This was written for the "Beat the Heat" prompt on the Megamind LJ community. It's short, it's very silly, and it has no relation to my other fic, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it.
The word didn't begin to describe it, Roxanne Ritchi thought. It was sweltering, steaming, boiling. Hooooooot, drawn out as long as the speaker could draw it. It had been hot all week, and when she'd asked down at the station, the weather team had unhappily told her that the heat wave was going to last through the weekend.
Walking down the hall to her apartment felt like walking in slo-mo through a sauna. Once inside, she pushed sweaty locks of hair out of her eyes, and went to close the curtains. The thermometer in the window read 102 degrees, but that had to be a lie; Roxanne would swear on Joseph Pulitzer's grave that out there right now it was as hot and humid as the surface of Venus.
It even looked a little like Venus from up here. Half the lake seemed to have evaporated and settled into the air, and combined with the smog, no wind, and the killer sun, the whole city appeared misted in a yellowish haze.
Thinking about other planets, however, reminded the reporter that she had another option for the weekend, a much better one than lying around a darkened apartment in her underwear with a wet towel over her head. Of course! The No-Longer-Evil Lair was always so delightfully cold and damp! And she could always lie around in her underwear there too – she very much doubted Megamind would object.
Fanning herself with a magazine, Roxanne went upstairs to pack.
Minion started as he heard his master's voice, and nearly jabbed himself with the ice tongs. Quickly he dumped the rest of the ice cubes into his dome, closed the hatch, and hid the tray back in the freezer. "What is it, Sir?"
The blue villain-turned-hero strode into the kitchen alcove, flanked by several brainbots toting battery-powered electric fans. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a full leather-and-spandex ensemble, complete with collar and cape. His bald head was flushed lavender and glazed with sweat. "Why is it so nightmarishly hotin here? Go check on the air condish-zhoning unit. It must be malfunctioning."
"I did, Sir. It's working just fine, and it's going full blast." The fish hesitated. "Um, maybe if you took off a few layers . . ."
"A fine idea, but alas, not an option." Megamind grabbed a damp dishtowel and wiped his forehead. "As defender of Metrocity, I have to be ready at all times. It would be just like the Doom Syndicate to try something while the city's laid low by the heat." He frowned, wondering what sort of evil schemes his current foes might be up to . . .
Hot Flash took a deep breath, and turned on the spray nozzle.
Despite rumors to the contrary, water did not harm the villainess – she was a pyrokinetic, not a wicked witch. Having her flames doused was inconvenient, yes, but she could rekindle them with a little effort. And she'd gladly put in the effort later if it meant she could cool down now.
By the time she turned off the hose, water had run down her shoulders and soaked her bikini top and sarong (the spandex-and-fishnets costume had been laid aside until better weather). Not bothering to dry off, she soaked a towel in more cold water, and draped it over her bald head like a nun's wimple.
The Syndicate's current hideout was in a semi-abandoned freighter anchored on the far edge of Metro City's harbor. Hot Flash headed up to the ship's lounge, and grimaced as she saw Psycho Delic's bony frame lying sprawled on the couch, clad only in lavender boxer shorts with a pattern of black roses.
The purple skeleton grinned at her. "First time I've ever seen someone actually go soak their head," he drawled.
"Oh, shut up!" She yanked open a hatch that led down to the engine room, and yelled, "Haven't you fixed the engine yet?"
"You want it done quick or you want it done right?" Destruction Worker's voice bellowed back at her. "And can someone bring down another sixpack? It's like the friggin' Black Hole of Calcutta in here!"
She glared pointedly at Psycho Delic, but the other villain ignored her. With an irritated groan, she headed for the fridge. "Iceland better be goddamned amazing . . ."
The Lair was deserted when Roxanne arrived. After dropping her overnight bag in the bedroom, she headed down to the kitchen. Since she spent so much time here these days, Minion had taken to stocking her favorite foods, and she was delighted to find a jug of the blackberry tea she liked.
She was less delighted, however, when she checked the freezer – who the hell put an empty ice tray back in without refilling it? Her iced tea would have to be merely refrigerated tea for now.
As she ran water into the tray, an idea suddenly occurred to Roxanne. She remembered back to the summers of her childhood. Her mother, a total health nut, had forbidden her to buy from the ice cream truck (so naturally, Roxanne had bought from it whenever Mom wasn't around). Instead, she'd shown the Ritchi children how to make homemade popsicles – much healthier, and they could choose their own flavors.
The traditional recipe called for fruit juice, but Roxanne saw no reason why tea wouldn't work just as well. Licking her lips, she started rummaging for cups and sticks.
It was getting dark outside by the time Megamind and Minion emerged from the Lair's 'utility room'. They'd spent all afternoon tinkering with the air conditioning unit, trying out various ways to soup it up. It hadn't been because the underground utility room, located below the water table, was the coolest and dampest part of the building. Not at all. Really.
"- not very heroic to use so much energy, though," the cyborg fish was saying. The remaining ice cubes clinked against the glass of his dome as he walked.
"I suppose," his ward replied. "I must admit, I've never given much thought to this 'global warming' they speak of. Perhaps I'll look into it." He rubbed his chin in thought. "And perhaps do something about that so-called hole in the ozone layer as well."
"I think that's in Antarctica, Sir."
"Excellent! When can we leave?"
They parted ways, Minion going to check the monitors and Megamind, in need of a snack, heading for the kitchen. He unclasped and removed his cape . . . and promptly dropped it at the sight that met his eyes.
Roxanne Ritchi was leaning against the kitchen counter. She was barefoot, and she'd unbuttoned her blouse, allowing a glimpse of her satiny white bra. And, most fascinating of all, she was sucking on a long bluish-purple object, her expression blissful and dreamy.
Roxanne raised an eyebrow as she noticed the blue alien gaping slack-jawed at her. "Uh . . . hi? I hope you don't mind, I let myself in."
Megamind said nothing. His bright green eyes stayed locked on the popsicle.
". . . Do you want one?" She nodded toward the freezer. "There's blackberry right now, but we can make more flavors."
"Er . . ."
The popsicle was melting, so she took another slurp.
Finally, Megamind managed to snap out of his lust-induced brain freeze. He had come here for a snack, he vaguely recalled, and apparently these new frozen confections were enjoyable. ". . . Er, yes, I will sample one." And then I shall take a very cold shower.