Beside him, an excitable tween girl named Tina waved hello. She pushed the door open.

“All aboard the Nelson Express!” Walter bellowed. The Minions climbed in, with Kevin and Stuart in the backseat and Bob sitting in the front. Stuart was so close to Walter Jr. he could smell his armpits.

“Glad we came along before some weirdos picked you up!” Madge said. “Who wants apple slices?”

“Ooooh! Ooooooh! Bapple!” Bob cried.

Bob took one. Stuart offered his apple slice to Walter Jr. Walter Jr. stuck it in his mouth and swallowed it with one bite. Then he grabbed Stuart and gave him a noogie. “Thanks, man!” he said.

They hadn’t been driving for more than an hour when Walter pulled the car over.

“Who needs to stretch their legs?” he asked.

Walter grabbed a ski mask from the glove compartment and pulled a gun out of the back of his pants. Tina and Walter Jr. pulled on their own ski masks. Even the family cat and Binky, the baby, put on ski masks.

“You guys wait here,” Madge said. “We’ll be right back.”

The Minions turned, noticing the car was parked right outside a bank. All four of the Nelsons darted inside. An alarm sounded. There were screams and yells, and soon the Nelsons were running out with bags filled with cash. Dollar bills flew every which way behind them.

Tina and Walter Jr. squeezed into the backseat. Madge slammed the door shut behind her, nearly sitting on the cat. Walter climbed into the front seat and hit the gas, sending the car speeding down the street. “Okeydoke!” he yelled, pulling off his ski mask with one hand. “On the road again.”

But just then, the Minions heard something strange—a far-off sound in the distance. They climbed up onto Walter Jr.’s shoulders, peering out the back windshield at the road behind them. Three cop cars had just rounded the corner. Their lights were flashing. Their sirens grew louder as they caught up with the Nelsons’ car.

“Dad, we’ve got company!” Tina cried. “It’s because I tripped the alarm. I stink!”

“Hey, we all make mistakes, sugarplum. You’re still learning,” Walter said, picking up speed. He pulled a brightly colored paint blaster out from under the front seat. Then he turned and leaned out the window, firing paintballs at the cop cars behind them. He covered two of their windshields with thick pink and orange paint. The cars screeched and skidded, nearly flipping over.

Meanwhile, Madge helped him reload from the passenger seat and gave Tina a pep talk. “Your father’s right. He wasn’t this good at being evil overnight. Your time is coming!”

Only one car managed to keep up. The cop was going so fast he pulled right beside the station wagon. He glared at them through his passenger window.

“Pull over—now!” the cop yelled.

Walter fired again, but the paintball gun jammed. The police car slowed, then rammed into the back of the station wagon, knocking it off course. The Nelsons’ car spun around, everyone flying to one side of it. When Walter finally straightened it out, he smiled. “Quick getaway, coming right up!” he yelled.

The criminal father shifted the car into reverse. The station wagon went screeching down the street backward, speeding away from the police officer. Kevin grabbed a tiny pistol. Stuart grabbed a huge missile launcher, which Kevin immediately tried to take for himself. As they fought over the weapons, Kevin kept grabbing at Stuart’s launcher. Stuart accidentally fired the launcher at a telephone pole. The pole fell over, blocking the police car’s path.

Within a few minutes, they’d completely lost them. “That was great!” Walter cried as he checked the rearview mirror one last time to make sure the coast was clear.

Madge glanced at the tiny Minions sitting between her kids. “Say, fellas… can we get personal for a second? Why are you headed to Orlando?”

The Minions were quiet. The man on the Villain Network Channel had been clear: The first rule of Villain-Con was to not talk about Villain-Con. They weren’t supposed to tell anyone they were going there.

“Come on, you can tell us,” Walter said. “You’re going to Villain-Con, aren’t you?”

Stuart smiled sheepishly. Was it that obvious?

“Villain-Con!” Bob sang out, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Walter smacked his hand on the steering wheel and laughed. “I knew it! I knew you were villains, didn’t I, honey? What a small world! Hope we’re not in rival gangs!”

Tina pulled a magazine out of the pocket in the seat in front of her. She flipped through the pages, showing it to Kevin. “When we get to Orlando, I’m gonna get all my favorite villains to sign my magazine. Dumo the Sumo, Frankie Fish-Lips, and, ohhhhh, my favorite—”

Kevin leaned in as Tina opened the centerfold. There was Scarlet Overkill, a stunning woman wearing all red. She held a crossbow as she stood on a pile of other villains. Kevin wiped his goggles. She had one of the meanest expressions he’d ever seen, her eyes narrowed as if she were shooting laser beams out of them.

“Scarlet Overkill, the coolest super villain, like, EVER!” Tina went on. “She started out as your average little girl—braces, pigtails. But by the time she was thirteen, she’d built a criminal empire. She’s proof that you can commit any crime as long as you believe in yourself.”

Kevin leaned down, his goggles just inches from the page. He’d never seen a more magnificent villain in all his life. She was better than the T. rex, better than any pharaoh or warrior that had come before her. He knew it then—he was certain.

“Scarlet le big boss!” he cried.