted it to be just like this, her body completely at his mercy--- Hal curls his fingers around her jaw, pulls it open, and plunges his tongue into her mouth. He sucks up her squeal of protest in one hungry breath, and it floods him with a lust so intense that it burns.
The camera tumbles from his hand, forgotten. He needs that hand now, needs it to plow through her hair, to jerk her head back and grant him complete access to her mouth, her throat, God, she’s screaming, and he crushes his lips over hers to silence her. He paws clumsily at her breasts while she thrashes and kicks. Rock hard, he’s rock fucking hard right now, and he grinds himself against the crotch of her jeans while she keens like a wounded animal. So good so fucking good fucking yes he wants her wants her so bad she is fucking poison and he just doesn’t give a fuck. He yanks down the neck of her tank top, exposes a nipple and fastens his mouth to it, sucks--- but now that her mouth is uncovered, Roxanne emits a huge, horrible sob so awful that the blood in his veins turns instantly to ice.
He jerks backwards. She looks fucking terrible, her eyes bloodshot and streaming tears, her mouth smeared and swollen. Suddenly frantic to console her but not knowing what to do, he meekly tugs her tank top back up to cover her. She flinches and trembles like a leaf. One step back doesn’t seem to be enough so he takes another, and another, and another, until he drops off the edge of the tower and into thin air.
When he hits the pavement, he leaves a crater ten feet wide before blasting back into the sky. He passes the tower. He passes the clouds. He passes the ozone layer. He can’t stop till he outruns this demon, and he goes streaking up into space, until ice forms on his eyebrows and he doesn’t fucking care because he is a god he is a GOD and this woman has no power over him, not anymore, not anymore. His resolution freezes into something unbreakable and he drops like a meteor, leaving a trail of sonic booms as he jets back to Metro Tower to finish the job.
He circles at a distance so great that she can’t see him, then watches from afar as she gets herself under control. The tears dry. The gaze hardens. He waits until she’s actively attempting to escape before he returns, and though she jumps when she realizes he’s come back, he’s relieved to see that she’s angry again. He’d much rather have her be angry. It’s easier that way.
“That was pretty steamy, huh?” He fans himself mockingly. “I really hope your boyfriend was watching. That would be awesome.”
“Hal,” she says through gritted teeth. “This is not you. You have got to stop this.”
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, even though you’re gonna die,” he leers, ignoring her. “I’ll be thinking of you when I jerk off tonight.”
Time drags on.
At first she tries to reason him with him, but he wears her down on live TV, heckling and hooting until she’s numb and pale with despair. The second time he commands her to call for her hero, she fucking goes for it, breathless I need you and all.
“You are the best goddamn actress I’ve ever met.” And he can’t keep the cruelty from his voice.
Time runs out.
“Hey Metro losers! This is Metro Tower.”
A city is watching. He feels enormous and strong.
“They say it’s supposed to be a symbol of our city’s strength.”
And he realizes that Roxanne could never love him, just like she never really loved Metro Man, like she’ll never really love Megamind--- it’s the city that she’s in love with, this goddamn city, and there’s no room left in her for anything else.
“But for me, it’s a reminder of the day this woman ferociously ripped out my heart.”
He sweeps the camera from her slender foot to the crown of her head--- one long, last close-up in her praise. Then he slings the camera away from him. He doesn’t need it anymore.
“And I hate reminders.”
He dives for the heart of the tower and loses himself in the thunder, in the roar, in the destruction that he is capable of causing. Concrete and steel get the hell out of his way. He’s the king of the fucking universe. Untouched and untouchable. He can knock down a skyscraper. Nothing can ever hurt him again.
But he still stops the plunge, because he still wants to talk to her, one last time.
___________end.
Author: colonel_bastard
Characters/Fandom: Hal, Roxanne. Megamind.
Word Count: 2,902
Rating: R
Summary: She broke his heart. He'll return the favor.
Warnings: The coarsest of language, a lot of nasty non-con business.
Notes: Three guesses who this was written for, and the first two don't count. (*cough*junosunderland*cough*) It's a missing scene from the film: the time between Roxanne's failed attempt to reason with Hal and the broadcast from the top of Metro Tower. As you can imagine, some unsavory things occur. I also have to say that writing Hal in a rage can be extremely therapeutic.
Roxanne shrinks down against the van, consumed by his shadow. She’s so fucking tiny. He slams a hand against the panel over her shoulder, arcs his back and looms over her, presses into her personal space until she gives an unconscious whimper of distress. Then he rocks back on his heels, hands up, harmless.
“Okay,” he laughs. “Okay, you want to spend some time with the real Hal? The Hal you know? Come on.”
He charges her and she instinctively throws herself back against the van, but he flicks the vehicle away with no effort. She staggers against its sudden absence in the split-second before he sweeps her up into his arms, and as she goes board stiff with panic, he grins.
“Let’s hang out.”
Up, up, and away. They go screaming up into the sky like a bullet, and he doesn’t slow down till they’re a good half-mile above the city. Then he slams on the brakes and delights in her terror as she realizes where they are and throws her arms helplessly around his neck. He winds his own tighter around her tiny, birdlike body.
“We’re gonna play a little game,” he murmurs into her ear as she shakes and begs no, please, no. “I’m gonna ask you some questions. They’re super easy. You’ll know all the answers---” One red-gloved hand catches her by the jaw and twists her head, forcing her to look into his eyes. “---if you were ever paying attention.”
“Hal, please,” she’s so fucking scared. “Hal, no--- please, please, don’t.”
God, the way she squirms and writhes against him, so desperate to cling to him, so frightened of the fall. It’s everything he ever wanted in the worst possible way, and he intentionally loosens his grip, forcing her to hold on to him with all her strength.
“Question number one,” he growls. “What’s my favorite movie?”
“Hal,” she moans, low and guttural.
“I mean, I definitely talk about it all the time,” he muses, as if puzzled by her failure to answer. “I hung up a huge poster in my corner of the office, it’s been there for like, ever.”
He removes one of the arms that was supporting her so he can scratch his head. She’s got him so tight around the neck that she would kill him if he wasn’t already beyond stupid shit like that.
“You know, I think I remember telling you directly, like, to your face, that it was my all-time favorite movie. In fact I definitely had a reason to totally tell you to your face. I told you. You smiled and nodded and everything, Roxy, so what the fuck did I say?”
There’s already a scream building in the back of her throat; his sensitized hearing catches the shrill whistling of her breath as her vocal chords start to peel open.
He lets go.
She hangs on for a few precious seconds, the scream slowly emerging as a whine of effort as she grips herself by the elbows over his shoulders. Calmly, he reaches up and easily pries her hands apart. She screams right in his face, her eyes glazed with total fear as he drops her into the abyss.
Down she goes, like a falling star, hurtling towards her future as the world’s newest crater. He feels--- nothing. But he dives and catches and shoots up again while she sobs and claws uselessly at his indestructible eyes.
“By the way, bitch,” he grumbles. “It’s Face/Off. And I told you to your face because you scored an interview with Nic Cage for some movie premiere, and you still took Danny as your cameraman. I told you, to your face, and you just didn’t give a shit. Strike one, Roxy. I think you know how many strikes you got left.”
“Oh, God,” she wails, and how right she is to call him that. “Hal! Hal, please. Oh God, please, don’t kill me.”
“Question number two,” he shouts over her hysterics. “What’s my favorite band?”
“I’m sorry!” Her voice is ugly with desperation. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I was never your friend, I should have been your friend.”
“I have given you CDs by this band on three separate occasions.”
“Please let me be your friend now.”
“I have offered you tickets to see this band in concert with me on four separate occasions.”
“Let me try. Hal? Hal, please.”
“Still don’t remember? You smiled and nodded then, too. I think we’re starting to see a pattern here!”
“No please please please!”
He shakes her off of him and it sets her spinning as she falls. He chases her down, keeps himself just out of reach of her grasping hands until they’re within spitting distance of cement. Then he hooks her around the waist and reverses the plunge, back towards the clouds.
“Powerman 5000, you unbelievable bitch!” he bawls at her. “Are you fucking serious? Three fucking CDs, four fucking concerts, and you still couldn’t pay attention to me for five fucking seconds?”
“You little piece of shit!” she shrieks, red-faced with rage now. “You’re fucking dead! Megamind is gonna tear you apart! Just you wait! You’re dead!”
“Last question, cunt,” he snarls, squeezing her so tight that she can’t draw breath for her next words. “Why did I miss my dad’s funeral?”
She stops fighting him. Her hands, which had been fisted in his hair, go loose in surprise. The realization of how badly she’s hurt him is only just beginning to show on her stunned and lovely face. She’s beautiful, even now, even when he hates her so much.
“Because it was the same day that you were doing a once-in-a-lifetime interview with Metro Man.” The words burn like acid as they leave his mouth. His teeth are grinding against the pain. “You wanted me for the job. You said I was the best guy. I always made you look the best.” His voice catches--- didn’t she ever once wonder why? “So I skipped the service. For you. For your interview. Because I wanted to be that guy for you, Roxy. I wanted to be the best guy.”
“Hal...” she whispers. “I’m---”
But he doesn’t want to hear it. He snaps, “Strike three, Roxanne. Guess you don’t know me after all.” And she clutches into his hair again, her back arching like a terrified cat as he bolts off towards downtown, her screams trailing behind him like a siren.
There’s a moment there, as he shoves her back against the spire of Metro Tower with one hand and hefts his newly-peeled girder in the other, where he almost fucking does it. He almost cuts her fucking head off. He wants to drive the girder into belly, to rip her open, see how she likes it, see how she likes to bleed and bleed and bleed but never quite die. She deserves it. Fuck, when he looks at her, when he thinks about what he’s done for her, how he’s ached for her--- killing her doesn’t even seem like it would be enough.
He’ll have to humiliate her first.
He uses the girder to bind her to the spire, her arms pinned at her sides and her back pinned against the unyielding steel. She won’t look at him.
“So, what were you saying back there?” he taps his chin. “Something about Megamind coming to get me, huh? Is this, like, the new world order? Megamind’s your hero and I’m the villain, is that it? Very funny. I like it.”
“He is a hero,” she says quietly, as if willing it to be so. “He’ll be here.”
“Okay, well, how about we give your hero a little encouragement, huh? Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
He skates nimbly down the front of the tower, his reflection rippling across the hundreds of glass windows on the way. It’s weird, but he feels, like, really good. The more she squirms, the more she suffers--- it feels so fucking good that he can hardly believe he used to be convinced that he loved her.
The realization brings him drifting to a halt on the scorched and split sidewalk next to the news van. He’s just remembered a conversation that he had with his father, right after the divorce, when he’d demanded to know why. Dad shook his head and sighed.
Sometimes you just fall out of love.
And Hal is seized with sudden remorse, because he remembers that he had foolishly answered: That’s impossible.
“Sorry, Dad,” he mumbles as he retrieves his old camera. “You were right.”
Really, it’s the perfect time of day to film a doomsday broadcast. The natural light is ideal at this point in the afternoon. Hal has the camera rigged to broadcast live, and he turns it on himself and musters his best vicious snarl. Feels good.
“Hey, Megamind!” Feels so good to be the boss. “It’s me, your greatest creation! I’ve got a score to settle with you. I’m at Metro Tower, and you have two hours to man up and face me or you’re gonna be wishing you had.” He turns the camera on Roxanne. “Got your girlfriend, Megamind! Smile for the camera, Roxy, your boyfriend might be watching.”
She stares at her shoes, mute.
“Well, maybe we’ll get something out of her later,” he chuckles, turning the camera back on himself. “Two hours, Megamind! And until you get here, I’m gonna be having a lot of fun, so you better hurry your ass up.”
For a while he settles for flying around and around the tower, filming Roxanne’s captivity from a variety of interesting angles. He counts down the time by watching the giant clock on the front of the Metro Insurance building, calling out the shrinking deadline every five minutes or so.
“You know, Megamind, I can see why you fell for her,” he rambles idly while he zooms in close on her face. “She’s fucking hot. She’s got that smart, strong chick thing going on, like she wears reading glasses sometimes, and she’s got that super short hair that’s not too butch, like, she’s still girly and wears skirts and stuff. That’s hot. She’s got a nice rack. Killer hips, right? And look at this face.”
He flies in close to her, hefts the camera into his left hand and extends his arm so that it’s turned on both of them as he cups her under the chin with his right hand.
“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly, like an auctioneer appraising an antique. “And you know it. You got those big blue eyes, eyes you could get lost in for days, and that cute little mouth, like, just enough mouth, the kind of mouth that just begs for it.” He leers at the camera, at Megamind, wherever that piece of shit is hiding. “She’s begging for it, man, just look at this bitch, she is fucking begging for it.”
She twitches and jerks like a rabbit in a trap. She already knows she can’t get away. This is just pure, stupid instinct, this is her adrenaline screaming danger danger run run danger and she can’t do a goddamn thing about it. He has wanted this, has always wanted it to be just like this, her body completely at his mercy--- Hal curls his fingers around her jaw, pulls it open, and plunges his tongue into her mouth. He sucks up her squeal of protest in one hungry breath, and it floods him with a lust so intense that it burns.
The camera tumbles from his hand, forgotten. He needs that hand now, needs it to plow through her hair, to jerk her head back and grant him complete access to her mouth, her throat, God, she’s screaming, and he crushes his lips over hers to silence her. He paws clumsily at her breasts while she thrashes and kicks. Rock hard, he’s rock fucking hard right now, and he grinds himself against the crotch of her jeans while she keens like a wounded animal. So good so fucking good fucking yes he wants her wants her so bad she is fucking poison and he just doesn’t give a fuck. He yanks down the neck of her tank top, exposes a nipple and fastens his mouth to it, sucks--- but now that her mouth is uncovered, Roxanne emits a huge, horrible sob so awful that the blood in his veins turns instantly to ice.
He jerks backwards. She looks fucking terrible, her eyes bloodshot and streaming tears, her mouth smeared and swollen. Suddenly frantic to console her but not knowing what to do, he meekly tugs her tank top back up to cover her. She flinches and trembles like a leaf. One step back doesn’t seem to be enough so he takes another, and another, and another, until he drops off the edge of the tower and into thin air.
When he hits the pavement, he leaves a crater ten feet wide before blasting back into the sky. He passes the tower. He passes the clouds. He passes the ozone layer. He can’t stop till he outruns this demon, and he goes streaking up into space, until ice forms on his eyebrows and he doesn’t fucking care because he is a god he is a GOD and this woman has no power over him, not anymore, not anymore. His resolution freezes into something unbreakable and he drops like a meteor, leaving a trail of sonic booms as he jets back to Metro Tower to finish the job.
He circles at a distance so great that she can’t see him, then watches from afar as she gets herself under control. The tears dry. The gaze hardens. He waits until she’s actively attempting to escape before he returns, and though she jumps when she realizes he’s come back, he’s relieved to see that she’s angry again. He’d much rather have her be angry. It’s easier that way.
“That was pretty steamy, huh?” He fans himself mockingly. “I really hope your boyfriend was watching. That would be awesome.”
“Hal,” she says through gritted teeth. “This is not you. You have got to stop this.”
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, even though you’re gonna die,” he leers, ignoring her. “I’ll be thinking of you when I jerk off tonight.”
Time drags on.
At first she tries to reason him with him, but he wears her down on live TV, heckling and hooting until she’s numb and pale with despair. The second time he commands her to call for her hero, she fucking goes for it, breathless I need you and all.
“You are the best goddamn actress I’ve ever met.” And he can’t keep the cruelty from his voice.
Time runs out.
“Hey Metro losers! This is Metro Tower.”
A city is watching. He feels enormous and strong.
“They say it’s supposed to be a symbol of our city’s strength.”
And he realizes that Roxanne could never love him, just like she never really loved Metro Man, like she’ll never really love Megamind--- it’s the city that she’s in love with, this goddamn city, and there’s no room left in her for anything else.
“But for me, it’s a reminder of the day this woman ferociously ripped out my heart.”
He sweeps the camera from her slender foot to the crown of her head--- one long, last close-up in her praise. Then he slings the camera away from him. He doesn’t need it anymore.
“And I hate reminders.”
He dives for the heart of the tower and loses himself in the thunder, in the roar, in the destruction that he is capable of causing. Concrete and steel get the hell out of his way. He’s the king of the fucking universe. Untouched and untouchable. He can knock down a skyscraper. Nothing can ever hurt him again.
But he still stops the plunge, because he still wants to talk to her, one last time.
___________end.