"How's the situation at home?" Winston Deavor's voice came through the receiver of the phone Buddy kept in his personal den. "This is really turning out to be a week from hell, huh?" The man asked while leaning back in his office chair and his feet up on his desk.
"You have no idea," Buddy murmured back as he sat on the edge of his home office desk, rubbing his eyes. He had spent the entire night hacking into the NSA servers trying to dig up what he could on the incident at the pier but came to the same brief explanations that could be found in the news articles meaning that someone on the inside was hiding something. A quick guess would be Dicker trying to protect Violet somehow but he couldn't say for sure. Not without proof. Turning his eyes to the monitor that displayed Violet still in bed, he racked his head on how he should best approach the situation, but it was obvious to him that the super was currently a flight risk.
"I'm not sure when I'll be able to make it back to the office, Win. I can work remotely though I just need to-"
"Hey, woah there, champ. Don't worry about it!" Winston said cheerfully. "I know you are good for the work- hell- with the numbers you produce I was worried that all you did was work, but I'm happy to know you've got a life on the outside. How is your dog by the way?"
"Come again?" Buddy asked, honestly confused.
"Oh- sorry, it's just that, well, yesterday Cliff told me you had a dog at home? Is she alright?" Winston asked with concern. "She didn't, you know, did she?"
"Oh, my dog, yeah no, she is fine. Yup, just fine. A bit lethargic actually but she'll turn around no problem," Buddy said, silently mouthing curses to himself. Leave it to HR to divulge information that they shouldn't. But he should have made some other excuse to leave early yesterday, or at the very least not liken Violet to a domestic animal.
"Oh good, that's swell to hear James. What's her name? And the breed?" Winston asked excitedly. "You'll have to bring her to the office! When she is well that is."
Buddy stared at the ceiling with regret. He couldn't justify blaming Violet for this mess, he was the one who had brought it up to Cliff, but he was going to pin the disaster on the super anyway. To keep up this charade he would have to invest in a dog now. The gravity felt heavier somehow in this moment, in this room. He was unraveling, off his game. Like Issac Newton's apple was cracking his skull for the mistake of parking himself against the wrong tree.
"Apple. Her name is Apple, and I don't know the breed, she's a rescue. Bit of a mix, but I don't think she plays well with others," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as Winston cooed with delight on the other side of the line.
"Well, as soon as she is well enough to travel I expect to see this mysterious Apple for myself! I've got a way with animals. Anyway, I'm going to let you get to it and don't worry about coming in tomorrow either. I'm really hoping to see Apple on Monday though!"
"Goodbye, Winston. I'll see you Monday," Buddy replied before dropping the phone onto its resting place as he focused on the monitor again.
As far as he knew, Violet hadn't eaten a thing in the last 24 hours at least. He debated on letting her come out on her own time, but he was a very impatient man.
Violet's eyes were heavy and red from the combination of crying and a very broken sleep pattern. She couldn't say if she slept for 12 minutes or 12 hours, but even that mattered little. She just wanted to sleep and wake up somewhere far from here. Or maybe not wake at all.
The door opened and Violet didn't budge from her spot. There was no threat that Syndrome could taunt her with in this current moment. Violet wished this weren't the case. It was selfish, wasn't it? To not care? Though that wasn't entirely true. The social worker acting as a therapist within the NSA told her that sometimes we care so much we aren't able to act on our emotions- or some garbage like that.
Maybe if she had kept going to those sessions she wouldn't be in this mess right now. That she would have stayed in the hero gig that was begging for her to come back. Maybe she would have had the willpower to sit up and strike her captor again, to find the courage to reject the tray of food he placed on her nightstand.
Violet blinked at the sight of the bowl of soup and glass of water that Syndrome placed beside her. Her eyes didn't waver, not until Syndrome inserted himself into the frame. He was kneeling, an arm draped across the mattress and his chin pressed over the limb as he tried to have his eyes meet hers.
"You need to eat something," he said rather softly. Violet motioned to roll away from his gaze but the hand that wasn't on the bed was on her shoulder, locking her in place. "Parr, you need to eat."
"Next you'll tell me that I need to do more parlor tricks for you," she mumbled dryly, her eyes on the glass of water briefly, wanting to reach for it, but to do so would be an act of weakness. She shifted her eyes to Syndrome and blinked slowly as he moved his hand to her forehead.
"Well, I can't ask you to dance today, monkey. You've gone and given yourself a fever…" he murmured, making a face that was more analytical than concerned. Getting to his feet he walked to the bathroom in her room and rustled through the cabinets and came back with a bottle of ibuprofen and produced two of the tablets into his hand. Setting the bottle down onto the nightstand before he took a seat on the bed holding out the pain relief in one hand as the second brought the water over.
Violet wanted to remain spiteful, but she had to admit that she didn't have the energy to fight him now. Sitting up, she plucked the pills from his hand, popping them into her mouth before taking the glass from his hand and washed them down. She winced as she nestled back into the pillows and kept her eyes closed as she gripped the glass tightly. She hoped he'd leave after the complying but she could still feel the pressure of his presence.
"If I take a bite, will you go away?" She asked. He didn't seem pleased with the question, but he wasn't furious either. Not yet anyways.
"I came here to negotiate, Parr. And I don't know about you, but I prefer to do business with something in my stomach," Syndrome replied as he reached for the glass in her hand, which she relinquished without question. "I'm not going to force-feed you though."
"Mmmm, you sure about that?" Violet asked, opening her eyes and met his eyes by will. "You haven't had a problem forcing me to fight your toys or stay underneath your toys," she stated before taking another sip of water as he nodded in agreement.
"Well, I'd really rather not end up with hot soup in my lap- but maybe I'll shove some spaghetti in your face later," He said with a smirk and she actually smiled at the empty threat too. "Last night, before I… What conditions are you looking for?" Syndrome asked quickly, trying to make a recovery from driving down the wrong road again. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to deal with this now. She couldn't deal with it now, but if not now then it could be never. Syndrome probably saw this act as an olive branch but it was whiplash to her. Going from the most despicable thing on the planet to a semi-reasonable guy within a day. It was manipulative. That's what bad guys do… No. That's what everyone did. Including her right now.
"First, I don't want to deal with that nanny-bot you made," Violet said, opening her eyes again. "If I have to deal with your stupid robots trying to kill me in your basement then I should at least be able to have a break from potential murder machines up here," Violet stated bitterly.
Syndrome considered the request briefly before giving a nod.
"Alright, fine, done. But if you so much as think about pulling another stunt like the one you did with the mugs I'll have a robot so attached to you we'll call it your hemorrhoid," Syndrome said observing her still, knowing there were more demands to be made but Violet remained quiet for a time, thinking.
"You talked about me having enrichment around here but there isn't anything for me to do other than watch TV, and the only books you have laying around are things on robotics, physics, and stuff. I want to read material with substance. Novels, magazines, autobiographies- not mad scientist manuals," Violet said as she turned her attention to him again. Syndrome bit the inside of his cheek at the last dig but didn't argue, still waiting for the big one.
"Anything else, Parr?"
Violet took in a deep breath and nodded, preparing for the blowback but she had to stand her ground. Even if he refused her she would have to at least show that she wasn't willing to bargain either.
"I'm not going to even attempt to ask for my life or freedom at the end of all this- if there is even an end," Violet said nervously but her eyes showed that some confidence still lingered. "Nor am I foolish enough to think that I can ask you to give up whatever grudge it is that you have against my dad. All that I ask is that you leave the rest of my family out of this."
"No way in hell," Syndrome retorted. "What am I going to have over your head? A book allowance?" The man asked dubiously as he turned his head and stared at the wall ahead. "You took a chance on your own life so clearly I can't just do a good ol' 'I'll kill you if you don't' gag." He motioned to leave the bed, seeing no point in continuing the conversation at hand with such a high demand, but Violet grabbed his hand, keeping him in place. He turned his eyes back to the super, waiting for the compromise.
"Syndrome, wait," Violet started before she pursed her lips together in frustration. "At least keep my brothers off of the chopping block then," she asked. This was going to be her original bargain, but if she learned anything from her crisis negotiations professor it was that you always worked down with demands, not added to them. "Jack-Jack and Dash, they won't be a threat to you at least. Dash is by no means the brightest bulb in the family and Jack-Jack… well he was just a baby when you-"
Syndrome extended the hand that wasn't in her hold out to her. Violet stared at the gesture blankly before looking at his face again.
"You've got yourself a deal, Parr," the man stated and Violet hesitantly lifted her hand off from the one she had pinned down and grasped the hand that was offered, giving it a firm shake. Syndrome was the first to loosen his grip and Violet let her hand drop moving to rest back against the headboard and he moved from the bed and crossed the room, stopping once he was in the doorway. "Oh, and Parr? Nobody calls me that anymore."
Violet stared at him in confusion before processing that she had called him by his villain moniker, or did he see it as his hero name? It wasn't like there was anyone else she could talk to in the place so not having a name to address him by wouldn't make a difference to her.
"I suppose I should just call you asshole, and other terms of endearment then, huh?" she asked, clearly feeling well enough to push the boundaries again. What surprised her though was that he laughed. An actual honest laugh.
"I have a feeling you were going to do that anyway," he chuckled looking back. "I'm going to accomplish the second portion of your ransom list now, among other errands I need to see too. I'll be out for a few hours. I'd suggest you get some sleep, or at least enjoy your cold soup."
Violet gave a single nod and Syndrome shook his head, waving a hand above him as he walked away. Feeling a small sense of victory, Violet laid back down and rubbed at her eyes. He was still a monster in her book, but he wasn't as cold as his robots.
Buddy Pine had driven into town to see to Violet Parr's demands and the task was a little more troublesome than he had originally anticipated. The issue wasn't finding a dealer in books and other reading material, the problem laid in choice. He wished that the woman was a little more specific in her desired reading material. Of course, money wasn't an issue for him, so, he just pulled a few of the books on display, along with some blind choices. Worst case scenario was that she'd hate these more than the 'mad scientist' material he had at home and she could just tell him exactly what she wanted for the next book run.
The bigger problem or at least the more concerning problem was that of the situation of his supposed dog.
Even as a kid, Buddy didn't much care for animals. They were messy, obnoxious, and overall an unnecessary hassle. Buddy wouldn't have had an issue telling another lie to Winston in that his dog tragically died of asphyxiation in the gas leak. That would have been the easier route on the surface. However, Winston Deavor came off as the kind of guy who would go out and buy a litter of puppies to cheer someone up over the loss of a dog. He'd rather deal with the problem of a dog for a few years then be forced with something for a decade. Though the super in his care should have a much longer lifespan- should being the keyword.
Stepping into the Wilco County Animal Shelter, Buddy strolled up to the reception desk and immediately began to fill out an adoption form.
"I'd like to walk out with a dog today, it has to be a female dog," he said without looking up.
"Well certainly, sir. Were there any other traits you were looking for in a companion?" The brunette woman behind the counter asked as Buddy handed back the paperwork.
"A mutt will do. Preferably something older? I'm not in the position to be potty training a puppy," he said moving aside as the woman walked out into the lobby.
"I think that can be arranged mister…" she paused and checked the paperwork he had handed her. "Mr. Everett. If you would follow me please."
Led into the back with the kennels, the stench made him want to go back on the plan instantly but he was already here and he wasn't one to pull out of plans. His eyes shifted from side to side as they walked down the row. All the dogs were barking, he could hardly hear the woman's voice as she recommended rescues. They stopped as the woman pointed to a Doberman and Buddy quickly realized that maybe a smaller breed might be easier to maintain.
He walked ahead seeking out the smaller pens but stopped short seeing a shorthaired brown and white dog. The label on the kennel door placed the dog at 7 years of age, a bull terrier mix who was dubbed as 'Fiona'. The name would have to go, but this was the only dog in the joint that wasn't bouncing off the walls. Maybe she could teach his other ward how to sit still too.
Violet had slept the rest of the day, but she wasn't the least bit worried about ruining her sleep pattern. It wasn't like she was really expected anywhere else. Sitting up she eyed the tray and it had dawned on her how hungry she was.
Still stiff from having her ass handed to her by the POD, Violet slowly made her way downstairs with the bowl Syndrome had brought her. She could have left it for one of his robots to care for but she also wanted to make sure Syndrome was good on his word about giving her access to the devices again.
Barefoot, she trodded into the kitchen and froze seeing a dog hunched over a bowl of food. Syndrome was also in the room, a chicken dinner and a glass of red wine in front of him, but Violet only had eyes for the dog who had finally lifted its head from the bowl.
Violet quickly placed the uneaten soup into the sink and dropped to the floor to greet the dog who was more than happy to climb into the super's lap. Licking her face as she scratched behind the dog's ears.
"Hey there pretty girl, hey," Violet said in near tears. Running her hands over the dog's coarse fur coat, she turned her attention to Syndrome who watched the display with some indifference. "You got me a dog?" She asked, hardly believing she was actually experiencing this. "I know I brought up the whole enrichment factor but this… oh gosh my parents wouldn't even consider letting us get a dog growing up!" She said, hugging the animal as it slumped its entire weight against her frame.
"Actually I-..." Buddy started but stopped himself. He had expected Violet to be in a state of melancholy for at least another day or two, but clearly, the dog had a positive effect. Why shouldn't he take credit for the joy the super was currently experiencing. That and she could take over the animal's wellbeing, which could keep her attention on something else other than him. Two birds, one stone. "Yup. The dog is your responsibility though," he said as he stabbed at a brussel sprout on his plate.
"Thank you," Violet said softly, making the man pause again.
He turned to look her way and found that her eyes focused back on the dog again. He almost replied 'you're welcome' but bit back the words.
"Don't mention it," He said, watching as Violet buried her tear-streaked face into the dog's coat. Maybe his slip up on owning a dog wouldn't be so bad after all.