Atomic Parks Suburban Housing,

Metroville,

USA, 9/12/1975, 9:00 am

Chris grasped his son by the shoulders and shook him gently. 'Nick… Nick, where's Violet?'

Nick stretched his legs over the arm of the sofa with a yawn. 'M'm, she's in my room.' He kept his eyes closed.

Chris withdrew a look of shock on his face. 'What's she doing there?'

Nick mumbled something and swung his feet onto the carpet. 'Don't panic, dad.' He rubbed his eyes and yawned again. 'To cut a long story short, she woke up in the night with aches and pains, so I patched her up and we talked a bit. Anyway, she got cold so I offered her a proper bed to rest in.'

'What did you discuss?' Chris asked.

'Well, she was following us because her family needed information.'

'Why would her family need information? Why should it be any of their concern?'

'They be all supers.' Answered Nick in his best Captain Ahab voice.

Chris was not overly surprised. 'Probably think that we're trying to muscle in on their gig.' He stopped, then wanted to hear it one more time. 'All supers then?'

'Yes, every one apparently.' Nick stood up and worked the cricks out of his neck. 'I didn't get any names, but perhaps we could ask her some questions now that she's had a good nights kip under her belt.'

'Sounds good, seeing as you've peeked my interest.' Chris walked into the kitchen, muttered something about Helen Parr, and opened the fridge. 'It's nine now, I want to be gone by ten. Go and see if she's up – I'm going to start on a big cooked breakfast, I think we all deserve it after last night.'

---

'Miss Parr?' Nick rapped on his bedroom door. 'Are you awake?'

A distant voice called back through the wood. 'Yes, yes I am… but, please don't come in!'

Nick laughed and leant against the wall. 'I had no intention of doing so. I just wanted to tell you that my dad is cooking the Full English for breakfast, and that we'll be leaving for the airfield in under an hour.'

Violet opened the door slightly, revealing nothing but an eye. 'Um, I can't very well go out in my super-suit. Do you, uh, perhaps… I mean, could I possibly..?'

'You want to borrow some clothes?' Nick asked. Violet nodded slowly, her cheeks flushing red. 'Sure, in the wardrobe. They'll be big on you, but it's something.'

'Nick…' Violet's face disappeared and the door opened. Nick entered his room, and noticed Violet's red suit folded on the bed. 'Sit down. Don't worry, I won't become visible.' A wardrobe drawer slipped out and a blue shirt floated upwards.

'What is it, Violet?' Nick asked as he felt the red suit's material between a thumb and forefinger.

'Please, call me Vi.' The disembodied voice went on. 'I was thinking last night… why did you hit Tony?'

Nick exhaled and collapsed onto the neatly make bed. 'Because he's a pig and he hurt you.'

Violet snorted as a pair of shorts wrapped themselves around her invisible legs. 'You barely knew me then… you barely know me now.' She appeared, filling the monstrously baggy clothes with a body, and stuck a pose. Nick resisted the temptation to laugh.

'Very… nice.'

Violet sat next to him. 'I just wanted to say thanks, for what you did. It was a bit, excessive, but I can't think of any other boy who would have leapt to my defence like that.'

'It's in my nature, don't mention it.' Nick said quietly.

'And…' She started. 'Thanks for helping me out last night.'

Nick shrugged. 'You tried the tough-cookie routine, but you still weren't hiding your discomfort very well. There's no point not getting it seen to…'

Nick looked down and saw that the gap between him and Violet had closed a good few inches since she sat down. Oh dear… Echoed a small voice inside his head. Do something…

He coughed and stood up abruptly, leaving Violet to stare up at him hopefully. 'Do you hear? Uh, my dad's calling us for breakfast. I think we should get going…' Violet's eyes dimmed a notch. 'Yes, that's a good idea. A very good idea…' Nick trailed off and almost ran from his bedroom.

Violet picked up her suit and followed on.

---

'My Lord, young lady!' Gasped Chris, mouth wide. He had never seen anything quite like it. 'Have you ever eaten before today?'

Violet had an entire side of the table to herself. It was covered with half-full plates of toast and fried-bread, as well as two cartons of orange juice, one of which was dry.

Nick was quietly impressed. 'Dad, when you got shocked when I was little, was hunger a side effect?'

'I don't remember so, lad…'

Violet finished her sausages and mopped up the grease with a piece of under-done toast. When everything had been eaten, she drained her glass of fruit juice and burped. 'Oh, excuse me… that was lovely, thanks!'

'No worries.' Mused Chris as he started to gather the utensils together. 'We like to feed our guests well.'

'Dad?' Nick began, looking first at his watch, then at Violet. She smiled at him and he felt his brow prickle. 'Leave the washing, we need to get going. I'll help when we get back.' He glanced at his feet, thinking. What was wrong with him? A semi-romantic advance by a girl he liked wasn't anything to flee, but it just didn't feel right.

'By Jove, Nick, you're right.' He turned to face Violet. 'So, you said you were meeting your mother today at ten?'

'At Hutchins Field.' She added.

'OK, time to get our skates on.' Chris picked up his keys and Nick finished his juice before getting up.

Violet wondered aloud. 'What about questions, Mr. Worthy?' She chortled. 'I was spying on you…'

Chris smirked. 'I'll interrogate you en route, if it makes you feel any better.'

----

Unknown location,

Kamchatkan Peninsular,

USSR, 9/12/1975, 9:15 am

A shadowy figure waded through the snow towards a waiting jeep. The man was huge, and despite a thin suit seemed impervious to the cold.

Reaching the jeep, he opened the passenger door and got inside. A small man wearing glasses was waiting. He shivered underneath a thick fur outfit and pushed his glasses up to better see the black suited man.

'I got it, Comrade Taplinski.' The man handed a brown package to the large figure and shrunk back. 'Enough tetra-plutonium to destroy Moscow five times over.'

'Ah, yes… finally.' The other figure sniffed the package, as one would sniff a freshly made apple pie, and grinned showing off pointed yellow teeth. 'You have served me well, Dr. Petrovich. But unfortunately, you have now outlived you usefulness.'

The doctor screamed and scrabbled for the door handle dementedly. He didn't move fast enough before an ice-cold hand wrapped around the back of his neck. The dark man jerked his wrist, and the doctor's neck snapped like a twig. 'One more thing, Doctor, you know my name isn't Taplinski…'

He got out of the vehicle and pushed a button on his belt. A radio crackled some kind of confirmation and within moments a black and red Hind-E assault chopper flew up over a ridge and landed in front of Taplinski's hulking form. He climbed into the crew compartment and the helicopter rose into the steel grey sky.

The villain took a seat and addressed the chopper pilot. 'Back to base, Leitenant. We shall leave the snow to cover the evidence.'

'Da, Comrade Rasputin. We will be there very shortly.' The pilot turned back to his controls and set the heading.

'Rasputin… your trip was fruitful?' Asked a cold voice from the darkened rear of the chopper.

'Ah, Polkovnik Fury. Yes, very fruitful.' Rasputin held up the brown bag then threw it to Fury who deposited it into a lead case. 'The Motherland must never ally with the Imperialist West, and with this token in my position I can insure that this "détente" does not progress any further.'

Fury cackled. 'Indeed, Comrade.'

Rasputin looked at his second in command. 'I trust you have read about the next target?'

'Da, I have. It will be like taking candy from a baby.' Fury laughed again, and it seemed to freeze the very air around him. 'I leave for this Metroville tomorrow and will contact you when I have located the device.'

'Very good.' Said Rasputin, turning to look out of a window. 'But please, don't start marking the scene with your name again. Too many questions were asked about "The Winged Fury" before…'

'And I paid the price for my slip, Comrade. It will not happen again.'

'Excellent.' Croaked Rasputin. 'By February next year, the US will be on its knees, and I will rise to lead this great nation to the victory it deserves!'

---

Hutchins Airfield,

Metroville,

USA, 9/12/1975, 10:05 am

Helen Parr watched from the top of the control tower as a dark green Jaguar crawled along the dirt track leading to the small terminal building – more of a shack than anything else.

The car pulled up and Helen was surprised to see Chris Worthy get out of it. He scanned the tarmac then looked up and saw her. He waved his arms and shouted at her from below.

'Mrs. Parr. We need to talk!' He started walking towards the tower.

Helen hollered back. 'I'm afraid now isn't a good time… I'm waiting for somebody.'

Chris produced an elastic-band from his coat pocket and started playing with it to make his point. 'I'm afraid it's quite important, I don't think it can wait!'