Another beautiful evening on Nomanisan, another stunning sunset lining the horizon, enfolding the island and surrounding waters in a rich, fiery glow.
For Syndrome, the novelty of such consistently stunning weather had long since worn off. But even so, as he stared out through the window to see the sprawling island of Nomanisan come into view, appearing so warm and welcoming in the golden light of the evening sun, a strange sleepy calmness drew over him – an unexpected wave of contentment brought on by the secure knowledge that he had returned safely to the one place where he alone had complete control, this wondrous spot of land that was all his, still all his, despite all that had happened over the last couple of days.
As the jet began its steady, circling descent, Syndrome received a transmission from a security guard requesting identification. With a frustrated sigh, Syndrome lazily flicked out a hand and pressed a button to accept the transmission and make his scathing reply,
"It's Syndrome, you idiot. Who else would it be? I guess this means no one noticed one of the flat-jets randomly taking off on auto-pilot…"
"Yes, sir. I mean no, sir. …It's good to hear from you, sir."
"Whatever." Syndrome muttered dismissively, leaning back in his seat. But after a few moments thought, he leaned forward again and asked in an oddly reluctant tone,
"…Is Mirage around?"
"I'm afraid she's gone, sir. She must've sneaked off and taken one of the jets while we were watching a report on the Omnidroid."
"Great." Syndrome growled through clenched teeth. "And I suppose this was mere moments after the Incredibles got mysteriously set free while you were all busy 'watching a report on the Omnidroid'. Jeez, what do I pay you guys for…"
The guard on the other end of the line promptly decided – rather than digging himself into a deeper hole – to change the subject.
"What happened to you, sir? After what happened with the robot…"
"Don't remind me." Syndrome snapped hotly. "Just get the scar-gun heated up. I'm in serious need of medical attention right now…"
"Right away, sir."
A few minutes later, the jet had landed neatly in the hangar. Syndrome slowly clambered out and looked around. Currently, no one else was around, though Syndrome expected that a few guards would soon arrive to unnecessarily escort him to the first-aid room…
Syndrome started walking away from the jet, but something suddenly glinted in the corner of his vision and caused him to turn back. It was coming from the jet – something small, silvery, and suspiciously out-of-place…
Frowning, Syndrome walked back to the jet's side, and began running a gloved hand over the back of the aircraft until… There. Syndrome raised his hand, and stared at the object in enraged disbelief, recognising its design instantly – a tracking device. Small, circular, and as inconspicuous as a silver coin, the device was stuck securely near the base of the jet's left wing, glinting at Syndrome mockingly.
"Oh man…" Syndrome groaned as the realization hit him. "I don't believe this… She bugged the jet!"
So that was why she jumped onto the jet, Syndrome thought. She must have planted it while…
While he'd been busy glaring at her. His eyes had been fixed on her eyes – it must have been exactly what she'd wanted him to do.
His temper rising, Syndrome wrenched the tracking device off of the jet and threw it onto the ground. He then swiftly brought his boot down on it, crushing its inner workings. But he was well aware that it was already too late – the girl would know the exact co-ordinates of the island by now…
"Is everything alright, sir?" A security guard had wandered into the hangar, and was now standing and watching Syndrome, most of his expression masked by the tinted visor over his eyes.
"No, everything is not alright!" Syndrome snapped back at the guard. He was regretting losing his temper over the tracking device, and staggered slightly as his vision swam, his body harshly reminding him of its weak state.
After standing still for a few moments, shutting his eyes until the dizziness passed, Syndrome sighed heavily and scooped up the crumpled tracking device. He then casually flipped it – as one would flip a coin – to the guard, who caught it easily and examined it with feigned interest.
"Looks like I've got a stalker." Syndrome said with grim amusement. He then gingerly placed a hand over his bandaged shoulder and added, "And a helpful one at that…"
While stranded in Metroville, Syndrome's thoughts had been a panicked, feverish jumble. But now, his thoughts were becoming clearer – things were starting to fit into place. This girl, who had appeared out of nowhere to bandage his wounds – the girl who'd jumped so boldly onto his jet and planted a tracking device without him even noticing – was the same girl that had found him hiding in the park, and had returned to him his wrist-gauntlet and jet-pack. She was following him, that much was obvious. But why…
"It's no problem, sir." The guard said in his gruff, monotone voice. "I'll put the squad on red-alert. If any aircraft tries to approach the island, we'll blast it out of the sky."
Syndrome was silent for a moment. He was staring absently at the floor, lost in his own thoughts. Then he said in a quiet voice, "No…we're not going to do that. In fact, we're not going to do anything at all." Syndrome glanced up at the guard. "If this stalker of mine wants to pay us a visit, then we won't do anything to stop her. But once she's here…" He grinned evilly. "We'll arrange a little welcoming party for her…"
It had not taken Kate long to arrange for transport to the island. Helicopter was the chosen vehicle – not exactly the most luxurious or speediest mode of air-transport, but it was the only aircraft available that didn't need a runway in order to land, and considering Kate was meant to be sneaking onto the island, it seemed like the obvious choice. So, helicopter it was.
It was the day after Syndrome's escape from Metroville, and Kate had set out as early in the morning as possible, in order to reach the island before night fell. Mitch had decided to come with her, to keep her company on the long and tedious journey. The pilot of the helicopter was Ben Archer – a gruff but mild-mannered man in his late forties. He, in fact, was already acquainted with Kate and Mitch, being an old associate of the American research centres they worked for. Ben was the sort of man who preferred to just do his job and not ask questions, and so he remained silent for most of the journey, leaving Kate and Mitch to chat idly.
It was now about four in the afternoon, and the two investigators, having both woken up from a nap a little while ago, were now having a late lunch. Kate was kitted out in what she cunningly referred to as a 'hiking in hot weather' outfit. Practical for running and climbing about, but light and airy for trekking in a tropical climate. On her top half she wore an olive-green vest-top, and over that an open shirt of white cheesecloth. The trousers she wore were beige and made of a similar material to the shirt, and on her feet she sported brown suede hiking boots. And, of course, she had her trusty old cord-string bag with her. Mitch, meanwhile, was dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt.
"So, what's going to happen once we get there?" Mitch asked Kate as he chewed pensively on a cheese sandwich. "Got a plan?"
Kate, who had been checking over the contents of her bag for the third time, looked up at Mitch and grinned. "Oh, you know me, I don't make plans." She replied, wafting a hand as if to dismiss the notion. "I'll probably just wander around until I get caught, and then after that we'll just play it by ear..."
Mitch chuckled. "So, everything's well thought out, then."
"Yes indeedy."
The conversation was interrupted as Ben suddenly called out, "We're here!"
As Kate and Mitch twisted round in their seats to stare out of the window, the pilot began to give a casual and rather obvious evaluation of the sprawling island that they were now approaching.
"Looks to be a…volcanic, semi-tropical climate. Dense jungle…two volcanoes. And judging by the bare land towards the West, one of them is active. Can't see any architecture from this altitude – too much vegetation. I'm gonna take us down to that bay on the South-West tip. Should be safe there..."
As the helicopter began its descent, Kate stared out at the view below her with awe and longing, her love for adventure and exploring triggered by the sight of this remote island paradise.
"It's beautiful…" she said quietly.
"Yeah, and a perfect set-up." Said Mitch, "Crazed genius with a secret base on an uncharted island. I don't get it – does this guy want to be a hero or a villain?"
Kate looked round at Mitch and shrugged. "Maybe a bit of both." She replied with a smile.
After coming in to hover directly over the chosen bay, the helicopter was set into a steady vertical descent. Kate waited impatiently for the rough jolt as the helicopter settled on the ground, then immediately unclipped her seatbelt, grabbed her bag, and unlocked the cabin door. After sliding the door open and leaning out for a brief look around, she turned back to smile and wave at Mitch, then leaned round the pilot seat, extending her hand to Ben and saying gratefully,
"Thanks for the flight, Ben. I really appreciate this."
"No problem." Ben replied gruffly, though he smiled and shook Kate's offered hand. "And good luck with whatever it is you're here to do."
"Thankyou."
Kate then turned and hopped out of the helicopter and onto the beach. Its propellers were still spinning rapidly (having been warned of the danger, Ben wanted to get away from the island as quickly as possible), stirring up the sand and rippling the water, and causing Kate to place her hands over her head for fear of her long hair getting caught in the whirling blades. But even over the helicopter's noise, Kate heard a thump as another pair of feet hit the sand, and she turned to see Mitch standing beside her.
"I'm coming with you." Mitch announced with a determined smile.
Kate smiled back at him, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. A nagging doubt in her mind, making it hard to work out whether Mitch coming with her would help or hinder the mission. But either way, she had no power to stop him. This mission to gather information about Syndrome and his inventions had been assigned to both of them – Mitch was just as much a part of it as she was. So, Kate kept her concerns to herself, and nodded to Mitch before turning to watch as the helicopter lifted away from the beach, ascending swiftly into the cloudless sky.
For a short while the two investigators stood side by side, watching as the helicopter retreated into the distance, both in silent reverence to the grim knowledge that, from this point onwards, they were on their own.
Eventually Kate turned away to stare around thoughtfully at the dense jungle which loomed around them, lining all sides of the small bay. As naturally optimistic as Kate was, even she could not deny that the chance of them finding anything before they themselves were found would be a matter of luck alone. Even the jungle itself looked treacherous and foreboding. And that was just the way she liked it.
"So…" Mitch spoke up. "Into the jungle, or round the beach?"
"Well we're not going to get anywhere by wandering round the edge of the island…" Kate replied, arching a mischievous brow at her companion.
"The jungle it is, then."
Kate grinned and started forward. She didn't need telling twice. The vast jungle beckoned to her, inviting her to discover the secrets it held. And she would heed its call willingly, no matter where it took her.
Together, Kate and Mitch made their way off the beach and into the jungles of Nomanisan Island.
Author's Note: Ok, I know some people dislike it when there are huge footnotes at the end of chapters, because it's a bit messy and unprofessional, but I so dearly want to reply to the great reviews people have been posting, and there's nowhere else to do it, so here goes. (All reviews are read and appreciated, but I'm just responding to a selection of them for now.)
Bikabyte: Thankyou for all your kind and encouraging words – your enthusiasm makes me happy. Oh, and thanks for all the cookies. Mmm…virtual cookies…
Dancer of the Moonlit Lake: Thankyou – keeping everyone in character is of the utmost importance to me, so I'm glad you approve of things so far.
Pitbulllday: PBL! flaps You know me, right? It's Chikkennoodul/QueenMeanie. Thanks for reading the fic, I'm glad you like it.
WormmonABC: It's funny that you (and many other reviewers) should mention the thing with the turbine engine, because the idea of Syn using his immobi-ray to escape was actually not my first choice. Originally I was going to base it (and I'm sure Pitbulllady will back me up on this) on the fact that, in real life, turbine engines don't slice people into mincemeat – the propellers spin fast, but they're so brittle and light-weight that, if a human was to hit them, the blades would either shatter or just stop, much like sticking your finger into a household fan. But, in the Incredibles film, the engine was clearly portrayed as a source of danger and death, and I didn't want to lose that sense of menace – writing a 'he fell into the engine but didn't die because the blades stopped' scenario could have been somewhat anti-climatic. So I went with the immobi-ray theory, and everyone seems to like it, so that's good.
WormmonABC (again!): No, Rick was definitely much more than a lawyer. Going by what I saw in the film as well as 'Jack-jack Attack', he struck me as a 'Men In Black' type, what with all the memory-erasing gadgets. Lawyers don't tend to carry brain-washing devices around with them, as far as I know. ;;
SecularAnarchy: But…your views are exactly the same as mine, so I don't really know why you're saying what you're saying to me, if that makes any sense. You can't yet judge the story because I have not yet told it – you seem to be accusing my story of being 'fluffy', when all you've seen so far are the opening chapters. Just because one chapter is one way, that doesn't mean all the other chapters will contain more of the same. I'm fully aware of the way the Incredibles universe works –the story I've got mapped out in my head is intended to be an enjoyable and believable concept for a sequel to the film, while also dropping something new (and rather risky) into the mix. I'm not ranting at you, because I understand exactly what you're saying. It's just that you're not telling me anything that I don't already know.
Kithwynn: Gosh, that was the longest review I've ever received for a fanfic! But I would reply to you with exactly what I replied to SecularAnarchy – you're not telling me anything I don't already know, and you shouldn't really make those sort of judgements until the story is finished, because you never know what's round the corner. I feel I must point out that I'm not writing this fic because it's some sort of chore. I'm writing it for the same reason that anyone writes a fanfic – because it's fun, and because I can indulge in taking a favourite canon character and placing him in a situation of my own choosing. I have nothing but respect for the Incredibles universe and so decided from day one that if I was going to write this story, I would do it with as much accuracy, understanding and depth as possible. That doesn't mean, however, that I'm going to slave over it so much that it sucks all the fun out of it. I'm sure that no one really wants to see page after page of me going on about the whys and hows behind every action and spoken sentence. Being intentionally set out to read more like a movie than a piece of prose, this story is running rampant with what I like to call 'movie logic' – the boring information is taken out in order to keeps things pacey and interesting. You end up with something that might not make complete logical sense in the real world, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the story for what it is.
I think, in answer to most of your comments, I would say- just wait until I've written more of the story, please. It is, in some ways, so frustrating to read these comments when I know that – if you had just hung on until a later chapter before posting a review – you would not have written half of those comments, because all of your concerns would have already been put to rest. I'm not just making this thing up as I go along – I've already got, more or less, the entire story mapped out in my head. I already know that the reasons behind Kate's illogical motives are being withheld for a purpose, just as Syndrome's wrongdoings are been currently overlooked for a purpose. It is all, without giving too much away, setting up for shocks and twists in later chapters.
Despite what you say, my plans to keep on going with this story remain unchanged, as quite a few readers seem to be enjoying it almost as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I appreciate constructive criticism as much as the next writer, but in this case I'm going to carry on regardless.
(P.S. The thing with "he knew that the villain's defective qualities were something he couldn't be blamed for" is just odd writing on my part. It is meant to refer to the fact that Bob can't be blamed for Syndrome's qualities. The 'he' in the last half of sentence refers to Bob, not Syndrome.)