Everyone's saying Megamind but all I'm seeing is Princess Peach and Bowser

Not the same! Sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate that. I mention Megamind only because its plot somewhat fits the prompt; this story is an interesting alternative.

"Is that too tight? No? Okay, good. Just one more second... there. Good luck escaping now, m-muahahaa! ...-aahhh! ...-ahh."

She steps away, hesitant. I wiggle in my seat, making a show of "making myself comfortable" - it always seems to help assure Jos that she hasn't tied my hands too tight. Finally, apparently satisfied, she turns away from me and climbs back into the driver's seat.

"That foolish Owl will never find you this time! I've found the perfect spot for my new lair. The dungeon even has a sea view."

Once we get into the routine, Jos always gets into her comfortable flow. She's become really quite good at this part - the scheming, the drama, the rivalry. It's the kidnapping part that's always a bit of a struggle.

We drive in silence for most of the ride. I've been gagged, of course - or rather, "gagged," because the gag is just a bandana covering my mouth. Same one as last time, even. It smells like lavender. But we're doing so well this time, I don't want to trip Jos up. Besides, I know she likes to drive in silence, so that she can plot her next villainous escapades.

The drive can't be longer than 30 minutes, and I can tell when we're approaching our destination. No other buildings for miles around, and at first, even this place looks forgettable - just some abandoned, coastal warehouse. But beneath the facade of rusty girders and broken glass that make up the surroundings, I can make out signs of the actual lair hidden among the ruin: half of the warehouse has a fresh coat of paint (a lovely, deep burgundy), and a few windows are suspiciously clean and unbroken.

As my captor removes my bindings and bandana, I compliment her work: "Wow, Jos! The burgundy is so you, and that view is going to be lovely." "J- excuse me, the name is Banshee! And the colour is a dusty maroon, thank you very much. And why have we heard nothing from that useless Owlguy? He's always chittering at that radio of yours by now..."

Oh, here we go. I was trying to avoid this part, hoping she wouldn't notice. "Uh, yeah, Banshee, sorry... this visit may last a bit- er, rather, we may be waiting on my rescue. Owlguy is... defusing a bomb! In... Antarctica! Yeah, and it's a real slow one. May be a few days."

Of course I'm fibbing. Gerald is watching cartoons at home, and wanted to give us a few days to actually relax for once. And for Jos, "relaxing" means preparing traps for her nemesis, while I sip iced tea and watch the sunset.

"A bomb!? Curses, it must be that Dr. Filibuster again, testing that Instant Ice Age device of theirs. Ah, but that means I have time to prepare! What shall I... hmmm..."

"Yes, there will be time for planning, but you're forgetting a step. Don't we have a dungeon to get to, Josephine? Ah, I mean, Banshee?"

Jos' face briefly flashes red, but she quickly hides it (and the little smile that comes with it). "Yes, of course! The dungeon! That foolish Owl will regret leaving you to your own devices. Here, let me get those ropes off... and... ooh, you're going to love this place."

I don't want to get my hopes too high, but the last "dungeon" visit started with fondue and ended with Mario Kart. I think I owe "Owlguy" a favour.

Not an intentional reference. I'm sure I've watched Darkwing Duck as a kid. I don't remember it. I imagine Terror-dactyl was just as frightening.

I'm glad you enjoyed it

r/unexpectedyogscast

I haven't seen megamind, if it was the same it was pure coincidence.

Scarily well done!

I need a part 2. Does Captain Red get a date? I gotta know!

Came here expecting Megamind, left with new ideas.

Look up punctuation. It makes things a lot easier to understand.

Think of her character in REDS. Actually, I think in that role she simply played herself with guns. 🤣

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Constructive criticism here. The formatting of this story ruins it for me. The font is weird, and the huge blocks of text make it very cumbersome to read. If this story was formatted well, I'm sure it would be a good read. But, for now, I couldn't get past the first paragraph.

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I'm am haning a n str💪ornnk

"Uh, are you sure?"

"ABSOLUTELY"

"Oh. Well, okay."

does roundhouse kick

"FUUUUUUUUU..."

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Why did you immediately believe it was an attempt to kink shame and not a dig at TV psychologists who diagnose without actual information about the patient?

Cool.

Thank you!

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Haha I’ll take that as a compliment.

The first time, accommodations were pretty sparse. A chair and some rope. I was scared, of course, but Red Dragon didn't yell at me to keep quiet or specifically threaten me.

"Don't take this personally," I remember him saying. "You were just in the wrong place at the right time. Once I have what I need, you'll be free to go."

He seemed proud, melodramatic even. Something about how his shoulders squared beneath his cape or the sideways glances he turned to me as he made sure I wasn't escaping spoke to me of a need for attention. From whom, I wasn't sure.

His "Don't try to talk me out of it" quip pretty much begged me to. So I, poor conversationalist that I was, tried. Was I keeping him talking, or vice versa? Not that it was hard to get him to talk about himself. So, I asked him questions. About life, about politics, about where he got the fancy outfit. The first two topics were met with frustrated monologues, but at least I could empathize with him, and, to be honest, I spent far too much time trying to "fix" him, because I can't stop myself from problem solving. It's a personal vice.

It was the third topic that garnered his attention. I have something of an artist's eye, so I could opine on the use of color and shape, the stitching and fabric texture, and he definitely had a sense of flair. I even asked for a closer look, which he was happy to provide. He was everything a classic villain should be, I'd say. Brazen, stylish, a touch manic ...ripped. I was jealous.

In the middle of providing a few light critiques of his outfit, one of Snipe Angel's gimmick arrows shattered a window and filled his warehouse lair with sleeping gas. I woke up at the police station and got a ride home.

The second time, I was back in the chair. We both played our parts. Me, the worried captive, and Red Dragon, the proud villain awaiting his nemesis. And some industrial fans. It seems he didn't want his conflict interrupted by another gimmick, but it was also a nice upgrade in the summer heat.

So we talked. "Got any podcasts you'd recommend?" He tried, and failed, to play it straight. I'd never thought a villain could get so excited about upcoming advancements in green energy. I quipped about water recycling, and he looked oddly at me. I was forced to confess that I needed to use the restroom.
I saw some brief surprise before his expression stiffened. "I might be a villain, but I'm magnanimous, not cruel. You can go. This time." I waved to Snipe Angel on my way back to work.

About a week later, the third kidnapping happened. No ropes, just a chain bolted to the floor. Instead of a stiff, wooden chair, there was a comfortable recliner. Behind it, a small room with a notch in the door to accommodate the chain.

"I won't tolerate any interruption this time," Red Dragon bellowed. "So, if you need to, use the private room." The mad lad installed a bathroom.

We talked again. Snipe Angel crashed through a window. For an archer, she was a very entertaining martial artist, too. Pink and white lace fluttered against the deep red and gold of Red Dragon's outfit. It was like an art installation all to myself.

Red Dragon was routed, and he fled dramatically. Snipe Angel set me free and checked on me. "You're not hurt? Is he treating you well?" After some assurances, she left me to return to work, and I went about my day. I really shouldn't have been so well adjusted to getting kidnapped.

Fourth time, it happened during my lunch break. The goons bought me lunch, and we chatted before they led me to the austentacious Dragonwagon. That part I didn't resist so much, but the valet had to threaten me for my keys so he could drive my car back to work. There was some new furniture that time. And a treadmill, to my chagrin. My fault, probably, as I said prior I was having trouble with my weight. Snipe Angel didn't break in through the windows this time, since Red Dragon had replaced them with stained glass. For ambiance, he said.

The fifth happened right as my work day started. My boss told me I was excused for the day and not to worry about my leave hours. I knew exactly why, since I may have mentioned all the kidnappings were draining my PTO. So, I spent the day with Red Dragon. I used the new kitchen to make gyoza from scratch, had a wonderful hour of power yoga, and help Red Dragon design some characters for a comic book he was planning. Snipe Angel knocked on the door. "Are you okay in there, Mr. Hale?" she asked without a shred of concern. After I said yes, I could almost hear her pout. "I'll be on the roof if you need me."

After that, the "kidnappings" were more frequent. Sometimes daily, but after work, to be considerate. Red Dragon became something of a personal trainer, and I became a confidant. Snipe Angel stopped showing up. Red Dragon started training me, and occasionally, I'd give the goons a hard time, for funsies. The game usually ended when the biggest lad, we called him Beretta, slugged me in the breadbasket. It took me months to stop buckling from that.

Which brings me to today. I bought the goons a spa day, double checked my rope, and slipped into my Stone Lion costume.

Today, I'm kidnapping Red Dragon.

It's Valentine's Day, after all.