Violet's mother and parents expressed surprise when they saw her enter the house only twenty minutes after the scheduled time for her date with Marvin. The girl's face reflected disappointment and anger.
"That was a pretty fast date," Dash remarked. "And coming from me, that's saying a lot."
"Uh, yeah," said Violet, anxious to cover up the fact that not only had her date failed miserably, but she had lost a good friend. "Haven't you heard of speed dating? It's the new thing."
"You didn't have to walk home," Helen reminded her. "You could have called me."
"It was a fantastic date," claimed Violet as she went to her room to change out of her dress. "I don't want to talk about it."
The girl disappeared behind the door and slammed it. "Same old Violet," said Bob with a grin.
Once she was back in her dark blouse and slacks, Violet threw herself over the bed and started to feel genuine concern (read: sorry) for herself. What had happened to her was so embarrassing, she dared not even write it in her journal, for fear someone would sneak a peek. For years she had dreamed of dating a boy--not because dating itself was so pleasant a prospect, but because it opened the door for the fulfilment of her other dream, kissing a boy. Finally she had realized her first goal, only to learn that the boy who had taken an interest in her was really a girl. And not just any girl, but a freak from a family of supervillains. Perhaps Chris had taken advantage of her out of spite, as the truce between their families banned the Hamiltons from stealing the money they needed to find a cure for Chris' condition. Yet Chris in the form of Marvin could have gone much further with her, and she would have suspected nothing. It occurred to Violet that Chris might have planned to do exactly that, only to be overpowered by her conscience.
She had misjudged Marvin so horribly. What would her next mistake be? Could she trust herself with boys?
When she had moped for an hour, her mother knocked and entered. "Ready for tennis, Vi?"
----
The Parrs had played tennis using their powers before, and it had come down to a duel between Helen and Dash. Helen could return anything sent her way by stretching her arms, while Dash could do the same by zipping around at super speed. The game had ended in a draw. In the absence of powers Helen was the best player, as she had become adept at the sport during her high school days. Violet's game was improving, but on this occasion her heart wasn't into her performance.
"Come on, sis," Dash chided her after she had missed another of his volleys. "I'm not using my super speed. In fact, I used super slowness that time."
As they strolled away from the tennis court with rackets in hand, Helen brought up a subject she deemed important.
"Kids, now that you're official members of The Incredibles, we should give you superhero names. We can't call you Violet and Dash when we're fighting bad guys."
"You're right, Mom," Violet acknowledged. "Let's call Dash 'Ritalin Poster Boy'."
"Yeah, right," Dash retorted. "Let's give Violet a stupid name, like 'The Disappearing Doofus'. Or an Indian name, like 'Watches Boys Take Off Their Clothes'."
"I do not, 'Runs Into Walls'," Violet snapped.
"Don't fight, children," Helen scolded them.
"Leave them be, honey," said Bob. "I like their ideas."
The argument continued until long after the family had returned home. Finally Helen was forced to literally put her foot down.
"Violet, choose a name for yourself," she ordered. "Dash, don't make fun of the name Violet chooses."
"Okay." Violet gave the matter a bit of thought. "Let's see...I can turn invisible...I can make force fields...put them together and you get...Invisible Force!"
Dash groaned, and his mother glared accusingly at him. "Your turn now," she told the boy. "Choose a name for yourself. Violet, don't make fun of the name he chooses."
"Hmm." Dash scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I can move really fast. What else can move really fast?"
"A loogie," Violet chimed in.
"Be quiet," Helen commanded her.
"Light moves really fast," Dash observed. "But I can move faster than light."
Violet looked eagerly at her mother, hoping she would correct the boy's error.
"You can't move faster than light," Helen pointed out. "But you can move faster than sound. I've heard you make a sonic boom before."
"Hey, that's a great name," said Dash with delight. "Sonic Boom."
"Then we're settled," Mrs. Parr declared. "Invisible Force and Sonic Boom."
"Invisible Farce," Dash joked.
"Sonic Boob," Violet rejoined.
While Helen struggled to put an end to their bickering, Bob had been drawn into a phone conversation with an earnest young man.
"Let me put my wife on the line," he offered. "She's the one who makes these decisions."
"I understand that your wife makes these decisions," said the young man in a monotonic voice, "but did you know that for only seventy-nine cents for each one hundred dollars of your outstanding balance, your credit account will be protected against such unpredictable events as sickness, job loss, and identity theft?"
"Uh, yes, you just told me," said Bob impatiently. "Look, if you want us to have this protection so badly, why don't you just make it standard and not charge us extra for it?"
"I understand that you don't want to be charged extra for it," said the phone representative, "but did you know that for only seventy-nine cents for each one hundred dollars of your outstanding..."
"Wait a minute," Bob interrupted sharply. "Are you a real person?"
As the man on the phone repeated his spiel for the fourth time, Bob heard a series of clicks. "I've got a call on the other line," he said with relief.
When he took the second call, a calm and serious voice greeted him. "May I speak to Helen Parr?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"No, you may not."
Wondering why his wife was involved in a top-secret matter of which he knew nothing, Bob motioned for Helen to take the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. P, this is Edgar Best. Don't tell anyone about this call."
Helen's heart plummeted. Her darkest fears had been confirmed.
"Er, thank you, but we already have a subscription to Better Parenting Magazine," she spoke nervously into the receiver.
"Meet me at eight o'clock behind the fabric store on 12th and Hood," came Edgar's voice. "Come alone."
"Eight o'clock," Helen carelessly repeated. Glancing at her husband in the easy chair, she added, "That's my children's bedtime. Any more survey questions?"
The connection went dead.
----
Under the pretense of needing velvet to make a dress for her newborn niece, Helen made her way, sans super suit, to the meeting point that Edgar had specified.
She stood next to a dumpster, in the dim glow of the street lights, for five minutes. Edgar finally arrived, wearing a sweat suit and jogging shoes. She hadn't seen him for more than a year, but she recognized him immediately--as the face behind Bald Eagle's mask.
"Did you tell anyone?" he asked quietly.
Helen shook her head.
"My folks wouldn't understand," said the son of Lucius and Honey.
"I don't understand either," said Mrs. Parr sternly.
Edgar took a deep, somber breath and began his tale. "When I was fifteen, I made up my mind to become a superhero like my dad, even though I had no powers. So I started training in secret--martial arts, weapons, gadgets, everything. When my folks asked me why I was gone all the time, I didn't answer. They thought I was mad at them."
"I'm not interested in your life story," Helen stopped him. "I want to know why you helped to steal the bolonium from the lab."
"You got it all wrong, Mrs. P," Edgar insisted. "I was there to keep it from being stolen. If you hadn't interfered..."
"Who stole it, then?" Mrs. Parr demanded.
Edgar leaned closer and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "A very dangerous dude who calls himself Cloud Cover. He can slip in anywhere by turning his body into vapor. He works for The Solon."
"The what?"
"A criminal mastermind," the young man explained. "He's got his hands in every crooked scheme in Metroville. I don't know who he is, but I'm close to finding out."
"This sounds like a job for the police," Helen remarked.
"The police can't touch him," Edgar went on. "The supers can't touch him either. Only I can, because I don't play by the rules."
Mrs. Parr glared disapprovingly at him.
"You just don't get it, do you? The rules were made by crooks like The Solon to protect themselves. Do you really think the super relocation program was meant to protect innocent people from the careless use of super powers? It was the crooks who came up with it, Mrs. P."
Seeing that Helen remained incredulous, Edgar sighed hopelessly.
"Let's change the subject," Mrs. Parr suggested. "Why does this Solon fellow want the bolonium?"
"I was getting to that," Edgar answered. "The bolonium is the last element he needs to create a weapon of unimaginable power."
"I thought bolonium wasn't used for weapons."
"I'm not talking about a bomb, or a gun, or anything like that." Edgar glanced warily in both directions. "This is where it gets crazy. You see, The Solon's not only a master criminal, but a master alchemist. I think he's trying to make a Philosopher's Stone."
"I've heard of that," said Helen thoughtfully. "What does he want to do, turn lead into gold? Take over the world economy?"
"More than that. If he succeeds, he'll gain the power to transmute matter in any way he chooses."
----
What is The Solon's fiendish plan? How many chapters will pass before we even meet him? The answers to this question, and many more, will be revealed...eventually!