Parenthood Is…
A Synlet Fanfiction
Rating: T
Chapter Three: Clever
Syndrome liked being Syndrome. Syndrome was brilliant. Syndrome was strong. Syndrome was handsome. Everyone wanted to have brains, brawn, and beauty. He was a triple threat, a magnificent specimen of awesomeness. He would soon become even more awesome when he turned Mr. Incredible's boy into a supervillain of tremendous proportions, perhaps the best in the world!
Well. Second best.
"I always get what I want in the end," said Syndrome to one of his lackeys, smirking proudly with a tinge of evil. Evil was good. Evil was like that extra shake of spice on your steak that makes your eyes and mouth water. Evil was like the flaming marshmallow of deliciousness that was flung on your younger sibling. Evil was the source of the boy's amazement when he stared longingly at a silver ball suspended in mid air within a glass container.
"What is it?" breathed Mammon with wonder.
"That," said Syndrome with a proud smirk, "is the Hypermodulator. It allows me to control the passage of time in short intervals." Syndrome's confident look faltered slightly and a reluctant, bitter side of him appeared in the barest of portions. "I haven't been able to increase its length of functioning past thirty seconds and I have been unable to create a proper source of energy for it." He straightened himself, shook himself free of the ugly bit of information and stared challengingly at his invention. "I'll figure out how to increase it's usefulness past its budget and then I'll be an even bigger threat."
"Oh…" Mammon looked at the thing for a moment longer and then suddenly turned around, looking up at the man, his nose nearly knocking itself against Syndrome's person. The boy pointed at him.
"Are you Syndrome?"
He arched an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"
Mammon blinked. "My sister called you an evil watermelon head." Mammon frowned. "You don't look like a watermelon…"
Syndrome eyes widened slightly with surprise before they shot down in a glare towards the girl's holding area. "I'm an evil watermelon, huh?" he growled, his pride snapping and snarling.
A look of alarm crossed Mammon's face. "Uh oh," he whispered, "I wasn't a'sposed to tell you that." He pulled on Syndrome's shirt. "Don't tell her I told you, please." Mammon leaned in close, whispering. "She won't let me watch Superland Playhouse," he said gravely before letting Syndrome go.
"Yeah," said Syndrome slowly, already beginning to ignore what the boy had just told him. "Suckerband, mhmm…" He began to walk towards the prison cell. "Yeah, I won't tell her."
That irritating she-witch!
He unlocked the door, the doors slid open, and he quickly stepped in, glaring down at the handcuffed girl leaning against the pristine steel walls, her glare just as intense as his.
"I'm not a-"
"You are so a watermelon head," interrupted Violet as-a-matter-o-factly. "Look at you!" She suddenly scrunched up her eyes. "Oh. Wait. I was wrong." She leaned back and closed her eyes as if preparing to declare the mysteries of the universe. "You have a flaming watermelon head." She glared at him again. "Go you."
The doors slammed shut behind him and he took two steps towards her, towering over her. Violet didn't budge.
"I could kill you, you know," he said very seriously with a tinge of arrogance.
"Hmph." Violet turned her nose up at him. "You would never make it, you know."
Syndrome pulled back slightly in confusion. Quickly, he fixed his appearance and loomed over at her, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, I would never make it?"
Violet gave him a look that commanded him to not treat her like an idiot. "I remember your last declaration before you were diced and sliced and turned into supervillain stew." She stretched her face and exaggerated her expressions, booming in a not so flattering imitation of him. "I'll get your son! I'll get your son!" She blew a raspberry. "Whatever. You think that all you have to do is zap evil rays in him and it's going to be all cotton candy and gumdrops." She gave him a pointed, pinning, shrewd look. "You have no idea what it is to be a parent."
Syndrome pulled back fully this time, eyes drawing down as this new, but obvious piece of information showed itself, puffing out its chest as it realized how important it was.
Oh crap.
"You don't- that is, I am-" Syndrome's realization grew into slight panic. What the hell was he doing with a five year old kid?! He could barely wash his whites!
"Ah hah!" Violet threw her head back in triumph. "I knew it! You're more witless than a rock!"
"Don't think you have room to criticize me woman because you don't!" He would have sounded very scary were it not for the alarm that was still blaring in his head when he realized that he would have to raise the child.
Alone.
By himself.
"You know," said Violet far too casually, "you could, I don't know, just… let us go, and then you wouldn't have to worry about tantrums and spaghetti covered walls." She gave him a tempting look. "C'mon. You know you want to."
Syndrome was a hair's breath away from agreeing with her full heartedly, even turning towards her and looking at her to beg to her to leave his ship immediately with that little bundle of snot. But looking at her, seeing the slyness, the determination-
The same infuriating look of bravery that shone in Mr. Incredible's eyes.
He smirked at her, scoffing slightly, causing her face to fall. "Well, sweetheart," he said with a superior quirk of his eyebrows, "I do admit that you make a great argument."
Violet nodded, some of the color returning to her face. "Of course."
"And raising him would be a burden."
"The biggest one you'll ever know!"
"But."
Violet face fell once more. "But?"
He turned away from her, giving her a crafty sidelong glance. "I'm going to have to decline."
"Decline?" Violet sputtered. "Decline?! But- but you can't!" She pointed in the direction of the boy. "He's a nightmare. A nightmare! Do you want to be the one to clean up his pee sheets when he as a bad dream? Huh? Do you?!" Violet snorted. "Yeah, I don't think so!"
"You're absolutely right," agreed Syndrome full heartedly.
The spunk left Violet, replaced by bland confusion. "Eh?"
"I'm not going to do it." He turned to face her fully, his smirk all-knowing and ever so smug. He pointed at her, his finger bringing down the gavel, ringing the bell, stopping her and not allowing her to pass go and collect two hundred dollars.
"You're going to do it," he declared without lacking any sense of drama.
Violet gaped at him. "I'm going to do it?" She snorted. "No, I'm not! I'd rather stay here in this fabulously decorated prison cell than help you change my brother into a mini-melon of evil!"
"Yes, you will," said Syndrome confidently. "You know why? Because you care about your brother, and I know you wouldn't want to leave your precious baby bro in my evil, tainted, blood-covered hands."
Violet huffed. "True. But he can take care of himself. Don't forget, he's a super, too!"
Syndrome didn't forget about this and thought this was the perfect time to see just how much of a danger the boy was. He stared at Violet intensely, seeing any hesitation, any sign that perhaps maybe she would have to swallow her pride and help the evil watermelon with baby problems-
He smirked when he saw the small flicker of worry.
"You'll do it," he said. "I know you will."
She glared at him. She glared and glared and glared and he swore that he could hear her thoughts praying for heat vision so that she could burn a hole right through the middle of his melonhead.
"You are such an a-"
"Hey! Language!" He laughed at her and she lunged for him only to jerk backwards and slam into the wall. He laughed even harder when he could just see her pride fall around her in tatters.
"I hate you so much," she growled, one eye closed in pain.
"No you don't," he said self-assuredly. "Not yet, at least."
