Spiral
Chapter VI: Sold
By EclipseKlutz

PG-13, T
Yup.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Incredibles, or anything affiliated with them. Simply this plot…

"…And you sold me up the river again
And made me start it over again
And you moved me, and you soothed me, and you fought me
And you left me wondering what the hell
What is wrong with me?"
Seether: Sold Me

Dim pink light leaked through the windowpanes, spilling itself across her small figure as she groggily made an attempt to roll over to escape the unwanted luminosity. Instead, however, she tumbled to the floor, dragging the thin blanket and a pillow with her. He watched this display with mild amusement as he continued to pull at the blinds, releasing yet more light into the small room.

"What the helldo you want?" She groaned, not moving from where she lay.

He smirked, maneuvering around the couch to kneel down beside her and wave a plastic bag stuffed with Advil in her face. "We're leaving."

"We?" She responded, blinking slowly as she grabbed at the bag. "Uh-uh… no. I'm staying here, thank you."

He shook his head, "No… you see, that's not an option. Your maniac boyfriend knows who I am, and so do you… also, I don't much like the idea of him comin' back and you being alone."

"Uh-huh… why?"

"'Cause it's my job to take out the Incredibles—he's stealing my gig."

"You realize you're a horrible villain, right?"

"Or you could stay here…"

"You gonna hold ransom?"

"Does it look like I need money?"

"Honestly?"

"Shut up."

"Fine, fine, fine," she mumbled, pulling herself into something that vaguely resembled a sitting position. As she rubbed sleep from her eyes she inquired with prolonged bleariness, "What do I need?"

He shrugged, standing up and offering a hand for her to do the same, "Nothin' unless it's desperately needed… a lap top, basically… do you own one? But no phones, no bedspreads, and absolutely no microwaves."

"Okay… I don't need anythin' then… can I go back to sleep now?" She stated, ignoring his hand as she thought over the given list.

"Nope," he replied, and, having given up on waiting for her to catch the hint, leaned over and grabbed her beneath the arms, pulling her to her feet. "We have to leave now."

She glared at him, shrinking away from him slightly as she rubbed her shoulders, noticing a few bruises in the process that she was certain hadn't been there before.

He frowned as she peeled down the collar of her shirt to inspect her scapula, and he grabbed the thin yellow blanket from the floor before draping it across her shoulders. At her questioning glance, he shrugged and stated, "It's a long drive… and that's not a bedspread."

Violet nodded slowly, apparently still dreary and tired, as she followed him through the kitchen and out of the house, not bothering to lock it behind her. That would appear suspicious.

Syndrome allowed a half-smile at the site of Mirage's silver car parked a little down the road, the windows blacked out in the back as they'd always been to prevent anyone from seeing what or who she was transporting. Placing a hand gently on her nearest shoulder, he guided his companion towards the vehicle, and she followed along in a quiet sullenness that seemed to hint at her desire to sleep the minute she sat down.

He had a feeling it was the mass amounts of assorted pills he'd forced her to swallow earlier… and the Nyquil.

As they neared, Mirage flung open the driver's door and with the usual display of grace, swept over to them. She ignored Syndrome for a minute, as she pulled Violet into a gentle embrace, muttering, "How are you, dear?"

"Eh…"

It took most of Syndrome's self control not to burst out in insane laughter at the response Violet had offered, yet Mirage seemed to accept this as she steered Violet towards the vehicle and opened up the front passenger door for her. Violet nodded and slipped in, pulling the blanket tighter around her as she did so.

Syndrome followed, slumping into the backseat as Mirage slid back into her place. Grinning slightly, he asked his former secretary, "So, how've you been?"

"Just perfect."

The voice wasn't Mirage's—definitely more masculine, and coming from directly beside him. Syndrome turned, hesitantly, looking over at the lump of a shadow resting next to the opposite door. His expression turned into one of menace as he growled with an unusual amount of casualty, "Mr. Incredible."

A/N: Bleh… I have no time anymore. Sorry! The only time I can get around to writing this is at six in the morning, and that'll never turn out to my advantage--hence why this update severly sucks, but I'm getting to some action... I think... So, being as I have to leave soon, I can't respond to reviews—but is it asking too much for thirty-seven reviews by the next chapter?

Also, the moment I have a few free hours, I have plans to rewrite this, for the sake that there's more of a plotline and it moves faster and also, longer chapters. 'Course, won't post that one 'till I finish the entirety of it, so… yeah.