Prologue: The Hellfire Club

Disclaimer: I do not own the Incredibles or X-men: First Class (which is where I lifted the concept for the Hellfire club, and Agent McTaggert as well). The character of Kaarlo Alanen (a.k.a. Carl Allenby) is my creation.

Author's Note: This was inspired by a This is Insider article that stated the film the Incredibles took place in the 1960s.

National Supers Agency Field Office
Municiberg, U.S.A.
Rick Dicker and Kaarlo Alanen
30 May 1961, 0815

"Good morning, Mr. Alanen," Rick Dicker began as he regarded the dark haired Finnish man sitting across the desk from him, an old friend, Kaarlo Alanen. "I take it you had a pleasant flight from Paris."

Alanen nodded, "Pleasant enough. Though I do wonder why I am here?"

"A fair question," Dicker replied, "Let's just say I'm squaring away a debt. You did save my life eleven years ago."

"This is true, my friend." Alanen said, dark eyes narrowing, "Let it be said that you are a man of your word. But I do wonder why I am here."

Dicker's fingertips pressed together atop the desk, forming a triangle as he looked past them at his old acquaintance. He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a dossier.

"Let's just say this is one of those occasions where the personal and the professional areas meet." Dicker placed the dossier on his desk, unwinding the string that held the clasp holding the folder closed. Hey, you did save my life eleven years ago and I owe you a favor.

Alanen glanced at the dossier as Dicker began to take several sheafs of paper out of it, setting it down into three piles.

"I understand the personal area, my friend." Alanen crossed his arms as he spoke, "But what is the professional one you speak of?"

"I was just getting there," Dicker replied, "Your resume is quite lengthy, and after that business last month I saw you are in some need of employment."

"I see." Alanen replied, "And yes, I could use some employment. Just what is the work you are interested in?"

"A job, Kaarlo," Dicker replied, "As I stated."

"That I am aware of, my friend." Alanen frostily replied, "I want to know what the job entails?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Kaarlo," Dicker replied, "If you accept you're going right back across the Atlantic to Algeria. We've lost two agents in Algiers over the last month…"

"So that is why you are in need of my services." Alanen replied as he sat up in his chair.

Dicker continued, "As I was saying, two lost agents."

"Corpses in Algeria can have any number of authors." Alanen interrupted.

"Precisely." Dicker replied, "You served in Algeria for nearly eight years of your French Foreign Legion career. This mission calls for someone familiar with the terrain and area. You fit the bill nicely."

"I see. And after the mission?" Alanen replied.

"Then we'll start a six month probationary period. Welcome to the National Supers Agency Agent Alanen." Dicker stood up from the chair, extending his right hand.

"Thank you for your hospitality." Alanen replied, shaking Dicker's hand before letting go, turning around and walking out of the office.

Atomic Casino
Las Vegas, Nevada
Moira MacTaggert and Levene Darren
14 September 1962, 1904

The 1962 Lincoln Continental drove through the evening traffic before parallel parking in front of the Atomic Casino. "And we're here." the man with glasses and a three piece suit remarked from the driver's seat as he put the car in park.

"Without you hitting anything this time," the slim, auburn haired woman.

"Hey, no one noticed me backing into that planter earlier. And there wasn't even a dent in the bumper." Levene Darren protested as he pulled off his glasses and wiped them off with a handkerchief before putting them back on.

"You were just lucky," Moira MacTaggert replied with a smirk as she reached over into the backseat for a bag.

She unzipped the bag, revealing two pairs of binoculars, legal pads, and pencils. She handed one set of binoculars to Levene before taking one for herself before setting the pencils and legal pads beside the stick shift.

As the sun set Moira and Levene took in the sight of casino employees turning on the lighted sign and open the doors. A few tuxedo clad, muscular doormen took positions.

"Looks like some exclusive club." Moira remarked.

As night fell the pair watched guests begin to arrive at Atomic Casino. There were a few that were turned away by the doormen, who held clipboards. Looks like getting in is by invite only. Moira thought.

"Another day at the office," Levene quipped.

"Is that Colonel Hendry?" Moira asked, as she held up a pair of binoculars, sighting a silver haired bald man in a black tuxedo.

"The NATO Guy?" Levene looked up from the legal pad.

"Yeah." Moira replied.

"Yes it is. Because that's three mob bosses, the Italian ambassador and the CEO of Lockheed."

"They can't all be communists. This Hellfire Club has to be something else." Moira MacTaggert replied.

"Heh heh. Do you see that?" Levene said as he aimed his binoculars at several young women in lingerie walking towards the entrance.

Moira rolled her eyes. Grow up, Levene. You can be so immature sometimes. I mean a few showgirls walk past and you get distracted...wait a minute...that's it!

Levene whistled and said, "Hello girls...wow…very nice.."

Then he heard the sound of a zipper opening to his right in time to see Moira removing her sweater and her dress.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Levene stammered.

"Using some equipment the CIA didn't give me," Moira calmly replied, as if she weren't sitting in the passenger seat wearing nothing more than a black bra, panties, garters, garter belt, stockings and heels.

Moira opened the car door as she spoke, "Stay put."

She saw there was still another group of showgirls heading for the entrance and walked towards the tail end of the group. So far so good…

As they passed the door she thought. I'm in. Just a couple appraising looks from the doormen, but that was it.

Cheers, wolf whistles, and catcalls sounded as the parade of scantily clad women descended the staircase. Moira, at the end of the line, watched as the ladies dispersed among the crowd of tuxedo clad gentlemen.

Those alcoves! Moira's mind raced as she saw several women going into a line of round alcoves recessed into the walls, covered by curtains.

Among the men in the alcoves she saw Colonel Hendry with a stunning blonde in a white bra, short mini skirt, and long, high heeled boots. The blonde closed the curtains of the alcove as Moira took the final three steps down to the casino floor.

"Hello beautiful. How are you?" a male voice to her right sounded.

"Hey baby, want to find a quiet place?" another male voice.

Moira turned around to see the two men before smiling politely, "I'm so sorry, I've been booked by Colonel Hendry."

She moved past another cluster of men with a polite, "Excuse me."

As she did she felt goosebumps forming, mainly from the lusty looks from the men as she walked towards the alcove where she'd seen Hendry. She opened the curtains slowly.

How does somebody vanish into thin air like that? Moira thought with a gasp. She glanced over one shoulder before she entered the alcove and closed the curtains behind her. After she did so, she sat down in the leather seat that surrounded a circular table with a black and white facade.

I didn't see them leave here. How did they get out of here...unless. Moira thought. Then she noticed there was a projection atop the table. She pressed down on it and felt the room spin and with a gasp she found herself in a tastefully furnished office.

She stood up, flattening herself against the wall before peering around the edge of it. Glimpsing at the fireplace, then at the desk. Seeing she was alone for the moment Moira headed towards the desk.

Atop the desk was a manila folder with the words Project Kronos stamped on it. She opened the folder, seeing what appeared to be blueprints and a concept sketch of a spherical battle robot with five legs ending in wicked looking claws.

Omnidroid!? Moira's eyes widened. That thing that terrorized Municiberg three months ago! Syndrome's research wound up in the wrong hands…

Moira heard the impact of a body smacking against a wall. She ducked behind the desk for a few heartbeats before she stood up and now noticed there was a seam between the two bookshelves. A secret passage!

She looked through it just in time to see the blonde woman she had seen earlier change. Literally.

She saw the woman's skin turn into what looked like diamond as she walked towards whoever had hit the wall. Had it been Colonel Hendry? She stepped away from the opening between the shelves, her back against the wall.

She heard a raspy, mechanical sounding voice say, "We don't want the Colonel to be late."

Moira dared another look through the secret passage entrance in time to see a tall, slim figure dressed entirely in black. His face was obscured by a full black mask, the eyes two large blue lenses and a square microphone where his mouth should be.

The man gestured and Moira saw a dark, vertical circle, as tall as a man. Colonel Hendry was standing in front of it.

"Through there." the voice said.

Hendry walked through the portal before vanishing. As he did so Moira turned around, walking straight back for the alcove, heart racing. She sat down before activating the mechanism that spun it back around, bringing her back to the casino.

By the time she got back, the party was in full swing and one woman slipping out amidst the debauchery went unnoticed as she walked back to her car.

"Well?" Levene began.

"Not now," Moira replied as she reached over for the car phone handset, dialing a number.

Safari Court Motel
Municiberg, U.S.A.
Rick Dicker and Parr Family
15 September 1962, 1630

Special Agent Rick Dicker, National Supers Agency, drove the armored police van to a parking lot. The parking lot, adjacent to a brown and orange building with a flickering neon sign was the Parrs' new home at the Safari Court Motel.

After he parked the van he watched as the Parr family got out. He saw Helen, with Jack Jack perched on one hip, shepherding Violet and Dash up the stairs to Room 204 as Bob headed over to the driver side door of the van. He listened as Bob brought up a small matter of a student at Westview Junior High School having seen Violet without her mask.

Dicker nodded, "Talkative type?"

"Don't know." Bob replied, "Last name is Rydinger."

"Tony Rydinger." Rick muttered as he wrote the name down on a pad on his lap with a pencil, then looked up, "I'll look into it."

Bob turned around to rejoin his wife as Dicker said, "Bob? Helen? A word if you don't mind?"

Helen briefly handed Jack Jack over to Violet before heading over to the van alongside Bob. As soon as the children were out of earshot Dicker sighed, "The program's been shut down. Politicians don't understand people who do good simply because it's right. Makes 'em nervous. They've been gunning for Supers for years. Today was all they needed…"

Dicker's voice trailed off for a moment. God I hate this. These are five honest, hardworking Americans and the politicians want to screw them over just because they're born different.

"Anyway...I'm done. I'm afraid two weeks in the motel is the best I can do for ya. It ain't much…"

"You've done plenty, Rick," Helen cut him off before giving the man a hug through the open window.

"We won't forget," Bob replied, shaking hands with Dicker after Helen and Rick separated.

"Well, it's been a great honor working with you good people," Rick replied before backing the van out of the parking space to start the trip back to the NSA Field Office.

He got onto the freeway, stopping every so often due to the after effects of the Underminer's rampage. He took the detour at 7th Street, boxing around towards Traction Avenue before reaching the parking lot of the NSA Field Office.

He parked the van and walked towards the lobby in time to see Kaarlo Alanen standing at the door.

"Rick, there's a meeting in the conference room. They're waiting for you." Kaarlo began.

"Thanks." Rick walked towards the elevator, glancing at his old friend's new badge, "I see you changed your name."

Rick squinted to read the newly printed identification badge, "Carl Allenby?"

"Yes. There are a few of my fellow Finns I know of who adopted more American names when they immigrated."

Dicker faintly grinned, "I'm gonna have to get used to that."

"And the Superhero Relocation Program shutdown among other things," Carl replied, "But according to rumor we're being retasked."

"Do tell." Dicker replied.

"Something about a recent report from the CIA involving something called the Hellfire Club." Carl replied.

TBC