New Neighbors
Disclaimer: I do not own the Incredibles, Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego, or Kingdom Hearts. However the characters of Marian MacClannough and Ernest "Bluey" Truscott are my creation.
Summary: What if Syndrome survived the movie's end and returned after aligning himself with a dark power to take over Metroville? The surviving Supers must be relocated.
Edinburgh: Marian MacClannough, a young woman about twenty-seven years old, threw a 'What have you done now?' look at the swarthy, dark haired Australian man standing to one side of the older gentleman in a gray suit.
"Is that any way to great an old friend, Marian?" Ernest Truscott, known as Bluey to his friends, replied.
"The last time you were in my jurisdiction, trouble brewed up." Marian replied.
"It was only a minor squabble…" Truscott replied.
"Minor squabble?" Marian replied, incredulously, "Minor squabble? You call a fight in a pub between a bunch of local boys and several visiting Australian lads a minor squabble?"
"To be fair, the wankers attacked us first!" Truscott protested.
"Ernie," Marian replied, grinning at Truscott's irritation, "You were wearing an Australian Wallabies jersey, and Scotland lost to them. What were you expecting?"
"First off its Ernest or Bluey. I've not gone by Ernie since I was an infant…" Truscott replied.
"Ahem." Rick Dicker began, "I presume you two know each other."
"Yes." Both of them replied.
"If you two are quite finished." Dicker replied, in a midly irritated tone, "Perhaps we can get back to business."
"Of course." Marian replied, glaring at Truscott again. Bluey put up his hands in a defensive gesture with a 'What are you blaming me for' expression.
"Asshole." Truscott growled, indicating Dicker.
"I agree." Marian whispered back.
Dicker gestured them towards the building's conference room, and the two officers walked into the room. As Marian entered the room she saw a massive blond haired man with a receding hairline and the shoulders of a bull. Beside him was a slender woman with short brown hair, cradling an infant not even a year old. On the man's left side was a girl, maybe thirteen years old with long black hair and blue eyes, and a boy of nine years, a smaller version of who Marian guessed was his father.
"Robert Parr?" Marian began. From her files she knew the woman was Helen Parr, aka Elastigirl; the girl was named Violet, the elder boy was Dash and the younger was Jack Jack.
The blond man nodded, sadness and exhaustion crossing his features. Bluey Truscott had seen that look before. He'd seen it in the eyes of refugees from Kosovo to the Sudan. It was that pain that only those exiled from their homelands can know.
"Marian MacClannough, ACME Detective Agency." Marian began, and then indicated Truscott, "This is Bluey Truscott, ACME Special Operations Group. I'll be the officer covering your case."
Bob Parr instinctively knew where this was headed. Fifteen years ago, when the Superhero Relocation Act had been instituted, a similar speech had been made by Rick Dicker. Now his old friend was turning him over to another one.
The twenty-something seemed competent enough, probably a bit too overeager, as most young government workers are. She was slender bodied, a bit shorter than Dicker or the tanned fellow, with a pale Scot's complexion, blue eyes, with her brown hair worn just past her shoulders, with a simple tail in the back. The fellow she had introduced as Bluey was an unassuming fellow, with a black crew cut and a pronounced suntan, obviously some paramilitary type.
"We know that Syndrome has since taken over your world." Marian began, "And that he has aligned himself with a power known as the Heartless. Between the Heartless and his own forces, he has gained control of your world, Metroville."
"That is pretty obvious." Bob replied, irate. Helen nudged her husband.
"What?" Bob whisperred.
"She's trying to do her job." Helen hissed back.
Marian felt indignant. That stubborn prick…
"Calm down." Truscott whisperred in her ear.
"You'll be staying here in Edinburgh for a short time while my agency looks for a place to relocate you and your family. Mr. Truscott will handle security arrangements." Marian continued.
"I really don't think we need protection or security." Bob began.
"That may be, Mr. Parr." Truscott stepped in, frowning at the rude treatment Marian was receiving, "But you haven't quite the experience of fighting the Heartless that we have. We'll be acting more in an advisory capacity."
Marian shot him an expression, a mixed one of gratitude and annoyance. Gratitude that the Australian was standing up for her, and annoyance that she had faltered at the big man's chagrin.
"And what experience do you have?" Helen intervened.
"I served as an assistant team leader running reconaissance operations downrange with the Special Operations Group for nearly a year and a half in the Sudan. Before that I served for three years in the Australian Special Air Service Regiment, after having spent two years in the Royal Australian Navy." Truscott replied.
"Fair enough." Helen replied, "And where will we be staying?"
"We've booked lodgings for you at the Ben Doran hotel, at our expense." Marian replied, "Operators of SOG will keep an eye on your lodgings for security reasons. I'll be your point of contact for your stay here. My contact information is in the folder on the table."
"What about our stuff?" Violet asked.
"We've already moved it into your hotel room, your keys are in the packet on the table." Marian replied.
"Right." Truscott added, "We've got armed plain clothes police standing guard at the approaches to your hotel room."
"Wouldn't secrecy be our primary method of security?" Bob said, pointedly.
Marian's temper flared, "Exactly, that is why I've told Mr. Truscott to make sure security arrangements are on the lower key variety."
Truscott shot Bob a very irate look that said 'Watch it mister' Bob glared back at the Australian, who responded with an equal glare. Clearly he was a bit protective of Marian, Helen perceived. And judging from the Scottish woman's brief glare at the Australian, she wasn't entirely happy with that behavior.
What the hell? I can take care of myself, Bluey Truscott. Marian thought angrily, before composing herself.
What is it with me and being able to piss her off and make her smile on the same occasion? Truscott thought. The sooner I'm out of Scotland and off somewhere else the happier I'll be.
"Are there any questions?" Marian asked.
"No." Bob replied.
"There's a car waiting downstairs with Agent Dicker to take you to the hotel." Marian replied. As soon as the Parr family was out of earshot, Marian turned towards Truscott and said, "You've got some nerve, Ernie."
"I've not gone by Ernie since I was in my nappies." Truscott replied.
"Your little tiff with Mr. Parr made you sound like you're a bloody infant." Marian replied.
"For fuck's sake, he was being a bloody prick. I thought you might appreciate a gentleman's courtesy." Truscott replied.
"Bluey, I don't need a knight in shining armor riding off to my rescue just because Mr. Parr was being a bit hard headed." Marian replied.
"Last time I checked we didn't have a tradition of knights in Australia." Truscott replied.
Marian couldn't help but give him a wry smile about the knight remark, "Last time I checked, Australia was started as a penal colony."
"Are your sure you're entirely comfortable working with a convict?" Truscott joked.
"Step out of line and you'll wind up pepper sprayed in a hurry." Marian smiled.
"It's good to see you again, despite all this." Truscott replied. Damn you, what is it about you?
"Likewise." Marian replied. It really has been too long.
"Would you like to have lunch sometime, while I'm up here in Scotland for a bit?" Truscott replied, then added, "On me."
"I'd like that." Marian smiled, "Provided you don't start any brawls."
"What?" Truscott protested as Marian walked out of the room, "For the last time, Marian, that brawl wasn't my fault. It was those pissants from Glasgow who were bad sports!"
As he found his eyes following the sway of her hips, Bluey Truscott realized one thing. This is going to be one interesting assignment.
"Bob," Helen chastised, "You could have been a little less crusty with that case officer."
"Well she did state facts we already knew." Bob replied, "Like we didn't know anything."
"I know you're frustrated with this whole thing. And that you're tired from all those hours of travel, of waiting in airports and flying on military and civilian planes." Helen replied, "And that Jack Jack running a temperature kept us both awake. But you should try and be a little more tactful to these people they're trying to help."
"If they were 'trying to help', where the hell were they when Syndrome took over? Where the hell were they when he showed up with a powerful new army, advanced weapons, and a foe we've never heard of?" Bob demanded.
"Bob, these people have been fighting the Heartless for years." Helen replied, "Maybe they can be of some help."
"If the help didn't act like someone's Scottish babysitter…" Bob began.
"Bob." Helen admonished him, "I mean it. Try and be a bit more courteous next time."
There was a knock on the door, and Bob peered through the keyhole, recognizing Bluey Truscott. Bob answered the door.
Truscott handed him a map, "I just thought I'd review the escort detail plans I've drawn up."
"Come on in." Bob replied, inwardly groaning and wanting little more than to sleep.
"I can see that the cuisine of Scotland agrees with you, mate." Truscott remarked, throwing a not so veiled insult at Bob.
Clearly he's still pissed. Bob thought. He had to admire the Australian's devotion in defending the honor of the woman he loved. But he's still an ass…
"And I can see," Bob replied, with an equally barbed tone, "That other aspects of Scotland agree with you."
"You might do well to show a bit more tact to we who risk our necks to rescue you." Truscott remarked, "This is off the records, but Marian was the case officer that organized the effort, at considerable risk, to fly you and your family safely out of Metroville."
"Boys," Helen replied, emphasizing the term, "Can you two spend more than five minutes in the same room without insulting each other?"
"I really wasn't being insulting." Truscott replied, with sarcastic formality, "I merely reminded your husband of the importance of tact."
"For a human of ordinary strength, you've got lot of nerve." Bob remarked.
"Yes, I've got a lot of nerve, because I don't take kindly to bullies." Truscott replied sharply.
"Excuse me?" Bob said, offended.
"I'm referring to the briefing, mate." Truscott replied, "Specifically where you told her about stating the obvious."
"Sometimes the truth hurts." Bob remarked.
"Bob." Helen admonished, "Excuse me, Mr. Truscott…"
"Please, call me 'Bluey' or Ernest." Truscott replied.
"Ernest," Helen replied, "Could you excuse us for a moment? We'll look over those security arrangements."
As soon as the door had closed, Helen replied, "I can't believe you were trading insults with that man."
"Hey, he's the one who decided to pick a fight." Bob replied, "I only obliged him."
"That was incredibly immature of him as well." Helen replied, "But you might want to apologize to Marian. She did save our lives…"
"How?" Bob replied.
"Remember that small plane that flew us out of Metroville to the coast. Remember that fishing boat that brought us into international waters where we met that seaplane that flew us to Gibraltar. Remember how Jack Jack got kidnapped by Syndrome's agents in Spain. Who do you think organized all those rendezvous? The rescue mission that ACME's SOG launched to save Jack Jack when using our powers would have resulted in being compromised?" Helen replied.
"If she was so offended, why didn't she come in here and say so?" Bob replied, "Why send Aussie over here to pick a fight?"
"Bob, you're not exactly the most flexible person, or the most humble person, in this room." Helen remarked, "Maybe she thought it would have been useless to ask for an apology. And did you ever consider Truscott was acting alone. Marian doesn't seem like the sort of woman who needs a man to fight her battles."
Bob sighed, "Maybe you're right, honey. I just feel so frustrated. We're super heroes, people with extraordinary powers, and Syndrome still managed to get the better of us…"
"And you don't like having to ask for help." Helen replied, "I know what you feel."
"I just felt so helpless when Syndrome's agents stole Jack Jack from right under our noses when we were staying in Spain." Bob replied, "And…"
"And you blame Marian for Jack Jack's kidnapping." Helen replied, as the baby began to fuss in the baby carrier beside their bed. Helen picked him up and rocked her son back and forth.
"I do not." Bob replied.
"Maybe just a little." Helen pressed, "We should have been safe in Spain, but Syndrome's agents still managed to grab Jack Jack. She did reassure us that we were safe…"
"Those agents nearly got away with our son." Bob replied.
"But they didn't, Bob, that's my point." Helen replied.
"Look," Bob replied, "I remember when I thought that Syndrome had killed you, when he shot you down over Nomanisan. I don't ever want to feel that again…"
"Do you think I want that feeling?" Helen replied.
"I don't want to lose any of you. I'm not strong enough for that." Bob replied, as Violet and Dash were watching the television.
"Why was Dad arguing with that Australian guy again?" Dash asked.
"It was because he was kind of a grouch to that lady that was briefing us." Violet replied, "It was really sweet and kind of romantic."
"It was stupid, that's what it was." Dash replied.
Violet rolled her eyes, Dash could be so immature at times. Clearly the Australian guy, Bluey, had some kind of feelings for Marian and couldn't stand to see Bob acting so crusty and stubborn with her. Dash wouldn't understand.
"Yeah, trying to convince Dad about something that he's set on is kinda stupid." Violet replied.
"Do you think Lucius made it?" Dash asked.
"He was relocated away from Metroville. So I think so." Violet replied.
"But some of Syndrome's agents managed to capture Jack Jack in Spain." Dash countered.
"I'm sure that Lucius and Honey got out just fine." Violet replied.
"Even Dad doesn't know that." Dash replied.
"Maybe Marian knows." Violet replied, "We can ask her next time we see her."
"I'm bored." Dash complained, and indicating the television, "I thought this was supposed to be a comedy."
"It is." Violet said as she thumbed through the TV guide, "Shaun of the Dead, a A Romantic Comedy with Zombies…"
"It isn't funny." Dash said.
"That's because the British have a very dry sense of humor." Violet replied, playfully bonking her brother on the head with the TV guide.
"I'm bored." Dash replied, again, and then ran out into the hallway.
Violet heard a loud ouch and a curse coming from the hallway. Dash rushed inside the room.
"OW! Where did that bloody thumb tack come from!" the plainclothes policeman who was standing guard in the hall shouted.
"The more things change." Violet mused, "The more they stay the same."
"You little brat!" the policeman shouted, "I ought to bloody slap you."
"Leave my son alone!" Bob shouted. CRASH! The policeman went flying into the ceiling.
Truscott came running upstairs from the lobby. "What's going on here?"
"This wanker put a thumb tack in me chair." Officer Grover shouted.
"Which wanker?" Truscott asked.
"The little one, sir." Grover replied.
"Complete nonsense!" Bob replied.
"There was no tack on my chair when I left to use the bog." Officer Grover protested, as he adjusted the ice pack on his head, "And when I returned I saw a yellow blur and sat on a tack."
"That's complete nonsense." Bob replied.
"Nice parenting." Truscott remarked. At Bob's glare, the Australian grinned and said, "Just an observation, mate…"
Helen walked downstairs, it was tea time, according to the brochure and she was in the mood for a nice cup of tea. She sat down at one of the couches, setting her hot cup on the coffee table, and adjusting Jack Jack's position in her arms. The baby stirred and went back to sleep.
She noticed Marian reading over a brief of some kind, and said, "Hi. I'm Helen Parr, Bob is my husband. I just wanted to say sorry that Bob was a bit testy…"
"No harm was done." Marian replied, as she put the documents back into the folder on her lap.
"Still, I wanted to apologize for him." Helen replied, "Bob can be a bit proud and stubborn sometimes."
"So can Bluey." Marian replied.
"That's something they both have in common then." Helen replied, "Neither of them apologizes for things very easily."
"I assure you their clashing won't be a problem." Marian replied.
"I can tell that Bluey's a professional, though a bit hardheaded…" Helen replied.
"That's not the half of it." Marian replied.
"Bob's the same way. When he's convinced he's right it takes an act of God or Congress to convince him of anything." Helen comiserated, "Its one of those times where I both grit my teeth and remember I love him as well as remind him not to be so pig headed."
Marian smiled, despite herself, "I often have to remind Bluey to quit being so bullheaded about things, that some of us still work at our resident field houses after the SOG blokes are done with their business."
"How does ACME work? I mean I've looked at your briefing packet, but I've got a few questions." Helen replied.
"Well," Marian replied, "We're best known for the Carmen Sandiego capers of the early '90s, but that's merely our front, the relatively low risk warrants. We do everything ranging from advising police forces, solving international crimes, and intelligence work. Our most recent efforts have been against the Heartless."
"So what exactly is it that you do?" Helen asked.
"I'm a case officer." Marian said, "Which means a good percentage of my work is classified. But what I can tell you is I'm no James Bond."
Helen replied, "If you were, I'd worry that 007 has suddenly decided to cavort around in drag."
Marian couldn't help but smile as she continued, "I recruit people as agents, people who give me information or carry out operations that we don't want linked back to our organization. I arrange contacts, and as Johnny Depp once said 'I throw shapes, and they catch them…'"
"And Bluey?" Helen asked.
"He works for SOG, or the Special Operations Group, works closely with us. They're our paramilitary force, used to rescue case officers in trouble, carry out really sensitive missions behind enemy lines, and create resistance movements. They basically have the expertise to topple almost any government in months." Marian replied, "And they can teach others to do that. I can't name operations or places they've operated, but you get the idea of what they can do."
"I'm not about to cause you to lose your job for breaking agency secrets." Helen replied.
"Thank you." Marian replied, thankful that Helen Parr was clearly being a peacemaker for this entire affair.
Helen continued to sip at her tea, enjoying a scone as well. As soon as she was done she said, "I've got to put this little guy to bed." Helen said, indicating Jack Jack who yawned sleepily.
"He's a beautiful little boy." Marian smiled.
"Thank you." Helen replied, "And thank you for saving him."
"I was just lucky that we had a SOG team transiting through Spain when they took him." Marian replied.
"You're being too modest." Helen replied, "I know, from working with intelligence officers as a Super, that paramilitaries are in high demand all over the place. How you convinced them to help save Jack Jack on short notice shows you're damn good at your job."
Marian smiled and Helen said to Jack Jack, "Say good night to the nice lady sweetheart…"
"Ga na…" Jack Jack gurgled.
Helen walked upstairs with the baby in her arms, and as Marian walked out of the lobby she noticed Bluey walking back inside, with a plastic bag from the local video rental place and a plastic case with a DVD player/VCR combination inside.
Marian looked through the bag, and noticing the assortment of movies included several family movies, a best moments of American football 1990-2001 tape, some children's films, and a romance drama or two. "That's nice of you."
"Call it a peace offering." Bluey replied, "You won't believe the number of stares I got in the video shop."
"And here was thinking that you'd decided on regressing to your childhood." Marian replied, and indicating the case, "Where did you get that player?"
"Let's say I owe Jan Shimoda a favor now." Bluey replied.
"Either way," Marian said, "That is nice of you."
"Though I don't exactly like Mr. Incredible, I figured I may as well bury the hatchet." Bluey replied.
Marian touched Bluey's forehead, and the underside of his chin, "I'm checking to see that you're not running a fever."
"I assure you I'm not." Truscott replied, "And a few words from Papa Louie kind of convinced me that it would be most prudent that I give this stuff to the family."
"How is Mr. Clean?" Marian replied, referring to another nickname the case officers gave the battle hardened, bald ex-paratrooper from the American 82nd Airborne Division.
"He's doing alright." Truscott replied.
"How did he manage to twist your arm into the peace offering idea?" Marian replied.
"He didn't. He just said it might be a good idea that I make such an offering." Bluey replied.
"Who would have thought that someone who looks like the Mr. Clean man could be so intimidating…" Marian replied.
"Have you ever seen him interrogate a prisoner before?" Bluey replied, "He turns off that easy smile, and 'everyone's favorite bald, slightly pot bellied uncle' switch. He can play the bad cop better than anyone I've ever met."
"Really, I can't imagine that." Marian replied.
"I'd best be getting this up to them." Bluey replied, "It's nice to be seeing you again."
"Likewise." Marian replied, "It's been a long time."
"One year, six months, two weeks and three and a half days to be exact." Bluey replied.
"The distance between worlds can't keep true friends apart." Marian replied.
"I missed you." Bluey replied. Damn, I've said too much.
"I'd best be going." Bluey replied.
Who knew three words could sum up that much feeling. Marian thought, as Truscott walked up the staircase.
TBC
Bog – British slang for bathroom.