Spiral
Chapter III: Irony
By EclipseKlutz
PG-13, T
…
Disclaimer: The day I own something as popular as The Incredibles is the day I'm rich, which apparently won't be anytime in the near future. So, I don't own this, don't own the various Supers that are likely to be mentioned later—they're from the extra stuff on the DVD—but I'm fairly certain I have some claim to the plot… Also,
the phrase "glorified concoction of toaster parts" is a slightly tweaked version of Vampiric13's opinion of her computer. Now I'm gonna stop this before I further depress myself.
"…You wish you were, you're not my friend
I can see you suffocate; I can find no other way
Try to make you saturate, I can be your enemy
Why should I have to wait—I'll just look the other way…"
Breaking Benjamin: I Wish I May
He'd left her on the couch, not laying out any rules or precautions for her to follow or take, simply walking into the kitchen claiming that he was in desperate need of some form of edible food. She'd made an attempt to inform him that with the dysfunctional appliances set up, he'd be lucky to properly prepare said food, but he hadn't listened. And as a result, she sat curled up on the couch staring blankly at the news making some effort to tame her hair as she thought everything over.
Despite her insistence for a response, he'd made a point of ignoring her when she asked what the hell he was doing in her house… with slightly more colorful words. And when she'd tried to intimidate him by allowing herself to fade into transparency, he'd rolled his eyes and stated quite bluntly that he already knew who—and what—she was.
That had left her a bit paranoid, but she disregarded it the moment she turned her attentions to the television and listened to the headline that was running rampant through all the large news broadcasters.
Violet frowned as the brush hit another tangle and she found herself forced to pry it out. No serious damage accompanied, but it was an irritatingly demanding task to have to comb out one's hair with their fingers. She pulled the section, holding it before her face so she could see what she was doing, and began picking at the knot. Definitely not the best night of her life.
A loud beep echoed from the kitchen, the third one in ten minutes. He-It-Syndrome-Buddy Pine-whatever the Hell he went by groaned and cursed, and once again the scent of burning substances drifted through the air. After a moment, he reappeared in the doorway, holding a scorched bag of popcorn by his thumb and index finger.
"What am I doing wrong?" He demanded, his voice and expression fringed with unconcealed frustration. This inability to cook such a trivial thing seemed to be taking a decent impact on his ego—an entertaining site, but not one she cared to experience again.
Violet suppressed a yawn and made a feeble effort to climb to her feet. Despite the medications, she continued to feel battered and aching as though she'd been to Hell and back. This was not a fact that gave her a sweet and fluffy attitude towards the world.
She limped forwards, wincing as she shifted her weight to her right ankle and deciding to take inventory of her injuries upon returning to the couch. She walked past Syndrome—Buddy—him, and over to the counter where five other bags of fried popcorn sat steaming.
She knew enough to know that kneeling while she was in this state wasn't a bright idea, and instead turned to… him, "Um…"
He got it, and crossed the room before stooping in front of the cupboards and fishing out a fresh package. He handed it to her as he stood, the slight smirk plastered to his face giving off the gentle tease before he voiced it, "Verbally inadequate now?"
"No," Violet snapped, pulling off the plastic, and sticking the bag in the microwave. "You didn't keep the wrapper on them, did you?"
"What do you take me for, Vi—can I call you Vi?—an idiot?" He responded, the smirk growing slightly larger as though he already knew the answer to both questions. He was simply provoking her now, and apparently enjoying it.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring him as she punched in a random time and shut, or rather slammed, the door.
"Gees, no need to kill that poor thing," He said, continuing to tap-dance on her nerves.
She cocked an eyebrow at him, "You're defending my glorified concoction of toaster parts?"
"Point taken," he responded, playing along like this exchange was a game… it probably was. "Continue to abuse it."
Her mind froze at the mention of that word—the one several people had claimed was being inflicted upon her, whether or not she wished to see it. 'Not true!' part of her mind argued, the other would lapse into silent defeat. She was skeptical—afraid, she had powers, she could fight back—why couldn't she? Why? Why, why, why, why?
-z-
Syndrome hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden far-away look that fell across her features. He frowned, not comfortable when placed in a position where he didn't understand something or know what to do about it… at the moment it seemed to be both, although the latter was more of a nuisance.
He liked to claim that he planned everything, thought it through to the end so it would go smoothly and without failure on his part—and sometimes the statement applied, but most of the time he was impulsive. He hadn't known what was going to happen with the jet turbine; he hadn't planned his attempt to kidnap Jack-Jack, he'd simply gotten caught up in the moment and decided it'd be Plan B. He hadn't predicted that he'd be stuck in the hospital for as long as was, and certainly hadn't thought that he'd be hiding out in Violet Parr's house after his escape…
So far, the tendency to be impulsive had been his downfall. Possibly like the lack of a filter between his brain and his mouth, but that was a different concept. In the overview, it can simply be stated that he'd always had a plan, and it came quick—even if he was forming it as he went.
Now, facing a girl whose expression seemed to hint that she belonged in an asylum more than he had, no plan popped into his mind. No bright ideas unveiled themselves with cunning notions and acts. Nothing—just a blank.
His official resolve was to fall to the classics, and wave a hand in front of her face. "Hello? Any brain activity in there?"
She blinked, seeming to slowly and groggily emerge from the state that she'd been in—whatever that was. Suddenly she slapped his hand away, pulled a chair away from the table and collapsed into it.
"You okay?" His voice was cautious as he asked the question.
"Uh-huh," She mumbled. "Just peachy."
He opened his mouth to further comment just as smoke wafted into the air and the timer on the microwave started buzzing uncontrollably. A groaned seeped through his lips instead of words as he yanked open the appliance and dragged out yet another crisp, dark brown bag of popcorn.
From her spot at the table, Violet started laughing—a sound that started low and slowly grew slightly louder. No matter how bruised she was, no matter how defeated, she could find the humor in the situation. That was something he appreciated—something he used to have…
He couldn't help it, he started laughing to.
A/N: Well, I apologize for the time it took to update. Have been slightly preoccupied lately, but oh, well. Doesn't matter. I apologize for the shortness of these chapters. Still debating whether or not to take the fic down and rewrite, so input on the topic is needed, as is feedback on the fic.
All right, see the little blue button at the… left hand corner of your screen? See how it says review? Click it, write something pretty or otherwise constructive. Please…?
Melady101: FOUR! Ack… how do you manage? I get up at seven and I still can't stay awake all day. Okay, done now—And yeah, I know it's not PG-13 so far, but there will be upcoming things that will redeem this.
Xalias: So? Different states of mind are good. I still think you're cool… anyways, back on track as you said: Thanks a ton for the review! Still very much appreciated.
PhantomPhan: Thank you! Stream of consciousness…? I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate that one…
R.K.R.: Okay, update. Happy? Thanks, by the way… a lot.
Rogue4: Thanks for the compliments and encouragement and reviewing and… yeah. Clinical is a good thing. All right, Syndrome and Violet? You mean together-together or…? Sorry, slightly slow today.
Gremblin: Um… you're welcome…? Should be thanking you for reviewing—I love reviewers. They are nice people. I sound idiotic, I'll stop now. And yeah, Syndrome's my favorite too—just after Edna…
J752572: lol. Hm, how… complimenting? Thanks for the review!