Meetings

Disclaimer: Same as before…

Safari Court Motel, Room 204
Municiberg, U.S.A.
Parr Family
15 September 1962, 1901

Sitting down to a repast of Chinese takeout food the Parr family gathered around the small circular table of Room 204. Violet Parr, 14, the eldest child of the Parr family took in for the umpteenth time the various cardboard boxes and pieces of luggage seeing the few items they'd been able to salvage after Syndrome's wrecked jet aircraft burned their house to the ground.

As her eyes wandered back to the table she saw her brother reaching for the platter piled high with egg rolls. With a gesture she made a forcefield appear around it.

"Did you wash your hands?" Violet asked.

Dash frowned before speeding over to the sink and Violet heard water running before the spigot turned off and her brother raced back over. Then he reached for the egg rolls again and Violet threw yet another forcefield into the way.

"With soap?" Violet asked.

Dash's frown increased before he again rushed over to the sink and he raced back for the table, once again reaching for the egg rolls. Violet, again, threw up a forcefield.

"Did you dry them?"

Dash shook his hands until they were dry. Violet smirked before removing the forcefield and watching her brother snatch an egg roll, cram it into his mouth and start swallowing as he reached for a container of food.

After he dumped some of the contents onto his plate he exclaimed, "What!? Is this all vegetables? Who ordered all vegetables?"

"I did," Helen declared, "They're good and you're going to have some."

She dipped a serving spoon into the container and added another heap to Dash's plate. After a brief silence Violet asked, "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"What?" Bob asked, mouth still full of stir-fry beans.

"The elephant in the room," Violet replied.

"What elephant?" Bob asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"I guess not, then," Violet sighed.

Helen set her chopsticks down, "You're referring to today?"

"Yeah, what's the deal with today?" Dash interjected.

"We all make mistakes," Helen calmly replied, "For example, you kids were supposed to watch Jack Jack."

Violet huffed, "Babysitting, while you guys were doing all the important stuff."

"We talked about this," Helen replied, "You're not old enough to decide about these things..."

Violet turned towards Bob, "We are old enough to help out."

"Yeah," Dash added, "Isn't that what you tell us, Dad?"

"Yeah," Bob conceded as he looked down at his plate, "But 'help out' can mean many different things."

"But we're supposed to help if there's trouble…" Violet pressed.

"Well...Yeah...but…" Bob stammered.

"Aren't you glad we helped today?" Violet asked.

"Well, yeah. I was….AM…" Bob stumbled.

"We wanna fight bad guys!" Dash declared as baby Jack Jack babbled and gurgled in time with his older brother, raising his fists and banging them up and down on the high chair.

"No. You don't!" Helen interjected.

"You said things were different now," Violet protested.

"Yes, things were different. On the island." Helen replied, referring to Syndrome's former fortress on Nomanisan Island, "But now…"

"So now we've got to go back to never using our powers again?" Violet asked.

"It defines who I am," Dash said.

"We're not saying you have…" Bob began before his son's words registered, "What?"

"Someone on TV said it," Dash shrugged.

"Can - can we just eat? The dinner? While it's still hot?" Helen asked. What a time for this can of worms to get opened.

"Did we do something wrong?" Dash asked.

"Yes," Helen replied at nearly the same moment Bob added his own two cents.

"No."

Helen glared silently at Bob after his contradiction, "We didn't do anything wrong."

"Superheroes are illegal," Helen countered, "Whether that's fair or not, that's the law."

"The law should be fair," Bob argued, "What are we teaching our kids?"

"To respect the law!" Helen replied.

"Even when the law is disrespectful?"

"If the laws are unjust, there are laws to change them - otherwise it's chaos!"

"Which is what we have." Bob protested.

WHAM! Helen's hand slammed onto the table, rattling plates and glasses as the room fell silent. For a few seconds no one moved. Then the family went back to silently eating dinner.

"I just thought it was kind of cool," Violet said, looking up from her meal.

"What was?" Helen calmly asked.

"Fighting crime." Violet answered, "As a family…"

"It was cool," Helen conceded. "But it's over. The world is what it is. We have to...adapt."

"Are things...bad?" Dash asked.

"Things are fine, honey." Helen replied.

Dash smiled and asked, "May I be excused?"

Before Bob had managed to nod, Dash cleared his plate In a matter of seconds, putting the empty plate into the sink and racing over to the couch to turn on the television revealing a monster destroying a Japanese city.

Violet got up after finishing her own dinner, "How much longer in the motel?"

"Not much longer, Honey." Helen replied.

C.I.A. Headquarters
Langley, V.A., U.S.A.
Moira MacTaggert, William Stryker Sr., and John A. McCone
15 September 1962, 2033

Moira MacTaggert felt the stale coffee from the break room pooling in her stomach as she suppressed a yawn. Well it was a long flight from Las Vegas to Dulles and an even longer drive to Langley.

She could see Agent William Stryker, Sr. with a dossier under his left arm standing at the entrance of the conference room. He fixed her with a piercing glare as she approached.

"MacTaggert," Stryker began frostily, "Director McCone wants to see you."

"About what?" Moira asked.

"Your little side trip in Vegas." Stryker replied, "What part of covert did you not understand?"

"I found important information!" Moira protested.

"You could have compromised the entire Hellfire Club surveillance operation. What the Hell were you thinking?" Stryker stepped to one side, arms folded as he spoke.

"I saw an opportunity to get us closer to the Hellfire Club than we've been since the operation started." Moira walked the last couple of steps closer to the conference room.

"Ladies first," Stryker replied.

Moira walked into the conference room, seeing Director McCone sitting at the head of the table, with another dossier to his right, speaking quietly into a telephone before hanging it up. McCone looked up, peering at Moira through a pair of wire rimmed spectacles.

"Agent McTaggert," McCone began, "You and Levene managed to find out more about this mysterious Hellfire Club than any surveillance team has ever done. I, however, have more than a few reservations about the methods you used to get into the Hellfire Club."

"Sir I…" Moira began as she took her seat, to the left of Stryker as he sat beside McCone at the head of the table.

"McTaggert, I don't want to hear it." McCone brusquely replied, "If you hadn't found the information you did you would be your way back to the typing pool tonight."

"If you're not sending me back to the typing pool…" Moira countered.

"Your report about seeing at least one Super last night generated some interest from the National Supers Agency." McCone replied.

"You'll be working closely with Agent Carl Allenby, NSA." Stryker replied, handing Moira the dossier.

Moira opened Stryker's dossier reading the information. Her eyes immediately fell on three black and white photographs. This man spent the past twenty years serving in the armies of three countries. France, Finland, and Germany. Moira thought. Within the last year or so he changed his name from Kaarlo Alanen to Carl Allenby and...

Her eyes went wide at the third photograph of a young Allenby wearing the field gray uniform of the World War II German army, with the twin siegrunen on one collar. The symbol of the Waffen-SS. Recognition struck Moira like a right cross landing flush.

"Agent Allenby had a run in with the Hellfire Club in Algiers in June 1961. He was the agent at the NSA who identified why they lost two agents there last spring." McCone began.

"It says he shot his way into the British Embassy in Algiers in that same year." Moira replied. Extensive combat experience in three major wars, probably how he survived whatever happened to him. How did he wind up in the British Embassy though?

Moira continued to read through the document. Four dead bodies left in his wake before crashing through the front gates of the British embassy. This fellow could use a refresher in tradecraft.

McCone handed Moira a second dossier. This one was titled 'Incredibles/Parr Family'. She opened it to see a family photograph in color of a powerfully built blond haired man with a bit of a potbelly with his arm around the waist of a slim bodied brunette woman. The woman had a baby cradled in her arms. The couple and the baby were standing behind a small sofa and sitting on that sofa were a dark haired teenager and a blond haired boy, about ten years old.

Moira looked at the names written beside each family member, committing the names to memory. Bob, the husband. Helen, the wife. Jack Jack the baby. Violet the teenager. Dash the middle kid.

Moira shifted the photograph aside, revealing several typed pages about each family member. Powers of super strength, super flexibility, speed, invisibility, force field generation…

"According to the NSA's most recent reports the Parr family got into some trouble when they attempted to stop a villain known as the Underminer." McCone began, "He stole several million in cash from banks in Municiberg, and despite the Parr's attempts, escaped. The Parr family narrowly prevented the Underminer's runaway drilling machine from destroying city hall."

"So what's my mission?" Moira asked.

"Work closely with the NSA regarding this Hellfire matter. If there are Supers in the Hellfire Club the Parrs could be a very helpful ally." McCone replied.

"Wait, you want to use superpower freaks against the Hellfire Club?" Stryker protested.

"Bill," McCone replied, "Let's not forget that Bob and Helen Parr were very helpful to us in World War II when they assisted the OSS."

Stryker remained silent, face a neutral mask as McCone reached for an envelope next to the telephone. He handed it to Moira.

"Your flight to Municiberg leaves in two hours." McCone replied, "I suggest you get packed."

Moira closed the two dossiers before walking out of the conference room to do just that. Shouldn't be much traffic out at this hour, so once I get to my apartment, pack a bag and then head for Washington National Airport…

Reaching her free hand to her mouth as she yawned a second time, Moira took a quick detour at the break room where she poured yet another cup of coffee. Dark and with the consistency of turpentine. Standard government coffee. Moira thought before sipping at the mug.

Safari Court Motel, Poolside
Municiberg, U.S.A.
Helen and Bob Parr
15 September 1962, 2005

Helen Parr watched the full moon reflecting off the surface of the pool while sitting on one of the poolside chairs beside Bob. With a sigh she asked, "What are we going to do?"

Bob shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe Dicker will find something."

"Dicker is done, Bob." Helen turned to face him as she spoke, "Any thought we had about being Supers again is a fantasy. One of us has to get a job."

After a brief pause, Helen continued, "I know that your job at Insuracare was frustrating and hard on you. Maybe I should be the one to get a job…"

"No!" Bob interjected, "I'm the breadwinner...I'll start winning some bread tomorrow. You know where my suit and ties are?"

"Burned up when…" Helen began.

"...the jet destroyed our house." Bob continued, speaking along with his wife. He smiled at his wife, and she returned the smile, placing her hand atop his. As he held hands with his wife he heard the creak of the pool gate opening.

Both Helen and Bob stood up in time to see Lucius Best walking into the light, wearing a long tan trench coat and what looked to be his blue and white super suit underneath it.

"Well where did you go today?" Bob asked, "I noticed you missed all the fun."

"Don't be mad because I know when to leave a party," Lucius said with a sly grin, "I'm just as illegal as you guys. Besides, I knew the cops would let you go."

"Yeah, in spite of Bob's best efforts." Helen joked. Bob rolled his eyes and smirked at his wife's comment.

"I heard the program's shut down," Lucius asked, "How long you in this motel?"

"Two weeks," Bob replied.

"You know the offer still stands," Lucius replied.

"You're very generous but there's five of us. We wouldn't do that to you and Honey," Helen interjected.

"Door's always open," Lucius replied, "While you were dealing with the cops today I met this man. A representative of some tycoon named Winston Deavor. Wanted to talk to the three of us about 'hero stuff'."

As he spoke Lucius partially opened his trenchcoat, revealing he was, in fact wearing his super suit underneath the trench coat.

"Aw jeez. More superhero trouble? We just came back from the police station, Lucius." Helen protested.

"When?" Bob asked.

"Tonight. I'm going there now."

"You enjoy," Helen replied, with a slight flick of her wrist, "I'm sitting this one out."

"Deavor wants to see all three of us," Lucius replied.

"Let's just hear what he has to say," Bob said as he turned to face his wife.

With a sigh, Helen nodded, "Go...in our supersuits?"

"You might wanna wear the old supersuits," Lucius said, "Got a feeling he's nostalgic."

Little did Lucius, Helen, or Bob know that their meeting had been observed. As soon as Bob and Helen returned to Room 204 to retrieve their supersuits, trench coats and masks Carl Allenby made the last notes on his notebook before starting his car and driving off.

Happy Platter
Municiberg, U.S.A.
Moira MacTaggert and Carl Allenby
16 September 1962, 0811

Moira MacTaggert handed the cab fare to the driver after she was dropped off at the Happy Platter restaurant. At least I got a little sleep on the plane. Other than that phone call from the front desk at the Safari Court Motel telling me about my meeting at 8:15 A.M. I slept okay there.

Moira approached the hostess at the front of the restaurant, "Excuse me, I'm meeting a colleague here."

The hostess looked up and asked, "What's your colleague's name?"

"Carl," Moira replied.

"Right this way." The hostess walked deeper into the restaurant and turned right, leading Moira to a booth near the back corner of the restaurant.

His back is to the wall, someone trying to prevent being ambushed. Certainly fitting for someone who's been in one war or another for the last twenty years. Moira thought as she approached. She took in his details as she approached, a dark haired, stout built fellow standing about 5'9" wearing a tan sport coat with a white collared shirt and no tie. With a slight glance downward she could see he wore a pair of gray slacks and black shoes.

For his part Carl Allenby had noticed the auburn haired young woman after she took a few steps into the Happy Platter. The cut of her black jacket and the white blouse showed her slim figure rather well, and the black miniskirt she wore with them showed a pair of slim legs.

Definitely a beautiful woman. Carl thought to himself as the newcomer walked towards the booth.

As Moira approached the booth she noticed Carl had a pin on his lapel, and as she got closer she noticed the distinct shape of a skull with two crossed femurs. A Totenkopf badge. Moira thought. German for Deathshead.

Moira took her seat across from Carl and with a wry grin remarked, "That's bad tradecraft you know."

Carl glanced down to his lapel pin, "Really? How so?"

"People would remember seeing an enamel skull lapel pin with crossed femurs." Moira glanced over as their server approached.

"Perhaps," Carl replied.

"You do realize there are some really bad associations people would have with that insignia, right?"

"Sieg heil." Carl smirked as he raised his coffee mug.

"You just proved my point." Moira glanced out of the nearest window, eyes tracking a car driving past.

"Does it look like I'm flapping my arms for a dead Fuhrer?"

"You certainly made me think so." Moira's gaze returned to her companion as their server approached and filled Moira's coffee cup.

"Was my sarcasm unclear?" Carl's eyebrows furrowed.

He did smirk when he said that, but still...it's going to be something I'm going to look further into later. Moira thought before replying, "Attempts at wit aside, you know why I'm here."

"I'm quite aware, yes." Carl replied, before reaching inside his sport coat, extracting an envelope which he handed to Moira.

Moira took the envelope and opened it, seeing black and white photographs of the parking lot of the Safari Court Motel, a limousine, and Lucius Best along with Helen and Bob Parr getting inside.

"I took those photographs around 8 o'clock last night." Carl replied, again with an ironic grin, "And yes, I had my lapel pin on."

"Not bad," Moira remarked as she looked through the photos, "Devtech?"

"It's a media and technology company owned by Winston and Evelyn Deavor." Carl began, "Unfortunately the front door of Devtech was as far as I was able to get last night."

"Probably a wise decision given the Algiers Incident," Moira quipped.

"There is a lot more to that story," Carl replied, raising his right hand with his index and middle finger raised, ring, pinky and thumb closed.

TBC