Disclaimer: This is original fan work, intended solely for the entertainment of the readers, and in no way intends any infringement on any copyrights, trademarks, or licenses held by Dreamworks Animation SKG, Alan Schoolcroft, Brent Simons, or the holders of any other legal rights or licenses pertaining to Megamind.

If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it.

Heraclitus

I

Over the years in which she had covered the rivalry between Metro Man and Megamind, Roxanne Ritchi had used many words to describe the self-styled supervillian: egocentric, childish, flamboyant, obnoxious, strange, quirky, manic, stubborn, persistent, melodramatic, self-centered, yes, even insane and evil. After Metro Man had apparently died, she'd added "monster" and "heartless" to the list, but events of the past few days had ultimately caused her to rescind those last two, and to revise her opinions of some of the others. Indeed, after the shocking discovery that Metro Man had deliberately faked his own death so that he could end the superhero "gig" and go off to pursue other interests, she'd shifted a few of those descriptions to him, tacking on "thick-headed jerk" for good measure.

As to his former nemesis, now turned hero after today's defeat of Titan (she knew how to spell the would-be hero's name, even if that idiot Hal didn't), she was starting to revise the list. She had dropped some of her descriptions for Megamind as no longer valid, kept a few as still applicable (if less irritating than they once had seemed), and was finding some new ones she wouldn't have thought possible before she had had a chance to know something of the real Megamind, behind the disguise of Bernard. Sweet, funny, charming, sympathetic — they were descriptions of the kind of man Roxanne had always wanted in her life, but never had she thought such a person would come with blue skin and a giant head.

Yes, there were many words Roxanne could and had used to describe the qualities of Megamind, both the hapless villain of the past and the slowly emerging hero of the present. But never, not once, not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined that the leather and spike wearing alien with the dramatic habits of a rock star could be said to possess what was generally called good taste.

Really, the whole punk-Goth sort of display that had been Megamind's trademark for the past twenty years usually implied the opposite, and deliberately so. It was part and parcel of rebellion, and if Megamind's entire criminal career hadn't been a conscious act of rebellion against a world that had rejected him, she had learned nothing of people and what made them tick during all her years as a reporter. Megamind may have been an alien, but underneath the leather and spikes and blue skin and hyperdramatic bravura, he was as human at heart as anyone born on Earth. And while Roxanne would readily admit that he had a certain kind of style, she would never have imagined that he also had class. She found out otherwise on the day he defeated Titan, in a way that left her honestly flabbergasted.

It began after the impromptu celebration in the street. There had been the inevitable reports and statements to give to the authorities, something Megamind had never done before, not outside of prison, but he handled the situation with shocking honesty, as well as considerable discomfort. He made no effort to hide the fact that he had been responsible for Titan's existence, but he also provided considerable detail as to his training, which Hal himself had corroborated. The flaw in the plan hadn't really been Megamind's; he had tried to give back to the city the protector he believed he had taken from it. The flaw had been in Hal himself, a basic lack of redeeming character. One couldn't even blame Megamind for choosing him, since Roxanne admitted that she had been responsible for the accident that had imbued the creepy cameraman with superpowers. Up until the moment she said it, she hadn't been willing to admit it to herself, and she was still processing all the feelings that came rushing in as a result.

In the end, the police decided that this was too knotty a situation to figure out in one day. When Megamind promised all the help he could give to rebuild the city, even better than before, the authorities were willing to forgive a lot; that he sent his brainbots to start implementing the repairs immediately improved their attitude toward him even more. That he did all this before allowing himself to be taken to a hospital when he was about to fall on his face from exhaustion and the abuse he'd suffered pretty much settled the matter, as far as the powers that be were concerned. If Megamind wanted the job of defending the city, they were willing to give him a chance.

When they were both taken to Metro Hospital to have their various scrapes, bumps, bruises, and sprains taken care of (the brainbots had long since taken Minion back to the Lair so that he could get into a new habitat, and a spare robotic body), Roxanne had been startled to realize that for all that he'd been far more seriously manhandled by "Tighten," the blue alien wasn't much more badly hurt than she herself. As they left the hospital together, she was frankly astonished that Megamind hadn't been admitted for much more severe damage, and she told him so, but he had answered with a smile that was both mischievous and pleased.

"What, are you telling me that after years of reporting all my battles with Metro Man, this is the first time you stopped to wonder how I managed to survive in one piece?"

Roxanne was embarrassed, partly because he had a point, and partly because despite his smile, she saw in his vivid green eyes a not quite successfully hidden flash of hurt, the belief that she had never thought about what happened to him because she didn't care. "I..." she began, not quite knowing what to say. She didn't want to come right out and admit that once he was hauled off by Metro Man, she never gave him another thought, because that wasn't entirely true. In fact, reflecting on the past made her realize that she had always been glad that he seemed to be pretty much okay at the end of those battles, but she had never stopped to wonder why she'd felt that way.

In retrospect, she now saw that maybe all along, she had known that there wasn't a truly evil bone in Megamind's lanky body, nor even in his oversized head. He put on the show and played the game as the villain, but from the very first time he'd kidnapped her, he had always said right out that it was just that: a game. Until Metro Man had faked his death, all his efforts at villainy had been aimed squarely at his nemesis. He had tried to scare Roxanne, certainly, had threatened her with bodily harm, but after the first kidnapping, it had been plain to her that underneath all the poses and posturing and attempts to be menacing, Megamind was just trying to make someone notice him, notice his efforts, notice that he could do amazing things, notice that he wanted to be accepted for being something. If being bad was all he could get, he would take it, but really, he'd never been all that good at it because at the end of the day, it wasn't who he really was under all the spikes and leather and melodrama.

Roxanne had known this for a long time, though she hadn't let herself admit it, because she'd wanted to be angry at him for all the years of kidnapping her and making her a part of the Game without her permission. She hadn't thought about whether or not he was hurt in the battles because a part of her — a shamefully petty part, she had to acknowledge — had wanted a little payback, and believed that he deserved whatever pain he got because he was stupid enough to ask for it over and over again.

But today, the Game had changed, and the world she'd thought she known so well had been turned on its head. Metro Man had showed a side of himself that had shocked her to her core: he had revealed that he could be even more self-centered and uncaring than Megamind at his very worst. He had dumped not just her but an entire city. He had shrugged them off as no longer his concern, perpetrated an awful hoax against them because he was bored. Oh, sure, his reasoning was that he had done his time, paid his dues — but if the people of Metro City had come to rely on him, whose fault was that? Who had ever asked Wayne Scott to set himself up as their defender, their hero, their righter of wrongs? They did now, but he had been the one to start that ball rolling, and just because he hadn't had the guts to tell mommy and daddy, "No, I don't wanna be a hero" didn't mean the people were to blame because he'd taught them to depend on him. Hell, from what she knew of the whole story, if Wayne hadn't started manipulating people into worshipping him as a child, Megamind the villain would never have come to be.

And yet, there was Megamind, giving his no-holds-barred all to the role that Roxanne was now seeing had been thrust on him, while Wayne wasn't even breaking a sweat carrying out the one he had chosen — even demanded — for himself. He claimed now that it hadn't been his choice, that he'd done what had been expected of him, but he hadn't even tried to be honest with the city, or with her. He'd never thought that maybe he could've just said something about his growing desire to retire, and the whole charade of him "dying" wouldn't have been needed. By cutting them out of his thoughts and plans, he insulted everyone who had once looked up to him, and he dumped the blame for his actions onto someone who for once did not deserve it.

There were so many implications to all of this — not the least of which was the mind-blowing realization that when the city really needed a superhero, to fight a truly dangerous criminal, it had been the supposed villain who had stepped into those empty shoes, and won — that Roxanne found her head spinning, trying to take it all in. She couldn't manage that Herculean task right now, but she promised herself she would, and soon. For the moment, she focused on the question at hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it. "I guess I never really did before. I always figured that if you'd been hurt, Metro Man would've taken you to a hospital, not to prison."

She really couldn't blame Megamind for the bitterness in voice. "He never cared that much, not about me. He told me, early on. If evil dares to show its ugly face where it isn't wanted, it will always get smashed by the fists of justice. Whenever evil gets hurt, it's paying its debt to society." His imitation of the former hero was surprisingly dead-on, right down to his facial expression and cheesy pose. It disappeared with a shrug that didn't quite hide a bit of an aching shoulder. "After hearing that, I figured I'd need to look out for myself, if I wanted to stay in one piece."

The reporter was appalled. "Wait, he actually said that?"

"When we were still kids," Megamind confirmed. "He was working on his hero banter, but I knew he meant it. He gave me three cracked ribs and a dislocated jaw, and that was just from playing dodgeball. Fortunately, I'm tougher than I look and I heal pretty quickly, but after that, I started working on ways to protect myself from his kind of powers."

He grinned, an impish, innocently gleeful grin of a boy who has found a flawless way to raid the cookie jar and never get caught. A look of harmless, playful mischief, not malicious, deceitful evil. "Would you like to see some of it — someday, of course, not right now?" The way he added that last part, he was acutely aware that he might've said something she would take badly, and was dreadfully embarrassed, and more dreadfully desperate that she not take offense.

Understanding, she smiled at him in a way that let him know he had nothing to worry about. "I would like that, thanks. And for the record, I... I didn't mean to say I never cared about what happened to you, I just...never really thought about it. Most people wouldn't after they'd been kidnapped, y'know?"

This time, he blushed, quite thoroughly, and the simple... humanness of it touched her. Really, the more she was allowed to see the unguarded side of Megamind, the person rather than the persona, she was convinced that what she had known of him as Bernard the geek was real, and the Master of All Villainy the facade. "Yes...well..." he stammered, scratching the back of his head as he searched for the right words. He finally let loose a huge sigh. "There are some things I really need to explain to you, if you're willing to listen." He said it in a quiet voice, completely free of any attempts at manipulation.

Roxanne nodded, recognizing that in making the offer in such a way, he was allowing himself to be made vulnerable to her, to be accepted or rejected as she saw fit. "I'm willing," she said simply, not wanting to increase his obvious discomfort over what she knew was a difficult situation, for both of them. It was a good moment, a step toward possible reconciliation — so of course it had to be ruined by an inappropriately loud growl from her stomach. It was her turn to look sheepish, especially when Megamind reacted with an expression of complete disbelief that such a rude noise could come from her. "And I'm dying of hunger," she added with an embarrassed laugh. "Maybe we can find some quiet restaurant for that talk..."

But the ex-villain shook his head, regretfully rather than dismissively. "I don't think there's one quiet enough in the entire city, right now. Not for me. And I don't want any more disguises between us. I...can't say what I need to say like that. Not anymore."

Roxanne couldn't have doubted his sincerity even at her angriest, and she was finding that with each passing minute, her anger with him was dissolving. Really, if he had had any feelings at all for her — and in reflecting over their bizarre history together, she was positive he had for quite a long time, but had either been in denial or was so truly naive that he hadn't known what those feelings were — what other choice would he have had but to approach her through a disguise? She suddenly felt a wave of weirdness ripple through her brain, an odd sensation that she was the Roxanne to this most unlikely Cyrano. "I guess I can understand that," she admitted, fighting to keep her mind focused in the moment. "There's my place, though I'm not sure I have anything edible in my refrigerator — been a busy week, after all..."

Her voice trailed off as she saw the blue alien wince and shudder. "No, not there, not for this. It needs to be someplace where...where I wasn't 'Bernard.'"

Given what she was now sure he wanted to explain, she could understand that, too. "Well, that kills the whole 'my place or yours' idea, then. There was that little...ah...escapade with me and 'Bernard' back at your Lair."

"Yes," he agreed, though his eyes became distant for a moment, as if making a decision. They refocused suddenly when he made up his mind. "I agree, the Lair you know isn't the right place, for a lot of reasons. But you've only seen the 'business' end of things, haven't you?"

She blinked, puzzled. "Things?" she echoed.

He smiled faintly. "My... home. I've never called it that before, you know. The prison was always home, because that's where I grew up, where I kept returning. Sort of how for other people, home is where they were born and experienced childhood, even after they move away. But when I was free... I didn't live my entire life on the outside in the labs and storage areas of that warehouse. I made part of the building my home, a part you never saw. I never let you see it."

"Why not?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Because it was none of your business," he began, completely out of defensive reflex, then so suddenly changed to a more honest direction, Roxanne felt the whiplash. "And a little bit out of fear, I guess, protecting the image. Supervillains aren't supposed to need things like that — or if they do, they have huge mansions and castles to show off their superiority." He snorted. "Funny that this time, it was the hero who had all that. If you're willing, we could go there. Minion's really a fantastic cook — it's amazing what he can whip up on five minutes' notice, as long as you don't want fish. Seafood is off the menu at the Lair, except for crab and lobster. Minion can't stand those snappy-clawed bullies, and he takes a sense of righteous vengeance in cooking them. He even indulges in a bite or two, from time to time, and he actually loves shrimp, so long as someone else cleans and precooks them. He'll be here for me soon, anyway, and I think he'd love a chance to show off for you."

Roxanne got the distinct impression that Minion wasn't the only one who wanted a chance to show her a side of himself that could be thought of as "normal." She made a show of thinking it over, then smiled. "Okay, why not? I have to admit, I always wondered if you really did all your living in a glorified hangar. I kinda pictured you sleeping in that big chair of yours and eating nothing but takeout pizza and fast food."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation even as he laughed — not a melodramatically evil laugh, nor a taunting laugh, but a normal, everyday, human laugh that was actually quite nice to hear. "Falling back on a stereotype, Ms Ritchi? And here I thought you despised being predictable."

Roxanne laughed. "Okay, okay, you got me there! You're right, I don't really know much of anything about your private life, and I have to admit, 'Bernard' didn't have bad taste in restaurants." When his smile dimmed at her utterance of the B word, she quickly steered away from it. "Can we stop by my apartment on the way? I don't remember the last time I had a chance to clean up, and these clothes are getting pretty ripe."

Her diversion was successful, and Megamind readily agreed as Minion pulled up with the quickly repaired car. It looked at little strange, seeing an invisible door partially held on with all too visible duct tape. "The brainbots did the best they could, sir," the fish explained as they climbed in, the ex-villain graciously offering Roxanne the shotgun seat in front. "I think they're just a bit overwhelmed, with so many new orders to carry out. Maybe you can calm them down when they all get home."

Megamind grimaced, but not very seriously. "I think they're all overdue for maintenance — and a few changes of parameter, since we've changed our parameters. Oh, well, a minor inconvenience. First things first. Ms Ritchi's hungry, and as the doctors did suggest rest after today's traumatic events, the stress of being among people in a restaurant would be out of the question."

"Oh, I agree, sir," Minion said cheerfully. "I was thinking of making Phat Thai tonight, if we managed to get back in one piece. It's quick, and I know just where to get the best fresh noodles and chicken..."

"As long as it's not too far out of the way. We need to stop at Ms Ritchi's apartment first, so she can freshen up."

"No problem, sir! It's right on the way!"

As they headed off, Roxanne looked back at Megamind and mouthed, Is he always this chipper after a fight? The blue genius rolled his eyes and answered, Always. Minion was happily oblivious to their exchange, humming softly as he drove to the requested destination.

Unfortunately, all was not well when Roxanne reached her apartment. The place was a disaster, literally. From the kinds of damage inflicted on every room, it was clear that Hal had come looking for her while she and Megamind had gone to pay a visit to Metro Man's hideout. It was also clear that he had been angry to find her gone, and had taken out his frustrations in ruining the place with his new powers. Appalled, she alerted the police to the matter and asked that they come by when they could to make their investigations and reports. She also informed her insurance agent, then went to her bedroom, found a valise that was still in one piece, along with a small selection of clothes, the few that had been undamaged. She grabbed what toiletries she could find intact, along with a more sensible pair of shoes than her fuzzy pink slippers. There was no way she'd be able to clean up here, as the water lines were apparently broken, but she figured she could manage to survive the evening unshowered until she was able to check into a hotel.

Megamind noticed that something was up the moment she returned, unchanged and unwashed, bag in hand. "Hal trashed my place while we were out visiting Wayne," she told him, not quite expecting the scowl of disapproval that darkened his face. "I've contacted the authorities and my insurance, but I'll have to check into a hotel until my place is livable again. I just wish I could've grabbed a quick shower. After seeing what he did up there, I want to get rid of Hal's stink more than ever."

"That, I can provide," the newly minted hero promised. "As I told you, not all of the Lair is devoted to 'business.' I think you'll find the bathing facilities adequate."

She hadn't realized she'd been hoping he'd say that, but she was grateful. "Thanks," she said with a smile. "I really appreciate it."

When they finally reached the no longer evil Lair and she was escorted to the hitherto unseen living areas, she appreciated it more than she could have anticipated. The living space was on the top floor, below the roof with its fake observatory, and above the lab and garage and storage levels. When they stepped off the elevator and the lights came on automatically, her jaw hit the floor.

There was no way she could call this place evil, or a lair. It was shockingly... beautiful.

The room they entered upon leaving the elevator was large and high-ceilinged, like all the rooms in the building, but when the lights came up, it was warm and inviting, not creepy with shadows. From the furnishings and their arrangement, it was meant to be a sort of living room and rec room combined — but not at all as Roxanne had expected. Its design and decor was in the style called Prairie School, that which was favored and developed by architects like Frank Lloyd Wright. The clean lines, natural colors, and soft lighting was utterly unlike anything Roxanne had imagined she would see. The flat panel TV cleverly built into the furnishings so that it seemed an intended part of the style, that was no surprise, but from the polished parquet floor to the tall, narrow windows of tinted Wright inspired glass, all the rest was nothing less than a shock.

For well more than a minute, Roxanne could only stand there, gaping, staring, taking it all in. Finally, her eyes screamed their need to blink, and that finally broke her trance. "It — it...it's beautiful!" she said in a soft voice that was plainly awe-struck.

Megamind grinned, delighted by her reaction. "It is, isn't it?" he said, pleased to have surprised her but otherwise not at all gloating. "There were architecture books and magazines in the prison library, and I devoured them all when I was still a kid — trying to learn everything I could to plan effective demolitions, of course," he hastily explained, as one would to cover up a guilty pleasure. "There are some styles I don't care for, but I found almost all of them fascinating, for one reason or another. Every room up here uses a different style, 'cause I couldn't settle on just one. The main bathroom is Art Nouveau, my larger bedroom is mostly Art Deco with some late Victorian touches, the other is Japanese Muromachi period, the kitchen is Brooks Stevens — excepting the modern appliances, of course. The library is futurist reinterpreted neo-Byzantine, Minion's rooms are various kinds of organic architectural styles, though he wanted some Florida Modern in there, you've seen the neo-Gothic parts of the working Lair, and then there's—"

The reporter's brain nearly exploded with information overload. "Whoa, whoa, I just got here, let's take this one step at a time! I mean, it's absolutely gorgeous, but..."

"But...?" she was prompted after a minute of silence had passed.

She flushed bright red. "I don't know how to say this without having you take it the wrong way, but..."

To her surprise, Megamind understood what she was trying to find a diplomatic way to avoid saying outright. "You're wondering if all of this is ill-gotten gains. A fair question, I suppose. The answer is no. I may have been many things that were bad, but I gave up thievery when I was still a teenager. Petty crimes are for petty people."

"You didn't seem to consider it petty when you looted all the banks and museums."

She regretted her words when she saw the sincere remorse dim his face. "That was a mistake. I think I knew it from the start, but I went a little crazy after it seemed that I'd finally managed to succeed at something, something important. I'm not blaming you, but until you came up and demanded to know what I planned to do to the city that night outside City Hall, I hadn't really given it much thought. Beating Metro Man just once had been the whole point of my criminal career, and... well, you know as well as I do that destroying him should have been impossible! With him gone, I didn't know what to do but play it out, doing what people expected of me in the villain role. Oh, it felt fun at first, because I was still high on the thought that I'd actually, finally won after twenty years of losing, that I could have or do anything I wanted. To someone who grew up in a prison, it was intoxicating, I admit it! But it didn't take long before I started to feel that it wasn't very satisfying — who am I kidding? It wasn't satisfying at all. When I saw it would make you happy, I gave everything back, and it felt a lot better. Not just because it pleased you, but because it felt... right."

That actually made sense to her. She smiled softly at the ease of his admission. "So all of this here came from legitimate sources?"

He nodded. "When I was still a kid, after I was expelled from shool, the warden and the head of the prison's education department got me involved with correspondence courses to try to continue my education, to keep me occupied and out of trouble. The prison only taught basic stuff I'd learned before I was two, so that was the only way to go. When they found I had a knack for anything dealing with science or math, even art, they let me start specializing in engineering and physics and drafting. I came up with designs for a number of things that are now in common use in virtually anything that uses computer electronics." He snorted. "And people wonder how the 'computer revolution' took off so quickly! The warden had them patented for me and had my earnings put in trust, hoping that if I saw how my gifts could be used in a positive and profitable way, I'd give up the whole idea of being the baddest boy of all."

He paused, shaking his head at the memory. "I think if I hadn't had that personal vendetta with Wayne Scott — and if he hadn't started going public with his Metro Boy schtick when we were both twelve — it might've worked. By the time I turned sixteen, the trust fund with the earnings from my patents was worth almost as much as the fortune he eventually inherited from his parents, and I kept coming up with new improvements and new items, so the fund kept growing. In that, I knew I was better than him, because I earned my resources, even if they were frozen from time to time, and I had occasional... setbacks from paying out reparations. So if I ever stole anything, it was usually to prove some kind of point. But for the most part, it always felt petty. Demeaning."

He stopped to shake his head again, this time to clear away the cobwebs of painful memories. He smiled, perhaps a little too easily. "Well, enough about me! You said you wanted to clean up, not listen to my ramblings. The washroom is this way."

The alien led her across the large room, headed for a particular corridor. As they went, Roxanne tried to take in as much of her unlikely surroundings as she could, while Megamind called to an adjoining room, "Minion, are there still any brainbots around to help Ms Ritchi?" Roxanne knew that the little robots were a weird combination of servant and pet around the Lair, and while most of them were harmless, there were a few with a nasty tendency to bite the hand that fed them, so to speak.

"Just Pinky and the Brain, sir," the fish called back from wherever he was, probably the kitchen. "The others are out starting the city clean up, or are down for repair."

Roxanne shot her host a peculiar look. "Pinky and the Brain?"

"Two latter generation prototypes," Megamind said, a bit defensively. "You've seen Pinky, I'm sure."

She nodded. "The pink one, yes. But the Brain?"

"I was aiming for a version with a higher degree of independent reasoning. Unfortunately, this particular prototype got stuck in a flawed logic loop, and is rather... single-minded."

"Trying to take over the world?" Roxanne quipped, quoting the cartoon lab mouse of the same name.

Megamind's reply was unexpectedly in earnest. "No, just trying to take over all the broom closets in the Lair. In that, he's achieved near-total domination. I'd take him offline for reprogramming, but Minion finds him indispensable when it's time to wax the floors. Pinky will do."

The reporter was a bit uneasy. "She — it — she," she decided, since she'd always figured the pink brainbot was some kind of cybernetic female. "She's not going to bite me, or use some kind of pervy surveillance camera on me, is she?"

To her relief, Megamind actually looked offended. "Of course not! I made her in an attempt to improve the other brainbots' behavior, thinking a sort of mother-figure or benign feminine presence might provide missing socialization factors. Really, Ms Ritchi, how many times have I kidnapped you?"

"I lost count somewhere back around two hundred," she admitted.

"Well, I haven't. It's three hundred and twenty-seven."

"That many?" she remarked wryly. "Well, time flies when you're having fun."

The sarcasm was lost on him. "I always gave you time off for holidays and your birthday. So many times in my clutches, and even once, did I ever try something that despicable? Really, if I was into vow— view— viow—"

"Voyeurism?" she suggested, amused by his effort to not mispronounce a word he had probably never said correctly in his entire life.

He took the out with nary a batted eyelash. "Yes, that. If I was into it, I could find plenty of material to satisfy my whims via the Internet. I may have been a Master of Villainy, but I am not a pervert, or a cod—cad! You are my guest, in my home. I could never think of invading your privacy!"

She was almost disappointed by his emphatic certainty. "Never?"

He opened his mouth, then flushed a faint purple before the smallest sound peeped out. He unleashed a huge sigh. "All right, I could think of it, I'm not made of stone, after all, but I would never do it!"

She couldn't resist. "Not even if I asked you to?" And as expected, he blushed shades of purple, pink, and violet-red that she hadn't known existed. "Just kidding!" she relented with a laugh before his head exploded from the rising pressure within. "I'm not into that, either. Thank you," she added, with complete sincerity. "You may be a villain — or an ex-villain, now — but you're still a gentleman."

It took a few moments, but his color went back to an only slightly flushed version of his normal shade of blue. "Well... thank you," he said, not quite sure if that was the response she wanted (and totally missing her implication that she had never found him frightening), but he figured it was probably safe. "Here we are," he said, indicating a dark, highly polished wooden door, which he opened.

Lights flickered on as they crossed the threshold, but not the strange, oddly hued flickering of industrial fluorescent lighting. This was a softer, warmer light, almost like candlelight, though bright enough to illuminate the entire room. Roxanne looked around, and felt her jaw drop.

Thanks to a design course she'd taken during college, she had memories of the Art Nouveau style as having been at the height of its popularity at the turn of the previous century, a revolution that opposed the rigid styles and forms that were being taught in various academies of the time. It tended to use curves and plant forms and soft colors to achieve a flowing, natural style, but had not abandoned the intricacies that were popular during the Victorian era. Although most people would have thought that Megamind would sneer at such things, she had seen his de-gun and all its purely decorative details and knew better. Its design had been labeled "steampunk" by the few who had actually seen it up close, and while that wasn't an inaccurate description, Roxanne knew enough about that particular design trend to know that part of its roots lay firmly grounded in styles of the same period as Art Nouveau.

Here, as on the de-gun, there were many details that served no purpose but to please the senses. The room was quite large, tiled and paneled and painted in what could best be described as autumn colors. The exposed water piping was shaped so that its many lengths and coils appeared to be artful tangles of copper vines and tendrils, complete with realistic bright copper and pale gold and red bronze leaves. Adding to the effect were many live plants and vines which thrived in low light, for the domed ceiling above was made of deeply stained glass, in a style highly reminiscent of Tiffany's Autumn Landscape window. The room was separated into three distinct areas, a large environmental shower on the right, what looked like a raised pond — not a mere bathtub but a literal pond, surrounded by a semi-circle of lush potted plant life — on the left, and a vanity area complete with a dark marble sink and etched glass mirrors along the far wall between the two. The sandy hued marble floor somehow managed to not be cold, even where there were no rugs to catch errant water, and the surrounds of both shower and pool were tiled in detailed patterns mimicking the design of the glass ceiling.

Roxanne wanted to breathe out, "Wow!" but she was having a hard time just breathing. She had a feeling that her eyes had grown to five times their usual size, as she swore she could feel her jaw actually scraping against her shoes. This "washroom" hidden away in a so-called villain's lair beat the heck out of the most luxurious spa she had ever visited.

Megamind, happily oblivious to her extreme reaction, went in ahead of her, palming hidden switches to activate some extra lighting. Around the ceiling dome, a ring of lights made the rich colors of the glass design glow as if sunlight were flooding through it. "The facilities all use ordinary controls, so you shouldn't have any trouble adjusting the water temperature and flow to your liking. If you need to... er... relieve yourself, those facilities are over there." He indicated a suitably carved wooden door to the right of the shower entrance.

"Did you do all of this?" she managed to half-whisper, though she was still frozen in place.

He nodded. "Most of it. Minion and the brainbots helped with the heavy lifting and installation, but the brainbots are useless when it comes to creativity, and Minion's talents run in other areas. Even villains need hobbies, you know, and this kind of simple detail work helped clear my mind for other, more complex and demanding things."

While the reporter tried to wrap her mind around the concept of anyone referring to all this meticulous work as "simple," her unlikely host opened a cabinet beneath the sink, checking on the supplies stored there. "We have entirely on-demand water heating systems, so don't worry about using too much hot water. The tub is equipped with a whirlpool — very useful for getting rid of some of the aches and pains after another hard day of not winning." He actually sounded unbothered by it.

Roxanne had finally found that she could move again, and had stepped closer to the indoor pond to have a better look. It really was huge, big enough to fit at least half a dozen Megaminds with plenty of room to spare. "Do you hold parties in here, or do you just do laps?" she wondered, not entirely in jest.

The alien was completely unoffended; he laughed. "Minion does like to get out of his bowl once in a while, and he's not that fond of public pools or the lake, especially late in the season. But you're not that far off the mark; it's also equipped for use as a counter-current swimming pool. Minion isn't the only one who needs regular exercise, and waiting to get it until you're in the middle of a fight with Metro Man — well, I don't recommend it. Way too little, much too late."

Roxanne couldn't stop herself from chuckling. "You mean formal speed walking isn't enough?"

She regretted the remark the moment it left her lips. Megamind's cheerful demeanor instantly vanished, to be replaced by a troubled uneasiness. For a moment, he fiddled aimlessly with something on the marble vanity counter, then lifted his head and whistled. "Pinky will help you with anything you need," he said in an uncharacteristically flat voice as the brainbot floated into the room. "Towels, soap, whatever. Just ask and she'll get it for you." With that, he left, the enthusiastic spring gone from his step, leaving only the soft click of the closing door behind him.

Roxanne wanted to kick herself.

Author's Note: Some aspects of Megamind's "living quarters" were inspired by concept images from the Art of Megamind book. While none in this story are exactly as depicted, the images definitely gave me ideas...