A/N I don't know why, but for some reason I am currently under the weather with a bad case of Incredibles-mania. I honestly can't believe how many things I'm defiling with this, including Pixar, the movie itself, my computer and my OC (Don't worry; this story isn't going to be very OC-centric. 'Cause, I mean, don't you just hate it when that happens?). Anyway, I seriously needed to think about the character of Violet, and none of the fanfics on all of the interweb seem to fit with what I want. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Without further ado,
The Plights of a Teenage Superhero
Summer, finally. The great respite from all the stresses of school, the status quo, and, most importantly, the lunchroom. Well, it was a respite at least in those senses. Violet assumed that the break from school meant she might be able to don her mask and...ah...spandex more often. Provided the police, and the politicians, and busybody civilians...
Scratch that. Three months of listening to her headphones over her parents arguing about her dad's latest job loss. And probably at least one relocation. That was what worried her the most; that she would have to sever ties with Tony. The first normal relationship that she had gotten going since, well, since ever.
"Vi, honey? Is everything okay?" asked her mother from the driver's seat.
"Yeah, fine," said Vi by way of a more enlightening response.
"What's up?" called Dash from the back.
"Shut up."
"You don't seem too happy about school letting out," said Helen. "I thought you'd be rather thrilled about no school for three months."
"But I am, mom!"
"Not you, Dash. I meant Vi."
Violet waited for a minute before responding. "Well, I guess that I just won't know what to do with my time anymore. I mean, there's Tony, but he can't be expected to spend every living moment of the summer with me. What am I supposed to do, go out and make my own Glory Days? Pft. Like that'll ever happen."
"Well, I'm sure that you'll find some way to amuse yourself," said Helen, while secretly being rather relieved. Violet had had some problems in the past.
"What about the Underminer?" Dash shot from the back. Helen clapped her hand to her forehead.
"Ooh! I almost forgot to tell you! It was on the news today. Some other super took care of him like that," she said with a snap of her fingers. "Turns out that he's really just some second-string villain."
"I didn't know that there were any other supers in the city except for us and Lucius," said Dash.
"Well, there have always been others, honey, this one just happened to be on the scene of one of the Underminer's attacks and decided to do something about it," said Helen.
"What's his name?" Violet asked quietly.
"Well, he wasn't exactly wearing a blatant supersuit, but some of the footage of the fight-which they were streaming live from the site showed him yelling 'rage' when he fought. See, it's mostly the public and the press that chooses a superhero's name, and I'm guessing in that case that this one is going to end up with the name 'Rage'. It seems a bit ominous if you ask me."
"So, beside the fact that he put an end to the Underminer, what's that got to do with us?" said Dash.
"Everything, Dash! The politicians will jump on it! They already know about the Incredibles but the public is going to get nervous if supers start to appear from out of nowhere. There are some who were unsettled by simply the presence of us, but now look what we will have to contend with! This man isn't part of our family, so we can't have any media-planning sessions with him. Things are about to get a lot harder if what I think is happening is, in fact, happening."
And with that, they pulled into the Parr driveway (their house having been rebuilt, very, very quickly by the NSA).
In her room, Violet was, true to her thoughts, listening to her headphones and reading her Teen magazine. After some time of this ritual, she shed her headphones and turned her thoughts to the nightstand.
She kept something very, very important to her hidden in there. She wondered when she would need them again. She did not feel like she would, but experience told her that it would happen again. Yet another relocation, and once again she would be reduced to doing it again. What she had built was so very fragile. Five people, one of them continuously stirring up suspicion, another continuously stirring up trouble, one that could burst into flames... Five times the chances of being relocated.
Sometimes, she thought, life just kinda sucked.
Meanwhile, a bank robbery was causing rather a crisis in the center of the city. The robbers had been intelligent enough to take some hostages, so the police were gathered outside, attempting to negotiate with the assistance of their unnecessarily large megaphone. It was not going too well. All the while, the other robbers were pulling money from the vaults that they had managed to bypass, most likely, with a very, very loud explosive. They were well aware of the police gathered outside their building, and had prepared an escape route with another very, very loud explosive.
Parked in the alley next to the bank, Mr. Incredible pulled on his mask.
"Showtime," he grinned. And with that, he entered the bank in his favorite manner: through three feet of solid stone. He came out in a silver hallway with stairs to his left. Hesitating only for a second, he hung a left. He ran down the stairs only to come upon a door fused shut. Cracking his knuckles, he pried it open as easily as if it had been stuck shut with tape.
"Alright, hands up!" he roared. Only one problem. There was only one person in the room, and he was most definitely not a bank robber, although he was dressed in a very interesting way. Black hoodie sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, jeans, and, finally, below zipped-open hoodie, a t-shirt.
"Who are you?" said Mr. Incredible incredulously.
"I'm Rage," said the teenager. "Don't worry about the robbers. I killed them."
