Deep beneath Nomanisan Island, in the heart of a sprawling underground laboratory, Megamind stood with his arms crossed, his large blue head reflecting the sterile white lights.
"I have fulfilled my part of the deal," Megamind declared, his voice echoing slightly. "Tighten has performed admirably as your so-called 'symbol of peace.' Now it's your turn."
Syndrome leaned back in his high-tech chair, a wide, satisfied grin spreading across his face. He snapped his fingers. Mirage stepped forward silently and handed him a sleek, metallic device. Syndrome took it, stretched it open with a flourish, and activated the holographic display. A glowing blue interface materialized in the air, filled with detailed files, coordinates, and classified data.
"All the information you need is right here," Syndrome said, tossing the device to Megamind. "Metro Man's current location, the surviving Hyperions and Brainiacs, the remnants of your kin… I even threw in a few bonuses. Consider it a show of good faith."
Megamind caught the device smoothly, scanning its contents with narrowed eyes. "And I'm supposed to simply trust this?"
"Don't worry about authenticity," Syndrome smirked, tapping the GDN emblem on his sleek black-and-white uniform. "You can trust where I got it from. After all… I'm a very important part of the Global Defense Network."
Megamind stared at him for a long moment, then turned on his heel. "Minion, let's go."
As the blue alien and his fish-headed companion departed, Syndrome watched them leave with a predatory smile. The moment the doors sealed shut, he stood up and stretched.
"Phase Two is proceeding beautifully," he muttered.
He stepped into a private elevator. It descended rapidly, opening into another section of the vast facility. Evelyn Deavor sat in a ergonomic chair, her fingers dancing across a holographic keyboard as lines of code streamed through the air.
"How's the machine coming along, Evelyn?" Syndrome asked.
Evelyn spun her chair around, popping a piece of gum. "It's almost done. Ready for integration into the heroes' registered suits."
She blew a small bubble and let it pop. "The hypnotizing effect is much stronger now. That little pink alien you caught during the meteor shower was exactly what we needed. The musical neuro-linguistic trigger works perfectly with my tech."
Syndrome's gaze lifted toward a large cylindrical glass chamber in the center of the room. Floating inside the suspended animation field was a small, pink, koala-like creature with two long tendril-like antennae.
A faint, haunting melody seemed to echo in the chamber even while she slept.
Syndrome smiled darkly. "Perfect."
____
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the city, a lone cab pulled up to the gates of a sprawling robot scrapyard. Dexter paid the driver and stepped out into the cool night air, the smell of oil, rust, and burnt circuitry heavy around him.
"Computer," he said quietly into his watch, "send the transport truck. Auto-drive protocol. Bring the heavy lifting drones as well. We'll need to haul two large objects tonight."
[Understood. ETA: 18 minutes.]
Dexter raised his wrist again. A small reconnaissance drone detached from his watch and hovered in front of him, projecting a faint blue path.
"Lead the way."
The drone guided him through the maze of twisted metal and discarded robot parts.
After several minutes of walking, it stopped above a particular pile of wreckage.
There it was.
Atom.
The iconic boxing robot from Real Steel stood partially buried under scrap, its silver chassis dented but remarkably intact. Dexter allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. This was exactly what he had been searching for a strong, adaptable bot he could rework and add to the company's growing roster of combat and exhibition machines.
But his eyes soon drifted to the side.
Half-buried beside Atom was a cracked metallic capsule. Inside, curled up in a fetal position, was a small, mummified-looking creature. Its golden-yellow fur was dry and brittle, its body shrunken and motionless.
Dexter's eyes widened behind his glasses.
He knew exactly what this was.
One of Jumba's Experiments.
The transport truck soon arrived. Dexter's heavy lifting drones carefully extracted both Atom and the capsule, securing them in the reinforced cargo area. He rode with them in silence back to one of his private warehouses on the edge of the city. A hidden tunnel connected the warehouse directly to his main underground lab.
Once inside the lab, Dexter moved with purpose.
He placed Atom in one of the clean reconstruction bays, where specialized maintenance bots immediately began scanning and cataloging the damage. That project could wait.
The capsule, however, could not.
He moved it into a sealed medical containment chamber. The dehydrated experiment lay perfectly still inside. Dexter knew the biology of these creatures well.
They could remain in this desiccated state almost indefinitely… but the moment they received even the smallest amount of moisture, they would rapidly rehydrate and awaken at full strength.
He wasn't taking any chances.
Dexter stayed close to metal as he drifted near him. He secured the Dragon and Rat Talismans into the slots on his belt, keeping them within easy reach and ready to use.
Security systems across the entire lab went to maximum alert. Containment fields hummed to life around the chamber.
"Begin hydration sequence," he ordered calmly. "One drop only."
A precision robotic arm extended, releasing a single droplet of water onto the capsule.
The reaction was instantaneous.
The dehydrated form began to swell and expand rapidly. Wrinkled golden-yellow fur smoothed out as the body reformed. In just seconds, the small creature grew into its proper size, roughly three feet tall, with a lazy, somewhat chubby build. Its fur was a rich golden-tan color, with a large purple nose and sleepy-looking eyes that slowly opened.
The creature sat up, yawned widely, and scratched his belly with a bored expression.
He looked around the sterile lab, then locked eyes with Dexter through the reinforced glass.
A slow, lazy smirk spread across his face.
"Got any sandwiches?" he muttered in a surprisingly deep, gravelly voice.