Fanfic: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor, Chapter 3
On a sincere note, I want to let you guys know that I really, really do appreciate all the comments I've gotten from you guys in regards to this story so far. Your kind words put me in such a good mood. So thank you for that. :)
Title: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Chapter 3
Word Count: About 2,100
Rating: PG for violence and references to sex.
Genre: AU/Comedy/Western
Summary: A Western AU with characters based on those from the movie Megamind.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
FBI Warning: Okay, so it turns out changing your name to DreamWorks does not, in fact, grant you rights to the company’s content. Also, it appears that FBI warnings can only be issued by a particular bureau of the government (not sure which one). Needless to say, this fanfic has gotten me in some rather deep legal trouble. Or at least I assume it will. After careful consideration I’ve decided that the best course of action is to change my name to Tiberia Jones, move to Uzbekistan, and live out the rest of my life as a beekeeper. But don’t worry, I’ll continue writing the fanfic too.
It might have been hard to see where they were heading had it not been for the glow emanating from Mount’s tank. The fish’s mechanical horse body had a good number of songs programmed into it, and he tried to pick the cheeriest ones to play in an effort to lift spirits of their bound and gagged guest. It didn’t seem to be working.
A light Italian folk song came to an end as they reached the train station. Mentedor dismounted with a hop and headed toward the ticket booth, leaving his companion to look after Roxanne. The fish turned in his tank to smile at her, only to be greeted with the same annoyed expression she’d worn ever since they’d picked her up. Mount felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what. “So...” he tried. “How’s life treating you?”
Roxanne looked back at him, her expression unchanging.
Mount looked a little embarrassed. “Oh, right, I guess you can’t really speak right now, can you? Well, uh...” He glanced off to the side for a moment before looking back at her. “We’re, uh...we’re really glad to have you on board! I realize this might have not been...” his expression faltered, “...entirely...your choice, but....” He smiled again. “Well, it’s nice to have you along anyways! Heh!”
Roxanne sighed, looking somewhat depressed.
Mount frowned then and looked around to make sure Mentedor wasn’t within hearing range. He swam closer to Roxanne and spoke softly. “Look, I really am sorry about all this. Señor Mentedor, he’s...don’t tell him I said this, but he’s really not a bad person. Honestly, he feels just terrible about what happened to your saloon and he really does want to find a way to make it up to you. Admittedly, kidnapping you might not exactly have been the...uh...well, he just has his own way of doing things. But he wouldn’t harm you. Er...not on purpose anyway. What I mean to say is....” The fish paused, trying to collect his thoughts. “Señor Mentedor has had a rough time of it for awhile now. And now that he’s got this plan, he...”
“Okay!” said Mentedor, returning with the tickets. “I have procured the tickets! Mount, this train has special boxcars for transporting horses, so you’re going to ride in one of those.”
“That’s blatant discrimination!” Mount looked legitimately annoyed.
“Yes, well, I don’t make the rules.”
“Since when do you care about the rules?”
“Oh, stop being difficult, Mount. Come along now.”
They made their way over to one of the said boxcars where a handler was herding horses inside. Mentedor hoisted Roxanne off Mount’s back and flung her over his shoulder. “Oof!” he said. “You really need to lose some weight.”
Roxanne grunted angrily.
“See you later, señor!” said Mount.
“Take care, my pal-migos!”
Mentedor turned and made his way to the passenger cars. There he was greeted by a bored-looking, bespectacled man.
“Tickets,” said the stranger, in a low, nasally voice.
As Mentedor held out the tickets, Roxanne began to squirm and struggle, trying to call out for help from under the cloth. She managed to lock eyes with the man inspecting the tickets, who looked from her back to Mentedor with a furrowed brow, seemingly not entirely sure what to make of the situation.
“Honeymoon!” explained Mentedor, brightly.
Roxanne shook her head, using her eyes to plead with the man and continuing to make muffled noises of distress.
The man looked back at Mentedor and sighed. “Whatever,” he said and motioned for him to get onboard.
“Grace-yace!” replied Mentedor and carried an incredulous Roxanne on board. He made his way down the aisle of private cabins until he reached the one that the tickets indicated was theirs. He opened the door and carried his hostage inside, setting her down on a small upholstered bench on one side of the tiny room, closing the door, and taking a seat across from her. He flung one leg over another and gave her a smug smile. She continued to glare squarely at him, which after a few moments seemed to make him a bit uncomfortable. He turned his focus to look out the window.
Eventually the whistle could be heard and the train began moving. Roxanne watched the desert passing outside as they departed from the station. She glanced back to Mentedor who seemed to be lost in thought. Annoyed, she mumbled three syllables through the cloth, which caught his attention.
“Hm?” he asked.
She said it again, but again her words were muffled.
“Did you wish to say something?” he asked.
She repeated the words more emphatically.
He hesitated for a moment, then stood, reached behind her head, untied the cloth, and pulled it away. “What?” he asked.
“I hate you.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding, apparently not particularly surprised at the sentiment. He sat back down. There was a long silence between them before he asked her, “So, is this your first time on a loco-moo-ee?”
“On a what?”
“It’s Spanish for train, Miss Ritchi.”
“Okay, seriously, who taught you Spanish?”
“Nobody taught me. It’s my native tongue.”
“Uh-huh. You honestly expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you will, seh-nor-it-a. It’s the truth!”
“So if I wanted to have a conversation with you in Spanish, you’d be okay with that?”
This seemed to give him pause, but then he said with what seemed to be an attempt to look confident, “Do your worst!”
“Okay,” said Roxanne. The truth was, she didn’t know much Spanish herself. She searched her mind for something she actually knew how to say before finally settling on, “Donde esta la biblioteca?”
Mentedor’s eyes darted around, as if he was searching for an answer. Then he grinned, pointed a finger at her, and shouted, “Sí!”
“Wow,” she said. “You sure showed me.”
Mentedor settled back in his seat, smiling and putting his hands behind his head proudly.
“So, okay,” said Roxanne. “Now that we’re here, are you gonna tell me about this big plan of yours or what?”
“I’m afraid you cannot know about that just yet, but it will all become clear in time.”
Roxanne let out and exasperated grunt. “Well, could you at least untie me? These ropes are getting really uncomfortable and it’s not exactly like I’ve really got anywhere to escape to.”
He considered this for a moment. “Do you promise not to...um...attack me again?”
“I don’t see any chairs in here.”
“Fair enough,” he said. He stood again and stepped beside her. He started reaching for the ropes and then stopped abruptly, gasping and pulling his hand back a little. She looked over to him and saw an incredibly pained expression on his face. It reminded her of the day her bar had been totaled, only now he looked even more remorseful. She followed his line of sight to her arm and saw it. A very large purple bruise surrounded by an aura of yellow skin. It was located right where she had hit the floor when he’d thrown her to the ground. She looked back to him to see him wincing. He didn’t make eye contact with her as he carefully undid the ropes around her wrists. Once her hands were free, she brought them in front of her and massaged her wrists as he went to work untying her legs. Then he sat back down in his seat and looked back out the window.
Some time passed without either of them saying anything. Roxanne briefly considered making a break for it, but then decided against it. She really wasn’t up for another grappling match and certainly didn’t want to be tied up again. And even if she did make it out into the dining car it would probably only serve to catalyze the beginning of his heist. She figured she might as well take advantage of this moment of peace. She looked out the window into the darkness. There really wasn’t much to see out there. She turned back to Mentedor. “So, Mount seems nice,” she said.
Mentedor looked at her, seeming a little surprised. Then he smiled. “Ah, yes, Mount is the best. He’s been my loyal servant ever since we were children.”
“Huh. That’s neat. I had a goldfish when I was ten, but I forgot to feed it and it died.”
Mentedor arched and eyebrow.
Roxanne suddenly felt a little foolish. “So, that robot body,” she said. “You made that for him?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to move on from the goldfish comment.
“Of course,” he replied. “I developed a prototype when I was three and have been updating it ever since.”
“You were inventing things when you were three?”
“Oh, please,” he said, sounding insulted. “I was inventing things far earlier than that. I’m not your run-of-the-mill, everyday genius, you know.”
“I don’t think I can even remember when I was three.”
“Really? God, how old are you?”
Roxanne looked irritated.
“Anyways,” continued Mentedor, “yes, Mount really is a fantastic fillet. But...well, strange. I mean, charming though he may be, it’s not exactly like he has somewhere to fit in. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him. To be so...different.” If Mentedor had intended this statement to be ironic, it didn’t show.
“Have you ever considered letting him try to interact with other sea creatures? Maybe taking him to the ocean?”
“Well, given that he’s a freshwater fish I don’t exactly think that would be in his best interest,” Mentedor replied with a hint of disdain. But then he considered her words and continued. “Still...I suppose if I found a lake it could be an interesting...social experiment. I imagine him having quite a presence. He could probably do quite well with the lady fishies. Like a...like a little, aquatic Sheriff Scott.”
“Yeah, well, if he’s anything like the sheriff it won’t be the lady fishies he ends up with.”
Mentedor looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Roxanne paused. “You do know that Wayne’s queer, right?”
“Well, he can be a little odd, yes, but I was under the impression women found his mannerisms charming.”
“No, I mean he’s gay.”
“Indeed, he does frequently seem to be in good spirits, but...”
“He has sex with other men.”
Mentedor blinked, a bewildered expression on his face. “Wait...what?”
“I thought everyone in Metro County knew that.”
“Sex with other...?” His eyes had left hers and were wandering the cabin as if searching for some sort of explanation of what he had just heard. He looked down at his hands and stretched out his two index fingers, then started quizzically hitting the ends of them together. “How would that...even work?”
“Well, not like that.”
“Huh.” Mentedor put down his hands, still apparently trying to wrap his large head around the concept. Then his expression transformed to one of disappointment and he crossed his arms in front of him.
“Something wrong?” asked Roxanne.
“Well...it’s just...I’m another man. And he never tried to have sex with me.”
Roxanne arched an eyebrow. “Would you want him to?”
“No!” said Mentedor, looking at her with disgust. “God, no! But it would have been polite for him to have at least asked!”
Roxanne giggled.
“Did...?” said Mentedor, looking at her with surprise before an inquisitive smirk stretched across his face. “Did you just laugh?”
“No!” she said, crossing her own arms and looking away angrily. The truth was, she was even more surprised than Mentedor was that he had actually elicited a giggle from her. Roxanne never laughed. Not in the presence of Mentedor, not in the presence of anyone else, and not when she was alone. And the thought that she might be giving Mentedor the impression that there was any part of this whole debacle that she found enjoyable was infuriating to her.
Mentedor let out a quiet, evil chuckle which just made her angrier. Then he went silent and when she finally looked back to him, he was gazing out the window again.
“We should be getting close to where we’re going to make our move,” he said, all business. “Littlesberg is off that way. It’ll be a trek, but if everything goes smoothly we should be able to make it there by midday.” He pulled out his gun. “Get up.”
“Is there anything I can say to talk you out of this?” asked Roxanne, standing up hesitantly.
Mentedor got behind her, holding the barrel to her back. “I’m afraid not, Miss Ritchi. Let’s go.”
Preview: In the next exciting chapter of The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Trouble on the railways when the heist doesn’t go according to plan! What could this mean for our heroes...or...I mean villains...or...whatever. Protagonists? Yes, that works! What lies in store for our protagonists? Will they successfully protagonize? Will Roxanne and Mentedor get a chance to have sex during the caper? Join us to find out! Same mente time! Same mente channel!
Title: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Chapter 3
Word Count: About 2,100
Rating: PG for violence and references to sex.
Genre: AU/Comedy/Western
Summary: A Western AU with characters based on those from the movie Megamind.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
FBI Warning: Okay, so it turns out changing your name to DreamWorks does not, in fact, grant you rights to the company’s content. Also, it appears that FBI warnings can only be issued by a particular bureau of the government (not sure which one). Needless to say, this fanfic has gotten me in some rather deep legal trouble. Or at least I assume it will. After careful consideration I’ve decided that the best course of action is to change my name to Tiberia Jones, move to Uzbekistan, and live out the rest of my life as a beekeeper. But don’t worry, I’ll continue writing the fanfic too.
It might have been hard to see where they were heading had it not been for the glow emanating from Mount’s tank. The fish’s mechanical horse body had a good number of songs programmed into it, and he tried to pick the cheeriest ones to play in an effort to lift spirits of their bound and gagged guest. It didn’t seem to be working.
A light Italian folk song came to an end as they reached the train station. Mentedor dismounted with a hop and headed toward the ticket booth, leaving his companion to look after Roxanne. The fish turned in his tank to smile at her, only to be greeted with the same annoyed expression she’d worn ever since they’d picked her up. Mount felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what. “So...” he tried. “How’s life treating you?”
Roxanne looked back at him, her expression unchanging.
Mount looked a little embarrassed. “Oh, right, I guess you can’t really speak right now, can you? Well, uh...” He glanced off to the side for a moment before looking back at her. “We’re, uh...we’re really glad to have you on board! I realize this might have not been...” his expression faltered, “...entirely...your choice, but....” He smiled again. “Well, it’s nice to have you along anyways! Heh!”
Roxanne sighed, looking somewhat depressed.
Mount frowned then and looked around to make sure Mentedor wasn’t within hearing range. He swam closer to Roxanne and spoke softly. “Look, I really am sorry about all this. Señor Mentedor, he’s...don’t tell him I said this, but he’s really not a bad person. Honestly, he feels just terrible about what happened to your saloon and he really does want to find a way to make it up to you. Admittedly, kidnapping you might not exactly have been the...uh...well, he just has his own way of doing things. But he wouldn’t harm you. Er...not on purpose anyway. What I mean to say is....” The fish paused, trying to collect his thoughts. “Señor Mentedor has had a rough time of it for awhile now. And now that he’s got this plan, he...”
“Okay!” said Mentedor, returning with the tickets. “I have procured the tickets! Mount, this train has special boxcars for transporting horses, so you’re going to ride in one of those.”
“That’s blatant discrimination!” Mount looked legitimately annoyed.
“Yes, well, I don’t make the rules.”
“Since when do you care about the rules?”
“Oh, stop being difficult, Mount. Come along now.”
They made their way over to one of the said boxcars where a handler was herding horses inside. Mentedor hoisted Roxanne off Mount’s back and flung her over his shoulder. “Oof!” he said. “You really need to lose some weight.”
Roxanne grunted angrily.
“See you later, señor!” said Mount.
“Take care, my pal-migos!”
Mentedor turned and made his way to the passenger cars. There he was greeted by a bored-looking, bespectacled man.
“Tickets,” said the stranger, in a low, nasally voice.
As Mentedor held out the tickets, Roxanne began to squirm and struggle, trying to call out for help from under the cloth. She managed to lock eyes with the man inspecting the tickets, who looked from her back to Mentedor with a furrowed brow, seemingly not entirely sure what to make of the situation.
“Honeymoon!” explained Mentedor, brightly.
Roxanne shook her head, using her eyes to plead with the man and continuing to make muffled noises of distress.
The man looked back at Mentedor and sighed. “Whatever,” he said and motioned for him to get onboard.
“Grace-yace!” replied Mentedor and carried an incredulous Roxanne on board. He made his way down the aisle of private cabins until he reached the one that the tickets indicated was theirs. He opened the door and carried his hostage inside, setting her down on a small upholstered bench on one side of the tiny room, closing the door, and taking a seat across from her. He flung one leg over another and gave her a smug smile. She continued to glare squarely at him, which after a few moments seemed to make him a bit uncomfortable. He turned his focus to look out the window.
Eventually the whistle could be heard and the train began moving. Roxanne watched the desert passing outside as they departed from the station. She glanced back to Mentedor who seemed to be lost in thought. Annoyed, she mumbled three syllables through the cloth, which caught his attention.
“Hm?” he asked.
She said it again, but again her words were muffled.
“Did you wish to say something?” he asked.
She repeated the words more emphatically.
He hesitated for a moment, then stood, reached behind her head, untied the cloth, and pulled it away. “What?” he asked.
“I hate you.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding, apparently not particularly surprised at the sentiment. He sat back down. There was a long silence between them before he asked her, “So, is this your first time on a loco-moo-ee?”
“On a what?”
“It’s Spanish for train, Miss Ritchi.”
“Okay, seriously, who taught you Spanish?”
“Nobody taught me. It’s my native tongue.”
“Uh-huh. You honestly expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you will, seh-nor-it-a. It’s the truth!”
“So if I wanted to have a conversation with you in Spanish, you’d be okay with that?”
This seemed to give him pause, but then he said with what seemed to be an attempt to look confident, “Do your worst!”
“Okay,” said Roxanne. The truth was, she didn’t know much Spanish herself. She searched her mind for something she actually knew how to say before finally settling on, “Donde esta la biblioteca?”
Mentedor’s eyes darted around, as if he was searching for an answer. Then he grinned, pointed a finger at her, and shouted, “Sí!”
“Wow,” she said. “You sure showed me.”
Mentedor settled back in his seat, smiling and putting his hands behind his head proudly.
“So, okay,” said Roxanne. “Now that we’re here, are you gonna tell me about this big plan of yours or what?”
“I’m afraid you cannot know about that just yet, but it will all become clear in time.”
Roxanne let out and exasperated grunt. “Well, could you at least untie me? These ropes are getting really uncomfortable and it’s not exactly like I’ve really got anywhere to escape to.”
He considered this for a moment. “Do you promise not to...um...attack me again?”
“I don’t see any chairs in here.”
“Fair enough,” he said. He stood again and stepped beside her. He started reaching for the ropes and then stopped abruptly, gasping and pulling his hand back a little. She looked over to him and saw an incredibly pained expression on his face. It reminded her of the day her bar had been totaled, only now he looked even more remorseful. She followed his line of sight to her arm and saw it. A very large purple bruise surrounded by an aura of yellow skin. It was located right where she had hit the floor when he’d thrown her to the ground. She looked back to him to see him wincing. He didn’t make eye contact with her as he carefully undid the ropes around her wrists. Once her hands were free, she brought them in front of her and massaged her wrists as he went to work untying her legs. Then he sat back down in his seat and looked back out the window.
Some time passed without either of them saying anything. Roxanne briefly considered making a break for it, but then decided against it. She really wasn’t up for another grappling match and certainly didn’t want to be tied up again. And even if she did make it out into the dining car it would probably only serve to catalyze the beginning of his heist. She figured she might as well take advantage of this moment of peace. She looked out the window into the darkness. There really wasn’t much to see out there. She turned back to Mentedor. “So, Mount seems nice,” she said.
Mentedor looked at her, seeming a little surprised. Then he smiled. “Ah, yes, Mount is the best. He’s been my loyal servant ever since we were children.”
“Huh. That’s neat. I had a goldfish when I was ten, but I forgot to feed it and it died.”
Mentedor arched and eyebrow.
Roxanne suddenly felt a little foolish. “So, that robot body,” she said. “You made that for him?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to move on from the goldfish comment.
“Of course,” he replied. “I developed a prototype when I was three and have been updating it ever since.”
“You were inventing things when you were three?”
“Oh, please,” he said, sounding insulted. “I was inventing things far earlier than that. I’m not your run-of-the-mill, everyday genius, you know.”
“I don’t think I can even remember when I was three.”
“Really? God, how old are you?”
Roxanne looked irritated.
“Anyways,” continued Mentedor, “yes, Mount really is a fantastic fillet. But...well, strange. I mean, charming though he may be, it’s not exactly like he has somewhere to fit in. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him. To be so...different.” If Mentedor had intended this statement to be ironic, it didn’t show.
“Have you ever considered letting him try to interact with other sea creatures? Maybe taking him to the ocean?”
“Well, given that he’s a freshwater fish I don’t exactly think that would be in his best interest,” Mentedor replied with a hint of disdain. But then he considered her words and continued. “Still...I suppose if I found a lake it could be an interesting...social experiment. I imagine him having quite a presence. He could probably do quite well with the lady fishies. Like a...like a little, aquatic Sheriff Scott.”
“Yeah, well, if he’s anything like the sheriff it won’t be the lady fishies he ends up with.”
Mentedor looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Roxanne paused. “You do know that Wayne’s queer, right?”
“Well, he can be a little odd, yes, but I was under the impression women found his mannerisms charming.”
“No, I mean he’s gay.”
“Indeed, he does frequently seem to be in good spirits, but...”
“He has sex with other men.”
Mentedor blinked, a bewildered expression on his face. “Wait...what?”
“I thought everyone in Metro County knew that.”
“Sex with other...?” His eyes had left hers and were wandering the cabin as if searching for some sort of explanation of what he had just heard. He looked down at his hands and stretched out his two index fingers, then started quizzically hitting the ends of them together. “How would that...even work?”
“Well, not like that.”
“Huh.” Mentedor put down his hands, still apparently trying to wrap his large head around the concept. Then his expression transformed to one of disappointment and he crossed his arms in front of him.
“Something wrong?” asked Roxanne.
“Well...it’s just...I’m another man. And he never tried to have sex with me.”
Roxanne arched an eyebrow. “Would you want him to?”
“No!” said Mentedor, looking at her with disgust. “God, no! But it would have been polite for him to have at least asked!”
Roxanne giggled.
“Did...?” said Mentedor, looking at her with surprise before an inquisitive smirk stretched across his face. “Did you just laugh?”
“No!” she said, crossing her own arms and looking away angrily. The truth was, she was even more surprised than Mentedor was that he had actually elicited a giggle from her. Roxanne never laughed. Not in the presence of Mentedor, not in the presence of anyone else, and not when she was alone. And the thought that she might be giving Mentedor the impression that there was any part of this whole debacle that she found enjoyable was infuriating to her.
Mentedor let out a quiet, evil chuckle which just made her angrier. Then he went silent and when she finally looked back to him, he was gazing out the window again.
“We should be getting close to where we’re going to make our move,” he said, all business. “Littlesberg is off that way. It’ll be a trek, but if everything goes smoothly we should be able to make it there by midday.” He pulled out his gun. “Get up.”
“Is there anything I can say to talk you out of this?” asked Roxanne, standing up hesitantly.
Mentedor got behind her, holding the barrel to her back. “I’m afraid not, Miss Ritchi. Let’s go.”
Preview: In the next exciting chapter of The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Trouble on the railways when the heist doesn’t go according to plan! What could this mean for our heroes...or...I mean villains...or...whatever. Protagonists? Yes, that works! What lies in store for our protagonists? Will they successfully protagonize? Will Roxanne and Mentedor get a chance to have sex during the caper? Join us to find out! Same mente time! Same mente channel!