Oasis

By Keo Siph

The Incredibles © Disney Corp.

Isn't It Ironic © Alanis Morrisette

Song Lyrics © Avril Lavinge

"It's meeting the man of my dreams… then meeting his beautiful wife. It's a little too ironic…" – from Isn't It Ironic by Alanis Morrisette

My eyes shuddered open to darkness. My hands were instantly under me, my head no longer even with the rest of my body, and the blood rush nearly knocked me back out. Careful breaths cleared my vision, and the blue scene before me unfogged.

Syndrome was outlined against the blue screen of the copter we had built… a screen color meant to keep the slacking hires awake with its brightness.

This seemed to be affecting its maker as well, for he was leaning over and his hands were furios upon the board. The silence of the keys extended for a long moment. My feet slipped from the table, clipping against the metallic floor in their precious high heels as I made my way to his side.

"I'll crush her!"

Those words stopped my feet. I never reached Syndrome's side. Still, my body stiff, the latest memories flooded my concious, ripping the current world to shreds again.

This poor little girl wished she was back asleep.

As much as I had ever trusted Syndrome, those words had hung true in a way I had never heard from anyone.

"You can't. I'd like to see it."

And in the next instant, that same doubted man's words had been even more full of confidence.

Not Mr. Incredible's amazing feat of sudden need.

Instead, it was simple, known, and almost galiant.

Not the raw, instinctive, and primitive force behind that man's words.

It was the stating of a known fact.

Could Syndrome even produce something as powerful as Mr. Incredible's words?

Facts not included.

"Mirage! You're awake. Help me, I've no idea where the booster on this thing went to--!" The copter blasted off, far beyond its normal capacity.

"Sir, you've found it."


"That dispicable…! Stealing my villain! Surviving my tortures!" He cried in rage, spilling the gauve from the emergency first aid kit. Clumsily grabbing at the falling roll, he fell forwards and tripped into the current mess of other medical supplies. I managed to only smile, quite a containment on my part.

Syndrome didn't spare me a glance as he continued to pursue the first aid on the floor.

"I'll just take what's theirs!" He dropped the roll. "That stupid brat of theirs!" He crazily wrapped it around his left forearm after swiping it up, whether it was needed there or not. "The youngest little brat… no powers…" And he returned to his earlier incoherancy. I shrugged and watched the monitor for a minute. We'd arrive at the house soon. He dropped the roll and slit his thumb on a scalpel as he grabbed at the gauze again. The digit was instantly in his mouth.

I could help but let loose a pointlessly girly giggle. He jerked in surprise, remembering I was there, as I bent down next to him and finished wrapping up his arm. He watched in mute shock for a time before nodding approval and watching the controls. I had just finished tending his face when he shot towards the door and the copter shook with the landing.

"Have the coptor in the air, alright?"


Syndrome was in the air, shuttering up towards the copter's open doors. My screams to him to hurry up were lost on the engine. He faltered, and I could see the blubbering mass of Incredible in his hands burst into flame. To Syndrome's merit, he didn't drop the flamming kid. However, the kid was then molten lead, or something of the sort, and weighed down the man. After that, a devil, that finally escaped the poor, horrified man. I had even begun to pity him. Syndrome, having given up on the demon child, rushed towards the door, cape flying. Flying… right into the engine turbines… Glass shards rained from my hand, severing the cape, even as his boot propelled him inexplicably into the cabin. The blow drew him unconcious, even as the cape wound in the turbine and the explosion came.

Glass shards from the oasis of water… of a woman with super powers…


I was supposed to be his oasis, his sparkling water in the sea of dirt and grit. A gorgeous, unenpowered woman amidst the other ungifted people. Yet he saw my beauty… both mind and body. I drew his attention with one, his respect with the other. His oasis…

His head sat nestled in my lap, his eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar, as he was still rather unconcious.

There was no way to extract the glass shards from his arm without him waking. There was no way to completely explain them away. Only one explination… and that was to show him how they came from me at will.

I was black sand in his white sand desert. Not the gorgeous sparkling water, but a beach of black sand, matching that of all the other heroes. He would use me and discard me like the others; he would make his fame by braking us.

I wouldn't yet pull the glass from his skin, nor treat his wounds, nor even close his mouth and wipe the spit from his chin, the soot from his eyes, the grease from his cheeks. I could not wake him… only for him to dissolve the mirage of an oasis and come down to an enemy black sands beach of salty, undrinkable water.

… So much for my happy ending.