Roxanne grouses as she gets dressed because, no matter how sweltering the streets get, she has to look professional for the camera. In the Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted, prisoners deliberately engage in minor infractions of the rules, the sort that will get them scolded by the warden, because his office has air conditioning. On the subway, the AC breaks down; commuters wilt.

Minion waits for this all year. The lake is finally warm enough.

It's after midnight. The dirigible is in stealth mode, tethered at a seldom-visited section of shoreline, where the water is clean. The gorilla suit is aboard, but its usual occupant is beneath it, about twelve feet under water, lighting up his surroundings with the two lines of crests along his back. He is getting in touch with his ancestors, lying in wait for curious smaller fish to come within reach of his pointy teeth.

His blue master is down there, too, naked except for breathing gear and the belt holding accessories for the spear gun he holds in one hand. Minion thinks he can handle anything that lives in the lake, but Megamind worries about muskellunge, which can get to seven feet long, although two to four feet is much more common. So under the water the roles are reversed: Minion adventures and Megamind protects and worries. Minion thinks he is indulging Megamind by having him come along and play bodyguard. Besides, there's good eating on a muskie, enough for several meals for both of them. The dirigible also contains a cooler full of ice, just in case. Meanwhile, the little bluegills and perches swim up, fascinated by the glow, and get eaten in one or two bites. Six months from now, when the lake is frozen, Minion will be making up stories about the one that got away.