Title: Nightshade Seduction

Pairing: Syndrome/Violet (aka Synlet)

Rating: T… For now.

A/N:

(shaking her head) I don't know how this happened. One minute I'm browsing for something new to read, and the next I am irreversibly hooked on this pairing. Snap! and I can't pull away. (sigh) The crack!pairings always do this to me… Well, following the advice of an author (whose name I sadly cannot recall) I am adding my own Synlet fiction. I hope this deviates from the capture-Violet-and-make-her-Syndrome's-hostage at least by a tiny bit.

Oh my, I almost forgot. Let us discuss my views on an adult having relations with a minor, a subject that is most certainly pertinent to this story.

First thing's first: I like laws. I love 'em. It's my belief that laws are created to help us. With that said, I don't support underage relationships, but I do find it important that Violet is just old enough to skip over childhood and adulthood. So, with that said, I would like to point out that Violet is a fresh sixteen while Syndrome is a strapping twenty-eight. She IS of legal age, at least where I am currently residing. I think in other places the legal age is eighteen (give or take a few years), but for writing purposes let's say that the laws of my home carry over into Metroville. Hey, it could be worse, I assure you. But, even though she is of legal age, she is still very young, yes? Ahahah, my precious plot bunny. (Feeds the bunny a carrot).

Alrighty, let's begin, shall we?

Wow, I can't believe I almost forgot this:

This goes for all future chapters. The Incredibles does not belong to me! Anything you recognize here belongs to Disney and Pixar!

Chapter One: He Cometh Once Again

"A wind of hatred is blowing across the field... I swear I'll get my revenge."

"Highland Revenge" by Crystal Eyes

Bandages and bars. He hated them both.

Zero point energy had spared him from a most gruesome death, but it had landed him smack dab in a class five state penitentiary, white gauze and sterile bandages wrapped around him as if they were preparing to preserve and entomb him.

Oh wait. They had already done that.

Damn bandages. He glared at them and spared himself a moment of childishness, grumbling, "I hate you," very angrily towards his wounds. He added plane shrapnel and flaming babies and flying cars and a whole other things to his infamous List of Hate before he continued his 'morning walk' around the inside of his cell, ignoring the eyes- electronic and otherwise- watching his every move.

He very much felt like a wolf pacing in a cage. He could feel it's anger for being put into the cage, it's rage towards it's captors, and the itching, constant feeling of wanting to be free. He even growled at the guard who slid his morning meal between the bars of his cell.

Idiots, he whispered harshly in his head, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room, his mind tracing each and every detail of the prison room for what seemed like the umpteenth time. His eye landed on the guard and a silent exchange passed between them. By the look on the guard's face and the pallor of his skin, it was not a happy one.

Once I get out of this cage- I WILL get out of this cage- I'm going to make sure you go near the top of my List of Revenge.

He would make them top- oh how he would love to do that- but that special, shining spot was reserved for another.

More recently, another family.

He stopped mid-pace, brow furrowing with anger. Yes… The moment he got out, he would begin to plot the downfall of the godforsaken Incredibles, the shameful, infuriating source of his fall from power.

But not all of my power is lost, his mind's voice cackled. Oh no, I still have plenty to rebuild, foreign though it may be.

He would rebuild. He would reconstruct. He would grow and thrive and rise above the tallest buildings and the highest peaks and would pluck the very moon itself from the sky when he was done climbing back up from the filthy ground he had crashed landed onto. If he had his way, he would make himself godlike.

Nothing would stop him. He would crush the Incredibles with his own bare hands and would watch with glee as their remains were forever lost to the wind.

There was a feeling in his chest, one that he hadn't felt for months. When he recognized it, he smiled, and then the feeling bled into his features and seeped upward and-

He chuckled. Then, he laughed, quietly, carefully- his own little secret laugh- and began to sketch out the plans for his and the Incredibles's futures...

He grinned.

"Or lack thereof," he murmured with a cackle.

His mind conjured up a mental notebook as he began to brainstorm. The evil wheels of his evil brain were evilly spinning as he began to hatch an evil plan.

What to do, what to do. There are so many options!

Perhaps I just… kill them? He frowned and erased the thought. No, no, they need to suffer, but I just don't think that physical pain can finish the job on its own. No, there needs to be some psychological twists to this game.

Psychological… Well, he had plenty of options. He could always kidnap one of the supers and use them against their family… but that didn't seem right, either.

I've pretty much done that already, he said to himself with cynical bite to his words, knowing just how well that plan worked. No, I cannot simply capture a super. That's far too clichéd, but more importantly, expected. Hmm, what to do, what to do…?

Then, a memory. A flash of his former evil tutor, the sad face of a woman, and the triumphant laughter that ensued.

Syndrome's eyes widened fractionally. Oh… I hadn't thought of that before…

But it was perfect. It would hurt them- tear them apart. And then he could walk right through their front door and extract his rightful revenge.

Oddly enough, despite the obvious perfection of the plan, he felt… unsettled. His reasons why varied across the board, but it was mostly because he wasn't so sure he could pull this kind of thing off. His mentor had been a smooth-talking, gun-waving, cigar-smoking genius that nobody could cross-

Well, besides me.

This plan touched dangerous ground, even for him.

In the distance, he heard the garble of a radio and the excited voice of (he imagined in his head) a blonde reporter shaking with emotions.

"Ladies and gentlemen, The Incredibles have done it again! Downtown Metroville has once again been saved by their heroic efforts! Mr. Incredible, the city extends their thanks to you!"

"It's no problem," said the deep voice of Mr. Incredible.

"Robert," seethed Syndrome.

"I'm just doing my job as a hero."

Syndrome's mental notebook was now quickly filling with scrawls of 'Hate' all over the pages. Hate, kill, die, all coupled with that stupid man's face.

"I'll do it," growled Syndrome with determination, his plan blossoming in his mind, "and I'll savor every second that super writhes on the ground."

Revenge. It was always revenge.

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but that's why there's a second one for you. :)