Needless to say, Kate and Mitch did lose sight of Syndrome soon after entering the city. The high-flying villain became lost from view amongst the towering buildings, and since his rocket-boots left no trail of smoke or vapour, the two investigators were at a loss.

By now, Kate had rolled back the sun-roof, and was hanging out of it in order to better scan the skies, much to the intrigue of many pedestrians who – having already been shaken up by yesterday's arrival of a gigantic robot and a family of Super Heroes – followed Kate's lead and glanced up at the sky as Mitch's car passed, as if expecting to see something interesting.

Just when it was beginning to seem hopeless, Kate caught sight of an already familiar shape sailing overhead, high above the street. She saw Syndrome slow up as he reached the roof of a particularly tall building, before once again disappearing from view.

"Stop the car!" Kate yelled so suddenly that Mitch automatically slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to an abrupt halt, and causing much angry shouting from the driver of the car behind, who had to swerve to avoid them.

"Jeez…" Mitch hissed through gritted teeth, hastily pulling the car over to the curb.

"I just saw him land on the roof of that building over there." Kate announced as she ducked back inside the car and grabbed her backpack. "I'm going up there…Sorry for startling you just then…"

"It's alright. But, how are you going to get all the way up there?"

"Well I ain't taking the stairs, that's for sure…" Kate answered dryly as she flung open the door and hopped out of the car. As she started up the steps towards the main entrance of the building – which appeared to be an office of some sort – she turned to look back at Mitch, and grinned mischievously as she shouted,
"If I end up getting shoved over the roof – catch me, ok?"

Mitch chuckled, and called, "Yeah, right!..."

As it turned out, Kate and Mitch were not the only ones to witness Syndrome's return to the city that morning.

Not far from where Mitch had parked, an aging man in a smart black suit stood on the street, staring up at the skyscraper with a weary look on his face. A younger man – wearing sunglasses and dressed in a similar suit – stood next to him, and after a while he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a cell phone. This he then handed to the older man, who then proceeded to make several phone calls…

A few blocks away from where all this was going on stood the hotel in which the Parr family were currently staying.

Exhausted from such an eventful day, the Parrs had all gone to bed immediately after checking in, and had only got up relatively early the next morning because Dash and Violet – their appetites far outweighing their tiredness – had not wanted to miss the breakfast service.

After eating, the family had returned to lazing around in their room – which was in fact a rather luxurious suite, all expenses being paid for by the Super Relocation Program. But the family of Supers found little time to enjoy it, as they were still feeling dazed by all that had happened to them over the last couple of days. All of them, that was, except for Jack-Jack, who in many ways had been through the strangest ordeal of all, yet still seemed as cheerful as ever.
Of course, all Dash wanted to do was talk non-stop about his adventures on the island, and all the amazing things he had seen during the battle with the Omnidroid, but he was met with little enthusiasm from his parents, who were already beginning to fret about finding a new house.
Though out of all of them, Violet was the quietist. Ever the deep thinker, she was still pondering on something that had crossed everyone's mind at some point since last evening – the death of Syndrome.

Had the villain really deserved what he'd got? Was it wrong to think of his death as a good thing? Alternatively, was it wrong to think of it as a bad thing? Was it their fault that he had been killed? And such a horrible death, too…

In an attempt to get everyone's minds back on normal things, later that morning Helen had gathered the whole family round to play a board game. But of course, the game had not lasted long before Dash and Violet had started to argue, accusing each other of cheating, and then Jack-Jack had decided to join in by banging his hands on the table and screaming loudly.
For Bob, it was a relief when the phone suddenly rang.

Bob stood up and wandered over to where the phone sat on a small desk by the window, and picked up the receiver.

"Hi Bob, it's Rick." Announced the curt, gravely voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh hi Rick, how's it going?" Bob responded casually, though wondering why the agent was calling.

"Not so good, Bob, not so good."

"Oh." A conserned frown formed on Bob's face, and as he chanced a glance at his family, he saw four inquisitive faces peeking up over the couch at him.

"Well, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Syndrome's alive, and he's in the city." Came the abrupt reply.

At this news, Bob's eyes widened in shock. Speechless for a moment, he placed a hand to his forehead and once again glanced over at his family, which was probably a bad move, as everyone instantly wanted to know what had caused his shocked expression.

"Bob, what's wrong…" Helen asked in a low, anxious voice. She got to her feet and began to walk over, but Bob waved her away.

His voice returning in a noticeably more hushed tone than before, Bob murmured, "But the plane…the explosion…how could he have…"

"Apparently his zero-point energy inventions can be used to save lives as well as ruin them. Right now he's on the roof of an office building a couple of blocks away from where you're staying, and we don't yet know what he's up to. We've notified the building's security persona of the situation, but from what I know and from what you've told me, they're not going to be much of a match for Syndrome."

"…So, you want me to come down there now?"

"Yes. Helen too. We've set up an observation point in the building opposite – at the moment we're just watching and learning, though we're well equipped for if Syndrome decides to make any sudden moves. But, since you've dealt with this wacko before, I think you and Helen should be here, as advisors at least. …Sorry about all this, Bob. I know you're all still recovering from yesterday…"

"It's hardly your fault, Rick. I've been dealing with 'bad-guys' long enough to know that they have a habit of returning just when you think you've defeated them for good…"

Having been standing close enough to overhear this particular comment, Helen's face swiftly changed to the same shocked expression that Bob had been wearing moments before.

Meanwhile, Bob was scribbling down Rick's instructions on a notepad, of the address of the 'observation building', and which floor Rick and his team were stationed on. Then after a brief good-bye, Bob put the phone down and turned to Helen, who was staring at him anxiously.

"Syndrome." Helen said, speaking the foreboding title with a noticeable amount of contempt. "He's back, isn't he…"

Bob nodded. "Yes. That was Rick on the phone. He saw Syndrome land on the roof of a building not far from here, and he wants us to go 'evaluate the situation'."

Helen sighed wearily, closing her eyes for a moment. "It just never stops, does it…"

Bob smiled sympathetically at his wife. "Nope…"

Then, Violet spoke up hesitantly, "Well…this is a good thing…right? I mean…it's good that's he's still alive…in a way…"

"Are you kidding?" Dash suddenly interrupted. "Where were you during the multiple times he tried to kill all of us? Taking a nap?"

"Dash." Helen scolded her son, before sighing again. "While I can't help but think that the world would be better off without Syndrome, Violet is right. Death is not something we would wish on anybody. But, now that we know Syndrome's alive, that means he's still got to be brought to justice, so your father and I have to go and see what he's up to. And…" She paused as she saw her two children clamber hurriedly to their feet, "You two have got to stay here."

She was instantly met with an outburst of complaints from both Dash and Violet, but she raised her hands defiantly and said, "No, I mean it this time."

"But Mu-um!" Dash whined, clasping his hands together pleadingly. "We're a team! …And I never got a chance to kick Syndrome's butt for trying to kidnap Jack-jack!"

"Jack-jack is exactly the reason why you've got to stay in this hotel." Helen responded firmly. "If there's even the slightest chance that Syndrome is still after Jack-jack, then we can't afford to leave him alone for one moment. I do not want a repeat of what happened the other evening." Helen shook her head, looking suddenly distressed. "That was way too close…"

"Ok, Mum…" Dash muttered, in a relenting yet slightly sulky tone.

The high winds whistling across the roof fluttered the mangled remains of Syndrome's cape in a conveniently dramatic way, as the weakened villain stood, or rather slouched – both hands clinging to the metal scaffolding of the building's water tower for support.

Syndrome rested his perspiring forehead against the metal railings, breathing heavily as a sudden recurrence of pain and light-headedness threatened to overwhelm him. He wore a look of grim determination on his face – an absolute refusal to let his strength fail him. With all the sudden movement, the terrible wound across his shoulder had started bleeding again, and in his already weakened state, that was not a good thing. He had been clever, though – while in the park, he had used the remote on his recovered wristband to send for an aircraft. It would come all the way from his island base to the exact co-ordinates of where he stood now, and the particular jet he had selected was one of the fastest and most advanced aircrafts in his possession. But even so, it would take a good while to arrive, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could last…

Bob and Helen both decided to be as subtle as possible on their mission into Metroville. Despite yesterday's events, they still technically were not supposed to be using their powers in public, let alone parading around in showy outfits. But either way, if there was need to use their powers, they would need the outfits to keep their identities hidden. So they put their uniforms on under their ordinary clothes, and drove into the city in their regular family car. They parked in a small car-park round the back of the building Rick had directed them to earlier, and after removing their outer layers of clothing and putting on their masks, gloves and boots, they swiftly headed round to the building's entrance. Unfortunately, it was a busy area of town, and so quite a few pedestrians inevitably spotted them. They gaped and pointed fingers, but the two Supers were inside the building and out of sight before the onlookers could attract any more attention to them.

This building, though old and currently not in use, was a good few floors taller than the office building across the street, and this was why Rick and his team had chosen it – the floor on which they had set up base was perfectly level with the roof of the building opposite, giving them a clear view of the goings on.

On entering the darkened room, the scene Bob and Helen beheld was surprising yet somehow familiar. A substantial amount of weaponry and technology lay sprawled over several tables, and all along the opened windows a line of men – who could only be described as snipers – crouched, staring through binoculars or, in a few cases, down the barrels of guns.

Rick stood behind them, staring out through the window, stony-faced as usual, until the two Incredibles arrived, at which point he turned to face them, greeting them with a nod and a grim smile.

"Bob, Helen, thankyou for coming so quickly."

"What's been going on, Rick?" Bob asked as he stepped up to the window. Though the targeted building stood on the other side of a wide road, it was close enough for Bob to clearly make out the unmistakable figure of Syndrome, clad in black and white, topped by that fiery hairstyle.

As Bob watched, he felt a sudden, unexplainable pang of guilt – the villain was not standing proud and arrogant as he'd been expecting, but slouched heavily against the building's water tower, clinging to the railings as if on the verge of collapse.

"He's injured and very weak." Rick announced impassively, answering the question before Bob could ask it.

Helen, who's expression – as she stared out through the window – was definitely not one of sympathy, glanced at Rick and asked, "Any particular reason why he's on the roof?"

"Our theory is that he's waiting for transportation of some kind, though we haven't been able to track anything yet. We're ready for when it arrives, though." He replied, gesturing to the snipers.

"You're going to shoot him down?" Bob asked, turning away from the window.

"If we have to, yes. If the security guards don't manage to subdue him."

Helen glanced up at her husband's face, and could instantly tell what he was thinking – he was thinking about going across to the building and capturing Syndrome by himself.

Rick seemed to have read Bob's expression too, for he then said, "You did what you did yesterday because it was an emergency, Bob. And as far as the politicians are concerned, you're still only a last resort. We need you here as advisors, and that's all."

Bob made no reply, but nodded his acknowledgement. He then turned back to the window as he heard Rick say, "Here come the guards…"

Meanwhile, Kate's quest to reach the roof of the office building was, as was the way with these things, proving somewhat more difficult than it should have been. Things had been going well at first, as she had managed to sneak into the elevator without anyone trying to stop her. But two thirds of the way up the building she'd had to get out, after a group of smartly dressed employees had stepped into the elevator with her, and had started staring at her with a mixture of suspicion and disapproval. All things considered, it was a stroke of luck to have got all that way without any difficulty, but now Kate still had about eight floors to go, and now she would have to use the stairs. Climbing eight flights of stairs wasn't really a problem – from the necessity of such a hazardous profession, she was a strong runner. It was actually getting to the stairs that proved difficult.

"Whoa, hold it right there, missy!" a loud, authoritive voice suddenly called out, causing Kate to skid to a halt, grimacing in frustration at being delayed from her goal. She turned around slowly, to see a security guard strolling towards her, wearing a rather smug, patronizing expression.

"Sorry miss, but there's a dangerous situation taking place on the roof at the moment, so no members of staff are allowed past this point."

Kate shifted her weight restlessly. She didn't have time for this!
"Yes, I know, but I…" Kate started, before the guard interrupted her.

"Come to think of it, do you even work here?" the guard asked with sudden suspicion, now observing Kate more carefully.

"No, but you see… Damn, where's my ID…" Kate began patting the pockets of her jeans, frantically searching for her 'ID card' - which was actually just a key card for access around the headquarters of one of the many organizations she worked for – but it had her photo on it, and at least it might prove her to be more than just a crazy person who had wandered in off the streets.

"I have ID…" she said again, and took off her backpack in order to rummage through it, but quickly stopped when she saw the guard's hand swiftly move towards the gun on his belt.

"Not so fast, missy…" he said warningly.

Maybe it was the fact that he kept calling her 'missy'. Maybe it was because she was only a few floors away from a supervillain in trouble. Maybe it was just impatience for irritating security guards in general. Whatever the reason, Kate suddenly decided that she'd had enough of being co-operative.

"Oh, sod off!" she said crossly, before turning round and making a dash for the double doors that led out to the stairs.

"Hey! Hey! Hold it!" Kate heard being called after her, and as she barged through the doors she instinctively ducked, half expecting to be fired at. But no shot came – when it came down to it, the guard didn't really feel much like shooting someone in the middle of an office, and figured that the girl was bound to run into more guards before she reached the roof…

Syndrome blinked and jerked his head up as the sound of rapid footsteps reached his ears. He whirled round, and beheld a troop of armed security guards jogging towards him. There were seven of them in total, and while they approached Syndrome confidently at first, they quickly slowed their pace as they came nearer; wary of what weapons or super-powers this odd character might possess.

"Are…Are you a Super?" One of the guards demanded dumbly, holding his gun at the ready, as were the rest of his team.

The question caused Syndrome to chuckle. "I'm better than any 'Super'!" he replied, drawing himself up to full height, his pride fuelling him with new strength.

Another, more confident guard then spoke up, "We've been given orders to place you under arrest for-

The guard never got to finish his sentence. Before the other guards even had time to react, Syndrome had deployed his immobi-ray, caught the guard who had been talking, and swung him out over the edge of the roof. Now Syndrome held the guard there, dangling helplessly over a very, very long drop.

Syndrome glared at the guards, his eyes wild and angry. "If any of you take one step closer to me I will drop him!" And, just to prove he wasn't bluffing, Syndrome momentarily let go of the guard. But the guard barely had time to start screaming before he was quickly caught again, hovering frozen within a field of crackling energy.

The rest of the team were so shocked by what they were witnessing that they obediently stayed where they were. Syndrome grinned smugly at the guards' worried faces. But even as he did so, he felt that same light-headedness taking hold of him once again. His raised arm – the arm keeping his captive guard immobilized – was starting to shudder under the strain, as his strength finally failed him. Syndrome was able to fight off the weakness only for a moment before his legs gave way beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor in a dead faint. Simultaneously, the beam of energy that had been holding the guard aloft abruptly ceased, and the man screamed in unbridled fear as he began to fall…

Bob and Helen had been watching all this from their lofty hiding place across the street. And when they saw the guard fall, it was Helen who reacted first. She flung open the window nearest to her and stretched her upper body out like a living tight-rope between the two buildings, before snapping out her elasticated arms and wrapping them round the legs of the guard as he plummeted past. Now, with a firm hold on the still petrified guard, Helen curved her elongated body down towards the ground like a bungee-rope, and safely deposited the guard on the pavement.

Once Helen had retracted herself back inside the building, she was surprised to see that Bob was still standing there, now watching the roof through a pair of binoculars.

Helen gave her husband a puzzled look and said, "Bob, Syndrome is throwing people off the roof! We have to stop him before he tries to kill anyone else!"

"No…I don't think he meant to drop the guard…" Bob replied quietly, still watching the roof.

"What?"

"…He's just collapsed."