Predictable, Chapter 2
Chapter 2 of my "Roxanne is actually an awesome character and I'll use the movie to prove it essay-turned-fanfic" story is now complete. Now with actual movie references!
Chapter one here
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I rummaged through my closet, trying to find the perfect dress for today's occasion. This afternoon would mark the grand opening and dedication of the new Metro Man Museum, and as I was the media's de-facto liaison to anything concerning Metro Man, I was naturally the one assigned to the on-site report. Therefore, finding the perfect outfit was essential. I'd be outside, surrounded by throngs of people, participating in a celebration, and most importantly...
I'd be getting kidnapped.
Megamind didn't exactly keep to a strict kidnapping schedule, so under normal circumstances I could predict the timing of his next plan about as well as I could predict the weather. Cloudy with a 60% chance of abduction, bring extra shoes just in case. But in today's case? See paragraph one. There was no way he wasn't showing up for something like this. It felt kind of nice that, for once, I could anticipate it in my schedule for the day and plan accordingly.
Getting kidnapped meant I shouldn't wear something that would flip up when flying through the air. Something that wouldn't tear if I ended up stretched out on a rack. Something that wouldn't choke if I was bound in an awkward position. And most importantly, something that would hold up to a significant amount of manhandling so that I'd still be presentable in the image that would grace the front page of tomorrow's papers. I'd had enough embarrassment seeing pictures featuring an exposed bra strap or an unsightly run in my nylons thanks to the less-than-gentle situations that tended to precede my inevitable rescues.
I reached the back of the clothes rack and came upon a violet dress with ruffled straps that I had completely forgotten about. I immediately rejected that dress, as it was more of a style for a social occasion, but I had forgotten I'd even bought it. How long ago had it been? I examined the unclipped tag, wondering if it would even still fit anymore.
My final choice ended up being a strapless, form-fitting red dress with black trim. No bra straps to worry about, tight enough to not flip up, flexible enough to keep me comfortable while I waited to be rescued yet smooth enough to not show significant signs of dirt and wrinkling to the cameras. Perfect. I twirled my brush in my hand, then turned to my mirror, speaking into it like a microphone. "This is Roxanne Ritchi signing off. I'll see you tomorrow with my report on my latest rescue."
What had happened to me after all these years? For the first few kidnappings, I'd been terrified. However, upon coming to realize Megamind's less-than-lethal intentions towards me, despite all his posturing, I became annoyed. If you're going to interrupt my life on a regular basis, at least make it worth my while. I'd almost rather really have my life in danger if it meant that the kidnappings meant... anything. He'd never even demanded that I marry or join him in any other perverse act. I didn't actually mean anything to him, this was just an elaborate game. That went for both of them, really. And to keep my sanity, I'd learned that I'd have to play along.
Shouldering my purse, I checked my cellphone out of habit. No new calls, as usual. Why would it be any other way? Don't bother calling Roxanne, she's probably tied up right now. She's dating a superhero, talk about high standards. Leave her alone, you don't want Metro Man to think you're moving in on his turf.
Dating Metro Man... I wish. Not because he particularly appealed to me, but because then it at least wouldn't matter that I constantly overheard such whispers and accusations. Then I'd have someone to talk to, at least. Someone I could wear that dress for. Someone who would see me as an actual player in their game rather than a mere set piece.
Don't get me wrong, I absolutely appreciated everything Metro Man did for the city, given the alternative if he wasn't around. Which... with as much as I knew about Megamind, I wasn't entirely sure what that would entail. But Metro Man was defender of the whole of Metro City, not just me, so it was only proper that he treat me with no higher importance than any other citizen.
I'm not Metro Man's girlfriend, I just play her on TV. Public opinion had cast me into that role, and disavowing any relationship with him would turn me into a pariah. It was sacrilegious, almost, to make any comment that could be perceived as tarnishing our shining white savior's image. If people already treaded lightly around me now due to my perceived status, what would they think if Metro Man apparently wasn't even good enough for me? Thanks to Metro Man I had a steady job and a decent place to live; was I really willing to risk losing my entire livelihood just to escape from this endless game?
I was snapped out of my thoughts by a rendition of "Shave and a Haircut in G Major for One Car Horn" playing outside my window. I glanced over the edge of my balcony and saw the KMCP News van parked out front with my cameraman waving from the window. I had to smile a little at myself at my own hypocrisy. All this moaning about not having a social life, yet there was one guy who was always eager to talk to me. It's just that this guy was... well... Hal. I knew beggars can't be choosers, but that didn't mean I should be expected to just, you know... settle. My standards weren't nearly at "Superhero" levels as so many believed, but I still had standards.
I inhaled and let out a slow, controlled breath, slapping my palms lightly to my cheeks. Okay, Roxanne, time to go out there and do your report, get kidnapped, get rescued, go home, go to bed. Just a typical day. You can do this, you've done it a hundred times before. Why would today be any different?
"Happy Metro Man Day, Metro City." And it was, oddly enough, a happy day. The weather was gorgeous, there were hundreds of families gathered at the base of the museum steps, and vendors were selling balloons and churros molded into an "M" shape. These festive occasions were the absolute best things to cover, and I rarely got the opportunity given the one-topic nature of my typical assignments. The social atmosphere, people carrying on enjoying themselves, the fresh air... we needed more Metro Man-themed holidays that I could participate in. Simply the act of receiving a Metro Man balloon animal from a kind random vendor made me feel... welcome. Less cynical. Like for once I could do something Metro Man-related and actually enjoy it.
I let out a wistful sigh and continued with my report. "It's a beautiful day in beautiful downtown where we're here to honor a beautiful man: Metro Man." Over-the-top, yes. But so was he. This was Metro Man day, and by golly, if that wasn't an excuse to ham things up to the extreme, I didn't know what was. "His heart is an ocean that's inside a bigger ocean. For years, he's been watching us with his Super Vision, saving us with his Super Strength, and caring for us with his Super Heart. Now it's our turn to give something back. This is Roxanne Ritchi reporting live from the dedication of the Metro Man Museum."
I gave the motion to cut the camera, then made a quick, instinctive glance behind me. Everything seemed normal so far... no explosions, no black smoke, no knock-out gas... I hated having to live with this paranoid expectation, especially in light of the fact that I was actually having fun for the first time in ages.
Hal had unshouldered the camera, muttering to himself, "Wow, okay, the stuff they make you read on-air is un-freaking-believable."
"I wrote that piece myself, Hal," I commented, hand on my hip. It wasn't my best piece, sure, but I was living in the moment, and like hell I was going to let him drag me down out of it prematurely. Megamind would do that soon enough.
Hal paused stiffly, then apprehensively turned around, correcting, "What I was trying to say was, I can't believe that in our modern society, they let, like, actual art get onto the news."
"Nice save, Hal!" I congratulated.
"What are we doing? Let's just, like, get a coffee or something," he suggested nonchalantly.
We're already at a party! Full of people! And we were specifically invited, is that not enough? "Come on, it's time to get into the Metro Man Day spirit!"
"Well, if I was Metro Man, Megamind wouldn't be kidnapping you all the time." ... Yeah, thanks for reminding me. Happy thoughts, this was a good day, we were at a party...
"That's sweet, Hal..." I strained out, trying to maintain my smile. I really wished he'd just shut up.
"You know, I'd be watching you... like... a dingo watches a human baby." ... Really wished he'd just shut up. Thankfully even Hal must have realized he was starting to overstep things and quickly added, "That sounded... okay, that sounded a little weird..."
"Little bit, yeah..." He wandered off to put away the camera, muttering under his breath, and I could only stand and watch, feeling a little guilty. Of all the men in the city, he was the only one stupid enough to so casually approach "Metro Man's woman"; something that both made me grateful and uncomfortable at the same time. I appreciated having him to talk to, I really did, but he was so... superficial. He wasn't someone I felt I could trust with my inner insecurities, as he'd likely either panic or completely brush them off. So, Hal, thank you, but... I'm sorry.
Because I'm getting kidnapped now.
I awoke to find my cheek pressed against cool leather, my body being harshly jostled back and forth by force of inertia. Without even opening my eyes, I knew where I was: the back seat of Megamind's invisible car. It always had that "new car smell", and I wasn't sure if it was because he had it refurbished every time he took it out, or if that was the scent of the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
My wrists and ankles were bound, but I made no attempt to struggle. I'd been hit with Megamind's knock-out spray so many times that my body had built up a tolerance to it, and it therefore only kept me out for a minute or two at most nowadays. I'd never let that fact slip, however, and instead preferred to play possum until the timing seemed suitable for me to feign regaining consciousness.
I could hear him and Minion chattering excitedly to each other in the front seat. They were difficult to hear over the sound of the engine, but I distinctly heard something about a "death ray". Oh, goody. And here I was hoping to be suspended over an alligator tank or tied to a bandsaw. But a death ray, well then. It was the dedication of the Metro Man Museum, so I guess he wanted something equally special to show his support.
The car came to a halt and I put on my best "unconscious reporter" act as I heard the rear door open. I silently hoped to myself that there wouldn't be a bag this time, but that thought was cut short by the bag. It still smelled of potatoes, but the smell was now mingled with those of my perfume and shampoo, leaving a scent that was pleasant enough for my nose to allow it into my throat, where it suddenly stagnated and made me want to gag. My only consolation was that I was his first and only kidnapping victim, and therefore the dandruff, skin flakings, and dried sweat inside the bag were not foreign substances.
I was hefted over Minion's furry shoulder and felt him begin to walk with heavy, robotic steps. The bag continued to muffle any voices, but I could still make out the distinctive "bowg bowg" noises of his small robotic helpers. We must be in his lair, wherever he's set up shop this time. Honestly, it was amazing there were any usable buildings left in the city, with the number of lairs he'd gone through which Metro Man had promptly discovered and destroyed. And how did he get all this stuff set up while he was in jail? One would think that a criminal mastermind who was able to pull that off would have a slightly more productive track record to show for it.
It was when I felt us move to what seemed to be an elevator platform that I realized that I was not alone in the bag. What I had originally thought was a loose strand of my own hair began to crawl with its own power across my cheek and over my nose. Oh god, there's a spider in the bag. Couldn't he be courteous enough to at least check for this sort of thing first?! The smell, I could tolerate, the grime, I could bear, but I did not want this thing to bite me and leave a golf ball-sized welt on my forehead for a week. If I came out of this with a giant red spot on my face, people might get the wrong impression that Megamind was actually dangerous.
I began to kick and struggle, not caring about timing anymore, so long as it got rid of the spider. I heard Megamind and Minion's voices lower to an excited hush, and quickly found myself seated in a familiar chair. When the bag was not immediately removed, I began to squirm and grumble, trying to get the spider off my nose. What was he doing, preening? Just take the damn bag off already!
Finally the bag, along with the spider, was removed, and Megamind swiveled his chair around slowly to face me, stroking one of his brain-bots in his lap. "Miss Ritchi... we meet again..." he intoned darkly.
"Would it kill you to wash the bag?!" I shouted, ignoring whatever cool image he was trying to display.
He, however, was ignoring me as well, continuing, "You can scream all you wish, Miss Ritchi. I'm afraid no one can hear you!"
I glared flatly at him through my eyelashes. The only reason I'd been making those little shrieks before was because of the spider. Megamind, I had long ago learned, was no one to fear. He postured, he dramatized, but in the end, he came across as more of a child screaming for attention than someone with truly malicious intent. I'd always been told to ignore those kinds of people and they'd eventually give up, but try as I might to ignore him, Megamind never took the hint that no one was buying his act.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Megamind furrowed his brows in apparently honest confusion and wondered, "Why isn't she screaming?" Oh please, when was the last time I ever screamed because of you?
"Miss Ritchi, if you don't mind," Minion prompted from over my shoulder.
"Like this: AAAHHHHH!" Megamind suggested, dramatically clutching his brain-bot to his chest. "That's a 'poor lady' scream." The brain-bot in his arms apparently didn't appreciate such manhandling and bit down on his hand, causing him to shriek for real, spinning in his chair in an attempt to dislodge it.
I sighed. He was almost painful to watch sometimes. On some occasions, a part of me was tempted to speak up and suggest that we forget about today's evil plan and just all go out and get a cup of coffee, then call it a day and go home. Though now that I looked around, he did appear to have some sort of coffee maker stashed in the corner, decked out with spikes and blue lightning bolts. I wondered if it was self-modded or if it came like that.
"Is there some kind of nerdy supervillain website where you get Tesla coils and blinky dials?" I asked absently, not wanting to give Megamind the chance to steer the conversation to some other topic concerning my less-than-damsel behavior.
Minion spoke up helpfully and chirped, "Actually, most of it comes from an outlet store in--"
"Don't answer that!" came Megamind's voice from the confines of his chair, still attempting to pry the stubborn brain-bot off his hand.
Minion complied for approximately two seconds, before he finished, "--Romania."
"DON'T!" Megamind commanded again, violently wheeling himself in our direction, brain-bot still firmly lodged to his arm. "She's using her nosy reporter skills on your weak-willed mind... to find out all our secrets." Oh, please, both you and Metro Man give up this information gladly and voluntarily to anyone willing to listen, if there's a chance it'll impress them. Megamind leaned in closer, softly informing me, "Such tricks... won't work... on me..." He stressed each segment by slowly wheeling his chair around me, but he ended up coming across as more flirtatious than menacing.
"Please talk slower..." I teased back.
"Temptress..." he whispered, wheeling away. I couldn't hold in my gasp of actual surprise. ... Was he flirting?
"Wait, what secrets?" I gasped out, backtracking to a less flustering portion of the conversation. "You're so predictable!" Though I had to admit... that whisper in my ear had been a little unnervingly... not predictable.
"Predictable? Predictable?!" he stressed, wheeling back towards his overly-convoluted control panel. Rising, and finally dislodging the brain-bot from his hand, he sneered at me and gripped a lever, challenging, "You call this predictable?!"
I didn't even have to look, and before the lever was even fully thrown responded, "Yes, alligators," as the floor opened up beneath me, revealing a swarm of snapping amphibious reptiles. "Yeah, I was thinking about it on the way over."
He hurriedly searched the control panel for another switch to throw. "What's this? Boom! In your face!"
A gatling gun sprang from the floor aimed at my face, the barrel rotating once before locking. I raised an eyebrow at it before commenting, "Cliche."
"No, look, watch!" he pleaded, desperately fumbling for the controls. Something that looked like a mass of drills descended from above my head and I glanced at them nonchalantly.
"Juvenile." A circular saw. "Tacky." A rotating wheel of boots... which would have been creative if he hadn't already used it two weeks ago. "Seen it." A flame-thrower. "Garish."
He finally collapsed on his control panel, having apparently exhausted his entire arsenal. I was about to comment when a familiar figure slowly descended into my line of vision, swaying slightly with my breath. Smirking teasingly, I commented, "Okay, the spider's new."
"Spider?" he wondered, looking up from where he lay. After a moment of silence, he composed himself, striding towards me. "Ah, yes, the spyiiider," he very unconvincingly threatened, making sweeping motions with his hands. "Even the smallest bite from arachnis deathicus will instantly paralyze--" I blew the spider into his face. That's for not washing the bag.
Minion attempted to swat the spider from his master's face, but only succeeded in bowling him over instead. Megamind writhed on the ground while I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "Oh, give it up, Megamind, your plans never work!" Please, for everyone's sake, just... throw in the towel. This game has gone on for decades. Someone needs to just give up before someone gets killed, and in both cases, that "someone" is unlikely to be Metro Man. The definition of insanity is doing something repeatedly and expecting a different result, and after all this time... seriously, what do you expect? Your track record of defeat is so unbrokenly, so testably, so repeatably perfect that they could coin a scientific theory after it. The Megamind Theory of Utter Failure. If you've taught the world anything, it's how not to be an effective supervillain.
Megamind shakily rose to his feet, attempting to maintain some air of dignity but utterly failing. Lip trembling, he announced, "Let's stop wasting time and call your boyfriend in tights, shall we?" He actually looked... hurt. Like he was honestly pained by my calling him a failure.
Whatever emotional pain that had been marring his face was replaced by physical when the brain-bot came back for another taste.
I turned my head to the side to keep myself from having to see his pained face as Minion gingerly pried his master's arm from the offending robot's grip. If he was that upset about this, then why was he even doing it in the first place? Had it come down to all of us merely going through the motions of this game with no one having any honest motivation anymore? Like me, were they, too, trapped in the roles that society's expectations had laid out, too terrified of losing what little they had to question it?
Habit can be self-defeating, but at least it's familiar. Predictable. Change, though. Change is a scary thing. So it was all we could do to just huddle in the frying pan in fear of the fire beyond.
Chapter one here
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I rummaged through my closet, trying to find the perfect dress for today's occasion. This afternoon would mark the grand opening and dedication of the new Metro Man Museum, and as I was the media's de-facto liaison to anything concerning Metro Man, I was naturally the one assigned to the on-site report. Therefore, finding the perfect outfit was essential. I'd be outside, surrounded by throngs of people, participating in a celebration, and most importantly...
I'd be getting kidnapped.
Megamind didn't exactly keep to a strict kidnapping schedule, so under normal circumstances I could predict the timing of his next plan about as well as I could predict the weather. Cloudy with a 60% chance of abduction, bring extra shoes just in case. But in today's case? See paragraph one. There was no way he wasn't showing up for something like this. It felt kind of nice that, for once, I could anticipate it in my schedule for the day and plan accordingly.
Getting kidnapped meant I shouldn't wear something that would flip up when flying through the air. Something that wouldn't tear if I ended up stretched out on a rack. Something that wouldn't choke if I was bound in an awkward position. And most importantly, something that would hold up to a significant amount of manhandling so that I'd still be presentable in the image that would grace the front page of tomorrow's papers. I'd had enough embarrassment seeing pictures featuring an exposed bra strap or an unsightly run in my nylons thanks to the less-than-gentle situations that tended to precede my inevitable rescues.
I reached the back of the clothes rack and came upon a violet dress with ruffled straps that I had completely forgotten about. I immediately rejected that dress, as it was more of a style for a social occasion, but I had forgotten I'd even bought it. How long ago had it been? I examined the unclipped tag, wondering if it would even still fit anymore.
My final choice ended up being a strapless, form-fitting red dress with black trim. No bra straps to worry about, tight enough to not flip up, flexible enough to keep me comfortable while I waited to be rescued yet smooth enough to not show significant signs of dirt and wrinkling to the cameras. Perfect. I twirled my brush in my hand, then turned to my mirror, speaking into it like a microphone. "This is Roxanne Ritchi signing off. I'll see you tomorrow with my report on my latest rescue."
What had happened to me after all these years? For the first few kidnappings, I'd been terrified. However, upon coming to realize Megamind's less-than-lethal intentions towards me, despite all his posturing, I became annoyed. If you're going to interrupt my life on a regular basis, at least make it worth my while. I'd almost rather really have my life in danger if it meant that the kidnappings meant... anything. He'd never even demanded that I marry or join him in any other perverse act. I didn't actually mean anything to him, this was just an elaborate game. That went for both of them, really. And to keep my sanity, I'd learned that I'd have to play along.
Shouldering my purse, I checked my cellphone out of habit. No new calls, as usual. Why would it be any other way? Don't bother calling Roxanne, she's probably tied up right now. She's dating a superhero, talk about high standards. Leave her alone, you don't want Metro Man to think you're moving in on his turf.
Dating Metro Man... I wish. Not because he particularly appealed to me, but because then it at least wouldn't matter that I constantly overheard such whispers and accusations. Then I'd have someone to talk to, at least. Someone I could wear that dress for. Someone who would see me as an actual player in their game rather than a mere set piece.
Don't get me wrong, I absolutely appreciated everything Metro Man did for the city, given the alternative if he wasn't around. Which... with as much as I knew about Megamind, I wasn't entirely sure what that would entail. But Metro Man was defender of the whole of Metro City, not just me, so it was only proper that he treat me with no higher importance than any other citizen.
I'm not Metro Man's girlfriend, I just play her on TV. Public opinion had cast me into that role, and disavowing any relationship with him would turn me into a pariah. It was sacrilegious, almost, to make any comment that could be perceived as tarnishing our shining white savior's image. If people already treaded lightly around me now due to my perceived status, what would they think if Metro Man apparently wasn't even good enough for me? Thanks to Metro Man I had a steady job and a decent place to live; was I really willing to risk losing my entire livelihood just to escape from this endless game?
I was snapped out of my thoughts by a rendition of "Shave and a Haircut in G Major for One Car Horn" playing outside my window. I glanced over the edge of my balcony and saw the KMCP News van parked out front with my cameraman waving from the window. I had to smile a little at myself at my own hypocrisy. All this moaning about not having a social life, yet there was one guy who was always eager to talk to me. It's just that this guy was... well... Hal. I knew beggars can't be choosers, but that didn't mean I should be expected to just, you know... settle. My standards weren't nearly at "Superhero" levels as so many believed, but I still had standards.
I inhaled and let out a slow, controlled breath, slapping my palms lightly to my cheeks. Okay, Roxanne, time to go out there and do your report, get kidnapped, get rescued, go home, go to bed. Just a typical day. You can do this, you've done it a hundred times before. Why would today be any different?
"Happy Metro Man Day, Metro City." And it was, oddly enough, a happy day. The weather was gorgeous, there were hundreds of families gathered at the base of the museum steps, and vendors were selling balloons and churros molded into an "M" shape. These festive occasions were the absolute best things to cover, and I rarely got the opportunity given the one-topic nature of my typical assignments. The social atmosphere, people carrying on enjoying themselves, the fresh air... we needed more Metro Man-themed holidays that I could participate in. Simply the act of receiving a Metro Man balloon animal from a kind random vendor made me feel... welcome. Less cynical. Like for once I could do something Metro Man-related and actually enjoy it.
I let out a wistful sigh and continued with my report. "It's a beautiful day in beautiful downtown where we're here to honor a beautiful man: Metro Man." Over-the-top, yes. But so was he. This was Metro Man day, and by golly, if that wasn't an excuse to ham things up to the extreme, I didn't know what was. "His heart is an ocean that's inside a bigger ocean. For years, he's been watching us with his Super Vision, saving us with his Super Strength, and caring for us with his Super Heart. Now it's our turn to give something back. This is Roxanne Ritchi reporting live from the dedication of the Metro Man Museum."
I gave the motion to cut the camera, then made a quick, instinctive glance behind me. Everything seemed normal so far... no explosions, no black smoke, no knock-out gas... I hated having to live with this paranoid expectation, especially in light of the fact that I was actually having fun for the first time in ages.
Hal had unshouldered the camera, muttering to himself, "Wow, okay, the stuff they make you read on-air is un-freaking-believable."
"I wrote that piece myself, Hal," I commented, hand on my hip. It wasn't my best piece, sure, but I was living in the moment, and like hell I was going to let him drag me down out of it prematurely. Megamind would do that soon enough.
Hal paused stiffly, then apprehensively turned around, correcting, "What I was trying to say was, I can't believe that in our modern society, they let, like, actual art get onto the news."
"Nice save, Hal!" I congratulated.
"What are we doing? Let's just, like, get a coffee or something," he suggested nonchalantly.
We're already at a party! Full of people! And we were specifically invited, is that not enough? "Come on, it's time to get into the Metro Man Day spirit!"
"Well, if I was Metro Man, Megamind wouldn't be kidnapping you all the time." ... Yeah, thanks for reminding me. Happy thoughts, this was a good day, we were at a party...
"That's sweet, Hal..." I strained out, trying to maintain my smile. I really wished he'd just shut up.
"You know, I'd be watching you... like... a dingo watches a human baby." ... Really wished he'd just shut up. Thankfully even Hal must have realized he was starting to overstep things and quickly added, "That sounded... okay, that sounded a little weird..."
"Little bit, yeah..." He wandered off to put away the camera, muttering under his breath, and I could only stand and watch, feeling a little guilty. Of all the men in the city, he was the only one stupid enough to so casually approach "Metro Man's woman"; something that both made me grateful and uncomfortable at the same time. I appreciated having him to talk to, I really did, but he was so... superficial. He wasn't someone I felt I could trust with my inner insecurities, as he'd likely either panic or completely brush them off. So, Hal, thank you, but... I'm sorry.
Because I'm getting kidnapped now.
I awoke to find my cheek pressed against cool leather, my body being harshly jostled back and forth by force of inertia. Without even opening my eyes, I knew where I was: the back seat of Megamind's invisible car. It always had that "new car smell", and I wasn't sure if it was because he had it refurbished every time he took it out, or if that was the scent of the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
My wrists and ankles were bound, but I made no attempt to struggle. I'd been hit with Megamind's knock-out spray so many times that my body had built up a tolerance to it, and it therefore only kept me out for a minute or two at most nowadays. I'd never let that fact slip, however, and instead preferred to play possum until the timing seemed suitable for me to feign regaining consciousness.
I could hear him and Minion chattering excitedly to each other in the front seat. They were difficult to hear over the sound of the engine, but I distinctly heard something about a "death ray". Oh, goody. And here I was hoping to be suspended over an alligator tank or tied to a bandsaw. But a death ray, well then. It was the dedication of the Metro Man Museum, so I guess he wanted something equally special to show his support.
The car came to a halt and I put on my best "unconscious reporter" act as I heard the rear door open. I silently hoped to myself that there wouldn't be a bag this time, but that thought was cut short by the bag. It still smelled of potatoes, but the smell was now mingled with those of my perfume and shampoo, leaving a scent that was pleasant enough for my nose to allow it into my throat, where it suddenly stagnated and made me want to gag. My only consolation was that I was his first and only kidnapping victim, and therefore the dandruff, skin flakings, and dried sweat inside the bag were not foreign substances.
I was hefted over Minion's furry shoulder and felt him begin to walk with heavy, robotic steps. The bag continued to muffle any voices, but I could still make out the distinctive "bowg bowg" noises of his small robotic helpers. We must be in his lair, wherever he's set up shop this time. Honestly, it was amazing there were any usable buildings left in the city, with the number of lairs he'd gone through which Metro Man had promptly discovered and destroyed. And how did he get all this stuff set up while he was in jail? One would think that a criminal mastermind who was able to pull that off would have a slightly more productive track record to show for it.
It was when I felt us move to what seemed to be an elevator platform that I realized that I was not alone in the bag. What I had originally thought was a loose strand of my own hair began to crawl with its own power across my cheek and over my nose. Oh god, there's a spider in the bag. Couldn't he be courteous enough to at least check for this sort of thing first?! The smell, I could tolerate, the grime, I could bear, but I did not want this thing to bite me and leave a golf ball-sized welt on my forehead for a week. If I came out of this with a giant red spot on my face, people might get the wrong impression that Megamind was actually dangerous.
I began to kick and struggle, not caring about timing anymore, so long as it got rid of the spider. I heard Megamind and Minion's voices lower to an excited hush, and quickly found myself seated in a familiar chair. When the bag was not immediately removed, I began to squirm and grumble, trying to get the spider off my nose. What was he doing, preening? Just take the damn bag off already!
Finally the bag, along with the spider, was removed, and Megamind swiveled his chair around slowly to face me, stroking one of his brain-bots in his lap. "Miss Ritchi... we meet again..." he intoned darkly.
"Would it kill you to wash the bag?!" I shouted, ignoring whatever cool image he was trying to display.
He, however, was ignoring me as well, continuing, "You can scream all you wish, Miss Ritchi. I'm afraid no one can hear you!"
I glared flatly at him through my eyelashes. The only reason I'd been making those little shrieks before was because of the spider. Megamind, I had long ago learned, was no one to fear. He postured, he dramatized, but in the end, he came across as more of a child screaming for attention than someone with truly malicious intent. I'd always been told to ignore those kinds of people and they'd eventually give up, but try as I might to ignore him, Megamind never took the hint that no one was buying his act.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Megamind furrowed his brows in apparently honest confusion and wondered, "Why isn't she screaming?" Oh please, when was the last time I ever screamed because of you?
"Miss Ritchi, if you don't mind," Minion prompted from over my shoulder.
"Like this: AAAHHHHH!" Megamind suggested, dramatically clutching his brain-bot to his chest. "That's a 'poor lady' scream." The brain-bot in his arms apparently didn't appreciate such manhandling and bit down on his hand, causing him to shriek for real, spinning in his chair in an attempt to dislodge it.
I sighed. He was almost painful to watch sometimes. On some occasions, a part of me was tempted to speak up and suggest that we forget about today's evil plan and just all go out and get a cup of coffee, then call it a day and go home. Though now that I looked around, he did appear to have some sort of coffee maker stashed in the corner, decked out with spikes and blue lightning bolts. I wondered if it was self-modded or if it came like that.
"Is there some kind of nerdy supervillain website where you get Tesla coils and blinky dials?" I asked absently, not wanting to give Megamind the chance to steer the conversation to some other topic concerning my less-than-damsel behavior.
Minion spoke up helpfully and chirped, "Actually, most of it comes from an outlet store in--"
"Don't answer that!" came Megamind's voice from the confines of his chair, still attempting to pry the stubborn brain-bot off his hand.
Minion complied for approximately two seconds, before he finished, "--Romania."
"DON'T!" Megamind commanded again, violently wheeling himself in our direction, brain-bot still firmly lodged to his arm. "She's using her nosy reporter skills on your weak-willed mind... to find out all our secrets." Oh, please, both you and Metro Man give up this information gladly and voluntarily to anyone willing to listen, if there's a chance it'll impress them. Megamind leaned in closer, softly informing me, "Such tricks... won't work... on me..." He stressed each segment by slowly wheeling his chair around me, but he ended up coming across as more flirtatious than menacing.
"Please talk slower..." I teased back.
"Temptress..." he whispered, wheeling away. I couldn't hold in my gasp of actual surprise. ... Was he flirting?
"Wait, what secrets?" I gasped out, backtracking to a less flustering portion of the conversation. "You're so predictable!" Though I had to admit... that whisper in my ear had been a little unnervingly... not predictable.
"Predictable? Predictable?!" he stressed, wheeling back towards his overly-convoluted control panel. Rising, and finally dislodging the brain-bot from his hand, he sneered at me and gripped a lever, challenging, "You call this predictable?!"
I didn't even have to look, and before the lever was even fully thrown responded, "Yes, alligators," as the floor opened up beneath me, revealing a swarm of snapping amphibious reptiles. "Yeah, I was thinking about it on the way over."
He hurriedly searched the control panel for another switch to throw. "What's this? Boom! In your face!"
A gatling gun sprang from the floor aimed at my face, the barrel rotating once before locking. I raised an eyebrow at it before commenting, "Cliche."
"No, look, watch!" he pleaded, desperately fumbling for the controls. Something that looked like a mass of drills descended from above my head and I glanced at them nonchalantly.
"Juvenile." A circular saw. "Tacky." A rotating wheel of boots... which would have been creative if he hadn't already used it two weeks ago. "Seen it." A flame-thrower. "Garish."
He finally collapsed on his control panel, having apparently exhausted his entire arsenal. I was about to comment when a familiar figure slowly descended into my line of vision, swaying slightly with my breath. Smirking teasingly, I commented, "Okay, the spider's new."
"Spider?" he wondered, looking up from where he lay. After a moment of silence, he composed himself, striding towards me. "Ah, yes, the spyiiider," he very unconvincingly threatened, making sweeping motions with his hands. "Even the smallest bite from arachnis deathicus will instantly paralyze--" I blew the spider into his face. That's for not washing the bag.
Minion attempted to swat the spider from his master's face, but only succeeded in bowling him over instead. Megamind writhed on the ground while I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "Oh, give it up, Megamind, your plans never work!" Please, for everyone's sake, just... throw in the towel. This game has gone on for decades. Someone needs to just give up before someone gets killed, and in both cases, that "someone" is unlikely to be Metro Man. The definition of insanity is doing something repeatedly and expecting a different result, and after all this time... seriously, what do you expect? Your track record of defeat is so unbrokenly, so testably, so repeatably perfect that they could coin a scientific theory after it. The Megamind Theory of Utter Failure. If you've taught the world anything, it's how not to be an effective supervillain.
Megamind shakily rose to his feet, attempting to maintain some air of dignity but utterly failing. Lip trembling, he announced, "Let's stop wasting time and call your boyfriend in tights, shall we?" He actually looked... hurt. Like he was honestly pained by my calling him a failure.
Whatever emotional pain that had been marring his face was replaced by physical when the brain-bot came back for another taste.
I turned my head to the side to keep myself from having to see his pained face as Minion gingerly pried his master's arm from the offending robot's grip. If he was that upset about this, then why was he even doing it in the first place? Had it come down to all of us merely going through the motions of this game with no one having any honest motivation anymore? Like me, were they, too, trapped in the roles that society's expectations had laid out, too terrified of losing what little they had to question it?
Habit can be self-defeating, but at least it's familiar. Predictable. Change, though. Change is a scary thing. So it was all we could do to just huddle in the frying pan in fear of the fire beyond.