Chapter XXI
The Final Death of Syndrome
The dawn saw three vehicles rolling off the ship docking in Naka Ward, Yokohama, Japan: one blue Harley in the lead sporting a man and his wife, a sleek Bel Air following brought up from behind by a biker in black, lonely on his ride.
Violet sat in the back of the Incredibile, pounding head leaned against the cool glass of the window. Her mother was next to her, Dash in the front seat, wanting a birds-eye view of everything. They'd never been to Japan before, and he and Bob seemed to be the only ones in high spirits.
Helen had found Violet curled in the Incredible that morning when she brought the bags out to pack in the trunk. Crawling inside, she had sat, stroking her daughter's hair until Violet woke up, at first confused with her location, and then shattering all over again as the words from last night slowly dripped back into her memory, thick and sticky with poisoned words and the symptoms of a hangover. She had been grateful when her mother didn't ask why her face crumbled, why Violet hid the ruin of an expression behind her hands, or why it took so long for her to compose herself.
But now Violet was just angry.
Buddy had been right about one thing and one thing only: they had been totally plastered, their emotions swimming in an ocean of liquor totally stranded from any shore of sense.
Everything else he had said was complete bullshit.
As they followed MacConnell's lead like a short funeral procession, Violet drained two water bottles and forced her throbbing head to think: so plan A, Heal The Wounds didn't work. It was time to create plan B, Knock Heads Together. And as she sorted through all that had come to pass and all she wanted to follow, Edna's words floated to the top of the churning thought-dark sea:
Good luck. Fight. Win.
After all, Violet was a hero, as she was so harshly reminded the night before. Her entire makeup was designed for victory. And so far, if she was honest with herself despite all the worry and doubt, she had rather perfect stats when it came to victory: keeping her brother safe on the island, saving her parents safe from Screen Slaver, countless little victories over the years, Fell and their current mission (so far without any broken noses on either side).
She wasn't about to let some freckled, metal-made ginger change that.
Through the lens of sober rationality, she was able to see three things clearly from Buddy's villain speech: One, the most frightening, was the fact that the moron had it in his head that this mission was going to kill him. It made a little more sense now, why this man who had, as Syndrome and Ultra been so meticulous in his planning, was now acting so rashly, and with such speed. For all his impatient attitude, Buddy was, in fact, able to wait for a very long time. Good God, time meant nothing to the man! Fifteen years for Mr. Incredible, eight years to escape Fell, gathering information all the time, plotting and thinking.
He made grandiose plans with his victory in the middle of it. So the fidgety restlessness about leaving, getting the mission over with, just blowing the place to high heavens and nothing more were the same jitters she had felt when entering a fight she wasn't sure she could win but knew she must fight.
Less fatal, but more dangerous to her current problem, was how the idiot saw himself eternally as the villain of her story. Despite all his bluster and protest, it was a role he inhabited easily, as a comfort. Violet had hidden behind baggy clothes and hair and stairwells, even behind her civilian life because the soft pain of being ignored was more palatable than the terrifying prospect of being seen. In the library of suffering, people were always drawn to the stories that were familiar. Being cast out from heroes was familiar to him, pain he knew and knew he could handle. But Buddy had set up an entire identity as a backup plan, his real identity safe and far from Syndrome's antics. Why could Syndrome have such an escape to freedom, but not the man himself?
Perhaps he was right twice over (though that was all the grace an irate Violet was going to give him): the mask, the life of villains and heroes, of mortal gods playing across the world's stage wasn't living. It was a lesson her father had to learn at the foot of an active volcano, one she had finally come to understand on the steps of a courthouse. And it was a lesson Violet planned on etching into Buddy as deep as muscle memory. It wasn't a life, but the alternative did not automatically mean death.
However, sedately resting in that vocation made him blind to everything around him-Buddy claimed he was nothing like Violet, that he couldn't give her the life she was used to and wanted to return to. He said this with his mother's pendant around his throat, his friends willing to risk their lives for him mere yards away, and a father expecting another postcard across the sea. He had exerted so much effort to get Violet to see that her dichotomy of villains and heroes was a mirage of morality and yet could not turn that same critical eye inward–so ready to believe in a psychological unaltered "code".
For such an intelligent creature, Bartholomew Pine was probably one of the stupidest people she had met in quite some time.
He had worked for weeks to get her to truly see him-and finally Violet did. But the moment he was stripped bare from the armor of smart-mouthed villain and rough, tough vigilante, he turned tail and ran. He was afraid.
Well, he could get over it.
After all, Violet had when he had torn her morals and parents and ideals from the pedestals she had placed them on, keeping them free of the fingerprints of scrutiny and examination. But it wasn't just his stubborn refusal to see their situation in any other light but the one he cast-the other half of the problem sat with her now, for the third point he had made rang loudest in her ears. Your mother already threatened…
Violet had desperately sought out where the source of Buddy's sudden surrender came from, and it turned out the fountainhead was currently sitting beside her. Violet's eyes turned onto her mother. All this time she had fretted over her father killing Buddy for so much as liking his daughter, and like an oedipal fool, Violet had been blind to Helen's reactions.
The woman herself felt her daughter's stare and turned. "Alright? Want another water?"
Violet shook her head. Sitting up, she leaned towards the dashboard. "Incredibile, chauffeur mode."
Immediately the back bench seat slid back, allowing a panel to rise up from the floor of the car, bisecting the space, equipped with a tinted black window she could roll-up. As she cranked the handle, she caught her father's glance in the rearview mirror. She didn't explain. Before the women were sealed off she heard Dash mutter, "Are they gonna have girl talk?"
Helen sat up, ready to listen, to comfort a daughter scorned by a man she believed unworthy. "What's going on honey?"
Violet didn't answer for a while, a little unsure about how to begin-or at least, how to begin civilly. So she didn't try. "So when exactly between now and the festival were you planning on cutting off his dick?"
"Violet!" The shock melted from Helen's face as she realized there was only one way for the girl to know that particular threat. "Whatever he told you about what I said, I only meant..."
"You only meant for him to leave me alone," Violet concluded. "You meant for him to hurt me now, rather than later. You only meant to tell him to go home and didn't think that would backfire?"
The older hero folded her arms, brows knitting. "Now you listen to me, young lady-"
"I'm not a young lady, Mom. I don't know where you've been the last few years but I'm not a kid anymore. I don't need to be protected and sheltered-look at how good that worked the first time!"
"I'm your mother," she snapped. "It's my job to protect you no matter what age you are! Especially in this. Violet-honey-please understand I don't want you to be hurt. I don't ever want to see you cry, but it's better that this happens now than later when you're more attached. It would hurt worse when it failed with more investment."
"And how do you know that? Did you see it in your crystal ball? You don't know the future Mom. You don't know him."
Helen's voice raised. "Of course I know him. I know him, and I know people like him, no matter what story he spun you about how evil I am! I'm trying to help you before something awful happens!"
"He told me nothing." Violet turned so she could face her mother fully. "He said nothing, made me think it was all his idea to stop while we're ahead when it was you making him think that no matter what he does, no matter how many times he dies, there's nothing he can do to change his role in the world. You were the one who made him feel like we were doing something wrong but you won't make me feel that way." Before her mother could protest, Violet went doggedly on: "But I'll tell you what he did say-he thinks he's going to die on this mission, did you know that?"
Helen's mouth clicked shut, and she had to look away, her face twisted in sadness now more than anger. But she didn't protest, she didn't even act shocked.
Violet's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God, he did. Oh my God, you knew." She fell back against the door, shocked and sickened. Would everyone become a stranger to her before this was done? Violet couldn't bear to think that her kin was as callous as this, to stay silent about a man's death wish simply because he wasn't like them, because it was inconvenient. You think no one else can have a redeeming feature-you slap the label villain on there and you expect the world to just follow suit.
"Now you wait a minute, Violet Parr-!"
"You know, I used to think I was too empathetic, that's why I wasn't cut out for hero work. That's why I became a doctor because then I'd put that weakness to use. But you know what? I think I couldn't be a hero because I'm the only one that sees people as people instead of just parts of a team–looking out only for who's on our side! Were you happy? Did you use that against him-are you hoping he does?!"
"No!" Helen slapped her hand against the seat. "I will not be made the enemy here, Violet! I don't want him to die! I would never want that to happen, and you know that! I would never wish that. I just want him to stop poisoning you against us!"
She almost laughed straight in her mother's face. "What are you talking about? He hasn't-"
"Hasn't he?" Helen held up her hand, counting off on her fingers. "You lied to us, you lied to us for months when we could have helped. You hid all of this from us, Syndrome being alive, how you got out, Fell and Ultra! He's killed under that name if you've forgotten! I was afraid you were actually going to let them cut that man open just for your answers! You think I could be so hateful as to want him to die. You've changed and I'm afraid that he'll convince you that his methods are worth-"
"What? Worth not improvising? Planning instead of going off instinct and pure dumb luck?" Every encounter Violet could think of had been a scramble-a desperate attempt to get off the back foot, a surprise and reaction. From the island to Screen Slaver to the various villains they had taken down as a family in her teenage years. It had always been based on the pure kismet of them as a unit-but it left their parts totally defenseless. Buddy's value of self-sufficiency was not something to be scorned. "Because hey, we're superheroes what's the worst that could happen?"
"You could die!" Helen looked like she was choking back tears at this point. Apparently, their volume was testing the soundproofing of the divider, as Bob was glancing repeatedly in the rearview mirror, and Dash had twisted to watch the fight deafly. "I know men like him. Men like your father–and he is just like him! Men who think they can do anything, handle anything! He'll get himself into trouble because he knows best and you'll follow because you want to save him and you could die!"
"You don't know tha-"
"Don't I? What do you think happened on that island, Vi? Do you think I didn't consider that your father wasn't cheating? That he was in real danger? And then I had you and your brother there-all because of his choices and mine.
"Because I love him, I will always risk my life for him. My life means nothing if I can't my family; it's not worth having without all of you-and I see that you're following that same path with a man who's ten times worse, ten times as reckless, who doesn't have our moral compass! I know you love him, and it scares me to death what you'll do for it! I almost lost you once, and I didn't even know it and I can't…"
Helen stopped, the tears finally coming. She swallowed, turning away from her daughter, covering her mouth. Violet saw Dash look at her, concerned. Violet shook her head and held up a hand, signaling for him to wait.
"I can't. I can't go through that again." Helen hung her head, speaking softly to her boots. "I can't explain to you what it's like to see your child...your baby girl dragged from some God-forsaken forest, looking like a corpse. You were almost dead and I didn't know at all-I had no inclination. Nothing. I could have lost you, Violet." Her mother's shoulders slumped, finally crumbling into her tears. She patted her chest lightly as if telling herself to calm down.
"I was so happy when you went to medical school when you got out of the business. I was overjoyed because you weren't in danger anymore. At least Dash can run and Jack-Jack can hide. But you-you will always defend. That's how you're built. In every fight, I saw how you put yourself first, flung yourself in front of danger for people you loved. And now this man comes along, and you love him and he will go to places I can't even imagine-and I don't know if he will try to stop you. And who will protect you? Would he even try? And then, how will you ever come back to me?"
She turned red streaming eyes onto her firstborn. "I just...I don't want you taken from me again. I know you're not a kid, I know you know the risks. But you're my child. You always will be. And Syndrome is taking you away from us. Maybe he's not kidnapping you and maybe he's not brainwashing you–maybe you'll choose to go–but I just got my daughter back. Can you blame me for not giving you up again?"
Violet looked down at her hands. She couldn't imagine having a child, let alone losing one. She had almost seen her little brother gunned down, her littlest kidnapped and it haunted her for years. Actually losing them...she couldn't fathom that pain. She would die before that would happen–
And she would prove her mother right.
Her father too had warned her about shouldering the world alone. She took it upon herself, always defending, always saving, sparing someone else the trouble of it. Even without Shadow, she was a protector. She would never have a satisfied mind if she did not do all she could to save those she loved. And it must scare those she loved half to death.
"I'm not turning away from you," Violet said, the vitriol finally exsanguinated from her. "I...when I was there, when I thought I was going to die, you and Dash, Dad and Jack-Jack were all I could think of. I wanted to come back, to come home to you again. When I was lying-I did it because when it was all over I wanted to just come home again. I was trying to keep it safe because I wanted it to be home again. Nothing and no one will change that. You guys saved me. You gave me the strength to fight on, to make sure I came out alive." She patted her pockets and finally found in her jacket the folded handkerchief she had washed in the hotel sink back in America, handing it to her mother.
"And," here she let out a huff of laughter devoid of humor, "you gave me my loyalty to what is right, Mom. And that annoys him more than anything-he told me once, that I could probably kill really easily with my power, and you saw how he fought me over Martin. But I didn't let him do it, and I told him I would never kill like that. I choose not to because I choose what's right, just like you taught me: you said when the time was right, I would know what to do. And sometimes that means going against what 'we' might do. Look at what we're doing right now."
Helen took the cloth, her thumb running over the little horse on the corner. Violet could see in the good light that the animal was actually made up of the letters Pine. Still, her mother wiped her eyes with the villain's token.
"Just listen to me." Violet waited until Helen was done cleaning herself up before she continued: "When I went to school, when I refused to become an agent it's because I couldn't stand the way it was, Mom. The endless cycle, nemesis after nemesis seeking revenge. It never changes, it never stops-nothing ever changes. We never change, and that's how they got this far. How do you think we missed Echo? Because we're so blindly loyal to our people."
"Loyalty isn't a bad thing, Violet."
"Loyalty is only as worthy as those you give it to. Fell and Elliot, they banked on us never suspecting our own." Violet touched her mother's arm. She was warm and pliable under her touch-still the same mother, the same feel, the same scent, the same wide bright eyes looking at her. Even if she seemed a stranger before, Helen would always be Mom-understanding if strict.
"If we can't acknowledge that, if we don't start thinking it can be people like us, then this is all for nothing. It'll happen again, and we'll trust evil men simply because they're familiar, and we'll be just as blind-sighted. Just like Evelyn, just like Elliot.
"And if we keep refusing to accept help from people just because they aren't like us, isn't that just as bad as when they made us illegal? It's not the masks or the costumes or even the agency badges that make us what we are-it's not even our blood: if it was, Dad wouldn't have been saving people from burning buildings when we were in hiding. It's our choices. We choose to do things others can't or won't. So why is it so hard to think that people like Ultra can't choose too? Didn't Mirage? Why can't he get the same chance we were given?"
"And you're trying to say Syndrome is worthy of loyalty?"
"If you haven't noticed Mom, he hasn't been Syndrome in a long time. How many more supers does he have to save to prove it to you? How many more scars does he have to get?
"I'm not saying I forgive what he did, or how he is. But Buddy is trying. He broke my heart because you told him to stay away. Do you think Syndrome would have done that? The man he was would have laughed in your face and gone a lot further just to prove he can. But he chose not to. He chose to listen to me, he chose not to run off and leave us behind. He keeps choosing not to smack Dash into next week. He's given up payback, so why are you trying to take yours?
"First it was Syndrome's revenge, and now he's at your mercy and you've cut him down, and the cycle begins again; over and over. We were given a second chance, and if we deny him that, keep choosing to keep things the way they were before, then nothing changes. Just us, into the people we were trying to fight. It'll all happen again and again and again and everything we do is useless, and we'll never get that shiny new generation Suratt keeps going on about, better and wiser from the mistakes before. "
The silence was almost too loud for Violet as she waited. Just as Buddy had accused: she had no snappy comebacks or catch phrases to sum up her ideals; her speeches weren't concise and easy to memorize, filled with witty turns of phrase that could fit easily in a newspaper blurb. But it was all she had to offer; her thinking, her logic, and so-called wisdom. For a long time, she thought her mother was going to disregard her, to say that there could be no forgiveness for the man who had reunited them as a family, albeit in the most backward way possible. Helen folded the damp handkerchief again and again until it was a small thick square in her palm, mouthing Buddy with some incredulity.
Finally, she asked, "How do you know you love him, and it's not just that you both survived something terrible?"
Violet smiled a little sadly. This was the last line of defense she herself had clung to before giving in and recognized their attachment as love; that they were just matching scars, familiar pain to take comfort in. "Because I don't love his hurt, I love him. I love him even when I'm so mad at him I could spit-I still love him even now. And because he makes me better, he pushes me to be better. Maybe he did change me, change how I see things. But those changes saved my life, they helped me to protect better, to help me do more right, not less."
The car stopped at a red light and a low rumbling on either side signaled that they were flanked by the bikes. Violet looked out her window, and sure enough, Buddy was there on Baby. He leaned back, hand hovering where her legs should have been before he remembered himself. The sleek helmet turned towards the car. He couldn't see through the Incredibile's tinted windows, but he didn't have to. He knew who was inside, once again separated from him by glass. The light barely turned green before he sped off in all haste.
"What will you do when this is over," Helen asked. Violet turned back to her mother, who had been watching her stare after the black rider. "What are you trying to create? Live as Shadow and whatever he will be, or just as Violet...Pine?" At least she didn't spit out the name. "Try to get us all to be a family? Do you think you can?"
Violet lowered her eyes. She couldn't see that future clearly, she only had fragmented pieces of things she wanted to happen; those quiet moments she had dreamed up on ship. But beyond that, it was a nebulous idea, like a road ahead on a misty morning. It wound before her, and she would travel down it without hesitation or deviation, but she could not see far beyond where she currently stood. All she knew were two solid facts: she loved him, and she wanted him. It did seem an impossible future, but many impossible things had happened to her in just a few short months-so many that the concept of implausibility seemed almost trite now. "Isn't that what you tried to do after the lawsuits?"
"You saw how well that worked."
Violet glanced out the window again, the buildings flying past in a blur once more. "Then I'll learn from you. Your mistakes and your victories, and I'll try to do better. The best that I can." She lowered her head, her hair sliding off her shoulder to curtain her face. Carefully, without wanting to, she pushed it back behind her ear. No more hiding, even if it felt good. "I don't know what we will be, or how, or even if we can. I don't even know if whatever this is will be strong enough to last. But I know it's right for me now-just like I knew about school and about leaving Shadow behind, and I'm starting to trust that instinct." Violet took a shuddering breath and glanced up. "You said when the time comes, I'd know what to do. I'm asking you to trust that instinct, again."
"I still don't like it," her mother decided at last. "I don't like him. But...you're right. He did save you. And he did try to do the right thing, even when I didn't expect him to listen to me." Helen handed her the handkerchief back. "But I'm not convincing your father. That's something you will have to do on your own, Violet."
"And if I do?"
"Then I'd say, you earned it. Changing your father's mind is a trial, and it really would be doing the impossible." Helen chuckled wetly, still a little teary-eyed, and Violet knew she had won. "Again. You have a knack for making the unthinkable reality, Violet. It's almost a superpower." Helen pressed a hand to her daughter's cheek. "I'm just so tired of seeing you hurt, honey. That's all I tried to protect you from…" Her stroking thumb hesitated. "But I guess you did learn from me–student surpassing the teacher and all that. Don't need me anymore, huh?"
Violet held her mother's hand to her face. Helen's worry about losing her daughter manifested in fear of her turning, but it was an old maternal hurt, one that mothers were inevitably cursed to feel; she no longer had a little girl, but a fully grown daughter. And now, Violet felt it keenly. "I still need you, Mom," she said, finally choking up. "That's why you're here, I need you with me. I know this is right, but I'm barely making it through. This mission, this…thing with Buddy–I know what I have to accomplish but I feel like I'm just stumbling through and I need you."
Even if it was only for a moment, the feeling of Helen's warm arms pulling her close and holding her so tight, Violet almost felt like her broken pieces were mended again. "I love him," she whimpered. "And he just…like it didn't mean anything."
"I know, but he didn't mean it, Vi. That stubborn ass loves you, I know it. I saw it, God help us all. It'll get fixed. Hush now, no more crying." Violet clutched at her mother's frame as Helen squeezed, and she let go of her poor battered heart, letting it rest inside the safety of her mother's embrace to heal, indulging again in that fantasy of parental words fixing wounds.
The manor they drove up to was deep in the mountainous land just outside of Tokyo, nestled safely and secretly somewhere between Mount Odake and Mitake if Dash's map reading was correct. Thirty minutes after they escaped the gridlock of the city and wound their way up the solitary path they finally pulled up to a building that looked like the architect had drawn the quickest and simplest sketch of a Shinto shrine and built off it. Minimalist in its sloping lines, pointed peaks, and all-glass walls, Violet could see Buddy's modernist flare, even as it attempted to accommodate the aesthetic of the land it was built upon.
They were not alone. A black car was waiting for them when they arrived, as well as four crates stacked before the front door. Mac pulled right up to the visitor, letting his wife off. The driver of the black car stepped out and opened the back door, handing out a small woman nearly as tall as her raven hair was long. Violet, upon exiting her own vehicle, noticed the similarity to Mirage immediately. The same round face and pointed chin, the almond eyes (though they were darker than Natalya's), and only slightly devious smile that pulled at the woman's cheeks the same way.
Mirage bowed shallowly, and her cousin followed suit before they were kissing each other's cheeks. Their aide into the Tanaka festival was introduced to as Meiko. She welcomed them, embracing MacConnell as a new member of the Sato family, and explained that the creates were filled with food (and an overdue wedding cake) since the house had lain practically abandoned for nearly a decade and they had no time for such nonsense as grocery shopping.
As Violet approached, Meiko was reaching back into the car, taking out a shiny, black lacquered box. At odds with the very Japanese container, there was a gold gilt Grecian temple engraved into the wood. She held it out for Mirage to open, who hesitated, looking at her dust-encrusted gloves.
"I'll do it." Violet took the box-surprisingly heavy-and carefully placed it on top of the crates, easing the top open. Nestled inside plush hills of red velvet was a bottle shaped like a roman vase, filled with shimmering, swirling gold liquid, a black silk domino mask, and a cream envelope that seemed like it was half the weight of the package when Violet lifted it up. Carefully peeling up the wax seal, she eased out the thick black cardstock and read the golden stamped words:
Hatori Tanaka cordially invites Bartholomew Pine and party
To the annual Tanaka Summer Matsuri
Come, makers of the world, and celebrate the lush season like gods
Enjoy our very own blend of ambrosia, a toast to your divinity!
Violet felt like vomiting. Holding the thick paper invitation made it all too real–too tangible. They were going right into a den of vipers who thought themselves deities, 'makers of the world'. "Thank you, Meiko." She followed Mirage's example and attempted a shallow bow, even as her stomach roiled.
Meiko had a deeper voice, as pleasant as the feeling of thick chocolate sliding down the throat, and seemed impassive to Violet's obvious dismay. "You are welcome. I only ask that you not make too large of a mess. I do not often run with Tanaka, personally, but it is said that his daughter is married to a yakuza lord."
"Are we putting you in danger?"
The woman smiled, smoothing down the skirt of her silk sheath dress. She was impeccably clothed, not a single pin-straight lock of hair out of place. Edna would have adored her. "Oh no, the Sato family is not in danger. But it would simply be...inconvenient for us to be tangled with such people. And unpleasant for the balance of the Tokyo underworld for us to totally remove one entire branch of yakuza hierarchy simply because they decided to seek revenge in the wrong place."
With that, Meiko made her goodbyes, and Violet glanced at Mirage, who took her cousin's implications with serenity, waving her off as the sleek car drove away. "I thought your father was a marine?"
"He was," Mirage said with a sly smile, already kneeling to inspect the crates. "A younger son, able to run free and do what he wished, like move to America, join the military and marry a Russian school teacher he met in Germany."
Violet raised her brows and glanced at MacConnell. He merely shrugged. "Sato women-they scare the bejesus outta ya. Wonderful, ain't it?"
Beyond them, Buddy had taken off his helmet and began working on opening the front door. The scanner that would have recognized his palmprint was cracked and worn from years of neglect, and he was forced to enter in a numerical passcode. The buttons stuck and snapped as he pushed, obviously felled by the same conditions as the scanner. Failing that, he went for his tools to dismantle the panel altogether. A few swear words and a shower of sparks later, the gears in the door began to rumble.
"Watch the windows," Mac cautioned. "Breaking the seal might weaken them."
Buddy backed up, watching the door with apprehension. Finally, with a great sucking and rattling of aforementioned windows, the door popped loose with a hiss. Still, it needed some effort to wrench open.
As soon as Buddy stepped into the walkway proper, a panel on the wall flipped, blue light scanning over his face and body. It took a second, but with a deep, bone-tingling hum, light bloomed within the manor.
A stilted, but pleasant disembodied voice called, "Welcome Home, Sir."
"Finally! I'm actually home-in a real house." Buddy threw his bag to the ground and disappeared down one of the halls, only to reappear moments later from a doorway further down, gripping the frame as he swung back into the entrance and ran into the den. He reminded Violet of the way she and Dash would run about a new home whenever they were replaced, making it their own with their excited haste. Skidding to a halt before the couch, he stretched his arms high above his head and fell face-first into the blocky grey cushions, sighing in contentment. Muffled, he gave the command, "Computer, begin self-diagnostics and ventilation cycle."
"Yes sir. Estimated completion time-seventy-two minutes."
Violet blinked, finally placing the voice "Is that Majel Barrett?"
"Yeah! A damn near match, don't you think? I-" Buddy had flipped over as Violet entered, sitting up and grinning smugly. He seemed about to go on one of his familiar tirades about just how clever he was in his programming-and then remembered: they were fighting, and it was 'better' this way. His glee melted off, and Violet felt the anger return. At least it burned away the nausea Tanaka's invitation had left.
He muttered something about preparing and disappeared up the stairs. Behind her, MacConnell and her father were carrying the creates, Mirage directing them to the kitchen while her mother and brother brought in their bags. Left alone, Violet decided to explore.
There was a familiarity to the space, as the Parrs had been living in a house of similar design for eight years. But instead of the warm fashionable colors of red and orange that were meant to compliment Illinois' autumn in their home, this house was all silver and white, the odd grey accent and exposed mahogany walls and beams breaking up the brightness. Her heart hurt a little, recognizing the similarities Fell tried to mimic of Buddy's style in the lab-but it was a poor copy. With all the mad doctor had stolen from Syndicate, style and taste had eluded him.
The walk-in area was open and vast, a chandelier made of glass origami cranes tinkled in the breeze from the newly opened door. Leaving the kitchen in better hands, she stepped down into the den area where Buddy had first gone to. It was much like their living room at home (though the Parrs did not own an impressive piece like the Steinway grand piano that stood proudly near the glass wall dominating the room), with the sitting area sunk into the floor circling the firepit. It was also devoid of the blend of artifice and nature their home in the states carried as well; there were no mountainous boulders artfully chiseled to make walls and shape the room.
Instead what looked like paper dividers were carefully set up to give the living area some structure. Violet went to trace a cherry blossom design on one, and jumped when her fingers met ultra-thin glass-it flickered at her touch, becoming translucent and coming alive with a soft glow, showing a command panel of temperatures in what looked like dozens of rooms. Computer screens thin as paper-ten years out of date, and still centuries ahead of the world. Violet thought about the blocky yellow plastic behemoths that were set up in the NSA, resembling ziggurats more than technology, and of the computer housed in the wall of the lab he had used during their captivity. She shook her head. How he must have hated it, like working with sticks and flint.
She wandered over to the glass wall, peering out at the forestation behind the manor. There was a pool that looked more like a hot spring with a small waterfall, still sputtering as it began to flow again. A large pile of white rocks nearly devoured by ivy sat opposite it, resembling-
"Liam," Violet called, pointing to the structure. "Is that a forge?"
"Aye!" The mechanic trotted out of the kitchen, snapping a fresh carrot he had pilfered from one of the crates in half. He offered her a piece as he came to stand beside her. Pressing a knuckle to the glass, a crack began to crawl across it, smooth and turning in sharp ninety degrees until a door was cut from the wall and swung open at his touch. "I should really be out there stoking it up-get to work as early as possible. Come and help?"
They made their way across the overgrown grass, Violet asking, "You've been here before?"
"Oh, yes, he founded Syndicate here when Pomegranate got bought out. Got the money to start off by selling plans for high-tech housing before they took his weapons seriously. We were rather young to be arms dealers, I suppose, and he always had a flair for sleek design; weapons, planes, houses, and whatever else he scribbles down in his notebooks." After pulling off as many ropes of greenery as he could, Liam tugged open the heavy iron doors, revealing an old pile of ash inside the hearth as well as a few nests from unwelcomed insect guests. "This was one of the prototypes, to show what he could do, and since we were here for so long before buying the island it became our never-ending project, testing out different systems and mechanisms here before selling them out. The lab downstairs is quite impressive."
"He promised to show me," she muttered, flicking her hand and creating a shield inside the hearth, scooping up the pile and sliding it out.
MacConnell smiled his thanks and knelt, searching for the levels to control the blower, checking to see if they still functioned despite the years of disuse. "I take it there was a bit of a shipwreck last night? Or he is just that out of practice?" The engineer glanced over his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "Now don't hold it against him–eight years is a while to be off that particular bike, there are bound to be a few short stops along the way."
"Your friend is a moronic asshole," Violet explained.
"Oh, he's mine again, is he?"
"For now."
"Heaven forbid if I sound as dower as my missus, but you really ought to get this straightened out-won't be a good look having a lover's spat on Tanaka's doorstep." He found the lever, and pulled, hearing the flow of air undisrupted. "Brilliant! That still works. Hopefully, we still have coal inside. Listen, he and I are going to scout out the hotel tonight-I'll-"
"Stay here. I'll go with him instead. Makes more sense, seeing as I actually can go undetected." Violet gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I need to speak with him and he can't get away from me if we are both out on a mission. Don't worry. I'll settle this, one way or another." She bit into her carrot so viciously, and Liam wined slightly in masculine sympathy.
Mirage, acting as de facto hostess since the master of the house had gone missing, ("Already slunk off to his lab" she assumed), encouraged them all to choose one of the many bedrooms upstairs and shower. "Tomorrow, we have to begin preparations," she explained as they ascended the stairs as a group. "Memorising identities, planning out the operation-as well as how to blend in. I know poker and black-jack, but Liam will have to teach us all the basics of ballroom."
"Ballroom dancing," Dash asked, glancing over his shoulder at his current idol who had just slid down a rung in his estimation.
"Is a wonderful talent that impresses, and in a place where the ladies always outnumber the men," the mechanic explained with a smirk.
"We should also try on the clothes Mode sent with you," Mirage continued rattling off her list. "Just in case they need some last-minute alterations-I'm assuming you can sew, Mrs. Parr?"
"I can stitch up a hole-a very small one," Helen said, looking nervous as she reached the landing. The hall was just as minimally decorated as the first floor, silver inlaid in the wood creating sketches of cherry blossom trees and delicate bridges on the mahogany walls, coming to life only in certain slants of light. "I don't think I can do anything to Edna's clothes, though. I'd be too afraid to try."
"We'll just have to make do with safety pins if need be."
Bob tried to allay her worries as he placed his family's luggage down and reached for a bedroom's door handle. "I wouldn't worry, Edna's things always fit. It's a little frightening actually-"
The door swung open before he could turn the handle, Buddy appearing. He was carrying a hamper filled with clothes still on the hangers, books, magazines, and papers. He eyed his former idol and stepped away from the doorway. "Figures you'd want the master-well go on. Just don't go sneaking around in the closet."
Violet's father looked as if he'd rather return to Insuricare than enter the chamber Buddy had just offered, but Helen had no such qualms, rolling her eyes to her daughter before edging past her husband into the room. They had made peace, but Helen was adamant that Bob was Violet's problem.
"What did you get," MacConnell asked, peering over his friend's shoulder. Violet for her part could see several formal-looking documents, an old car magazine, and a Star Trek comic-something she would recognize from ten paces anywhere. No wonder he had let her go on at lengths on the boat about the show.
"Just personal stuff I don't want them touching. Except-" Buddy pulled out a polaroid from the pile and handed it to his successor. "You can keep that."
Liam's brows shot into his bangs and he let out a whistle. "Oh my."
"Wh-" Mirage snatched for the photo, but unfortunately was too slow and too short for her husband's reach when he lifted the picture over her head. "Liam-what is-Buddy what did you keep?"
"Oh relax, it's our prom photo," Buddy snickered. That apparently was worse than a lewd snapshot and Mirage doubled her efforts, Liam mocking her with taunts of 'the hair' and 'is that a corsage or a cabbage'.
"You're not planning on sleeping," Violet asked as Buddy headed towards the stairs again.
He didn't look at her, didn't even break stride. "I'll sleep in the lab."
"You were going to show me," she reminded softly. When he finally paused she offered the first olive branch, no matter how she wanted to take those papers and smack him over the head. "It sounded pretty amazing when you told me."
His shoulders slumped slightly, and when he turned to look at her, there was a look of pained disappointment so open on his features, that Vi felt her anger dissipate, just a little. He was hurting, even if it was by his own stupid actions, and his heart didn't seem to be fairing much better than hers.
She descended a few stairs until she could look him in the eye-she was a tall woman, but Buddy's height only lagged behind her father. It was nice to look him in the face without having to crane her neck for once. Her fingers burned to touch his face, maybe comb back the ruddy locks that fell into his eyes. Her freedom to explore had been cut so short… "Maybe we can finally see if my shields give off atomic radiation? Remember? And I have those schematics you wanted."
She saw curiosity break through the melancholy, lighting up his blue eyes with a spark and tugging his lips into something like a smirk. It was something they shared besides scars: insatiable curiosity, science, and knowledge. It was the way he was considering retracting all the ill will between them just to get at schematics and experiments that Violet loved, even more than how his kiss had made her feel. Seeing the advantage, she pressed on, "maybe we could figure out how to make Baby disappear before-"
"Vi! If you don't choose I'm taking this room with the hot tub bath!"
Dash's call broke the quiet cease-fire between them, a very loud reminder of the wall that separated them. Her family, her place in that unit with no room for a rehabilitated villain by her side. "We all have work to do," he said flatly. "And there's no time. We've wasted enough already."
It shouldn't have hurt, but calling their conversations a waste, no matter how inadvertently, still cut. And she could have reminded him, loudly, that exploring her powers was their work. But Violet had refused to let him reduce her morals, her father, and her own sense of right-she wouldn't let him dismiss their connection so easily either. She stormed back up the stairs, snatching her bag from the floor where her father had dropped it.
"...Princess."
She stopped but didn't turn. "My name is Violet, you know-and I know you know."
He huffed, but merely offered, "the last room on the row-it's got a nice view of the forest, that's all," before descending the stairs.
Violet felt like choosing another room, just to be spiteful. But once she peered into the bedroom he indicated and looked out the double window, she had to admit that the way the mountains arched across the painfully sapphire sky was enchanting. Dumping her bag on the black outfitted bed, she immediately dug for her sack of toiletries and went to the shower. A long hot bath after nearly a month of cold gym-like minute showers sounded heavenly, and with a few hours to go until nightfall, she planned on taking her time.
Dressed in her super suit, Violet barely made it downstairs before Buddy took off on his own into the night. Liam had already informed him of their change in their plans, which had not gone over well if the Scott's uncharacteristically drawn face and fidgeting by the downstairs landing was any indication.
"He's in a right temper," he warned, handing her the old cracked Ultra helmet and a small clear earpiece.
"When is he not," she muttered, following him to the front of the manor. They passed the kitchen, where her mother was already holding court, cooking a meal for those left behind and desperate for something other than ship fare, with Dash as her faithful, if bored, knight of chopping. Her father abandoned his post of stirring the sauce to follow her and Liam.
"Hey, be safe kid," Bob cautioned, taking the helmet from her as she fit the earpiece in. He fell into step as they left the house. Mirage and Buddy were already outside, standing in the pools of light cast by the hanging lanterns that lined the walkway. The darkness beyond was absolute, the forest creating a solid black curtain around them. "Remember, you're invisible, but not soundless. Slow and steady, don't let anyone rattle you."
"I know Dad." Violet bent, flipping her hair over her face to pull it into a high ponytail. Her father did this to Robbie and Dash every time they went out, forcing them to repeat even the basics of fighting and self-defense they knew by heart. But there was comfort in the practice; his small pep talks were like good luck charms to ward off missteps.
"You know what to do when they come after you?"
"Control the end of the gun, then SING."
"And that's...?"
"Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin."
"That's my girl." He handed her back the helmet, but not without a quick kiss on her forehead. He glanced at Buddy, who was still in a quiet hissing match with Mirage over Baby. Both of them stopped seeing Mr. Incredible watching them. "You bring her back in one piece, understand?"
"Have I brought her back any other way," Buddy snapped, flinging his arms open. "She shouldn't even be going-but does anyone ever listen to me?"
The responding 'no' that came from all corners did nothing to help his mood, but he did no more than glare at Mr. Incredible's retreating back.
"The earpiece links back to me directly," MacConnell informed. "Longwave, better than your helmets. We're looking to scout the guard rotation at the hotel, and when you're done with that, get inside and find out as much information as you can. Pine will get into the database to see what Tanaka has planned for the evening and leave a backdoor into the system. Get into the control room, and monitor him. It'll be easier for you, disappearing and all." He dropped three darts into her hand. Violet recognized them–stolen from the unfortunate Martin. "If you can, get a guard's uniform, just in case; that would be excellent."
"What, you don't want the suit Edna gave?"
"It's good to keep our options open," Mirage explained. "Going in as guests is better than attacking as Ultra. But based on what will happen that evening, and where Fell falls into it, we will have to plan accordingly. If we can infiltrate the guards, that's even better, wouldn't you say?"
"I say blowing the goddamn place up with a missile is better than this," Buddy complained.
Mirage ran her tongue over her teeth and headed back towards the house. "Maybe you can explain it to him," she murmured passing Violet.
"Good luck," Liam wished before following his wife.
Violet was going to need it. Buddy knelt, making some final adjustments on the bike, but didn't offer an explanation and Violet didn't ask. Instead, she pocketed the darts and placed her hands on the brat throne asking, "Are you going to be like this during the entire mission?"
"What? Annoyed that you came in and screwed with my plans again? You're right, I should be used to it by now."
"I think my way has benefited you plenty," she defended, attempting to keep a civil tone as she would with a combative patient. "I think I've done pretty well-and a lot if you recall."
"Right, of course. This is what you do after all, how could I forget? It's your job, agent. Saving lives and knowing best."
Violet flushed. It was just him lashing out, looking to hurt, but being accused of the very thing she hated most about her kind wasn't pleasant, real or not. "It's not like I've been bumbling my way through. I kept Elliot off your tail and I helped get you an opening straight to Fell."
"What would I have done without you," Buddy sneered, standing up. "I just found him, that's all. I tracked him all the way to Russia, I've just been siphoning off his cash flow, and-that's right-I saved your life first. I have been busting my ass to get him, and all you've done is butt your way into it. But you always get your way in the end, princess, so you should be pleased."
It had been almost a year since the name was meant as an insult, and Violet didn't appreciate the revival. "Not always," she ground out.
Buddy shook his head and backed up. "Forget it. I'm not going into that."
But Violet grabbed his jacket sleeve, tugging him back towards her. "No-you got to say your piece, and you're gonna hear mine."
Buddy ran a hand through his hair but wasn't meeting her eyes. "Listen, okay? It'll pass. We have more important things to do than talk about your feelings."
Her jaw dropped. "My feelings? It's not just me, Buddy. I know, I felt it if you recall."
His face flushed red immediately, but he wouldn't be shaken. "Okay, I want you, you want me." He came around the bike towards her. "C'mon then, take off your suit and bend over Baby. We'll get this out of our systems and finally move on."
"Uh…"
"Don't do that," Violet snapped, pushing against his chest as he advanced on her. "Don't minimize what this is. You know it's more than just sex, goddamn you. Stop trying to hide behind being a pig. Your reasons are crap, and you know it."
"I don't think-"
Buddy stood his ground, planting his hands on his hips. "Fine! You won't take reality as an answer, how about this? I'm too old for you."
"Uh, guys? I really don't think-"
"Oh, now it's your age? What are you going to say our star signs aren't compatible next? What other bullshit are you going to pull out just to-"
"GUYS."
Both Violet and Buddy clapped a hand to their ears. In the heat of their arguing they had forgotten the signal leading back to MacConnell and ignored his attempts to break in. "As entertaining as this is, I get the feeling that maybe I shouldn't be hearing this."
"How do we shut it off," Violet snapped.
"Two taps off, one tap on," Buddy explained, exasperated and perhaps a little embarrassed, showing her by pressing the piece twice in his ear.
"It's ac-"
Violet tapped twice, and they were left again in silence, nothing but the crickets and the wind as an audience now. And Buddy still wouldn't meet her eyes.
"...Really? 'I'm too old for you'?"
"It's like twelve years."
"I can count thanks."
He ran his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did it ever occur to you, just once, that I'm trying to help you? That I don't want to see you hurt?"
"Too late for that now-"
"Yes!" He flung his hand out, gesturing as if she had made his point. "If we kept going there would have been no turning back and it would have been too late. Jesus, Violet, what don't you get? It's not just your father and your family. It's us. You and me.
"You're a hero-twice over. You're a doctor, too. You save people, even the worst people. You can't be swayed from what you think is right. That's who you are, it's how you're made, and it's in your goddamn blood.
"I made things that destroyed and killed and brought blood and chaos. I'm an arms dealer, a weapon's designer-hell look at me, Violet. I am a weapon! And I do my job damn well. Maybe you could ignore it for a month, maybe a year-throw your mask off a bridge and the badge to follow. But it would always come back to the same thing. Your loyalty and mine aren't in the same place. Yours is to justice or goodness or whatever the hell you want to call it but mine is, and always has been vengeance."
"Vengeance," Violet scoffed. Faster than he could counter, she flung a hand out and dug her fingers into the cloth of his suit, wrapping around the pendant he wore beneath. Clutching, she jerked until he bent, coming face to face with her. "Not to this? Or your father? Or to Mirage or Liam? I'm unconvinced. You've protected all of them, even Nat who betrayed you, and you're telling me you're nothing but venge-"
"I'm not a hero," He screamed, slamming his fist down on the leather of Baby's seat making Violet snatch herself back in surprise. "I'm trying to get you to understand that this picture you have of me is bullshit. And I know what happens when you choose an impossible, bullshit, worthless dream and I nearly fucking died because of it. I'm trying to prevent that for you!"
But the more passionate he became in his speech, the less vitriol Violet had. Because she had seen through how the colors of his words painted such a bleak picture and realized the connection he was making. She felt her heart break all over again. Wetting her lips, Violet stepped up to him, glad when he did not retreat. Carefully, she placed her hand on his. "Buddy, you aren't a worthless choice."
The sentiment seemed to flash through him like an electric shock. He stiffened, jerking back. Had he not realized the comparison he had made? Still, Buddy tried shrugging it off, rubbing his nose, scoffing. "Really? Have you seen the people that choose me, princess? Abandoned, disenfranchised, and hunted. Explain to me the value in that."
Violet reached up and touched his face, holding it in two hands when he tried to pull away from her gloved hands. She wished she could feel his too hot temperature through her mega mesh, feel the smoothness of his face, marred by the ridge of that horribly long scar. "You did create chaos. And blood and weapons and countless other terrible things.
"But just because you chose to create Syndrome doesn't mean you can't choose to create something new. That's a dead man's name and despite what you may believe you're alive. It's easy to hide behind that mask-I should know. I hid behind Shadow because it was easy. It makes you feel safe like no one can touch you because no one knows you.
"You tried to let my father know, Natalya too, then one threw you away while the other betrayed you. They chose glory and heroes over Syndrome, not because they thought you were a worthless choice-it's because you were trying to be something you're not. He was worthless, Buddy, not you."
"I'm not a hero," he repeated quietly.
"Neither am I," she insisted. "I'm not Shadow, and you aren't Syndrome. I'm just trying to do what I know is right. To create something that was better than before."
Buddy lowered his head, pressing into her palms. His fingers glided along her arms, covering her own on his face. Violet thought he might lean a little closer, finally give in-but instead, he took her wrists. Gently, but firmly, Buddy peeled her touch away. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Vi. So was I. I thought I had it all figured out, planned down to the very second. At the time it had felt so right. And look how wrong I was."
"Buddy, don't-"
"We have to go." He cleared his throat and let her go. He tapped his earpiece before sliding on his helmet and swinging over the bike. "We don't have much time before dawn. Mac, can you hear us?"
"Yes," Violet heard the mechanic snap after tapping her own piece before pulling her helmet on. "In fact, I heard the entire bloody thing because two taps mutes me, arsehole. Three taps turns it off."
Two helmeted heads snapped towards each other, and despite not seeing each other's features, embarrassed shock crackled between them. "Everything," Violet nearly whimpered.
"Well, not everything. I turned it down after Pine practically blew out my eardrums."
She heard Buddy heave a sigh of relief. Swinging on behind him, Violet wrapped her arms around his waist-tighter than she needed to. When he tried to adjust her grip, her fingers gripped the mega mesh of his suit.
"I'm not giving up," she vowed, despite their audience. "I defeated Syndrome once, and I'll do it again. I choose you, Buddy."