The Incredible Team

Disclaimer: The Incredibles belongs to the wonderful world of Pixar. Team Fortress 2 and all its characters belong to Valve. I got the idea from TV Tropes. The story is mine.

For Shane

Prologue - The Dream

Buddy Pine had learned that no one could be trusted – especially not Supers. Supers could not be relied on to be friendly or kind, or especially to work in a team. Teams of Supers regularly failed, fell apart. Too many egos, too many powers, one perfectly good boardroom ruined. The one weakness of all Supers, Buddy Pine reasoned, was teamwork.

Therefore, teamwork was how they could be combated.

Non-Supers could work together. Non-Supers could really combine their strengths and weaknesses into something greater than the sum of its parts. Buddy Pine knew this. As the CEO of Noman Corporations, a now multinational and billion-dollar industry in arms and technology, he knew very well the astounding ability of human beings – non-Supers, mind you – to put aside their differences and create something –

Not incredible. Never incredible. Astounding.

"Mowning, Mistah Pine," came an aggressively South Bostonian voice from the elevator. "Got yer newspapers, got yer coffee nice an' hot, and got a no-fat no-protein diet mocha frappe for your new gel, 'cause she asked me personally. I tell you that is one foxy lady you hired, Mr. P, I tell you!"

"Thank you, Jack." Mr. Pine turned away from the window. Mr. Pine always made it a point to know the names of everyone who worked under him with whom he had the slightest interaction. Jack B. Nimble the delivery boy was no exception. "Jack – you're a man of the streets, yes?"

"Oh, you betcha Mr. P. I'm from the toughest streets any side of Boston. If you was from where I was from, maaaan, you'd be fuckin' dead."

"I am more capable than I appear." Mr. Pine allowed himself a wise smile.

"Oh, I don't doubt that Mr. P. I hear you're a damn terror in… well, everywhere."

"Precisely. But, Jack, I've got some ideas I don't know quite how to sort out. Mind if I bounce a few off of you?"

"No, sir. I don't mind being bounced. I just hit back. 'Boink.'"

"Jack, you were born after the Supers were sent into hiding. But you know about them."

"Oh, who doesn't know about the Supers, Mr. P? They were the big-time!"

"Yes, I suppose they were. But imagine, if you will, a team of fighters – non-Supers, that is important – the very best at fighting. The quickest, the strongest, the sneakiest… do you think that a Super would have a chance against, say, eight of such fighters?"

"Stand a chance? Man would be a cream on the pavement, no matter who 'e was. Fightin's a dirty business, but when you're good at it, man, you're good at it. Like a force a' nature, that's what a good fighter is."

Mr. Pine nodded. "Thank you, Jack. That will be all."

"You sure, Mr. P?"

"I'm sure. You've been very helpful. Here." He tossed Jack an uncertain sum of money. "Go buy something for yourself."

"Hey, thank Mr. P! You're all right!" Jack nodded, then sprinted out of the room and down the hallway. He was always running. Almost like he was afraid someone would catch him. But boy, he could run. If reports were to be believed, he took the stairs every day up to "Dah Boss's office," just because he could.

Mr. Pine turned back to the window, overlooking the four massive skyscrapers that loomed below his own office. "Mirage?" he said into his watch.

"Yes, Mr. Pine?" she replied, smoothly. She was foxy.

"I'd like you to look up some people for me."

"What are their names?"

"I'm not looking for names, per se. I'm looking for… qualities. Let's see who's got the worst criminal record and is still alive."