Disclaimer: blah blah, dont own and all that jazz.
Writer's note: I don't really have anything pressing to say for this one, just felt like having one. I'm running into a little writer's block now. It's coming on slowly, an ominous cloud of gloom hanging over the horizon that is the end of the story.
ANYWAYS...
What music am I listening to right now? Great Big Sea! woot to country! I love it and I'm proud of it! woot to country!
Syndrome flew through the skies, fuming. He couldn't believe what idiots they were! He had told them to watch out, but had they listened? No, don't listen to the guy who know's what he's talking about, he'll only be right!
He couldn't believe it. The truck that had been carrying the most important part of his plan had been intercepted by the one person he had told them all to avoid, Mr. Incredible. They claimed he had come out of nowheres. One minute they had been surrounded by average, ordinary, every day cars, and the next they had Mr. Incredible's car right in front of them and Mr. Incredible pulling them all out of the truck cab with Elastigirl searching the back. One of the guys had managed to get away for long enough to call Syndrome for help. Syndrome knew he'd get there too late. Idiots!
He flew above the city, heading to the highway. As far as he could figure this was the third-to-last shipment. He had told them specifically to avoid them, but like usual he wasn't listened to. God he missed Nomanisan, at least there his orders were carried out the way he wanted. And if they were changed, it was still to benefit him. Maybe someday he would be able to go back.
He stopped in mid-air, he was over the highway. He couldn't see the truck, or Incredible's car. All he did know was that there was no cars going down the road, which was strange as there should have been lunchtime traffic. Well, might as well follow the road.
It didn't take long to find the truck, it was knocked over on it's side behind the legendary Incredicar. Syndrome was surprised that Mr. Incredible still went out in public, after all the lawsuits put against him. Maybe that was what he had been coming from.
Syndrome put his mask over his eyes and flew down to the road, landing beside Mr. Incredible.
"What's the problem?" He asked, acting like he was supposed to be there. The men that had been driving the van, that were now in the backseat of policecars all stared at Syndrome blankly.
"Nothing anymore, we just caught the men who robbed all those stores." One of the officers said, smiling. "We think there might have been more, and one person to coodinate it all. These guy's are a little too dense to have been able to do all that alone."
"Is there any way that I can help?" Syndrome asked, arms crossed.
"If you could stay here and make sure no one takes the things in the back that would be a big help. Myself and Elastigirl have somewheres important to be." Mr. Incredible said to Syndrome. "You just saved my butt, thanks."
"No problem, anytime." Syndrome said happily, though inside he was seething. It took all his self-control to not go out and attack the guy. Not here he kept telling himself, It's too open, you'll get him later, when you're ready.
Mr. Incredible jumped over to his car and sped away, Elastigirl in the passenger seat. Syndrome watched them drive away, and that was when he noticed it. A thin line of smoke above the buildings, leading to the roof of one. The kid had followed him.
"Goddammit." Syndrome swore to himself. Now he had to be really carefull what he did, that kid was no doubt watching him. He quickly turned his attention to the people now crowding around the overturned truck, wanting to find out what the holdup was. The police officers were trying to get everyone away from the van, unsuccessfully. Syndrome waited until no one was touching the van, and then shot it with his zero-point energy gloves and lifted it out of the reach of the people that had been crowding around it.
"Nothing to see here people, move along." Syndrome said, stepping to the side of the road while levitating the truck above his head. The police moved their cars out of the way and started the grueling task of getting everyone moving again. There was a lot of grumbling that someone was late for something or other, but Syndrome wasn't listening. He was trying to think of a way that he could get the stuff out from the truck.
Buddy watched in amazement as Syndrome went to help Mr. Incredible. Had he gone crazy sometime during growing up? He hated Mr. Incredible and everything to do with him! Now he saw Syndrome helping him? He would have to ask him about that, how he feels about Mr. Incredible.
He froze when Syndrome looked up at the buildings. He was hidden on a rooftop, so he knew Syndrome couldn't see him. But if he was simply an older version of himself, he'd know what to look for. He was found out, Syndrome knew he was there, he knew it.
"Aww man..." Buddy sighed. He had hoped to get away with following Syndrome the whole day, kinda like a spy in one of those James Bond movies. Guess he wasn't doing that.
He looked over the parapet of the roof, to see Syndrome levitating a truck over his head. He seemed preoccupied, like he was thinking.
"Maybe he needs my help now!" Buddy said hopefully. He jumped off the building, which caused some people on the ground to scream. Then he turned on his rocket boots and shot off into the sky, smirking down at the people who were laughing at the fact they had been scared.
He shot off towards Syndrome, to see how he could help, before he landed he pulled his blue mask out of his pocket and put it on. He didn't need people recognizing him. If there were news crews down there his parents would be furious that he had been on the highway, and then he'd be grounded for the rest of eternity. He couldn't have that could he?
Once his mask was on, he quickly went off and landed next to Syndrome.
"Need some help?" He asked quietly.
"Yes! No one's seen you yet, get into the truck and get the smallest box in there! Quick!" Syndrome gasped. Buddy couldn't tell if his expression was surprised, happy, or angry. He decided it was a mix of all three as he flew into the truck.
"Be sure not to touch the truck!" Syndrome warned quickly. Buddy nodded, not turning off his rocket boots when he got in. The truck slowly started filling up with smoke, but Buddy quickly saw the box Syndrome had wanted. The only thing was that there was three boxes all the same size.
"There's three 'smallest boxes'!" Buddy called, starting to panic.
"Grab them all then!" Syndrome said back, though a lot quieter. He then heard Syndrome start to talk to someone, one of the police. This was getting really bad, Buddy's heart started to beat fast, he was panicking. He picked up the three boxes and simply floated in mid-air, not knowing what to do. He saw the truck turning, and he started to move towards the door, making sure the truck didn't touch him, just as Syndrome said. He didn't know why, but he trusted Syndrome to know what he was talking about. He was older than him after all.
Buddy saw that the Truck had moved around completely, to face away from Syndrome and the surrounding police officers. relief flooding through him, he flew out of the truck and into a nearby alleyway between two buildings. He sat down on the ground, his heart racing. If that was what he was going to go through when he was older, he didn't want to grow up!
After fifteen minutes, Syndrome flew over to Buddy, looking very tired. He was rubbing his wrists repeatedly. "Where are they?" He asked, going straight to business. Buddy produced the boxes from on top of an upturned trash can. Syndrome grabbed them and sat down in a similar position as Buddy had when he had first sat down from getting there. He smiled at Buddy mischievously. "That was close huh?"
Buddy couldn't help but laugh at his optimism. The guy had just barely gotten away with robbery (right under the police's noses) and he was still in a half-decent mood.
"Close. Very close. Uncomfortably close. I never want to go through that again." Buddy said, still calming down. Syndrome laughed airily.
"Well that's just too bad for you. Now let's see what we got." He went into the first box, and quickly tossed it aside. It had what looked like tons of floppy disks in it. When he opened the second one, his face lit up like a hundred-watt bulb. He had apparently found what he had been looking for, because he put the other box aside without even opening it.
"You can have whatever's in that." Syndrome said, tossing it over to Buddy. He didn't even look away from the box he was holding.
Buddy caught it easily, and turned the box over in his hands. He wondered what was inside it. He found where it was supposed to be opened, and lifted the flaps slowly, savouring the excitement of the unknown. once it was open, he lifted the first layer of bubble wrap, to find two sets of walkie-talkies.
"Cool." Buddy muttered, causing Syndrome to crawl over and sit beside Buddy to look over his shoulder into the box.
"Walkie-talkies, those could come in handy." Syndome said, smiling. "Most games are wicked when you have walkie-talkies."
"Yeah, it's too bad Mitch and John have gone away for the rest of the summer." Buddy said sadly. Syndrome put on an offended look.
"And suddenly I'm chopped liver!" He laughed. "Fine! I can see when I'm not wanted!" He crossed his arms, and turned around pretending to ignore Buddy. Buddy rolled his eye's, he had done the exact same thing to his friends almost every other week.
"Let's just go back to your place." Buddy said, standing up. Syndrome nodded, standing up and carefully placing his box into one of his pockets.
"Yeah, but you should go home for today, I seriously need some sleep, I haven't in almost three day's." Syndrome said, proving it with a yawn. "You can come over tomorrow or the next day."
"Or I could just stay at your place, and tell mom and dad I'm staying at a friends house."
"Or you could simply go home, I don't really want you going through those boxes, which I'm pretty sure that is one of the only reasons you want to stay the night." Syndrome said, smiling. He was in a good mood, he had been able to get the only thing that was worth something in that truck. Everything else that was of value had come in one of the first trucks.
"Please can I come with you? I can help the guards, I know how to fight!"
"No. I don't need the fact you're there running around keeping me up. I seriously need some sleep, even if it's only an hour or two." Syndrome said.
"Please?"
"Look, this topic isn't up for discussion! You can't come! End of story!" Syndrome said, anger edging his voice, which was showing definite signs of fatigue. Buddy knew that when he himself got really tired he could be stubborn as a mule, so he didn't bother trying to talk Syndrome into it. Maybe tomorrow night.
"Fine. I'll go home." Buddy said, flying off towards his house. Syndrome yawned, and streached. He watched the kid fly off, making sure he didn't stop for a very long time, and then took off himself. He got just to the edge of the city when he fell asleep in mid-air. He fell out down onto a parked car.
Buddy arrived home to pandemonium. His parents were going haywire.
"What's wrong mom?" He asked.
"Where in the world have you been young man?" She asked shrilly.
"At one of my friends houses, didn't William tell you? He knew where I was, I asked him to tell you." Buddy said, confused. William had said he would tell them.
His mother stormed off. "William! You said you didn't know where Buddy was!"
"What? Oh! I forgot. Sorry mom."
"You better be mister, you're grounded."
"Mom! what about my friends? I've gotta keep in shape for next year! We're going to the regionals!"
"Well you should have thought about that before!"
"Mom!" William pleaded, Buddy smiled happily as he heard a bedroom door slam. The smiled disappeared once William stormed down the stairs though, murder in his eyes.
"This is your fault!" He growled, picking Buddy up by the scruff of his neck.
"What? I didn't do anything!" Buddy said, squirming. He couldn't breath.
"It's all your fault!" William growled again, slamming Buddy against the nearest wall. Small dots framed his field of vision as he scrabbled against Williams strong hands.
"No! I didn't do anything!" Buddy gasped, but William wasn't listening. His mind was already made up. It was Buddy's fault he was grounded and he was going to punish the squirt for it. He threw Buddy down onto the hard linoleum of the kitchen, giving Buddy a momentary blast of fresh air as he was in the air, only to have it knocked out of him as he hit the floor.
"Your fault!" William growled as he picked Buddy up again and threw him against the cupboards. Buddy's head felt like it was about to split open it hurt that much, and he couldn't feel the arm he had landed on. William kicked Buddy in the side, causing Buddy to scream in pain. William kicked Buddy again just as their parents ran into the room. Their father pulled William away from Buddy as their mother went to see if he was okay, but the damage was already done.
Buddy couldn't see anything, he was too scared to open his eyes, but the last thing he heard was his mother asking him if he was alright before he passed out.
Writer's Note: I'm gonna have a hard time writing the beginning of the next chapter. Who to wake up first? I'll figure it out eventually, I'll probably do my good ol' standby of asking my sister. Lol, at least she comes in handy for some things!