Chapter 3:

Answering Comments:

Hey Syndrome Fan (Guest): It brings me much joy to know you are enjoying my story so far! There will be a very decent amount of angst, especially once we get to an older Buddy. I feel that Buddy and Evelyn would be a combination that would perhaps feed on each other's doubt and insecurities; it is probably going to be both intriguing and frustrating for me to write, haha. Poor Winston is going to have to deal with two temperamental and stubborn fools.

ReaderFreak5000: I'm am ecstatic in knowing that you find my story so delightful.

I… actually hadn't been thinking about the Despicable Me orphanage lady at all, but since you have brought it to my attention, I definitely see the resemblance! And yes, I spell her name as Mrs. Iraida, because she is a rather irate character; see what I did there?

I, too, was unhappy with the lack of acknowledgment of Syndrome. Timeline-wise, it was only a few months after Inc 1 that the second movie takes place. Bringing in possible parallels and trauma from the island incident would have probably given more depth to the story. In my opinion, at least. And I am so convinced that that was his house! So convinced! They can't take that away from me!

Thank you so much for adding my story to your favs.

Deavors (Guest): It brings a smile to my face, knowing my story brings you such enthusiasm. And thank you, I try very hard to keep them in character while also giving them my own spin and headcanons.

Mariogeek: Ava, like the majority of my OCs, is a background character. The only time you will see read anything about her is if it pertains to the development of my version of Buddy, I assure you. Once Buddy is finally situated with the Deavors you will not read much -or any- of her until… around the first portion of my AU's version of the first movie?

I try very hard to keep all focus on the characters we know and love. Only necessity dictates my OCs.

And man, someone really needs to slap Mr. Incredible. He's losing quite the kid with his actions! Oh well, more for the Deavors!

You are the only person who caught on to the comic store owner being a Stan Lee reference! Great Job, seriously.

I also really hope you enjoy this chapter

Special thanks to MajoraDreemurr52 and ReaderFreak5000 for Following and Favoriting my story.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor shall I ever, own The Incredibles franchise. I do not gain anything out of this.

Past/flashback

"Past/flashback speech"

"Fly home, Buddy. I work alone."

"...J-j-just give me a chance! I'll —I'll go get the police—"

"—Buddy, don't—"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"—It'll only take a second, really!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Stop!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Whoa, hey, you're wrecking my flight pattern—"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"—Kid, there's a bo—"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"—Let go of my cape—"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"—I'm trying to help!"

Disappointed and annoyed eyes gazed at him when he had returned with the police as promised.

Why did his hero not understand? He could do this.

"Take this one home. Make sure his mom knows what he's been doing."

What? No! Why was Mr. Incredible rejecting him? Was he really that awful to be around? He didn't even have a mom or a dad. They thought he was a burden too.

"I can help you, you're making a mist-agh, hey!"

Shoved away both literally and metaphorically, caused a swell of uncomfortable feelings to pool into his gut. There was a sour taste in his mouth as Buddy absentmindedly swung his legs back and forth, sitting patiently on the chair where an officer had told him to stay put. He ignored the commotion of hard working law enforcement around him in favor of glaring holes into the floor; his hands were balled into fists and laying on his lap.

Vaguely he noted the officer that had brought him to the chair had finished phoning his contacts and was walking toward him.

The uniform man stopped in front of him, seemingly uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. Once gaining Buddy's attention, he made the effort to kneel down in front of the boy.

"So, uh, I called Tranquil Waters Orphanage—"

"—I know."

"Right. And they're sending someone to come pick you up. Will you be fine waiting here? Do you need anything? Snacks, water, or maybe some papers to draw on—"

"—I can take care of myself just fine, officer. I'm okay with waiting here." The man's mouth open and closed at the boy's response. He had a boy of his own and could clearly tell this one wasn't in the best of moods.

The officer gave a nod, stood up, and patted the boy's shoulder. To Buddy's confusion, the man had forgone his work and dragged his comfy swivel chair to sit right next to him. He had also snatched some pens and a decent pile of printer paper. The cop placed the items on the flat surface next to them and silently held one of the pens to Buddy.

When the boy had given him a questioning stare, instead of reaching out to grab the offered item, the policeman shrugged and set the pen down. He had begun making some random sketches on one of the papers.

"I've always found drawing to be an almost soothing hobby, when I'm feeling down. You can join me if you'd like." The cop was silent after his explanation and, after a minute, Buddy had joined him.

That was how the volunteer orphanage worker and her escort found the two; drawing while surrounded by a bunch of sketch filled papers.

Buddy waved goodbye to the nice policeman as he was pulled away by his hand, almost roughly. The volunteer wasn't at all happy for needing to come and retrieve the troublesome redhead. He absentmindedly remembered her name to be Cera; pronounced "Sarah", but spelled how you would in the middle of tri-cera-top, he recalled her explaining when introduced.

"This is the fifth time I've had to come get you from the police precinct, Buddy. When will you learn that unruly little boys don't get adopted? If you were just a bit more obedient and calm, without any "accidental" explosions from your experiments and running off to who knows where without telling anyone, you'd have probably been adopted out already. And what are you wearing? You weren't going around and pretending you were some "hero" again, were you?" The young woman huffed. "Why do you have to be such a burden?"

Why do you have to be such a burden?

Buddy's eyes stung and he ripped his hand out of her hold; hugging himself around the middle and pointedly looking away. He continued to trail silently behind Cera, as she focused her attention to talking to her police escort as they walked out of the building. The young boy took to sitting on the edge of the sidewalk a couple feet away from the discussing adults, not interested in what they had to say. Probably something along the lines of how problematic he was.

He didn't take notice when a woman, probably not too much older than Cera, had decided to take a seat next to him with a coffee in her hands.

"Y'know, I couldn't help but notice you're mopeyness and decided I'd be nice enough to cheer you up." Buddy jumped and stared wide-eyed at the lady. She didn't seem to take notice or care of his reaction and lazily gestured to the orphanage worker. "Moms, am I right? Can't live with 'em, yet ya' can't live without 'em." Buddy blinked.

"Oh, uh… she's not my mom." Wasn't there a warning about talking to strangers? He briefly thought about calling for Cera, but couldn't find himself to be outrightly intimidated by this random lady. She looked like a mess, though. With unkempt, short hair and dark bags surrounding her eyes; they honestly looked bruised. There was a familiarity to her though that Buddy couldn't seem to figure out.

"Okay. Older sister then?"

"Not really, no."

"... Babysitter?"

"Orphanage volunteer." The boy rolled his eyes away from the woman, not wanting to see the pity that was going to undoubtedly appear on her face.

"Tough luck, kid. My own parents were murdered when I was ten. How 'bout you?" The nonchalance caused the boy to peer back at her with incredulity. When he managed to lock eyes with the mysterious woman again, he realized the facáde. She was still pained by that, but she had learned to hide it. He relaxed.

"Mine didn't want me." There wasn't much more that he could say. He was dropped off like a bag of garbage to the nearest orphanage staff's arms back when he was practically a newborn. At least, that was the image he got when Director Chandler had told him; when he'd finally gained the courage to ask.

"Ouch."

They were silent for a while, retreating a bit into their own thoughts. The redhead had gone to distractedly clanking together his metal rocket boots, as his thoughts dragged lower and lower into his current issue. The boots gained his new companions attention.

"Those look pretty fancy. Did you make those?"

"Wha— what?" Buddy took notice of the lady's gaze on his boots. "I, uh, yeah… yeah I did."

"That's pretty impressive, kid. Bet you could get a pretty penny for something like that."

"Ha, no. These babies aren't, nor will they ever be, for sale." He shook his head almost violently and then glared at the woman. "These are my best inventions to date and I'm not about to let them go anytime soon."

"I see that." She raised an eyebrow, before looking past him and toward his current caretaker. The woman realized that the other lady had finally taken notice of her. "A bonafide inventor at the age of six—"

"—eight—"

"—and already has a multitude of inventions. You're quite the boy genius." She stood up and brushed off any dirt on her pants, getting ready to leave. "It was nice talking with you…"

"Buddy Pine."

"...I'm Evelyn. Evelyn Deavor. I'll be seeing you soon, Buddy."

"Bye…" He tilted his head as he watched the lady walked off, an almost awestruck look encompassing his face. Wasn't Evelyn Deavor the leading engineer and co-owner of DevTech? He'd just spoken with one of the most promising engineers of the century. She had complimented his own engineering. Maybe he wasn't nearly as much of a lost cause as everyone thought he was? As he was beginning to think he was.

Beams of light shined into the room from the rising morning sun, a boy of about eight ignored the ever brightening room in favor of staring blankly at the wall. His back was turned away from the window and he watched as his shadow moved slowly down the wall as time passed.

Last night was like a nightmare.

Honestly, he wished it had been one.

His limbs were heavy and his head, drowsy. Buddy felt like he could just lay there forever and no one would notice.

A sigh and movement from behind him caught his attention. Okay, maybe one would notice.

A little girl of five slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She lazily gazed around the room, slowly re-gaining awareness of where she was. When her eyes landed on Buddy, her expression lit up.

"Buddy, you're back! Why are you dressed in your super-suit? Where did you go?" Ava flopped herself over his side with a happy giggle and tried to catch his gaze. The girl pouted when the older boy firmly kept his eyes hidden in his pillow.

"Go away, Ava. Now that you're awake you can scram." He growled out, his nose scrunched up and he tried to turn further away. The girl merely pushed her way more over his side, stubbornly. "Ava! Go. Away."

"No!" Her cheeks puffed out. Why wouldn't her big brother-figure tell her what was wrong? Just because she was little didn't mean she couldn't help! "Tell me!"

The girl gasped when the older boy suddenly used his legs to push them off the side of the bed. When they landed on the hardwood floor, Buddy was quick to scoop the girl up in his arms and head to his door.

"Wait, Buddy no! I want to help! I want to— HEY." The little genius, not even affected by Ava's pleading, swiftly opened the door and flopped her unceremoniously onto the hallway floor and slammed the door shut.

"Goodbye, Ava." Were the muffled words the little girl heard through the door. She hopped up and stomped her foot, arms crossed over her chest.

"I am not leaving until I help!" She gasped when she heard the click of the lock and began to bang a tiny fist on the door. "Let me in, Buddy! You can't hide in there forever."

"Watch me."

Her abuse on the door continued until another door in the hall was opened.

"Can you keep it down?! Some of us are trying to sleep." An annoyed girl hissed out; her hair was a rat's nest and her pajamas were wrinkled from obvious use. After a long glare at Ava, the rudely awakened older girl shut her door.

The little girl gave out one last, frustrated squeal and slid her back down the wall near Buddy's door.

"Well, don't think you've gotten rid of me that easy, Benjamin Pine! I'm going to wait here until you come out." She gave his door a rather nasty look, that only five-year-olds could accomplish, and settled in for her vigil.

Buddy, on the other side of the door, couldn't find himself to care at the moment. He flopped back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling with a depressed frown.

Ava wouldn't be waiting there very long; either something would pique her interest and be swept away by her strong curiosity or one of her age group's caretakers would find her and drag her off. He predicted it would be the latter. It wasn't too hard for a caretaker, who worked here long enough, to figure out how much little Ava looked up to the boy genius.

Too bad not even she could lift up his spirits.

His eyes roamed around the room, finally allowing himself to acknowledge his collection. Each and every piece seemed to mock him. Last night he had been so livid that he had nearly tried to destroy it in a fit of rage. Upon realizing that Ava had fallen asleep in his room, he had forced himself to not follow his impulsive desire.

Now, he was sort of glad he didn't.

There was a lot of hard-to-get, expensive memorabilia he'd managed to acquire, that would only become more valuable as time went on; collector's items, most of which, he had been able to get through swindling or outwitting various others. If he saved his collection, he could probably sell those later to obtain whatever he needed in the future.

The boy snorted and rolled his eyes. What kind of eight-year-old was he? Thinking ahead for his own future?

One that didn't have parents or an adult that cared enough to think of those things for him.

Biting his lip and trying to hold in his tears, Buddy turned away from the huge Mr. Incredibles poster that seemed like it was looking down on him. He was eight and not a baby. Only babies cried. He didn't cry.

Tears ran down his face anyways, as he struggled to hold in his sobs. His breath was ragged and he shoved his face into the pillow. Vaguely he could hear shuffles of movement outside the door and two voices mutely speaking to each other; one deeper and older, the other was clearly Ava's. A caretaker must have come and found her.

Buddy managed to tone down his shaky breathing and waited until the voices were long gone, down the hall. The silence that had now taken residence, only caused the words in his head to become louder.

Why do you have to be such a burden?

Nails tapped rhythmically, yet harshly, as steel blue eyes bore holes into the newspaper on the desk. A young woman with short, brown hair was seated at her desk, within a study room; it was filled with tools and blueprints, a bookcase filled to the brim, and wallpaper clippings of different accomplishments in frames on all the walls. On the desk was a various amount of mail, papers, and strewn writing utensils. It was the only thing currently messy in the area.

Suddenly, she slammed her fist against the desk and pushed away from the desk, allowing the wheels of her comfy chair to glide her away. Arms now crossed, she growled in frustration. The plan she made didn't exactly go as, well, planned.

Sure, it still did the job. But had it gone the way it should have, the results would have been more… mind-changing.

Nothing in life ever seemed to go the way one would like it to.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath; reacting in anger wouldn't help her get anywhere. She had been patient this long, what would be another month? Or another year?

She huffed. It would be agonizingly difficult. Patience was more of her brother's thing; the man could happily go on for ages, to wait for the next release of his latest comic book or superhero obsession.

Superheroes.

She glared back down at the newspaper.

BRAINFREEZER STILL AT LARGE.

At least there seemed to be a bit of a negative tinge against supers in the front page news. Protests against them were louder than they've ever been and that thought, alone, seemed to ease the woman's irritation a little. A little.

Steel blue locked onto the clock on the wall left of her.

2:59 pm

She stood up and made sure to securely lock any… discriminating evidence within the hidden floor safe against the wall behind her. She had a 3:30 meeting with some hired help.

The woman checked her desk once more, making certain she didn't miss anything. Her hand hesitated for a moment over a slip of paper with a phone number; Tranquil Waters Orphanage was written over it in bold sharpie.

She moved on, snatching up the coat and purse hanging off her chair and left the room. Making her way through the house and to the front door, a voice halted her.

"Evelyn, there you are! You've finally crawled out of that cave you call a study. Look what I have!" An uncountable amount of papers stapled together were thrust into her face, the grin of her brother just behind them.

Evelyn made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and ripped the papers away, sticking her tongue out childishly. Her brother, teasingly, did the same. Most adults would be rather ashamed for acting that way, but not them. They saved "acting adult-like" for their business and official dealings.

"Let's see…" The woman raised an eyebrow and looked over the papers with humdrum. Her other eyebrow raised. "You bought a television studio? What —Winston why? We deal in radios and telephones."

Winston was hopping in place and shimmying his shoulders. He couldn't stop wiggling, he was so excited!

"I know, I know, but now we can finally start achieving dad's dream! Stories of adventure, good triumphing over evil. Cowboys, space explorers, heroes —anything you can think of, Ev—, coming to life before your very eyes!" He let out a gleeful laugh. "Wonderful, isn't it?"

Evelyn's unease must have been clear as day on her face, as her brother sobered up and gave his sibling a reassuring smile. He mistook it for worry about their business.

"Now, I know that television isn't exactly the most popular right now. However!" The business man took back the papers and flipped to a specific section. "I've done some research and, as you can see on these charts I made, interest in television is only going to continue going up for many years to come."

"That's…" She wasn't sure how to respond, "...great. Really, honestly…"

Evelyn gave her brother what she hoped to be an authentic smile. It seemed to work as Winston embraced her before making his leave.

"Hate to jet so soon, sis, but work comes before play! I'll see you at dinner." With a wave, he turned around a corner and out of her sight.

She sighed after a moment and decided to set this new potential problem to the side; the inventor had to deal with another one first.

"You're late, as usual." Two glowing icy blue dots peered out at Evelyn from the darkness of the barely lit warehouse.

"I've always fancied being fashionably late." The inventor shook off her unease and gave her signature bored look. "It's better than not coming at all, I'm sure you would agree."

The woman lit the lantern she had brought with her and walked up to the glowing eyes, placing the light in the middle of a huge crate situated like a table. Her lantern revealed the owner of the glowing eyes, as well as another. The other person flinched at the light, his eyes had grown used to the darkness; he muttered in his foreign tongue and gave a glare at Evelyn.

"Oh, Voyage, I'm sorry. How rude of me to make you so… uncomfortable." Her words did not ring with credulity, which caused the Frenchman to sneer. It was hard for Evelyn to see him as intimidating in that stupid mime makeup; the only reason he had her respect was for how long he'd managed to maintain his status as a top villain.

"Vous ne seriez pas si irrespecteaux, si je decidais de réorganiser votre visage." The man spat out, readjusting the two straps of bombs crossing his chest.

Evelyn was sure he had just insulted her, but honestly had no clue or care to figure out what he said. She vaguely wondered why he chose to talk in his native tongue when he'd been living in the USA for years and clearly understood and knew English.

"Sure, whatever you say." The inventor decided it didn't matter, he had played his part and now it was time to give him his reward.

She reached to her side where a suitcase filled with an assortment of parts for creating weapons, mostly bomb-related. The inventor grunted with the strength it took to lift it and place it onto their makeshift table.

"Your payment, as promised." Evelyn took the time to drag a smaller crate to use as a seat, as the others had. "Should you wish to continue with this partnership, you may stay. As usual, I would continue to pay you handsomely with whatever's left of your heart desires, for whatever other tasks I would give you. Other than that, you may go."

There was a look of consideration that passed over the Frenchman's face as he critically analyzed the woman in front of him. Continuing meant that he would be given even more specialized, hard-to-obtain components and even money. Normally, he wouldn't think twice about accepting invitations such as these; especially since the work she gave him were almost practically child's play. Cause a little havoc here, a little destruction over there, make a couple of different types of bombs, don't get caught, and then be rewarded.

There was just something about the woman, however, that just rang warning bells. His instincts had never failed him before. She held herself as if she held no care for anything and everything around her; detached. It wasn't uncommon among the villains. But having worked long enough around Evelyn Deavor had taught him that the facade of aloof hid an almost rabid and livid ire that screamed bad news.

Shelly Sundae could continue to take her chances with this woman, for all he cared, but he would take his leave while things were still good.

"Je refuserai respectueusement, jeune fille, au revoir." He gave the women a bow and made his leave, suitcase in hand.

It wasn't until the door to the big building closed with a click, that the other villain finally stopped pretending to be interested in filing her nails.

"Finally. I thought he'd never leave. So, where's my payment?" Glowing icy blue resituated themselves onto Evelyn.

"Hold your horses, Brain Freeze, we'll get there soon enough." The inventor leaned her arms onto the table, giving her last cohort a sharp look. "We need to discuss your failure."

"Okay, first of all, it's Brainfreezer. Let's get that straight, Brain. Freezer. And what exactly did I do wrong? I did as you wanted! I caused unease, panic, and —best of all— an even bigger dislike of supers! That was the plan and I succeeded." The gelato woman crossed her arms with a frown and shifted uncomfortably on her makeshift seat, silently wishing there was a backrest.

"You weren't supposed to reveal our knowledge of the NSA just yet."

"Well, I had to improvise! They got to the bomb too quickly, I only had so much time left—"

"—I didn't ask for excuses, Sundae. I asked for results. Yes, I'll admit, you got them. Just not how I requested." Evelyn halted and waited for a response; whether it be more excuses for the villainess' major slip up or whining.

After a minute, the inventor decided to bring out the payment. It was a slip of paper with an address, nothing else.

"Hey, whoa, wait a minute. Where's the fifty grand you promised me?" Brainfreezer slammed a fist into the table-crate and causing it to crack. Evelyn merely rolled her eyes.

"You let the heroes know about our awareness of their little agency. You have the location of the second "Unmeltables" machine-maker I created for you, but I left off the money as punishment. Be lucky I didn't do anything more."

"YOU PROMISED ME FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!" The villainess snarled and stood up, leaning over the inventor in an attempt to intimidate. The other only raised an eyebrow and continued as calmly as ever.

"No, I promised you a working Unmeltables-maker. I said that I just might throw in fifty grand, should you impress me. Clearly, you did not."

Brainfreezer opened her mouth to argue but then thought better of it. A dangerous glint appeared in the other woman's eyes and, knowing what had happened last time she pushed it, the villainess slowly sat back down.

Taking the time to regather herself, the gelato woman inhaled and exhaled trying to slow the adrenaline that had coursed through her in her rage.

"Is there… anything else, Deavor?" The ice cream woman pretended to brush off some dust from her costumed attire.

"No, that is all for now. I will contact you again should I need you."

The clear dismissal stung at Brainfreezer's pride, but that didn't stop her from scurrying away quickly. Evelyn Deavor was devious when she felt enough conviction to be.

The door slammed shut.

Evelyn, now alone, closed her eyes and just breathed.

Villains.

"SUED?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M BEING SUED?!" Bob Golden's voice rang out throughout the office building of the National Supers Agency. His newlywed wife had taken a hold of his hand, her own face showed her displeasure.

"Exactly what I said, Bob." The agent on the other side of the desk sighed and ran a hand down his face. The three were discussing the bad news within his office, he had made sure to shut the blinds of the rather large window on the wall to the right of them. He shifted through the profile on his desk for the hundredth time, a habit to keep his hands busy. "The man you saved? Oliver Sansweet is suing you for… saving… him."

Their incredulous faces matched exactly what he was feeling.

"Can he do that?" Helen scoffed. "Surely they can't sue Mr. Incredible for— for doing his job, Rick."

"you're right, they can't. Not exactly." The agent frowned at the relief that overtook them, mistaking his response for a false alarm. "Since Brainfreezer's little speech, the public is now aware that the government partakes in super affairs more than they had originally realized. Since he cannot sue the superhero —due to your true identity being hidden— they are trying to sue the agency as a whole."

"But they don't know about the agency, not fully at least. Do we really have anything to worry about?" The burly man leaned forward, elbows perched on his upper legs and hands now clasped firmly together.

"Unfortunately he seems to be increasingly gaining the public's approval since, again, Brainfreezer. With the possibility of the government keeping secrets and supers working for said government, people are beginning to believe it may not be worth the risk of ridiculously powered individuals continuing with mostly unmonitored actions and decisions. It's honestly becoming less about Sansweet's unkenned sense of "justice" and more about how effective his actions will be."

The couple shared a glance, confused and worried.

"I'm not entirely certain we understand. What's going on?" Bob turned back to Rick. "I mean, supers have been around for centuries; why now?"

"It's not exactly a recent development. There have always been those against superheroes and their actions; some of them even becoming villain class criminals. With technology becoming more advanced and word being spread a lot quicker, it is becoming far easier for people to hear, and see in some cases, the more… negative aspects of some heroes." Rick shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Gamma Jack being an example."

The two winced at his words and had to concede to that.

"With the news of a man boldly trying to take a stand against supers, it is bringing about some unpleasant stories and admittance of wrong-doings made by other heroes; events that most criminals would be tried for. It is causing turmoil within the masses, more so than anything before."

"But that shouldn't apply to me! It should apply to the heroes that actually did it. I meant well, I didn't want that man to die." Bob ran a hand through his hair, the situation was absolutely mind-boggling.

"We know, but people typically "group" those with similarities together, whether "good" or "bad". With our line of work, you should know." Helen rubbed a hand comfortingly up and down his upper arm.

"Yeah, I know." Her husband halted her comforting movements by placing his hand over her own. "He still doesn't actually know of the NSA. Does he even have a chance of succeeding?"

"If the situation continues to escalate the way it is… I wouldn't be surprised if the government relented and gave them the information they want; if only to save their own skins."

Neither Bob nor Helen knew what to say. They weren't exactly surprised either. Ever since the Cold War, the government had shown to be not nearly as "for the people" as previously believed.

"What about Brainfreezer? Does the agency have any clue as to how she gained a hold of that information?" The pliable woman crossed her arms, brows furrowed.

"Not yet. We're still trying our best to figure out if there are any possible… traitors." The idea that there was someone, maybe even more than one, that was willingly giving out their carefully guarded information was distressing. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long to sort it out.

"I believe I've taken too much of your time." Rick decided that the Goldens had had enough bad news for the day. Their bleak attitudes were downright depressing and right after their wedding, too. "Congratulations on your recent union. Don't try to worry too much about the whole suing thing, right now; enjoy yourselves, you just got married! We're trying to do everything we can for you."

"Thank you, Rick." Helen gave the agent a small, yet genuine, smile as she guided her husband out of the room. Bob was too dazed with the troubling information they were just given.

"My pleasure, Helen."

"Well, that's the end of our honeymoon plans."

"Bob. You heard what Rick said—"

"—Don't worry about it, I know."

"Then don't worry about it." Helen placed a hand on her hip and gave her man an unamused glare.

"That is easier said than done." Bob sighed and fell back on their now shared bed.

The newlyweds had gone back to Helen's— their apartment. They had decided to move into her apartment together and leave Bob's old apartment to Lucius; the scrawnier man had been ecstatic, claiming that he was happy he'd never have to, "hear Bob's bear snores ever again". Their best friend had also encouraged them, the next day, to visit as much as they could. Apparently, one night with an apartment to himself made him realize he really enjoyed their company.

The two had laughed and promised to stop by the next time they could.

Bob twisted around the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, and glared at the wall, grumbling to himself.

"First Buddy and now THIS…"

Helen blinked and twisted around from the closet, where she was trying to pick out her pajamas for the night. Buddy? What was Bob talking about?

"Honey…"

"Yes?"

"What was that about, Buddy? Did something happen to our little fan?" Her eyes narrowed when he tensed and turned around to fully face him.

"Yes —no!— maybe? I-I don't know." Suddenly the broad-shouldered man was pacing back and forth within the admittedly small room, making Helen feel the tiniest bit claustrophobic. "Look, one second I was doing my job and then BAM! He was there."

"There? Where, Bob? You better not have been putting him in danger." Her man would be on seriously thin ice if he thought he could get away with putting his little redheaded number one into some serious trouble.

"It wasn't my fault!"

"Oh, really?"

"How was I supposed to know he'd follow me into the bank with Bomb Voyage—"

"—You let him near Bomb Voyage?! What were you thinking!" She stretched out and smacked him upside the head, before stalking over intimidatingly. The man winced, not out of pain but with alarm, as he backed up with every step his wife took. He hit the wall behind him. "You weren't thinking! Is Buddy hurt? Where is he now?"

"No, he's not hurt and I don't know!"

"Don't know what?!"

"WHERE HE IS."

HOW COULD YOU, MR. INCREDIBLE, NOT KNOW WHERE YOUR BEST FAN IS?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHERE HE LIVES."

That put Helen through a loop. She took a moment to gather herself and her breath. She waited until her heart stopped racing before continuing.

"So… you've known little Buddy for, what… two years. And he's never once mentioned where he lives? What about his family, what are they like? Has he talked about them?" That sickly feeling from before, when she had asked Buddy about his parents, came back full force; enough so that she had unconsciously grabbed at her stomach.

Instinctively, she knew something was up.

The feeling only grew worse as she analyzed her husband's lost and worried gaze.

"No… no, he's never once mentioned any family or home. The few times I have asked, he'd— he'd just switch the subject. And expertly too, he's got quite the way with words for being so young."

"Bob, you don't think that maybe he's…"

"...homeless?"

The newlyweds felt terribly on the same page, their minds imagining a little eight-year-old boy with blazing red hair, cowering inside a beat-up cardboard box within a dark and cold alley.

At least they were no longer as worried about being sued anymore.

A/N:

Voyage Translation:

"You would not be so disrespectful if I decided to rearrange your face."

"I will respectfully refuse, girl, goodbye."

So… how do you guys like my interpretation so far? I'd like to apologize for all the extra, unnecessary long lines; they weren't letting me use my normal "with the same POV" cut-offs, anymore...

It seems the Goldens are getting some facts confused and wrong in concern to Buddy; which honestly isn't their fault since the boy is too proud and embarrassed to admit he's an orphan to his hero.

Next chapter, Winn and Ev will finally have a talk about Buddy.

Buddy, himself, will have some revelations concerning Supers and Villains; whether they are the correct conclusions and not just his assumptions, remains to be seen ;).

I… am not certain that the Goldens will make an appearance in Ch 4? I want to bring them in but they seem to be escaping my plot-grasp currently; Stubborn Supers.

Have a lovely day/night, everyone!