Chapter XXII
A Path To The Devil
"That one."
Violet took the binoculars from Buddy and peered through. They were on a hill at the very edge of the forest, peering down at the city below, cradled in the valley. Hotel Ambrosia was a large gaudy golden drop in the grey and steel of the metropolitan infestation that encroached on the forest's border. Even without the lenses, Violet could see its uplighting from her position, the dome roof shining brightly against the winking lights of the business district like a gem of amber set in a sparkling diamond ring.
The binoculars Buddy had brought from the lab flashed readouts over the zoomed-in focus, stating temperature, material, and distance of the objects in question. With a quick toggle, she switched to thermal mode. She upped the zoom scale and spied the guards patrolling the hotel, nodding to the staff as they left for the night. Moving slightly downward she was able to observe the parking lot and switched back to normal vision.
"The silver Honda."
She spotted the car he was casing. It was parked far from any lamplight, probably because the man in question was smoking something more uplifting than tobacco on his break. He wore the gold lamé uniform of security, a mix between a suit and military dress uniform. God awful, even to her layman sensibilities. He was just about Buddy's size and would do perfectly.
While Violet could become invisible, Buddy could not completely-and a floating head would no doubt be noticed. They also couldn't risk raising suspicion with her knocking out cameras to clear a path for him. They still had to avoid people, as Buddy was quite obviously not Japanese, but with his back to the camera, he could in theory remain relatively undetected as he slipped into the command center. From there, Liam could talk her through deleting the footage–ten minutes of film would not be missed as sabotaged equipment would.
Violet nodded, and handed him the binoculars, trading it for a capped tranquilizer dart. Buddy's face was illuminated by the glass pad he held, taking one last look at the blueprints of the building and the camera positions he had uploaded to it, committing it to memory. He nodded to himself and tucked it into the compartment under Baby's passenger seat. "They're changing posts in ten minutes. Let's go."
Twisting her hair into a bun-less a quick turn toss her invisible mane into someone's face and alert them-she disappeared from view. The dart seemed to hover by itself in her grip as she carefully slid her way down the hill. She heard the almost silent hum of Baby as Buddy made his way down as well, following the road towards Ambrosia's parking lot.
Violet's route was more direct, through the trees and bushes and eventually through alleys and quickly across the streets. Traffic was low in the dead of night, and since the hotel wasn't in the city proper, there were fewer people awake to notice a floating dart marking its way in the street lights.
She finally jumped the chain link fence, landing with only a small scuff of boots on the car park pavement. After a month confined to the ship, and three days tucked up on a bike before that, it was heavenly to spread her limbs and get her muscles working again. Violet slunk across the deserted cement plane, keeping her eye always on her quarry.
The guard was squatting low behind his vehicle so that the glowing end of his joint couldn't be seen by passersby, his hat tossed carelessly on the hood. Violet waited until he leaned back between drags, exposing his neck as he rested against his car door. It wouldn't do to grab him and have him cry out.
She sunk the needle in first, clapping a hand over his lips second. He let out a surprised squeak, and struggled, battling at the unseen force, but the drug already in his system aided the tranquilizer and he was gone in a moment. Snapping off the needle under her boot, Violet tossed the glass barrel and fished in the guard's jacket for his keys. It was some work hefting his dead weight into his back seat, but she managed well enough in the dark, and almost had him stripped down by the time Buddy was at her side.
Quickly, using the cover of the Honda, he pulled the uniform over his super suit. "I know exactly who designed this," Buddy sneered as he buttoned up the jacket. "Only Kurtz could be this tacky."
"Who?"
"Kurtz-Italian designer. He made Synd-..." Buddy sniffed and focused on making sure the cap covered all of his flaming red hair. Before tucking his jacket into Baby's compartment, he pocketed three extra darts. "I've commissioned him before, and had to talk him down into something simple. He's the only one that still thinks lamé will take off."
"Don't ever tell Edna you put it on over your suit," Violet snorted, turning invisible again. She trotted across the parking lot, towards the back of the building. Up close the drop looked like a mountain, blocking out the sky when approaching it. The walls were carved like large petals of a lotus, growing straight up into the sky and cradling the golden roof, curling over at the ends with the floodlights designed like dew dropped dripping off the sides.
Violet circled to the back door, waiting. Sure enough, two guards chatting amiably wandered up a minute later. One took out his key, sliding it into the lock and pressing the combination code into the keypad of the handle. The door unlocked with a buzz, and Violet quickly slipped up behind them, sliding into the building before the door could close. One of the men turned, feeling the breeze of her passing, and stared directly into her face. He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, and continued down the drab concrete hallway. Violet waited until they had turned left around the corner before knocking the code numbers against the door. She heard Buddy put the key in the lock and soft beep of the buttons before the door opened.
"We're in. Mac, can you hear us?" Buddy asked as he slid inside, and peered at the thick black kanji painted on the wall.
"Aye, loud and clear. Any trouble?"
"Not yet. I think...this way." He crept along the hall, Violet's hand on his shoulder as they moved, and turned right. At every corner they paused, Violet leaned around to make sure the coast was clear, Buddy following, always mindful to keep his face from the cameras. To the tapes he looked like the most bemused, lost employee ever hired; as well as slovenly. There were several times he had to pretend to fix his jacket or tie his shoe to keep a passing employee from looking too closely into his face.
Finally, they came upon the stairwell and ascended to the top floor. Beyond this door, there was no hall, but only the darkened camera room; half of its curved wall was taken up with the two-way observation glass. The other half boasted a wall of flickering gray monitors, like the many eyes of some electronic unsaturated insect, each one linked to a separate part of the building. Buddy waited by the second story landing while Violet opened the door, entering quickly. The flash of light alerted the guard posted here, and he sprang from his seat.
Violet waited until he peered out into the staircase, disregarded the incident, and sat back down before plunging the dart into his neck. Despite her hatred for them, she was glad the dose was big enough to be fast-acting. She eased his head down onto the desk until he looked simply asleep on the job.
Back to the door, she whistled softly, giving Buddy the all-clear. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and the sound of a door opening. Returning to the cameras, she searched until she saw his figure move back down the back hall on the second floor, her eyes flickering between that and what could only be the hotel manager's office. It was dark, only the ambient light from the office window illuminated the wide desk and the ostentatiously large chair before it.
"How does it look?"
"Deserted," Violet murmured. Indeed, there was only a skeleton crew working (though for a building of this size that was still plenty). Mostly vacuuming and listlessly patrolling the vast empty rooms. "Just the overnight."
"Is my path clear," Buddy whispered.
"Wait." Violet scanned the section of screens that correlated to the hall he had to navigate to the office. "There's a cleaner coming your way. After that you're good."
She saw the black and white figure of Buddy duck into a bathroom quickly-and realized just as quickly that all the bathrooms had cameras in them too. "Isn't it legal to record in a bathroom here?!"
The small unsaturated image of Buddy turned slowly to face the perhaps illegal camera with a sneer. "Seriously?"
"Let's assume, lass, that anything within these walls is on thin legal ice."
"That's disgusting."
"Don't worry, mostly they're watching people snort coke."
"Or get lucky."
"Or both."
"At the same-"
"Thank you, professors, I get the picture," Violet snapped, watching the employee with the floor waxer finally pass Buddy's bathroom door. "You're clear."
She waited until Buddy had passed from camera to camera, finally sneaking into the office, pulling a diskette from his jacket pocket, before turning her gaze onto the rest of the monitored building, glancing back every so often, just in case. At night, and through a black and white lense of security cameras, the splendor was totally destroyed with nothing but vague shapes to distinguish the rooms in the gloom. Still, the place was huge, outfitted with the usual areas: casino halls, dining rooms, smoking dens, a library; and meeting rooms as well, the long imposing desks flanked by leather chair sentinels pushed neatly in. An indoor pool that looked larger than most gymnasiums and rooms with beds curtained off that didn't make much sense to Violet–they were in a hotel with rooms readily available to rent-until she remembered the type of clientele that would be attending. Her stomach turned again.
A large main ballroom dominated much of the first floor, and smaller ones for more private events were dotted around the hotel, though 'smaller' was a relative term. Each private ballroom looked large enough to encompass half of Buddy's manor. It was one of these rooms that caught Violet's eye. Unlike the rest, the lights were on. Finding the controls for that camera, Violet zoomed in on the figure moving about inside.
This ballroom already had several tables set up, and the walls were lined with imposing statues of stone warriors, each one holding a different weapon that looked real, not just carved. There was a stage at the front that was at least twenty feet high, and behind it, the large expanse of wall held a projector screen.
It was in this place that Violet saw her.
"There's a woman here," she breathed.
"Where?" Buddy's voice was sharp with concern. "Outside the door?"
"No-in one of the ballrooms. She's…she's wearing a suit."
"A super suit?"
"It looks like it, but I don't recognize her-and she's not masked. About five-eight, light hair? Caucasian, slight build, maybe one-twenty?"
There was the shuffling of papers on Mac's end. "Nothing like that rings a bell in the people we've identified. Don't know her."
The female in question seemed to be moving through the tables, setting up cards and smoothing out tablecloths, very at odds with the way she was dressed; ready for action. Her suit was brilliantly white, nearly washing her out in the grainy picture. Violet kept an eye on her as she finished her task and left the ballroom carrying a large duffle bag. She slipped into the stairwell and Violet's eyes flitted from screen to screen, watching her progress through into the main room.
Abandoning her post, Violet went to the observation window that looked out upon the vast space of the primary ballroom. Boxes littered the gleaming marble floor, the decorations of Grecian columns and long feast tables were scattered randomly waiting for organization across the room. In real life, the woman's suit was indeed white, but with red stitching up her arms and legs that mimicked flames. It looked more like a stunt woman's costume than a super suit to Violet, having grown up on the sleek taste of Edna's creations and the acidity of her critique. The woman's hair matched, a bright orangey strawberry blonde curling around her shoulders, and feathered back stylishly from her pale face.
"She's giving orders. Does Tanaka work with supers?"
"Not that we know of, not personally."
"Which room was she in, again," Buddy asked. Violet could hear him typing away at the computer through her earpiece.
"Um...Ballroom Two Forty-Two."
She heard him scoff. "Well-we might not know who she is, but I have a guess of maybe what she is. That's where Fell is presenting The Prometheus Project during the ball."
Violet felt cold shoot down her arms and pressed a hand to her ribs. Was it possible to have cardiac arrest from shock? The way her chest tightened told her maybe. "You think he did it? You think he actually made a super?" She nearly pressed her nose up against the glass, watching the woman speak with the guards, but between the distance and her bangs, she had no hope of spying a scar on her forehead. She was gesturing back the way she came, and the men nodded, leaving to do her bidding. She reached into her bag and pulled out a blocky cellular phone. After a few seconds, she began speaking into it, making her way out of the building. "She's leaving. I could-"
"No," Mac's voice snapped. "Do not leave."
"She could follow without being seen," Buddy argued. "If they lead back to Fell we might-"
"No, Pine. Stick to the mission."
"If she works for Fell-leads us back to his location-it could make this mission obsol-"
"You don't know that. You don't even know who this woman is-She could be working with anyone. Fuller is here too, we've identified him, she might be wearing one of his suits."
The name sounded only faintly familiar. "Fuller?"
"Supervillain designer works with Kurtz, they're partners. She might be his lackey, and I have no doubt they're invited to Fell's meeting-either way she's not on our radar. I'm not risking one or both of you on a hunch. And you can't leave Pine blind in there."
"I'm not-but he's already in the computer system." Violet rushed back to the cameras, searching for this mysterious woman desperately on the outside system. There! In the parking lot, heading towards a Corvette. Her heart hammered in her throat. "He could get out on his own relatively safe-"
"You're not changin' this plan too, Parr." For the first time, Violet heard Liam become stern-almost vicious. "The both of you have gone off half-cocked enough for a lifetime. I know you want Fell, I know you don't want to wait. But you're both alone in there, and even if you did follow her back to Fell, I doubt you could take on all of the security his hidey-hole is no doubt equipped with on your own. You have no weapons, no plan, and your suits may be bulletproof but the helmets aren't. All it takes is one bullet."
If this was how Violet sounded to Buddy, no wonder she had incurred his sneering more often than not. It was not pleasant to be on the receiving end of logical dismissal. Her fingers curled into fists as she watched the Corvette pull out of the parking lot. If she's Fell's new pet, he's close. He's here. He's alive and he's here.
All of her wanted to run, to follow, and find Fell right now. They could nab him and return home-no need to enter this pit of venomous snakes. No risks to life, no more bloodshed, no more risking their lives and futures. She could go home-she and Buddy–and be free. She didn't want to wait ten days, she didn't want to sneak in calmly and trap him. She wanted to fight.
But she didn't want to die.
And… Her eyes flickered back to Buddy. In the small screen that housed the main office, Violet saw him struggle with the same desire, hands gripping the edge of the desk, face twisting in a glower not meant for the innocent computer before him. Violet wouldn't let Buddy fulfill his stupid dream of dying for his vengeance. After all, she had just praised his ability to plan to her mother, singing the virtues of patience against their twitchy reactions that oft got them into trouble.
"...You're right," she finally spat out. "It's better to wait."
"Thank you. Thank you-I know that was very hard for you."
Violet rolled her eyes. "Shut up."
"You're such a prick," Buddy muttered, and Violet saw him return to his work.
"Oh, aye I'm a prick. I'm just makin' sure you both come home alive that's all-no easy task, mind you, since you're both determined to-"
"Shut up," Buddy echoed.
"Maybe Pine was right before-you both need to get it out of your systems. A good roll does wonder for a sour attitude and a death wish."
"How many taps to mute him again?"
"Two."
"Thanks."
Almost half an hour later, Buddy finally had all that he needed. Just in time too-dawn was coming and the next shift was due to arrive any minute. Violet watched Buddy safely back to the exit before unmuting the irate scott and following his directions in sabotaging the tapes. The guard would wake soon, and not a trace would be left behind.
She met Buddy by the back door again, both of them slipping out into. They vaulted the gate, and she followed him through the alleys to the place he had hidden Baby. "What did you find?"
"Later-I'll upload it all and show you. But not out here." He was peeling off the uniform, glancing about in the quickly gathering wisteria of dawn. "We don't know who could be listening."
Later turned out to be much later-they made it back to the manor safely, but Violet could feel Buddy drift on the road, exhaustion finally catching up to him. When they entered, the scene was much the same as they left, only with different clothes-Violet's mother was wrapped in an old sweatshirt making an ungodly early breakfast, Dash and Bob nursing steaming mugs while Mirage paced in the living room. Apparently, no one had slept well that night whilst the leaders were out.
Mirage took the diskette from Buddy immediately, hurrying down the hall to another part of the house Violet hadn't seen yet-and frankly couldn't care about. She was swaying on her feet, her lids heavy, every twitch of muscle taking effort. Adrenaline had kept her running all throughout the night, but the fact of it was she and Buddy had been up for more than twenty-four hours.
Buddy locked the front door with a turn of the latch and a voice command, leaning heavily against the wood. "I sh-"
"Go to bed," Helen said, coming towards her daughter and holding her face, peering into her exhausted eyes. "The both of you."
"There's no time, what don't you g-"
"There's time enough for you to rest." The gentle words were for Violet-the glare, Buddy. "You're no use this tired. We should have come to get you, I can't imagine how you drove."
"Well, I brought her back in one piece," Buddy snapped, though he did make his way towards the stairs leading down. But not before throwing a sneering you're welcome at her father.
"Come on, Vi." Helen led her daughter straight to her bedroom door, but Violet refused to crawl into her clean bed reeking of dirt and pine sap. She took the barest of showers, her mother pulling out her pajamas for her, listening for any falls. In the end, wrapped in a robe, Violet fell face first onto the down-turned bed, and no amount of prodding would move her. Helen gave up and tucked the blanket around her as best she could, leaving her to her sleep.
Her exhaustion made her slumber deep and stole from her both dream and nightmare. Violet woke into a darker room than she had fallen asleep in, the setting sun stretching through the gap in the black-out curtains, finally prying her eyes open. A glance at the clock boasted six-fifteen in the evening. She was bundled in satin and terrycloth, awkwardly twisted in her robe and blankets, and a little damp for her efforts. Untangling her limbs, she padded to her bag, only to find it empty. Her mother had apparently put her things in the drawers while she slept.
Despite her well-earned rest, she still felt a little sluggish and bypassed any attempt to dress for the day. Leggings and a t-shirt would have to be good enough for the day half gone already. Stepping into her flats, she quickly untangled her hair, combining it and twisting it into a quick plait before finally emerging.
Someone had moved the living room dividers together and straightened them flat to make a wide translucent screen in front of the sofas. Mirage was standing before them, dragging her fingers across the glass and moving modules of information about, keen green eyes flickering from node to node as she worked. It looked like almost everyone was gathered in the living room for a debriefing.
Buddy, of course, was separated. He stood at the kitchen island, pouring cream into a glass filled with ice and coffee. Violet had an urge to remind him that liquid caffeine was not, in fact, a meal; a lesson she had learned more than once during exam time. But she was too tired to pick, and instead, leaned against the doorway, eyes gliding over his form. He was dressed in a black turtleneck, tight over his arms (Hell, I am a weapon) but had to be tucked into his black slacks. His gold pendant lay on top and winked in the kitchen lights. He'd swapped out the chain for a darker metal that clashed-but Violet guessed it was the same indestructible alloy that his baton and droid were made out of.
Does he have a business lunch we don't know about? She appreciated his clean dark lines, and how his bangs were combed in a stylish quiff to fall over his brow, darkened to a bloody red with water from a shower. As he stirred his drink with his straw, Violet contemplated his long-fingered hands, accidentally elegant and covered with a working man's roughness. It wasn't fair, to be attracted to someone as well as angry-there should only be room for one emotion. She wanted to trace her fingers over his strong jawline as well as wrap them around his throat and shake him until his teeth rattled; especially when he produced a small box from his pocket and poured the four white pills inside into his mouth, swallowing them with a gulp of coffee. How often is he doing that?
In the end, she did nothing-Buddy sensed her approach and glanced up. "Good. We can start."
"Sorry to make you wait."
"It's fine."
"Did you even sleep?"
His mouth twisted wryly. "Sleep is overrated," he echoed from their time in the lab and cheersed his iced coffee. Buddy went to take a sip, but the straw barely touched his tongue when his eyes flickered down. She saw his ears turn red and he turned on his heel, leaving her unceremoniously to find a seat in the living room. Violet felt a little affronted before looking down and realizing that she had chosen her shirt blindly-it was Buddy's college shirt, the one she had accidentally stolen after the surgery.
It was Violet's turn to flush. She folded her arms over the lettering and meekly trailed him, choosing to sit beside the fire next to MacConnell. He at least had a smile for her and a glowing glass pad. Everyone in the room had one-a copy of the information Buddy had gotten from the main computer.
"Computer, theater mode," Mirage called. Immediately the glass wall darkened, tinting so opaque, no light came through. The shutters on the other windows rolled closed, casting them into darkness except for the ambient glow of the screens. Mirage stepped to the side and tapped the glass. Immediately a model of Hotel Ambrosia popped up, circling slowly.
"This is what we know," Mirage began. "Hotel security is tight, but nothing out of the norm for the night of the festival. Full house, but not full enough to suggest they suspect any kind of attack, especially after Ultra hitting so many of the attendees in their purses."
"It also means," Buddy said, wandering behind the glass, "that he's not particularly concerned for Fell. He's just one of many."
"Exactly." Mirage tapped again, and images of people flickered up on the screen. Violet's eyes found Fell immediately, and she had to force herself to look away from his cartoonish visage. "There's no record of Fell bringing security with his team into the building-"
"Then why don't we just nab him in the parking lot," Dash suggested, sandwiched between his parents. "If he doesn't have anyone with him?"
"Since we don't know where he's hiding here in Tokyo-" Here Buddy glared at Liam who only huffed impatiently, "-We don't know who he's got guarding him, but I doubt he'll be arriving alone. The guest list only means that no one is coming into the building with him, doesn't mean they won't be riding with him to the event."
"It also means Tanaka and Fell are both confident in the security of the hotel. Meiko mentioned Tanaka's son-in-law for a reason. Probably a mix of hotel staff, mercenaries, and yakuza. So we'll need an opportunity where he's not surrounded by staff or people if we want a clean shot at him. That leaves one opportunity." Dragging her finger across the glass, she placed Fell's photo at the top of the stack. "There will be several presentations during the ball, and Fell is the second to last."
"Is this a party or a trade exposition," Dash asked. His leg was bouncing a mile a minute-nerves. It was becoming real to him as well.
"Both," Buddy answered from behind the flickering faces of evil. "A great place to propose things outside of the law where no one can rat you out, and perfect for getting buyers. Everyone's purses are a little looser when you're blitzed out of your mind. I've heard talk of everything being sold during Tanaka's festivals. Patents, ideas, companies. People."
Violet's hand fisted on her knee. Buddy's mutterings about blowing the whole goddamn thing up were sounding saner by the second.
"Fell's presentation will begin at one in the morning," Mirage continued. "And it's by invitation only."
Bob frowned. "So how do we get close enough?"
"That's the problem." Buddy tapped his side of the glass and it cleared enough to show his face. "Originally we had planned to implant the Ultra virus and shut the entire thing down. It would scare the fat cats enough-everyone assuming he was after themselves in particular, and send them scattering. A moving target is easier to see. I'd kill him and fight my way out–taking as many of his buyers with me."
"But when you insisted on coming," Mirage countered, looking to Violet, "It opened up a door for something more covert; entering as guests, a large entourage like the rest. You solved the problem we were having: getting in without drawing attention. Bartholomew Pine swinging one invitation then Ultra showing up? Obvious. But with a party, we'll blend, most of the people invited are expected to come with an entourage.
"And while it's true, he'd be easier to see in flight, it also means he's harder to hit."
"But now I think it's time to return to plan 'A'," Buddy said, planting a hand on his hip. "All the glamor in the world isn't gonna get us inside that room, so we need him outside without his guards."
"With the volume of people there it will be chaos," Mirage snapped. "And did you miss the list I just gave? The guests will be panicked, but there will be more than enough security inside the building. We have one shot at this, and it's in that room."
"Why not do both?" Before the argument could crescendo again, Bob had spoken, leaning forward, an arm on his knee. Violet recognized this pose-his planning stance. It was how he had instructed them on those missions when they worked as a family-before Su Nami and before Violet began pulling away. "Some of us get close enough to him, and you spring the Ultra trap. You'll get the best of both worlds. He'll flee-but right into our arms."
"I've watched enough episodes to know that splitting the Scooby Gang ain't the best idea," Buddy muttered. "Besides that doesn't get us into the room."
"You yourself said they'd all be blitzed out of their minds. We could charm our way in-or Mirage can" Bob gestured to Mirage, who gave him a gracious smile.
"I don't like basing my plans on an if," Buddy countered.
While they went back and forth, Violet had been scrolling through her pad, scanning the various information Buddy had gleaned: blueprints, schedules, even menus. She settled on the guestlist for Fell's presentation. A name had caught her eye- "I know him!"
Everyone in the room turned to her as she stood. "Jang Tae-Min-Dr. Jang. I know him-he wrote this great article on plastic surgery addiction last year. He's a prosthetist-an amazing one. I saw his work once in a seminar, you could barely tell it was fake. I can't believe he's in with Fell!"
"Jang? Unlikely." Buddy snorted. "If it's the same Jang Fell would rant about, they're not friends. Probably invited so that Fell could rub it in his face that he's got the better project."
"Rant?"
"Jang was the bidder against Fell for yours truly," Buddy said with a mocking bow. "Fell had stolen a few papers from this secret project of Jang–got it into his head to remake the human skeleton, and prove he could do it better than him. Failing that is why we're all here today, praying the doesn't create a breeding farm of supers.
Violet's mouth went dry. If only...but then again, how was Violet to know that Jang would have been any better than Fell if he was bidding on a man's life?
"If you know him," Dash said, sitting up, "and he's invited-you could ask to tag along."
"Me," Violet snorted. She knew her level of charm-she wasn't the smooth-talking Mirage. She could barely talk a man violently in love with her to touch her-how could she talk her way into a private party?
"He has a point, lass," MacConnell said. "You have a common interest, you're pretty, and you'd be able to talk on his level. Angling it as the curiosity of a medical equal is less suspicious than a woman obviously flirtin' for gain."
"Besides you won't be Violet Parr," Mirage reminded. "I have everyone's identities set up, you'll be" She consulted her pad, "Doctor Marianne Sternin."
"Still a doctor?"
"The best lies come closest to the truth," Liam pointed out.
"That's great, Violet gets into the room and close to Fell, one of you trips the virus, and when he flees, we nab him," Bob said brushing off his hands. "Lock, stock, and barrel. No problem."
"Yes, problem, big problem-many problems in fact," Buddy cried. "Listen-alright, Fell is an asshole, but he's a smart asshole. Something about this doesn't sit right with me. And he may have a super with him-a man-made one."
"Man-made," Helen cried. "What do you mean? He actually–?"
Violet winced. "We saw a woman in that room, preparing. She was wearing a super suit. Fell might have finally figured out how to implant powers."
Mirage paled. "Did you actually see her do anything to indicate that?"
"Well, no-"
"Then it's still a maybe. And we don't like ifs," Dash tossed at Buddy. "Besides, one super again four?"
Buddy sneered, "not if we're splitting the party."
"We can't move as a herd, it'll be suspicious. We'll all have to mingle. Violet will be our ticket in," Mirage stated. "And Buddy, you're her escort. The two of you will be together. We'll see how many Violet can swing Jang letting come with. Liam knows how to upload the virus. I'll alter his credentials-he'll go in as the bodyguard of the group. It will give him access to the back rooms more easily. Failing that we still have the guard uniform as a backup."
"If he lets more than you and Syndrome in, I will go with Violet," Bob said immediately.
Helen shook her head. "Dash and her-"
"Dash should stay with you," Bob countered. "And if they go into lockdown, it's better if he's outside that room, as a last resort. If Fell somehow escapes, Dash can pursue."
"Don't worry," the young man ground out. "I'll get him. He's going to pay for what he did to my sister."
"Love the enthusiasm, lad," Liam soothed. "But just remember the object is to get him alive."
"Yes," Buddy surprised them all by agreeing. Then surprised no one by adding, "You better not steal my kill from me, kid."
"Then that settles it." Mirage tapped the glass screens one by one, returning them to their opaque imitation of decorated paper. "We have a plan. We just have to prepare."
Violet absconded to the long dining room off the den when the meeting broke. She could hear Helen distantly giving Liam orders as they began making dinner, and the scott was doing wonders to lighten the mood after their discussions. She even heard several laughs from the Parr men at their conversation.
Legs folded on one of the ornate wood back chairs, Violet poured over the Prometheus Project papers she had taken after Buddy's surgery. If they were going to try and sneak into his event, or more to the point if she was going to get them in, she ought to know as much about it as possible. She had packed it in her bag, wrapped in her old super suit as if contact would contaminate her clothes.
Now she flipped through it slowly, attempting to read it with the same detachment she had with many of her college textbooks. For information, not context. It was the only way to do it-reading about how much could go wrong with the human body could drive someone insane, and did for a lot of med students. They became hypochondriacs practically overnight. Violet herself had developed a rather obsessive habit of scrubbing her fingernails after their section on fungus.
She had skipped over a lot of the setup Fell had written for the project when first handed the book-instead focusing on what he hoped to do rather than the research he'd already committed. There were three whole sections on what he did to PATIENT: LAZARUS, which explained why everyone invited to his presentation had that snuff film of Buddy's in their possession.
She couldn't linger over his first attempt at IMM too long, electing instead to read his boasting about saving the man's life. He was insane, but Buddy was right. He wasn't stupid for all his slipshod work. As she followed his medical procedure through the small black text, she once again had to face the dark side of the word 'awesome'.
It was awesome. Violet was awed by what he had done. Created a heart from scratch, with little to no funding, pierced together a human body not just for aesthetics, but in function. Buddy, for all his fever-hot temperature and weight, walked, talked, and functioned like any other human. No muscle atrophy, no dead limbs, not even an interruption in his digestive system that she could make out. His fake parts felt-even if it was dull and numb as Buddy has claimed-sweated and, to the touch, mimicked real flesh perfectly if one discarded the discoloration.
The fact that Fell had done all of that when there was barely a spine to salvage was amazing. How he had practically sewn together a new nervous system and wired it to the brain. And he had kept that organ alive and thriving through multiple stops, no anesthesia, and staved off shock. The fact that Buddy was in this house, walking around and fighting her instead of a vegetable held onto something like living only through machinery was, medically, a goddamn miracle.
We could use this. No one need suffer paralysis from accidents or attack again with the right anesthesia. We could save soldiers, victims-even those born deformed or with non-functioning limbs. With parameters, the proper supplies, and observation, we could use this.
And Buddy's horror and pain was the price. It paid for this knowledge, and everyone who benefited from it, even with humane methods, would be stained with his blood. Violet slammed the book shut and slid it across the table with so much force it flipped off and fluttered to the floor with a loud thump. She cradled her head in her hands. How could she even think it?
"You good?"
Peering through her fingers, she saw Buddy in the doorway. Behind him, the group in the kitchen burst into another round of laughter. "I thought you tripped on something." He bent and picked the packet off the floor.
"I'm fine. I'm just...researching I guess."
"Mmm." Placing the papers back on the table he said, "It'll be fun talking about how Fell saved my hog over an actual roast pig, huh?"
Violet lifted her head just enough to glare at him. "That's not funny, Bartholomew."
"Oh, full name, I'm quaking. C'mon, if anyone can make jokes it should be me." He rested his arms on the back of the chair opposite her. "Is that what got you all hot and bothered?"
"No. It's nothing."
"You are still a shitty liar. What happened?"
Violet glared at the papers, bent and crumpled, now coming out of the metal rings that kept the thick stack together. "I can't. It would...you wouldn't…I can't tell you. I won't."
Buddy grinned, his canines flashing in the low light. "Oh, now I have to know. C'mon, what's in there that's so bad besides the obvious? Typos-run-on sentences? Lack of the oxford comma?" But his smirk slowly dripped off his face when he saw how hard it was for her to swallow-and how it wasn't just the light shimmering in her eyes. "Hey, princess, what's the matter? You've seen what he did, why are you crying about it now?"
"Because it's monstrous! It's vile no matter how amazing it is." Violet pointed at the stack as if it were the evil doctor itself. "He pieced you back together and you're alive. Do you know how impossible that should be? Not only that you're walking upright but that you've survived at all?! Hell, medically thriving. You have extra strength for God's sake! And all it took was torturing you. He did something incredible and made it the most despicable thing I can think of! This could have been used to save lives, and instead, he tortured you, used you like a meat paper doll! I could never ever use anything he did even if it meant saving the world because of what he did to you. Ever!"
Buddy put up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay-okay, I get it, princess. Easy, alright, don't burst a blood vessel. But I mean...haven't medical discoveries come from awful shit before? How is this any worse than the way doctors learned how to do surgeries?"
"Because those people didn't know better," Violet snapped. "He did."
"Yeah, well that's why he lost his credentials. Listen, you're the one that wants to bring him to trial instead of just letting me put a bullet between his eyes. If you're so angry about it, why do you want to save him?"
Putting a hand to her head, Violet rubbed her brow. "Because I want to watch you put a bullet in his head. Because I'm so angry I could strangle him to death is exactly the reason why I shouldn't be judge and jury."
"He hurt you-who better to know what he deserves than you-than us?"
"Haven't you heard the saying an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind? I don't have the ability to judge him fairly specifically because I was the one that was hurt. It's why we can't judge the people we give to the police–we're too close. Would you have my father judge you-again?"
For a second Violet thought he might turn and stalk off again, and she had wished she could pull the words back. But instead, he dropped his head with a snort, shaking it in disbelief. "Yeah-okay, sure. You'd give the devil a trial too, just because it's the right thing to do, huh, Thomas More?"
"Who?"
"Thomas More? Lord Chancellor? A Man For All Seasons?" Violet shook her head, not recognizing any of the titles. "Oh, don't tell me I know something bookish and nerdy that you don't!"
"I'm not a big history buff. You'd have to ask my friend Kari."
"It doesn't take history smarts-It's a movie. Well-he was real, but the movie-seriously? I thought all dames liked period dramas."
"Like Jane Eyre?" Violet shrugged. "Wrong again, that was Tony."
"Who?"
"My ex-boyfriend. He tried to get me to read Pride and Prejudice. I didn't make it all the way through." Admittedly, her inner voice was far less adept at making the words come to life than Tony's soothing tenor. Accompanied by spring sunlight and the falling petals of cherry blossom trees, it had made for one of the most romantic dates Violet had ever been on.
Buddy's face twisted slightly, and Violet barely enjoyed his flash of jealous distaste. "Oh, the bad kisser. Yeah, Nat tried to get me to sit through that one too. But this is better." He pushed off the chair. "C'mon. I wanna show you something."
Violet raised her brows. "I thought we were still fighting."
The light in his eyes dimmed slightly. "You want to fight, or you wanna watch a movie?"
That was easy enough to decide. She was still angry, but that didn't mean she wanted this row to continue. "Movie."
"Well, get your ass movin'." He brought her to the stairs that went below, down to a dark hall with two doors. One was large, made of industrial metal, and had a pad for fingerprint recognition. The other was lined with velvet–like a theater door, and when Buddy opened it, calling for the computer to turn the lights on, that is exactly where it led. It wasn't as grand as a fully functioning movie house, but the screen was wide and covered the entire wall. A long, plush leather couch sat opposite piled with a few folded blankets. Behind was a real movie projector on a plinth.
"My father never finished school," Buddy explained as he went to the back wall, flinging two wide doors open, revealing stacks of reels. "But he made damn sure he was well-read because of it and he really loved the theater. He'd catch any park reenactment-Shakespeare, modern stuff, hell even musicals. I got dragged to all sorts of crap. And when I was way too young, he took me to this college production of A Man For All Seasons. I dunno I guess it kinda stuck. The movie came out way later. It was the last time I saw Pop-I took him to see it for his birthday."
He lifted one of the silver tins, pulling it from the stack. "I got this in hopes to bring him here when everything was done."
She glanced around the small theater. It was a rather nice respite from the cold technological marvel the rest of the house was, obviously dedicated totally to a man who worked non-stop. Violet could see with perfect clarity, Buddy showing his father this space and house, excited and proud, eyes alight with that glittering blue light that sparkled when they had talked on the boat. "Nothing's turned out as it should," Violet murmured.
The words only made him hesitate a moment. "Go on, get comfortable. With the way they're talking we're gonna starve to death before they get anything actually cooked."
They ought to be doing something else, maybe studying their identities or memorizing the layout of the hotel. But exhaustion still lingered at the edges of Violet's dubious consciousness, and she didn't think she could handle any more stress or worry. She plucked one of the afghans from the pile and seated herself right in the middle of the couch. Tucking her legs up under her, she concerned herself with settling under the throw while Buddy loaded in the reel. The house was kept on the cool side, probably because of all the glass walling.
And once the lights had been dimmed and the projector turned on, Buddy sat next to her. It was like her foolish little fantasies on the boat-spending mundane normal time with him, weaving him into her life. No villains and heroes, allies or enemies. A couple, watching a movie. That and it was more than pleasant to watch him cross his long legs and lean back in repose. So much so that when the opening credits began to roll, he actually reached out and turned her chin towards the screen. As she watched, she could feel the echo of his touch still on her face.
It was a lot of big skirts and even bigger words. Violet was reminded yet again that Tony was more in line for this kind of stuff than her. A severe lack of lasers and space did not aid her, but once she got the gist of the story, she began to view the film more like an essay than a movie. It was about an honest man trying to navigate his way in a world full of the dishonest, the opportunist, and power-hungry; keeping his faith (literally) through it all, even when he was ridiculed, cajoled, and outright threatened. Violet wanted to ask if Buddy just liked it because he was something like a papist, but seeing his intense focus on the screen, refrained. But as the odds began to stack, even Violet questioned whether it was worth keeping his ground if it meant losing everything.
"Listen," Buddy murmured suddenly Thomas More dismissed a man from his house, his family demanding he arrest the spy over his protests, explaining that would surely mean his downfall.
"And go he should, if he were the devil himself until he broke the law," Thomas stated firmly.
"So, now you'd give the devil benefit of law!"
"Yes, what would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the devil?"
"Yes! I'd cut down every law in England!"
"Oh, and when the last law was down and the devil turned round on you, where would you hide, the laws all being flat? This country is planted thick with laws, from coast to coast and if you cut them down, do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I would give the devil benefit of law for my own safety's sake."
Her companion turned to her, a smug smirk on his lips, brows raised. Violet pursed her own mouth, wrapping her arms around her knees. "...I mean he's not wrong."
Buddy threw back his head and laughed. "I knew it."
"So what happens to him," she asked, knowing full well the answer would be in subsequent scenes of the still playing movie.
"Uh...well, they cut his head off, actually." That was two people now that compared her to decapitated figures. Violet rubbed her neck, a little worried about the pattern. "But that's not the point. The point is, he stuck to what he believed was right-not because he was told to or because it was easy. Because it was right, even when everyone else gave in."
"I'm not exactly following the law to the letter if you've noticed."
"You know what I mean. In spirit, you're just like him."
"Stubborn?"
He gave her a narrow look. "Honorable. To a fault. Hell, look at us-I bet you could even argue Syndrome's side of everything, see some good in it, like you did with Fell's work."
"...Your tech is amazing."
"See! I'm telling you, you could be-"
"If you say I should be a lawyer, I swear…"
"Maybe. Why? I mean I know they're all greasy little weasels but they're useful weasels, and you'd be less of a rodent than the rest."
"It's what Dicker told me when I was a kid. That's why I never joined the NSA."
Buddy snorted. "Good thing, considering. Look what happened to it."
"I know, but it was more that he saw me as a liability, I guess. That I was different from my family. Edna said something like that too, that I've always been different. Always, before because of my powers, and then we were legal and I was still the odd one out. I cried, you know, after putting away Su Nami. That's when Dicker talked to me. That's why I never went out on missions again, when I stopped being active, stopped being Shadow officially. Everyone else could laugh and see that justice was done. But she had a son and all I could see was a child losing their mother." Violet took a shuddering breath. Even with all the horror she had witnessed, hearing Su's son's cries echo from her memory still squeezed her heart. One would think the organ would become numb after so many wounds
Buddy shifted to face her. On his wonderfully expressive face, she saw his humor melt into something gentler. Something more open, something like concern. "Hey, listen. Different is great, princess. Different is better in my opinion. Different people make Ultra, and use shields as dental dams against poison and defy a government right under its nose." He tried for another cocky grin. "Different is why we're all here."
"I suppose. Everyone keeps saying it; that I'm good and heroic and wise and all this stuff. And I don't see it, but if everyone else does I guess it's true. And that's nice, don't get me wrong, but different is lonely."
That difference, honor and the tenacity to it, had robbed her of vengeance to slake her blood lust. It took from her, her family's view of her, flawed as it was, and was currently devastating her of the man she loved simply by existing. Her heart constricted further, and she felt a chill no blanket could warm. The absolute icy touch of loneliness scooped out every tender feeling and left her hollow and barren within.
Wetting her lips, Violet lifted her eyes to him. "It's… it's so goddamnlonely."
Her companion had nothing to say to that. She saw pain twist his features, the same agonized look he had when she tried to touch his face before they left on their mission. His head bowed, and he remained silent and unmoving. No comfort, no retreating from his position that they were better off separate. It seemed they were fighting, after all. Violet had sworn never to give up on him, and meant it. But as she observed his unmoving form, she wondered if perhaps it was fruitless after all, and there was no point in trying; she'd already lost her head over him. Violet turned towards the screen again, trying to swallow back the sorrow that prospect brought.
From her side, she heard Buddy growl. "Fuck it."
When his hand caught her chin now, it was not to focus her attention on the plot unfolding before them. His lips crashed down on hers, without ceremony or prelude. Violet gasped a little in shock and his tongue pressed into her mouth. She could taste the too-sweet coffee he drank in their too-sweet kiss, and despite it being too sugary for her palette, she fisted her hands in his hair to keep him there and feed her more. The cold hollowness was suddenly filled with burning liquid want, pooling below her waist.
His hands fell on her hips and she was lifted with frightening ease to straddle his legs. Surprised, Violet fumbled, bracing herself on the couch behind his shoulders, finding purchase in his lap. Fingers holding tight to her leggings, Buddy slid her hips until she was flush on him, feeling the strain in his slacks right against her, but doing very little to ease the burn. It ripped an embarrassing whimper from her lips, but not of protest. Certainly not, with the way she rocked against him, needing to ease the heat with friction.
"Christ," he hissed, watching her through eyes so storm dark blue they were almost black. One hand came up and tore the band from the end of her braid, fingers scrabbling to tug the tight coil apart so that his fingers could bury in the ebony morass. He gripped her locks tightly, bringing her mouth back to his. Their kisses were half passion half vicious, biting and deep, harsh and long.
He granted her lips mercy for a moment, his nips traveling along her jaw to her throat. Pulling back, his eyes considered her in his shirt once again, and Violet saw the intense flash of smug possession flicker across his face, only to be replaced with fierce determination. Freeing her hair, both of his fever hot calloused hands returned to her hips, sliding under the hem of the shirt.
Buddy let out a low moan when he realized she wore nothing beneath the cotton. Violet always considered herself flat enough to get away with such freedom; but when his hands found her chest, she felt anything but slender and unwomanly. He cupped her breasts, warming them in his palms before he lifted the shirt properly. Head bowed, his mouth replenished any warmth she lost in the slight disrobing. The feeling of his tongue on one peak shot through her like lightning, heat coursing down through her belly.
She threaded her hands in his ruddy hair again, holding him against her chest as he gently nipped, licked, and then not so gently sucked, abandoning the tight flesh to blaze a trail of open-mouthed kisses to its twin, applying the same treatment. His hands slid downwards again, this time boldly cupping her bottom, guiding her hips in a rock that pleased them both while his mouth was busy.
Violet had to place one hand on the couch again when his bucking almost dislodged her, fingers gripping the leather so hard it creaked. She wasn't sure what to focus on more, the crackle of pleasure his mouth on her body gave, or the half teasing half relief her hips swaying on his lap. Buoyed between sensations, she let her head hang, curtaining them in her dark hair, giving up concentration to simply ride the waves of sweet desire.
She nearly whined her protest when he pushed her away, selfishly hungry for more. But so was he, apparently, as he only removed her to make room for his hands fumbling at his belt. Violet sat back and watched him a moment, before pushing his hands away-her fingers were notoriously more steady. Once unclasped, she didn't bother to pull the leather free, immediately attacking the button and fly so that her fingers could delve inside. She felt him, hot through the satin of his boxers, much more defined than through the denim of his jeans before.
"Violet!"
His fingers manacled around her wrist but did not stop her steady rhythm. It seemed he, too, needed an anchor in the turbulent ocean of desire. His head fell back against the couch as he arched into her touch-such a lovely invitation that Violet was helpless to refuse. Her free hand tugged down the neck of his sweater and she pressed her lips to the tight flesh of his throat. She felt rather than heard his next moan, and scraped her teeth against his jugular ending in a sucking kiss.
Buddy swore again, finally pulling her hand away. His fingers hooked into the waist of her leggings-and then Violet was airborne, flung back against the couch. His hands jerked her shirt down before shakily redoing his slacks. Violet laid there, open-mouthed and shocked before she heard it.
Footsteps.
She snatched the blanket from where it fell and cocooned her quickly cooling body in it on the opposite end of the settee. Buddy for his part grabbed one of the folded throws, hugging it to his stomach and crossing his legs before he tried for a casual lean against the armrest of the couch.
The door to the theater opened whilst they both pretended to watch the trial play out on the screen. Dash stuck his head inside. "Dinner's been ready, are you not eating tonight?"
"Yeah, we're coming," Buddy snapped, his ears the same color as his hair.
Dash frowned and rolled his eyes. "Fine, starve then. Come on Violet."
"I will," she squeaked, a little too high in register to be calm. Clearing her throat she tried again: "We'll be up in a minute, Dash. It's almost done. Promise."
That seemed to placate her brother, who shrugged and closed the door behind him. There were times when Dash's oblivious nature was such a blessing. Buddy reached behind and unceremoniously stopped the projector, cutting off the movie and casting a stagnant white light against the wall.
He rubbed his face, leaning his head back against the couch, fingers covering his eyes. Violet bit her lip, wondering if he was about to denounce just what they were attempting to do-say it was all a mistake again. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her temper, or hands, to herself if he did that. "...We could always say we're not up to eating," she offered, testing the waters.
Buddy chuckled and peered through his knuckles at her. "I don't think so, princess. They're gonna wonder why-and then they'll check up on you. I'd rather not have anymore more of your family walk in on me with my pants around my ankles."
Violet shared his humor, even as her cheeks blazed red with the implication. That was a sight she'd like to stumble upon. Scooting closer, a hand peeked out from her blanket, touching his jaw and turning his face towards her; she wanted to make sure he didn't start to doubt. But he obviously thought she had a much better purpose as his fingers immediately covered her lips. "Don't, or we won't leave. It's better to wait until everyone is asleep."
The coil of tension in her chest unwound. Not backtracking then. She couldn't help the grin that crawled across her features. "Oh?"
"Yeah," he replied, matching her smile. His hand slid to her pink cheek, cupping the blush and thumb tracing her swollen lower lip. Violet tested her teeth on his fingertip, tongue flicking against the skin. She was the touch crackle in his eyes. But when she leaned forward, his hand gently closed around her throat. "Violet, you're killin' me. Did you take the room I suggested?"
"Mhmm."
"Good. I'll know where to find you tonight." Despite his words, his eyes were glued to her mouth.
"Right…" Violet bit her lip again, and his fingers tightened slightly in their hold. "My room. I'd rather my first time be in a bed, anyway."
Buddy's eyes finally flickered up. "First," he chuckled, but seeing her face his humor dampened. "You don't mean...You can't be, you're practically th-"
Violet grabbed his face, pinching his cheeks together to keep him from digging a grave he might not be able to climb out of. "Practically thirty and already have my doctorate plus experience? I was very determined to finish medical school in half the time? Dedicated? And was technically a hero on the side? When did you think I had time?"
She wasn't embarrassed to admit it. Violet thought it was, frankly, ridiculous to pin maturity on a simple biological fact. Tony had been her only real relationship, and that had ended before anything had gone further than a few shy touches under clothing. After that, there were some flirtations but nothing serious enough to make a lover from, and Violet did intend for love to be the basis of anything in that department of her life. Like her sense of right, she was unshakable on that fact. Besides, it wasn't the most important thing in the world. Lovely, yes, she knew that well enough as her veins still hummed with heat, but she wouldn't die without it, and she didn't think her life was lacking.
"You're the most determined person I know," Buddy agreed, the words coming out a little distorted in her hold. He was able to shake her off and considered her. For once, she couldn't read his expression.
"Is it a problem?" She'd hate to think he was one of those types of men.
He didn't seem to hear her at first, shaking his head when he registered she'd asked a question-and was waiting a little irately, for an answer. "...Huh? Wh-no! Violet." He leveled an almost exasperated look at her. But he softened it, and reached out again, this time brushing the back of his fingers against her jaw. He was so rarely gentle, that Violet savored every touch that was. Her eyes closed and she leaned into the caress with almost feline pleasure. "It just means I'll have to be more...gentle than I intended."
Her eyes snapped open at that, catching his lascivious smirk before he stood up. With that implication? Promise? Lingering in the air, he held out a hand to help her up. Violet laced their fingers as they left the theater.
No one commented when they entered the dining room together, despite Violet being sure that she was completely red. Apparently, Buddy's self-control was truly lacking as the minute they emerged from the theater, his hands had cupped her face and brought her in for one last slow kiss. Violet had melted into it, eyes drifting closed and ready to revert to her original course of skipping dinner altogether. "Sorry," he had whispered. "I've just thought about doing that for a real long time."
Violet smirked against his lips. While she had already realized the small bits of affection she had once been blind to and knew despite his protests how he felt–the small admission still made her battered heart grow warm. Each kiss still felt like the first, and Violet savored the sensation. "Me too."
They managed to make it up the stairs without further incident, Buddy emerging first and Violet lingering by the stairs to put a little distance between them. Not that it lasted long-as the last two to arrive, they were left with seats in the middle, next to each other.
"Did he trap you in the lab, lass," MacConnell asked, carefully carrying in several hot plates on his oven mitt-covered hands, trailing after Helen. "How did you like it?"
"Oh-I didn't see it." Violet slid into one of the chairs, logically knowing that not a soul here would know that they had had their hands inside each other's clothing just moments before. Still, she felt like someone was going to register the excitement that still lingered in her (and her blushing cheeks), like a radiation detector.
Helen asked, "Then what on earth took you two so long, the steak is almost cold," eyeing her daughter. Violet tried to keep her expression as blank as possible. Her parent's disapproval didn't stop her, but it wasn't a fun feeling.
"They were watching some old movie," Dash said, already holding his plate and waiting for the dishes to be set on the table. His father pushed him back into his seat and reminded him to wait for everyone else.
"Oh no, what did you force on her," Mirage asked. "The Manchurian Candidate?" She was carefully bringing in wine glasses, enough for everyone, handing one to Dash with a conspiratorial smile.
Buddy snorted, going to one of the smooth wooden walls and tapping an invisible panel. A compartment slid out, filling the room with a gust of chill and the clink of glass. He pulled out a wine bottle and checked the label. "I didn't force anything on her, did I?"
Violet couldn't look at him as she hummed her agreement, instead taking great interest in the gold gilt on the plate before her, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. Her hair. It was braided before, and now completely undone, the tie flung somewhere in the theater. She hadn't worn it loose in a long time. Carefully attempting to comb it back, Violet could almost feel Mirage's stare burning into the top of her head. "I-it was a good movie. A Man For...um-" What on earth had been on the screen? She could really remember at the moment.
"A Man For All Seasons, Buddy? No wonder she looks like she's about to fall asleep. Why can't you ever watch something that's more than people sitting around, talking politics?"
"Oh like Wuthering Heights was any better, I was gone before the thirty-minute mark."
"It was romantic!"
Buddy rolled his eyes, passing her the bottle he chose and kicking the compartment closed. "Nat, he tried to dig up her dead body and make out with it."
Dash gagged. "That didn't happen...did it?"
"Didn't you just read that for school," Bob asked with a tone of we will discuss this later in his voice. Mirage had uncorked the bottle by this time and was beginning to pour in everyone's glass. "And don't even think about it."
"Aw, c'mon," Liam said, finally taking his own seat beside the boy. "Put some hair on his chest. Besides, with dinner is not so bad."
Bob glanced at Helen, who held her pointer finger and thumb close together. "Just this much."
Dash let out a whispered yes, punching the air, and immediately held out his glass to be filled next. Once everyone was in their seats, Liam held up his drink by the glass' stem. "Well, as the first real meal we've had in almost a month-some of us longer-I think we should toast. To our host, Mr. Pine. Thanks for letting us crash your humble abode."
"Did I have much choice," Buddy asked, leaning back in his chair. But Mirage toasted as well, Violet following with Helen and Dash following, though the latter two looked rather sour about it. After much rolling of the eyes, even Bob lifted his drink with a mumbled to our host. Buddy raised a brow, but sighed and toasted, "To you Mac, for cooking even though it took three hours with the way your mouth runs. Especially to you, Mrs. Parr, for putting up with him and not turning him into stew." He paused a moment before lifting his glass a little higher and added in a more serious tone, "and to us, for even getting this far." A glance to Violet and then, "May we all get the satisfaction we deserve."
Violet was sure that by now, she was going to have a nose bleed with how much blood rushed to her face in fluster. Mirage saved her by ending: "May we gather again after all of this, healthy and safe."
"Healthy and safe," Violet murmured as a chorus of tinkling filled the air from the clinking of glasses in various states of fill. Alive and safe. And together. Buddy, finally understanding that he was the host, stood and held out a hand for Violet's plate, beginning to serve everyone at the table. He may have been an infuriating bastard, but he had something like manners.
Liam made good on his reputation for conversation, engaging Helen on the subject of different culinary dishes she had attempted and cookware. Apparently, they had spent these past hours bonding in the kitchen, a fruitful friendship, if their food was any indication. The talk traveled from their current feast to anecdotes about the meals they had shared with family for various holidays, and then on to past careers. Even Buddy joined in, surprising everyone by engaging Bob in a very stilted talk about insurance policies-mostly the villain degrading Insuricare for a few sentences, and then completely clocking out as the man went on a tirade against the company.
Perhaps his tolerance of the super was due to the fact that Buddy's hand found Violet's thigh under the table as he listened. It remained there for the majority of the meal, often testing the waters northward until she firmly shoved it back to safer territory. Still, all her subtle smacks and shoves didn't stop him from caressing her inner thigh close to her knee. She had difficulty focusing on her food but forced herself to eat anyway. She would need the sustenance. As if reading her mind, Buddy's hand tightened on her leg for a brief moment.
The wine continued to flow, and when the bottle was done, Buddy found another, boasting over the brand and vintage, and even giving a little explanation about what made good wine. Apparently one didn't rub shoulders with the rich and powerful and not come away with some interesting information. Dash had figured out a system of pouring just a few drops into his glass when it got low, little enough for neither parent to protest, but regular enough for him to get his fill.
Not that anyone noticed, as the liquor loosened their tongues. They all found common ground in being well-traveled, either for hero work or business. Mirage knew an exceptional list of supervillains who had tried to muscle into the arms race after the anti-super laws were passed, and had plenty of tales about their most incompetent moments whilst bartering with them, which settled the Parr's ire at the connection. They too had experiences with common acquaintances from various fights. They had descended into reminiscing about the 'golden days', Bob always happy to recount some of his better moments and making glorious tales even out of his wife's smallest victories.
By the time Mirage recruited Dash to help her clear the serving dishes and bring out dessert, there were three empty wine bottles standing guard on the table, a fourth already halfway through. She brought out the small wedding cake Meiko had included in the crates in lieu of a real dessert. It was only two stacked tiers, but the piping was lovely, little draperies hanging between candy columns, cherries dropped onto swirls of icing on the plinths. "Don't make yourselves sick," she warned, cutting both her husband and friend a piece first before asking everyone else how big they wanted theirs.
"We're not children," Buddy griped.
"I've seen how you do your coffee," Violet commented, refusing a slice herself. "You've got the biggest sweet tooth I've ever seen-shut up Dash." The young man deflated, robbed of the opportunity to jab at the villain and his dental shortcomings.
Buddy eyed her, accepting a plate with a heavy slice. "You're not having any?"
"I don't like sweet."
"Aw, shucks. That's such a shame." Buddy sat back with a smile, holding her gaze and plucking the cherry off his plate. "You should really learn to try new things, princess. You might like it." He licked the frosting off the little shining fruit before biting it off its stem. She watched him wipe the corner of his mouth with his thumb and had the strongest urge to clean the finger with her own lips.
"I'm good, thanks. I'd be up all night if I had that much sugar."
Buddy's eyes flashed, and his grin widened. "Is that so bad? You got somewhere to be in the morning?"
Violet let her hair hang slightly to hide the return of the blush. "We have work to do and-"
"Come on, one bite. To celebrate the newlyweds."
"They've been married for years!"
"The honeymoon never ends when you're in love," Liam claimed, leaning his cheek against the hip of his still standing wife. Mirage smiled and glanced down at him, amused by his antics, but informing him he wasn't getting another piece. "Can I have a slice 'a you instead, then, love?"
Buddy mimed retching, before taking up his fork and pushing his plate towards Violet. "Come on, share mine." He loaded some of the cake on his fork and held it out.
"I'm not eating off your fork," Violet snorted. Did he think everyone was too drunk to see how he was obviously flirting with her? With a quick glance around at her father, who was currently feeding his own wife bites from his plate, she had to admit that...yes, they probably were.
"One bite. Sweets will make you sweet, don't you know?" And he had an interest in her being sweet tonight. "I don't have cooties."
"Yes he does," Bob broke in suddenly, though his pointed look at Violet was rather unfocused. "All men have cooties, every last one of them, Violet." He shook a finger at her, but it was obvious that he was teasing his eldest. "Remember that."
"Okay, Dad." Violet patted her father's arm, giving Buddy a warning glance. His grin widened and took the bite himself. Deprived of his small victory, his left hand found her leg again, sliding to stroke the inside of her thigh before she had a chance to snap her knees shut. How he could concentrate on both rotting his teeth out and driving her insane was almost impressive. He pulled her leg closer, until it pressed against his, and trailed his fingertips along the inseam. Little whispers of a touch that crackle like static electricity against her skin, the currents all leading to one central place.
Finally, when he had finished his dessert and settled back to listen to whatever was the topic of conversation now (Violet had difficulty concentrating at that moment) his hand began to wander in earnest and she pushed back from the table. "I'm still a little tired, I'm gonna head back up to bed."
"Are you feeling well, lass? You look flushed."
She could've strangled Liam with his apparently earnest concern and was glad when his bride elbowed him. He had been too wrapped up in Mirage and reminiscing about their marriage to realize the torture she had been under with his friend. Liam frowned, then with a look between her and the smirking Buddy, suddenly understood. The clearing of his throat sounded too much like a chuckle for Violet's taste.
"You want me to take your temperature," Helen suggested. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed to have forgotten not only her disapproval but the fact that Buddy and Violet were even sitting together.
"No! No I just...think I need a little more sleep. That's all." She smacked the back of her hand against Buddy's shoulder as he tried, and failed, not to snicker. "You might want to rest as well, you were the one running around the hotel."
"Me? Oh no." Buddy smiled up at her with the most deviously innocent smile. "I'm wide awake, don't you worry. Besides, I have some Cuban cigars calling my name."
"You still have those?" That was enough to pull the engineer from his wife.
Buddy nodded excitedly. "A full box. Come on." Buddy stood, Liam quickly following. After a pause, he turned towards the head of the table. "Do you smoke?"
It took a moment for everyone, let alone Bob, to realize the villain had been speaking to him. "Me? Not usually but I...I could give it a try. But let me help with the dishes first-"
"No, you go," Violet said, waving her father off, and her mother when she began to stack plates. If she was going to wait she might as well occupy herself. And she had technically gotten out of kitchen duty two nights in a row. "I'll clean up, then go to bed."
Buddy nodded and gestured for Bob and Liam to follow. She remembered the words she had told her mother: he's trying. Though perhaps there was a bigger part of him that was having too much fun in both making her wait and socializing with a father totally ignorant of what Buddy was doing with his daughter. Still, the effort was there, no matter the intent.
Violet volunteered Dash to help her clear the table and wash the dishes, though he wasn't much use. His plan worked a little too well, and he swayed slightly on his feet. She regulated him to drying duty, making sure the marble counter under his hands was covered with a soft towel in case he fumbled a plate. Some of this cutlery looked like it cost her entire degree. Finally, she let him off the hook, telling him to wander up to bed when his head began to nod.
Through the kitchen wall, she saw the three men standing by the forge, talking, and casually flicking ash into the hearth. Or else, Liam was talking (Buddy had a point, he never seemed to be without words), and Bob and Buddy answered to him, never each other. They must have been talking about cars, for they were all rather animated, cigars burning in the wind as they gestured with their hands rather than from any savoring.
Once the last plate was done and dried, she stuck her head out and bid them all goodnight, taking a moment to admire Buddy's long lean lines with the sleeves of his sweater rolled up, scars for once forgotten, his black on black watch flashing in the low light. He wasn't looking at her when he bid her goodnight and she pointed out, "You know you shouldn't be smoking, with your condition. I thought I told you? We have a lot of vigorous activity coming up, and it'll hurt your performance."
At that, his head snapped up, and Violet savored for the second time, seeing Buddy Pine without a thing to say. It was the cherry on top to see his ears flame red when her father agreed, saying "You should listen to her, she's a doctor, she knows best."
"Maybe she can prescribe something for your condition," Liam murmured before taking a long drag and blowing a smoke ring into Buddy's glaring face.
Violet paused for a moment, watching them in the twilight, illuminated by the light of the pool. Watching Buddy, perhaps a little tipsy, settle into her life, weaving himself in deftly as if he had the elusive thread she had been grasping for all along. They all did, everyone that had broken bread that night, talking as if they had belonged here in those very seats, the wood simply waiting for them to arrive and gather. In these simple (not exactly quiet) moments, she saw her secret dream come to life, and the road before her cleared just slightly.
A life, a home, with her family and Buddy. A future of dinners full of talking and laughing, not always perfect, not always peaceful-but when was a Parr residence ever that? Perhaps not exactly like this, perhaps not always together. After all, she couldn't really see a world where the Parrs and Buddy totally forgot what they had once been to each other, and the Violet that had happily resided at home no longer existed. But perhaps Violet would not have to bisect herself, or her heart.
Fell had been able to take away her security, taken away her peaceful nights. He had cut trauma into Buddy's very brain. He had done so much to them, changed them in so many fundamental ways. But this-this the monster couldn't touch. No one could touch them, hurt them, if they were together, if they chose each other rather than drift away. A lesson she had learned well, and one Buddy finally seemed ready to learn.