New chapter! Many thanks to my Beta-Reader, and for the patience of people around me as I wrote this. WARNING: contains mention of dead dogs, Christmas time, and (probably) unrequited love.

It was late July, and Megamind was sitting in jail, making plans for Christmas.

He didn't normally work on Evil Plots this far in advance, really, but the December season was a very… special… time of year, and he'd found that it was best to have a plan laid out in advance. With that, he wouldn't have to force himself to be creative while also trying not to get sucked into the black vortex of despair that always invaded his mind around that time.

Besides, this year Minion's present was going to be really big, and there was a lot to do to make sure it would be ready on time.

Megamind sighed and, after a moment's consideration, took off his shoes. The cell was warm enough, and besides, due to (self-imposed) safety regulations, he rarely got the luxury of walking around barefoot in the Evil Lair. When one works with heavy machinery, boots are a necessity as well as a fashion statement. When one is in prison, one may as well be comfortable while plotting another round in the battle of Good vs Evil.

So. Christmas. Christmas Stockings don't lend themselves easily to weaponization, and he'd already unleashed the Tinsel Trees of Terror three years ago; another Christmas Tree-themed plot would seem derivative…. Candy-cane guns? Trapping various local landmarks in snowglobes? An army of gingerbread men, perhaps?

Or, no, Nutcrackers! Even better!

He chuckled quietly to himself, then let out a full-blown Evil Laugh. Laughter is important to maintaining emotional wellbeing, and besides, this plot is going to be fantastic! Huge, robotic nutcrackers with crisp, military-style uniforms and iron jaws strong enough to crush bone! Sinister, thematically appropriate music! Oh, it would be glorious!

There was, he knew, an abandoned candy-factory that would work very well for a base of operations, with a little paint, some structural reinforcement and a few booby-traps, of course.

Ooh, this would be the perfect excuse to build the Dancing Attack Androids!

He could keep them hidden in some enormous, brightly-wrapped gifts, and have them come out as a surprise if (when) Metro Man reached his base! Speaking of gifts, he really should start thinking about what to get everyone else….

Megamind stood up and began to pace. In a way, Minion's gift was the easiest- oh granted, it would take the longest to construct, but it was something that Minion was guaranteed to like. They'd been talking about it for years, after all, fantasizing and pouring over designs showing exactly how it would be when we break out and then when we get our feet under us, and when we find a better place, and after we win… He was certain that Minion would be pleased with his gift; he was certain that he could get it done, get it right, in time. Minion deserved that. December was hard on him too, after all, especially on the anniversary. Maybe this would help.

He made a few laps around the cell, absently turning the tv on as he went past. The background data might provide some inspiration.

Shopping for his uncles would be easy. For the ones still in prison, he'd send care-packages and gift-baskets full of cookies, cakes, fresh fruit, the good kind of tobacco, and cannolis from that place Uncle Anthony's second cousin ran: the sorts of things that had featured in the very best Christmases of his childhood, when his uncles would gather around the Christmas-tree poster in the cafeteria to share cookies that their families had sent (if anyone had sent anything that year), and exchange small, discreetly-acquired gifts, back when he was young enough for people to think Christmas ought to be special to him…

Gifts for his non-incarcerated uncles would be much of the same, with the possible addition of non-disguised liquor, restaurant gift-cards, or theater tickets. He could talk it over with Minion once he got out; Minion always understood about making Christmas-related decisions far in advance, and he was so much better at keeping track of the details of which sorts of things specific people liked...

He paused in his pacing and stood still, staring at the door of his cell. He would need to find a gift for the Warden. A card wouldn't do; he wasn't a child anymore, and besides, the Warden might recognize his art style. In fact, any kind of homemade gift was out of the question for the Warden; he wouldn't trust anything that Megamind created anymore.

He'd given the Warden plenty of reasons to be suspicious, after all…

It would have to be something store-bought, then. The tv was running an ad for some kind of fancy watch; apparently they were supposed to be heirlooms in the making and the perfect overpriced gift for men in the Warden's approximate demographic. That could make for a nice gift, but, the ad doesn't mention how that kind of jewelry paints a target on your back, does it; they always stick with the "nice" bits when they're trying to sell something, and let the buyer find out about those fun little potentially-fatal flaws after the transaction is complete, and here they are trying to market some foolish little status-symbol and as a mark of affection and family; what a joke.…

Megamind realized he was pacing back and forth rather quickly, his hands clenched into fists and and his body tense, and so he forced himself to pause for a moment and breathe.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Just breathe.

He turned away from the door of the cell, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps he should just get a gift basket for the Warden as well; he knew the old man liked cookies. Or, maybe he could get a big box and fill it with several tins of different kinds of cookies, and then wrap the whole thing up with brightly-colored wrapping paper! After all, it was always nice to have something from "Santa Claus" to unwrap at Christmas time. And, in addition to the cookies, there was nothing to stop the Warden from keeping the fun metal tins that christmas-cookies so often came in!

The Warden had been the one to tell him the real truth about Santa Claus. He'd explained the story of St. Nicholas, patron saint of thieves and prisoners, and how his works of charity, compassion, and generosity were so well known that people to this day gave gifts in St. Nicholas's name.

Megamind shook his head, trying to clear himself of this sudden wave of sentimentality. Too long and that train of thought, and he might even start imagining potential regrets for himself! What nonsense! He was a supervillain. A career criminal. There'd been nothing but old arguments and burned bridges between him and the Warden for years. Megamind was a supervillain. Supervillains don't care about people.

Warden had been the one to explain that the thing with the flying reindeer and the army of elvish toymakers at the north pole was fictional, and not part of a viable career plan. Megamind, at age 5, had been terribly disappointed, not to mention curious about the true origin of his annual present "from Santa Claus"...

The Warden would be getting a gift-wrapped box full of tins of assorted cookies on Christmas, and the little card would say that it was from Santa, and there would never be any concrete evidence proving otherwise. Supervillains weren't sentimental, but absolutely anyone could give a gift in St. Nicholas's name at Christmas time, and there was nothing suspicious or contradictory about that.

On tv, the commercials had ended and a man was giving the weather report. Megamind sat down to watch. Apparently, Metro City was in the midst of a major heatwave. Not quite as bad as California, which was partially on fire, but hot enough to warrant reminders about the importance of good hydration, barbecues, and the lovely beaches of Lake Michigan. Hm. He'd have to keep an eye out, and possibly tighten security around the Evil Lair; they were conveniently close to the lake these days, and there was always a chance of some oddball picnicking on the lakeshore in the old industrial district and seeing something they shouldn't. It wouldn't be the first time someone had seen a brainbot and called the police, and Megamind found that is was better to be safe than sorry.

Megamind really, really didn't want to move again. He and Minion had been living full-time in their current base of operations for almost three years now, and they'd really started to settle in. They'd been careful about camouflaging and keeping the car invisible; they'd been careful about arranging the Evil Plots in such a way as to give the impression of living light and moving often. He didn't think Miss Ritchi was falling for the ruse, but based on the chatter on the police radio, the cops definitely were.

This version of the Evil Lair was better than any of the previous ones had been. It was bigger, for one thing, with a high ceiling that provided storage space, room for the construction of giant robots, and enough space for the brainbots to fly around comfortably without getting bored and/or overcrowded nearly as easily as they had in some of the previous locations. It's architecture was sturdy: strong factory walls with deep foundations and good, hard concrete floors, well-suited to the sinister, menacing qualities of a Supervillain's Lair.

It was worlds better than some of the places he'd been forced to use in the past. Really, you just can't get the right ambiance in a defunct movie-rental establishment, and the merits of the off-season amusement park were extremely overhyped.

Most importantly, the current Evil Lair was close to the lake and had a large basement that Megamind was (almost) certain Minion didn't know the true extent of. It was now completely off the grid; they'd successfully moved from not only generating their own electricity, to also piping in (and, of course, properly treating and filtering) their own water from the lake. It meant they no longer had to hide their own water usage in the shuffle and bills of half a dozen other adjacent businesses. It meant that Megamind finally had enough leeway to finally begin construction of The Pool.

On screen, the weatherman droned on about the weekly forecast. Megamind looked at the tv without truly seeing, his mind focused on more important things.

For years, The Pool had been a dream-project for him and Minion. They'd researched high-end aquariums and fancy swimming pools to learn about which systems for filtration and temperature-regulation worked, which didn't, and what sort of maintenance would be required. On off-days, when they needed a break or a distraction or just something fun to work towards, he and Minion would talk about how to design the space: blueprints and models for the ideal shape and depth, debates on the merits of including artificial tides, sketches for how to decorate it, where to put the waterfall and whether it would be wiser to use real or fake plants…. The Pool was one of his and Minion's favorite daydreams.

Megamind wasn't the only one who lost his home-planet, and he REFUSED to be so selfish as to let Minion worry about him this year. They were stuck on this miserable, landlocked planet for the rest of their lives; the very LEAST he could do was to create a space for Minion to actually stretch his fins and enjoy himself.

Sadly, what Megamind was building in the basement would not be the fulfillment of all their dreams. There wasn't enough space for the construction of the huge water-slide he'd wanted, for one thing, and it was unfortunately as-yet unsafe for them to have any real sunlight on The Pool. Still, he was able to arrange for the construction of the center-fountain and the miniature waterfall, and the special full-spectrum imitation-sunlight lamps would make a passable substitute for the real thing. The work with the pipes and plumbing was close to completion, and soon it would be time to start sealing the inside and installing the decorations.

Megamind would have to think of some kind of Evil Plot involving sand and pebbles soon; he was trying to hide his acquisition of supplies for The Pool among materials for other projects as much as possible. (He and Minion had talked extensively about having an elaborate, colorful tiled mosaic at the bottom of The Pool, but had been unable to agree on a particular design or set of images, and thus, had eventually compromised on a more "natural" aesthetic.)

Sand-monsters, rock-monsters, flying projectiles, a desert-theme… a giant hourglass-deathtrap, slowly filling up with sand, like the one in that Disney movie? He'd have to account for air-circulation in the design; non-sand-related asphyxiation wouldn't do here… An enclosed glass containment-unit of that sort would likely heat up very quickly under the summer sun; he'd have to account for that somehow- doing it at night would grant cooler temperatures AND the opportunity for more Dramatic use of light and shadow in the presentation of the deathtrap…

The weatherman droned on; it would be another ninety-three minutes before the actual news came on and Miss Ritchi gave her report. Megamind leaned back in his chair and started channel surfing. It was mostly commercials. More commercials. Exploding car. Hitchcock movie. Commercials. Telenovela. Commercials….

He'd need to get a gift for Roxanne Ritchi, as well. Something she'd like. A weapon, perhaps, for- no, it would inevitably be used against him. A new book- but what if she didn't like it; what if she already owned it- Chocolate cake? You can't really go wrong with chocolate cake, right? The matter could require some research...

Megamind switched the channel back to the telenovela, which was in the middle of some dramatic bit of explanatory dialogue. Apparently, the woman in the red dress had been cheating on the square-jawed man with his long lost Outlaw step-brother ever since she found out that Square-Jaw's wife was actually still alive. It was clearly a very complicated social life; typical for the genre, really. Megamind's own social life was… significantly less complicated. Comparatively speaking. When he managed to make himself think objectively about the situation.

It's just a game to her. It's just a game, and you need to remember that.

The game was that Roxanne Ritchi would flirt with him, and he would try to respond without making a fool of himself. Sometimes he would initiate the flirtation himself. Usually, Miss Ritchi would roll her eyes and either mock or ignore his attempts, but occasionally he'd somehow manage to make her blush, or even respond in kind.

It's only a game and he needs to remember that, yes, but he can play along too. He'll play along and he'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

It really wasn't that complicated, compared to what people got up to in the telenovelas. No long-lost relatives, no torrid secret affairs, no weddings with unexpected twists during and/or immediately before or after the ceremony…. Just two lifelong foes, and a gorgeous, brilliant woman who dated one and teased the other.

Just a man, hopelessly in love with a woman who was not only out of his league, but also in a committed relationship with his archenemy, and vocally opposed to everything he stands for, every single thing he does…

She did flirt with him, though. Almost definitely flirting. He was, at this point, reasonably certain that he couldn't possibly be imagining or misreading signals. It would be inaccurate to say that there was nothing going on between them. There was flirtation, if nothing else, and maybe, if he played his cards right, someday there might be... more.

It's nothing, it's a game, it's revenge- against him or against Metro Man; it didn't really matter which- She doesn't care; she'd never-

On screen, the woman in the red dress stormed out with her outlaw lover, leaving the square-jawed man alone on the balcony, the camera zooming in to show a single tear running down his stoically handsome face.

Then the show switched to commercials, and Megamind tried to turn his thoughts to other things. In prison, there wasn't much to do but think - not since he lost certain privileges, such as access to the hallways, the toolbox, and the sketchbooks and writing-utensils he'd used to while away time and decorate his cell when he was younger and had never been caught with a shiv made out of paper-mache and the metal parts of No.2 pencils honed to a razor-blade.

Having said that, it was probably better to not dwell too long on his chances (or lack thereof) with Roxanne Ritchi. Best to focus his mind on other things, such as evil plans, or that new armor-making technique he read about, or whatever it was that was happening on tv.

It'll be another eighty-one minutes until her next report, anyway.

On tv, the shaving-cream ad ended and an ad for the Animal Shelter started playing footage of tragically adorable puppy-dogs, with the voiceover telling him how desperate they were to find good homes for the little doggies.

He'd been away from the brainbots for over a week. Minion had probably finished most of the repairs by now, but Megamind still wanted to do a check-up and fine-tuning for all the one's who'd been damaged in the most recent battle for control of the City.

Megamind knew that people from, say, the Humane Society would probably disapprove of the brainbots if they knew what they actually were, but he liked to think that he was a responsible mad scientist. He took good care of his creations, and he never demanded that they take a risk he wasn't willing to take himself, and that was more than could be said of some pet-owners.

His own bruises were almost entirely gone by now; he'd be back to the Evil Lair soon. He'd see the brainbots soon. They could play fetch.

Megamind knew that, by collecting brainmatter and certain other genetic materials from dead dogs and using it as the basis for the brainbots' core-processing units, there was a non-zero chance that he was technically performing necromancy on the canines. Evil scientist that he was, he had made his peace with that. If a brainbot that woke up in his lab for the first time was, in some intrinsic way, the same entity as the stray who'd been hit by a car; the elderly pet who'd been dumped miles from its suburban home; the dog that froze to death not far from the Evil Lair; the….

Well. Waking up in a glowing body with strong jaws and sharp teeth, a body in which it could fly and grab things and understand complex concepts and instructions, a body that didn't feel pain, surrounded by a huge, friendly pack of others just like it, a pack that accepted it instantly… it wasn't such a bad place to stop on the way to Doggy Heaven, was it? The brainbots had all their physical needs met; he made sure of that. They had each other, and they had him and Minion, and he made sure they got enough stimulus to maintain their mental/emotional wellbeing and….

Maybe he was selfish for making them, for keeping them, but he was a supervillain, a mad scientist and an evil genius, and Evil was allowed to be selfish. Cyborgs were better than plain robots in many respects, anyway. They were better at taking initiative and reacting to the unexpected, they had that ever-important blend of fight/flight instincts that were so hard to program into AI, and they were-

Safe and loyal and fun, and they retained the canine instinct for knowing how and when to offer comfort, and he needed them to catch him if he went into freefall; needed them to stop him from going into freefall…

-Important. The brainbots were extremely important to his villainous work, and he would not stop making them. He was a responsible mad scientist, at the very least; it wasn't as if he went around making unnatural abominations and then abandoning them; he was no Dr. Frankenstein. If his creations were going to go on a destructive rampage he would be right there, directing and participating in it.

The commercial for the Animal Shelter ended with a picture of a particularly adorable mutt, overlayed with the shelter's contact information and the words ADOPT A NEW BEST FRIEND TODAY across the bottom of the screen. Megamind couldn't deny that canines, and menacing little cyborgs with canine components, made excellent companions; however, he felt that "best friend" was too strong a term. Yes, they had strong packbonding instincts, had adapted for positive interspecies relations, and were easy to entertain, but Megamind preferred to apply the term "friends" to entities with a more sophisticated grasp on language, entertainment, and (not to put too much emphasis on the matter) ethics. Dogs tended to have a broader definition of "justifiable use of lethal force" than most fully-sentient beings did, and as a man whose lifestyle often involved violence, Megamind had had to account for that when building the brainbots. They were programmed to never use lethal force unless Megamind himself, or Minion, gave a direct order to the contrary. Also, the brainbots never seemed to fully appreciate the wonders of musical theater, which was neigh-unforgivable for someone who might otherwise be labelled as 'friend'!

Fetch was fun of course, but it couldn't hold a candle to theater in terms of entertainment value.

There tended to be more… opportunities to make brainbots... during the winter months than there were in the summer. It was something about the cold, the visibility-impairing weather, and a certain type of person who got the urge to upgrade worn-out pets in favor of younger, cuter models during the holiday seasons. It was, from Megamind's perspective, a good thing. He always welcomed lab-projects in the winter months; it helped keep his mind focused on the here-and-now, as opposed the day his parents, Minion's family, and every other living person on the planet, every living thing in the solar system, was sucked into a black hole…

According to the reckonings of Earth calendars, the anniversary of the complete and utter destruction of Megamind's homeworld happened to fall on December 24th.

Megamind always fell apart inside in December. "Christmas Blues," his uncles used to say. He'd fall apart again, and so he had to prepare, had to build enough armor and scaffolding around himself to catch him before he could fall too far, to hide his shattered pieces so that Minion wouldn't worry….

He turned off the tv and began tapping out a tune on the bare armrest of his chair. The annual Christmas scheme was another grand distraction for that time of year, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked the Nutcracker idea. A Christmas-themed, instantly recognizable show that featured a sinister character who brings of human-sized mechanical dancers and a mysterious cursed doll with unusually strong jaws to a party… Yes, he could definitely work with that….

Megamind spun around in his chair, smiling wickedly to himself. An added bonus to this plan was the number of subtle and less-than-subtle jabs that could be made in the line of a nutcracker theme. Captain Goody-goody would never admit to understanding the joke, of course, which made it even funnier…

However. There was also an element of risk involved in that line of attack, because Roxanne would also be there, and Miss Ritchi was definitely more than capable of turning such lines against him; she'd done it before, several times….

But, that was a concern for another time. It was July, and planning a conversation in your head for more than three days in advance was never a smart idea, because the other people never said the exact lines one expected them too. It was July. His injuries were almost entirely healed, and Minion and the brainbots were waiting for him at the Evil Lair. Soon, very soon, Megamind would escape this prison and have his revenge.

Meanwhile, there was plenty of time to work on his evil plans.

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