Time: 1400 hrs.
Location: Metroville East Bank
"Alright ladies and gentlemen," said the man in a black ski mask, casually pointing his MP5 at the nearest cashier. "I'm sure you are all familiar scenario. This is a hold-up blah blah blah, get 'em up." Two of his similarly attired companions ensured that everyone else stayed on the ground while their leader filled a sack with cash. "You know it's quite difficult to find a bank these days that actually employ people to handle cash. These days it's all done electronically," said the leader conversationally as he piled in the greenbacks. "Really, I don't see the reason anyone would want to sit in front of a computer watching a download bar crawl across the screen in stead of visiting in person."
"Maybe it's because that way they don't have to get a good beating," came a voice from the doorway. Standing there was a young lycra-clad woman, with jet black hair.
"Hey, aren't you that new wannabe hero-punk?" asked the robber. "What's you name....uh....UV right? Well look here's the deal, I'm gonna give you to the count of three to get the hell out of here before my friends here ventilate your little dumb ass. Okay?"
UV said nothing.
"Three.......two.....one....okay boys let it rip."
The two henchmen opened fire, only to watch in amazement as a transparent bluish-purple orb surrounded their target, causing the bullets to ricochet away harmlessly.
"Alright, so you have powers after all. Big deal," said the leader before hauling a elderly woman up off the floor. "This is how it's going to work. You let us past and I don't redecorate the walls with old lady brains okay? Mike, Kenny, grab a hostage each, we are outta here."
"Hey boss, she's gone!" exclaimed one gunman.
"Yeah, guess we showed her huh?" the other one sniggered. The leader signaled for them to be quiet. A sharp blow landed on his neck and he sank to the floor releasing old lady. UV re-appeared and took out the next one with a spinning heel kick and then disappeared once again.
"Wha....where'd she go?" muttered the remaining crook.
"Peekabo," said UV from behind him as she reached around and pulled his gun up underneath his chin. "Time for you to say good-night," she said, swept his legs out from underneath him. Then she brought the butt of the gun down on his head, ending the fight.
"You might want to call the police now," UV told the frightened bank-tellers and walked out. She heard an engine gunning it, saw the battered Chevy pull away from the side-walk and stretched out a hand. Another violet bubble of solid light and energy formed in front of the car, causing it to stop quite abruptly. With a smile of satisfaction, the super-heroine slipped into an alleyway to change into her civilian clothes.
***
Time: 1500 Hrs
Location: Downtown Metroville.
Several supsicious looking men -most likely armed- in a dingy old warehouse, talking quietly, occasionally looking around to makesure they were actually alone, a classic example of a criminal trade-off. Except they weren't exactly alone. A man was wedged uncomfortably between several stacks of empty crates. Officially, Robert Parr was all but retired. Both from his work as an insurance agent and as his alter-ego . And yet, he just couldn't help going out, doing a little freelance work every now and then just to 'stay loose'. Following a lead by an old friend in the police force, he had tracked these men who were thought to be part of a relatively knew gang to the streets of Metroville known as the 'Rodents'. A fitting name really. The police couldn't touch these men, due to insufficient evidence, however the former hero was bound by no such restrictions. Bob had been advised not to make any moves on the criminals himself, until he had some proof of their involvement. He had a good ol' fashioned tape recorder, but wasn't really close enough for it to be of any use. Treading as quietly as possible, he moved closer to them. Unfortunatly, he forgot to take into account his cell-phone alarm which reminded him to take his medication. Seven heads snapped around as one at the distubance. As soon as they saw the intruder, their weapons were drawn. Pistols mainly, one sawn-off shotgun and he saw a sub-machine gun.
"Well fellas," Bob said, trying to sound nonchalant, 'I guess there isn't any point asking you to give yourselves up now is there?"
The main with the machine-gun shook his head, grinning nastily. Although the evesdropper stood at about six foot six and was built like a pro-wrestler and looked like he could handle himself, they all doubted he could do much against seven guns.
Bob raised his hands and glanced at the nearby boxes, wondering how fast he could lob them at the gangsters. But before he could make a room, there was a sudden gust of air and the firearms had dissapeared from their hands. Now standing in the room was a young man in his early twenties, dressed in the bright red spandex super-suit, with a rougish smile plasterd on his face.
"Good afternoon gentlemen, I just want you to know that your ass-kicking has been brought to you by the Dash." Before the stunned men could say anything, there was a blur of movement and they were all tied together on the floor, gagged with their own belts.
"Hey dad, how's it goin?" asked Dash. Bob walked up to his son with a look of dissaproval on his face.
"You know how I feel about swearing Daniel," he said sternly.
"Okay pop, no need to get your jeans in a jumble. Not like there are any kids around. But really? The trenchcoat look? Talk about oldschool."
"Why are you even here? I had this handled."
"Well....uh.....there was this...this ....uh 2319 down on 83rd street..."
"A runnaway combine harvester? The nearest farm is 40 miles away!"
Dash sighed. He always had trouble keeping things from his dad. Especially as he was Mr. 'Tough as Triple Titanium Reinforced Steel Nails' Incredible.
"Mum called me. She was worried about you and asked me to follow you."
Bob's features softened and he chuckled knowingly.
"Heh, figured I managed to trick her."
"Hey you know mum, nothing gets past her."
"Mmm....true. So are you coming to the funeral on Wednesday?"
"For Rick Dicker? Yeah, I'll be along. Anyway, I'd better get going. I have a date with Marcia, and I cannot miss this one. Not after last week. You wanna lift?"
"Nah...I'll take the 'Stang."
"Whatever slowpoke. See ya round."
"Take care."
And with that, he was gone.
***
Time: 1900 hrs
Place: The Parr Residence
Two days later.
The funeral for agent Richard Dicker, agent of NSA and the Director of the Superhero Relocation Program, was a small but meaningful one. He had a good long run, but in the end, all work and no play made Rick a very unhealthy boy, who naturally had a heart attack. Survived by neither wife nor children, his friends in the hero business took care of all the funeral arrangements. Only a handful of people went – the Parr's, Lucius Best and his wife, Edna Mode, his sister Carol and a man named Zac Perkins, a young scientist that had worked with Dicker in his more recent years. There was also a reformed villain, Doctor Heinrich Zubor – Dr. Z once upon a time- who didn't really know Dicker, but decided to come along anyway, having nothing else to do.
Later, the mourners return to the Parr home for dinner. Minus Zubor of course. Carol had insisted on helping Helen and Honey in the kitchen and whipped up a feast, while the others shared fond memories of the departed. Eventually, they all leaned back in their chairs at the dinner table, full, satisfied, yet sombre.
Until the bell rang.
Naturally Daniel was the first one there at the door, with Jack-Jack close behind. It was a plainly dressed guy, maybe a few years older than Dash. Disappointed at being beaten by his brother yet again, Jack-Jack excused himself and bolted to the bathroom.
"Hey Gav, come on in man."
"Thanks Daniel."
Gavin Furthington was Violet's boyfriend, come to pick her up.
"Hello Gavin,' Helen said curtly. "I wasn't expecting you here."
"Muuuuuum!" Violet interrupted. "I told you that Gavin and I were going into town tonight to meet with some friends from college."
"I don't remember you saying that young lady."
"Mum, I'm 27 years old. I'm not a kid anymore."
"Fine!" Helen relented.
Bob didn't speak, but looked at Gavin, one eyebrow raised, as if to say 'You make sure you keep all arms and legs inside the ride pal.'
"Well then we better go then," said Gavin, visibly fazed by the man of the house. "Good bye Mr. Parr, Mrs. Parr." He shook Bob's hand then bumped fists with Daniel.
"Later bro," he said to Gavin, who nodded to the others before he and Violet left.
"What a polite young man," Carol remarked.
"Yes, more than we can say for some of his female friends," said Helen, looking pointedly at Dash.
Bob was still staring at the door that his daughter had gone out and looked as though he was going to say something. Edna beat him to the punch.
"I know what you are tinking Robert. If you say 'Day grow up so fast' I will break your thumbs!"
Bob shut up.