Warning: super long chapter ahead. Plus I'm runnin on way not enough sleep, so who's tellin' what junk I'm gonna dish out. MANIA! Whoa, where'd that come from?

"Men are such jerks!" This outburst was accompanied by the sound of a slammed door.

Bob looked up over his Metroville Tribune slightly surprised at his daughter, who had proceeded to slam her school bag onto the kitchen table. He furrowed his brow and looked at his watch.

"School doesn't let out for another three hours."

"Too bad."

"… " Bob had a bad feeling about this one.

"Aren't you usually at work around now?" Violet asked temporarily forgetting her anger.

"Uh, yes, but only you and I know that."

"Where's Mom?"

Bob pointed to a note on the microwave. Violet glanced at it. 'Got a call from West Living, should be back before school lets out. Honestly, I don't know why I'm leaving a note.' The phone number to the building she'd be at was there also.

"Jack-Jack?"

"With her, she didn't know I'd… we'd be home." Bob looked questioningly at Violet. She'd never skipped school, unless you counted the times she'd played sick. If those counted, that statistic shot up a bit.

"Am I in trouble?"

"Depends. Wanna talk about it?"

"No!" Violet half-shouted. Definitely not. She'd rather bite off her own tongue. Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration.

"Then I can't promise you'll stay out of trouble," Bob said, taking one last glance at the classifieds before folding the Tribune up again. Violet momentarily glared at the paper.

"You're gonna tell Mom, aren't you?"

"It's not like I have a choice," Bob said. He stood up. "Hey, c'mere," he said as he walked down a hall to his and Helen's bedroom. Violet followed. Her father was shuffling about some items in the hall closet, until he finally produced two old baseball gloves and a baseball. "Wanna play catch?"

"Not really."

"Great. C'mon," Bob said smiling at his daughter as he walked to the back door, Violet following right behind him.

"Will it help," Bob was saying outside in the backward, facing Violet as he prepared to throw the ball. They'd been playing catch for about half an hour. "Will it help if I tell you why I'm home early?"

Violet just shrugged and caught the ball. She shook her catching hand off a little before tossing it back.

"I got fired." Bob threw the ball a little harder and Violet let out a grunt as she caught it.

"Again?" she asked rather casually.

"Yeah."

"What do you do at work?"

Bob chuckled. He and Vi rarely had father-daughter time.

"I have a defense," he said. "I was provoked."

"You were fighting? Dad, c'mon, grow up!"

Bob chuckled again and Vi eased up a little. Her hand was numb. She wasn't letting on, but Bob was throwing that ball a lot harder than it seemed.

"What'd they do?"

"They were making fun of a certain family of supers," Bob said hesitantly.

Violet paused a second before she threw the ball, and when she did, Bob felt the anger with a hint of hurt. "Oh."

"When was the last time we played catch, Vi?"

Violet just shrugged.

"Have we ever played catch?"

Violet thought a second then shrugged. Teenagers.

"Hey Dad?"

"Yeah Vi?"

"Why are men such jerks?" Violet threw the ball like a major league pitcher after that statement.

Bob caught the ball and this time he had to shake out his wrist.

"Well, that's a uh (yeow) interesting question, Vi." Ow…

"I mean, why are they such lying, boorish… mmmmmmagots."

Bob felt a little bit of compassion for the fellow who was feeling this heat.

"I take it this is part of the reason you're home early, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"… "

Bob waited to toss the ball.

"Can I kind of tell you?" Violet asked. During the period in which she had basically lied to her parents about Tony remembering they were supers, guilt had grown in her. And although she knew she couldn't- and wouldn't- tell her father everything, in the wake of Tony's deceit Violet needed to release some of the stress.

Bob shrugged. Grown-ups.

"You know that guy I was dating?"

"Tony Rydinger, lives on Maple Street, is 5' 5," and has blood type AB positive."

"Daaad!" Violet threw the ball playfully at Bob's skull.

Bob chuckled a little. "Okay, I lied about blood type."

"Well he's a jerk."

Bob remembered that Violet had just been on a date with the jerk last night and had returned acting like she could fly if she chose to.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

Violet set her jaw as she caught the ball. "He's a bit of a liar," she mumbled frustrated.

"A bit meaning a whole lot?"

Violet shrugged.

"That's what I thought."

"I'm going to have some serious trouble because of him."

"You mean other than your mother when she finds out you skipped school?"

Violet grinned.

"What'd he do?"

Vi hesitated. How do you say something without actually saying it…? "He told a secret," she mumbled. Actually 'grumbled' is probably a better description.

"To the wrong people, I suppose."

Vi nodded slightly.

Bob threw the ball.

"Ow!" Violet exclaimed when she caught the ball.

"Sorry!"

"I'm fine!" Violet said. She grabbed the dropped ball in her other hand and tossed it before returning to massaging her catching hand.

"Maybe we should call it quits for now," Bob said as he took off his glove. Violet took off hers, too. Both father and daughter sort of stared at the highly bruised hand that had been in Vi's glove.

"Yeah, maybe," Vi agreed.

They walked back inside and Violet for a reason she couldn't really explain felt a little better.

Bob closed the door behind them and the force broke a window nearby. "Hm."

"Good job, Dad."

Violet left for her bedroom while Bob headed towards the garage where the Incredicar was (don't worry, it was morphed into normal mode). Another trip to the hardware store.

On the way to the door he noticed the morning paper and a small article on the front page. He glanced in Vi's direction and read the first few sentences. The title read "Super is arrested," by associated press. A kid, only sixteen, in Arkansas was arrested for breaking the super restrictions and trying to help out at a bank robbery. On his way out to the car, Bob threw the paper away.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaad?" Dash called later that night before dinner. Bob was finishing changing Jack-Jack's diaper.

"I'm in here!" he shouted. Within about 0.003 seconds Dash was standing next to him. "Hey, what'd the doctor say about running around on that leg?"

"Hey, the plaster's off!"

"All right, all right," Bob said as he carried Jack-Jack to his playpen in the living room/den/whatever you wanna call it. "What's up?"

"Dad, I got a question."

Bob put the baby in the playpen. Jack-Jack giggled as he played with the stuffed animals that kept falling out of his 'rain' storms. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, um…" Dash looked down at something in his hand that Bob couldn't see. "Um…"

Bob sat down in a chair.

Dash held the item out in front of Bob's face. "I'm a PEZ dispenser!"

Bob looked at the candy toy thing in front of his face. Dash wasn't kidding. "Uh…"

"A friend of mine gave it to me," Dash explained, looking a little weirded out by the idea the people were, well… eating out of his head.

"Uh… okay," Bob said. He was waiting for this information to be presented in the form of a question that he could answer.

"And that's not it."

"Uh oh."

"I mean, this friend of mine, he's got all this stuff…"

"Uh-huh…?"

"And it all has my face on it."

"Okay…"

"Except it's not just him. There's like… a me-club. Except as Rapid Fire."

"Yeah…"

"And they asked me to join."

Bob could see where he was going with this. He could still remember the first time he himself had to deal with this conundrum.

"So you want to know how to uh… uh…"

"Yeah," Dash said, nodding very very quickly.

Bob wondered absently how it was that all supers understood this problem without actually being able to put it into words.

"How am I supposed to be Dash when… when I'm… I mean, I'm-"

"Dash, don't worry about it."

"Huh?"

"All supers have to deal with this at one point or another."

"Dad, what exactly is 'it?'"

"Uh… no one really knows. But it's just a part of being a super hero."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Heck, I'm still not used to it."

This didn't seem to comfort Dash much.

"Look, with time it'll be easier to handle, but don't let it bother you, okay?"

"Okay…" Dash didn't look exactly comfortable with this response. He had been hoping for something a bit more like 'do this this and this, and you'll be fine.'

"Here Dash, let me tell you a story."

"Dad, I'm eleven. I don't need a bedtime story."

"I'm serious, listen."

Dash just rolled his eyes and sat down in front of his father. Bob could already smell the teenager growing in him, waiting to strike at thirteen.

"When I was about twenty… twenty-one, I think, I was working at a rather large company under a high-to-do fellow as a way of paying for college. Well, one day the building caught fire and the CEO got stuck in there."

Uh oh.

"So I suited up, went up there, and got him out of there."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting there. Well, the CEO decided to award me, Mr. Incredible, for what I did, invited me to a ceremony, and asked that high-to-do fellow to prepare a speech of thanks for me. However, he was going to be out of town and asked me, the kid who did his chores, to do it for him."

"Really?"

Bob nodded.

"What'd you do?"

Bob chuckled. "I must have wondered what to do forever…"

Dash waited impatiently.

"Oh, uh, well, heh-heh, I told my roommate I had a big test to remake and we dressed him up like me to give the speech instead."

"And it worked!"

"Well, well-enough. Luckily I was low enough on the company totem pole so that no one really noticed the difference. But my roommate was less than pleased."

"Hey Dad…"

"Yeah Son?"

"How come whenever we're suited up, no one we know recognizes our voices?"

"That's a very good question. I don't have an answer. Any more questions?"

"Probably," Dash said as he stood up and started walking towards the kitchen. "But Mom called us to dinner half-way through our story so I don't think I should ask right now."

Uh oh.

As you might have guessed, Helen was a little peeved that Dash and Bob (and technically Jack-Jack) had taken so long to get to the table. She also had found out Violet had skipped school, so the teenager of the house was grounded for the next two weeks. Violet didn't complain. It sure beat what would happen if Helen found out about the Tony problem. Furthermore, Helen was being a little hostile towards Bob after finding out he'd been fired (she didn't know why he was fired of course). But something told the Parrs that something else had Helen a upset; she just seemed to be in a bad mood…

(A/N you know that older song that goes something like 'gonna get ya, gonna get ya,' etc? Listening to that or 'bad boys, bad boys, what ya gonna do when they come for you' or something like those would probably be good for the next scene)

The next few days were a nightmare for Dash and Vi. They felt like they were in some kind of guerilla war or hunt where the press people hanging out at the schools were the ones with the guns. Dash even showed up one day in full camouflage garb.

"Uh, interesting outfit, Dash," Jimmy said.

"Be quiet."

The starting bell hadn't sounded yet, so the students in Ms. Niblack's class were locked out of the classroom until she came running in (usually into her desk).

"Hey Dash," Mickey said. Both he and Luke had been severely punished for fighting- suspension, detention, the works- and both boys had finally finished all their little chores associated with that. "You choose an instrument yet?"

"Huh?"

"The assembly yesterday, they were talking about the music program. All sixth graders gotta take up an instrument now. Helps get money from the state, I think," Dodger said.

"Oh yeah." Dash thought a moment. He hadn't really been paying attention after the announcement dealing with the press. "I'll choose something later."

"Hey, before I forget," Mickey said, "you decide if you wanna join the Rapid Fire club?"

Before he knew what hit him, Mickey had been barreled over by one of the press creeps with a notepad and big glasses.

"What the-!" Mickey shouted as he got on his hands and knees to start climbing up.

"Who mentioned Rapid Fire, may I ask?" the man asked loudly.

"That would be the guy who's back you just broke," Alice grumbled. She wasn't much of a morning person.

"Oh well, allow me!" the man said as he flipped Mickey over and pulled the boy up next to him.

"What're you-!"

"What's your name fella? You mentioned a club, I believe? Where ya from? Got any siblings? A sister? Baby brother? Your father blond?"

The guy was driving Mickey nuts: poking him with his pencil, shoved his hat on Mickey's head, and generally treating him like a four year old. Plus, he was slowly pushing Mickey into a corner, and that was a feeling the boy did NOT like.

"Would you just-!"

"He's not Rapid Fire!"

The newspaper reporter looked over at Dodger. "Why not?"

"He's not blond," Ernie said from behind the press guy, making the adult jump right outta his skin. Way to go, Ernie!

The reporter did a double take of Mickey. "Hmm… he could dye his hair."

"I'm not Rapid Fire!" Mickey shouted.

"He's too tall, anyways," Luke said quietly, but loud enough for the reporter to hear. The reporter looked from Luke to Mickey.

Oh please, just go away! Dash thought. Just let the bell ring and go away!

"Hey, you're right!" the reporter exclaimed.

Mickey felt like spitting in his face. "Plus I don't have a sister or baby brother, and my father isn't blond!"

"Ahhh, yes I see this now," the reporter said. "But then there's always the chance that the Incredibles aren't actually related."

Just about everyone present slapped their foreheads.

"Get out!" Alice shouted.

The reporter pretended not to hear her.

"Here," he grunted to Mickey. "Have a sucker." When he turned his back, Ernie took the sucker and two of his buddies had to keep him from throwing it at the back of the reporter's head.

"What about you?" the man said, moving on to Jimmy. Jimmy glared at him. "Okay, no." He stepped next to Dodger. "You have blond hair."

"I noticed," Dodger yawned.

"Got a sister?"

"Yeah."

"How old?"

"Sixteen."

Everyone in the hall could see where this was going except Dodger, who was too sleepy to see what the reporter was up to now.

"Your father? Does he have blond hair?"

"Yep," Dodger yawned again, but froze in mid-yawn, realizing he just made a big mistake.

The reporter was jotting down notes.

"W-what're you doing?" Dodger asked.

"You run a lot? A member of that Rapid Fire club? How tall are you about?"

"Hey…I-I'm n-not Rapid Fire! W-what're you doing?"

"Hey dude, leave Dodger alone."

"Dodger your name, huh? How about your sister? She go to this district, too? Got a baby brother? What color's your mother's hair?"

Dodger looked about ready to panic, and even some of the other students were looking at him curiously. The reporter continued to jot down notes.

"I'll be right back," Dash said unheard by much of anyone as he jogged around the corner and out of sight. Then went into the bathroom. If he'd been older he might have hesitated before doing what he was about to do. But heck to it.

The reporter was smiling down at Dodger almost cruelly, and now the blond-haired boy was stuck between him and a wall.

"What's your last name, Dodger? Where do you live, Dodger? What do you know about the Underminer, Dodger? What-?"

"Hey!"

A red and blond blur zoomed by and down the hall, knocking the reporter over as he passed. He dropped his notepad. Everyone started to mutter and look at the corner it had gone around. The reporter looked after it, too. Was it really…?

"Boo!" Rapid Fire shouted as he ran down the hall again, coming from the same direction he had before. This time when he passed he stole the notepad and ran by the corner, almost flattening Ms. Niblack.

"It's Rapid Fire!" Mickey shouted, and everyone in the hall went running after him. Needless to say, Ms. Niblack had a bit of a problem trying to avoid the stampede, and had to run ahead of everyone just as the bell rang.

In the bathroom, Dash smiled down at the notepad as its torn pieces were flushed down the toilet. Putting back on his normal clothes, Dash exited the bathroom just as the stampede went by, and he joined.

"You see that Mickey?" he shouted as they all ran.

"Huh? Oh, hey Dash, didn't see you there, sorry! Yeah! Can you imagine? Rapid Fire in our own school!"

Dash tried not to look too pleased with himself, especially since he knew he probably just made things worse for himself for the rest of the week. Eh, who cares. "Yeah! Sweet!"

Violet had some trouble as well. (A/N I know, I know, it's like the never-freakin'-ending chapter) The reporters who'd been sent to the high school were a bit smarter than those at the elementary school, or at least a little more organized. They had spent Monday going through student profiles as much as they were allowed to narrow down the search. Apparently about twenty different girls matched what the folks were looking for, and each one was 'given' their own personal reporter. Or, as each of these girls seemed to agree, stalkers. And, of course, Violet was one of them.

Never before had Violet actually been happy to go to math class. Her personal nightmare had caught up to her before the morning bell had even rang, and already the woman had given Vi a headache.

"You look awful, Vi."

"Thanks, Sarah."

"You get any of this stuff the Teach is saying?" Sarah liked to call teachers the Teach, like they don't deserve names because of all the crap they put students through. Somewhere in the back of Vi's mind she knew they probably did deserve names; after all, they were living nightmarish lives dealing with drunk teens for little to no pay. But she still liked it when Sarah called them the Teach.

"Not at all."

"Your secret admirer is still there," Sarah said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at the door.

"Well, crap."

"Sarah, perhaps you can come up with the correct answer?" the Teach said loudly. Violet turned to Sarah just like everyone else in the class, each student thinking how thankful they were it wasn't them.

"Uh… Not Enough Information?"

The Teach glared her down for a moment. "Correct."

Sarah sighed noticeably. Then the bell rang and Violet realized she must now deal with that thing outside the door.

"Good luck," Sarah said.

"Yeah." Violet waited for everyone else to pile out of the room before her, her eyes never leaving the woman with shades. The woman watched Violet in return. They both knew that the press wasn't allowed in the classrooms. They also knew the hallways were fair ground.

If I could get to a bathroom and turn invisible, I could so beat her up. Vi knew that was a lie. She wasn't wearing E's special clothes. Drat.

Finally, Vi moved. And boy did she move. Violet ran right out that door, swinging her book bag over her shoulder at just the right time so that the reporter had to duck to avoid getting hit in the head (which she had learned earlier wasn't very pleasant if the bag is full of textbooks).

"Outta my way!" Violet shouted as she lunged through the hallway.

"Move it!" she heard the woman yell as she shoved through the crowd, following Vi.

Ha ha ha! Violet thought smugly. Eat my dust!

She was about to turn down the hallway where her next classroom was when she saw none other than Rydinger walking in her direction. And we veer to the left! This sudden change of course was a bit problematic, because as it turned out, the janitor had marked off the hall Violet had veered left into, and now she stood slipping across hall-clean-up junk. She dared a glance over her shoulder. Yep, the stalker had followed her down the hallway.

Violet looked back in front of her. "AAAAA!" Vi and some other girl collided in the middle of the hall and both girls collapsed in the endless pool of wet icky-ness. Both groaned as they stood back up, and it was only then that Violet noticed a second reporter, a guy, coming down the opposite end of the hallway.

They're surrounding me! was Vi's first reaction. Then she realized the girl she bumped into was only a little taller than herself with almost-black brown hair and gray-blue eyes. Any other day she wouldn't have given this person a second-glance. Today, they were the best of friends.

The reporters had almost caught up. The girls' eyes met, and they both thought the same thing. Without a word, they turned to face their own particular stalker (both of which were running full throttle down the wet hallway). And when the reporters were almost there… they moved out of the way.

Skreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, slipslipslipslipslip, double-crash! Whamo!

"They so deserved that."

"Good luck with the rest of the day," Vi said.

"You too," the girl said, and they both sprinted down the hall to their own classroom.

The reporter reached Violet's English class just as the bell rang. Violet was waiting on the other side, smiling through the window in the door. The woman removed her shades to look at Violet on the other side of the glass, and Vi couldn't help but feel very, very happy to see the woman was covered head-to-toe in that hallway-buffer crap. The teen raised a hand in front of the window and waved. The look in the woman's eyes said it all as Vi turned to take her seat. This is war.

Bup-ba-da-daaaaaa! Can you believe it? The chapter actually ended! Amazing, huh? And I haven't even had pop-tarts today (I miss them so, I could use a sugar high). Did you know mosquitoes are attracted to people who've recently eaten a banana? Whatever, see y'all later

Review…?