Minion

3

"I dunno, One," Minion Two says, binoculars pressed hard against his eyes. "This looks like a normal date to me."

Minion One shuffles his hands together on the steering wheel and rests his chin on his knobby knuckles. His eyes remain fixed across the street from under the brim of his #1 DAD baseball cap. "Can you put the binoculars down? You're making us look like stalkers."

"We're spying on our daughter on her date. The binoculars aren't the problem here."

"Her date with a hero. If Wonky Smell recognized us, Ishana could be in danger."

Minion Two tosses the binoculars into the back seat and puffs furiously at a limp cigarette, filling the minivan with acrid smoke. He's wearing a pair of coveralls from the stash they keep in the trunk next to the spare tire and the sticks of emergency dynamite Minion Three can't go anywhere without. A dark stain blotches the collar of the coveralls because someone is too lazy to scrub the blood out before throwing the work clothes in the wash, but no one's going to see them. They're keeping a low profile. That's kind of the point of a stakeout.

They're parked under a broad, leafy tree across the street from a classic-style diner. A red leather booth frames Ishana and Wynter inside the wide window, fluorescent-lit against the deepening evening. Ishana hasn't stopped smiling since they went inside. It's unsettling.

"She didn't recognize us," Minion Two says firmly around a mouthful of smoke. "The last time we saw her, we had our masks on."

"She had a mask too. Didn't stop us from recognizing her."

"Okay, true." Minion Two chews on his cigarette. "But. It was chaos in that bank, and she was focused on Professor Fandangle and his toy gun. We were just the hired help. There's no way she got a good look at us."

Across the street, the girls split a sundae. A sundae. Wynter scoops a saucy sample and offers it to Ishana. The Minions grimace and look away.

Minion Two says, "They're so wholesome I wanna puke."

"This's such a disaster," Minion One groans, knocking his hat askew as he clutches at the remains of his hair.

"Should we tell Dom?"

"And admit a hero the same age as our daughter kicked our butts? No, thanks."

"But what can we do about it alone?" Minion Two puffs furiously. "And we're not supposed to get involved in her dating life, anyway. We're evil, not bad parents."

"This isn't like we're saying we think her girlfriend's a bitch."

"No, this is serious. What if Windy Soliloquy is converting her?"

"Converting her?"

"Convincing her to be a hero!" Minion Two groans. "She's already such a goody-two-shoes! What if this girl uses her feelings to like, brainwash her into believing in the nobility of heroism?"

"Shan doesn't have a talent."

"It's not like that would've stopped us from training her if she wanted to be a villain, would it?"

"Of course not. Like, even Dom's talent is kinda useless in a fight but that never slowed her down."

"Shan's smarter than us. She could be the intellectual type. Inventing sentient weapons and transcendent-seeking traps." Minion Two gestures morosely, sparks flying off his cigarette to leave tiny burns all over the dash. "People do stupid things when they're in love."

In the diner, Ishana playfully smears chocolate sauce across Wynter's nose and the two girls collapse into giggles. Smoke hangs so thick inside the car that the Minions have to squint to see out the windshield.