Disclaimer:
Disney and Pixar Studios are the proper owners of the characters from The Incredibles. The rest that I made up belong to my own twisted imagination.

Sunday morning, 1:00 pm A local park

A group of ten teenage boys of varying height and build were sitting or standing in a rough circle. From the unified expressions on their faces, they were discussing a rather serious business. Unknown to the other people at the park, they were some of the members of Bernard High's football team, the Wolverines. At the moment, they were arguing about whether they should get some revenge for what Robert Parr did to Steve Millers, their captain. There were others who couldn't make it, as they were too busy to do so.

"I'm tellin' ya, we should teach dat guy a lesson he'll never fergit!" cried Pete Thompson, a hot-tempered, 6"5 redheaded linebacker. A good friend of his, Rob Cohen, who was shorter but was built like a bull, nodded in agreement and said, "If word gets out that some new kid, a freshman for goodness sake, beat the pants off THREE of the Wolverine's finest. That's an insult we can't afford to ignore. It'll be bad for our rep if we do."

"News flash, Cohen. Half the school already knows. That means by tomorrow everyone and their little sister will be talking about it." Lean, but fit Edward Wagner, who served as their running back, snorted in contempt. He'd never had much use for the two of them, as they tended to be a bit too impatient and jump the gun whenever they felt like it.

The Wolverine quarterback, John Kreiger, an arrogant ass if Wagner had ever see one, crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged his wide shoulders. "All the more reason why we should beat the entire crap out of this Parr guy. If we don't, people'll say that we're afraid of going up against him. I say we get him tomorrow, when classes are over." Thompson and Cohen voiced their agreement with him.

Randy Nathenson, who was second in command and the one responsible for calling and presiding over this 'meeting' of theirs, frowned at the rash behavior being shown by the three of his teammates. Personally, he was of the opinion that Steve and his two friends had been totally responsible for what happened to them, but he wisely decided to keep it to himself. His eyebrows furrowed as he began thinking.

Out of the entire football team, he was probably the most logical minded and usually came up with brilliant strategies as a result. Now, he tried his best to pit his formidable brainpower to come up with a viable solution that could appease everyone. Somehow he felt that it was impossible to do so, but he had to give it a shot. With Steve still recovering from his injuries, Randy felt that he had to provide some good leadership to the Wolverines. With that in mind, he began speaking.

"Gentlemen," he said calmly, "we should reconsider any possible brash action that we may be tempted to take. Most of us here are juniors and seniors, and as such, we are using the Wolverines to increase our chances of getting an athlete scholarship as our ticket to college. I am sorry to say this, but should we be found out to have been involved in the beating of an underclassman, well, that will go on as a black mark on our records and may ruin any chances of obtaining said scholarship."

Another Wolverine member named Gary Henderson chimed in. He was more laid-back and easy going than the majority of his teammates. "Randy's got a point," he admitted, "and besides, Parr took out Steve, Mike and Ray, all at once! Steve is probably one of the toughest guys in Bernard, and this guy manages to lay him out flat! Mike and Ray aren't too shabby either, and Parr took them out also. We should definitely take that into consideration as we think about this. And also of more importance, there are the scholarships to worry about."

Gary was surprised when a sophomore and a relatively recent member, Ben Lotbern, who tended to be silent and usually kept to himself, immediately spoke up. "I agree with Gary. From the looks of things, this Parr guy, he's obviously dangerous, maybe too dangerous to mess with. For all we know, we could be biting off more than we could chew if we pick a fight with him," he said, trying to act as the voice of caution. However, his attempt backfired when, after listening to his comments, more than half of the assembled members gave him angry and disgusted glares. Lotbern was made of stronger stuff though, and didn't wilt at the reactions he received.

Some of the Wolverines did more than glare however.

"Ooooooh, sounds like Lotbern's scared of a brat?" Thompson spat out. 'Brat' was the Wolverine term for freshman, who weren't allowed to join the football team. Only sophomores up to seniors could do so. Two of the four other boys who hadn't said anything yet snickered and began making clucking sounds. Kreiger jumped into act by calling out in a screeching tone, "Chi-chi-chi-chi-chicken! Lotbern's a chi-chi-chi-chicken!" More derisive laughter followed.

The linebacker smirked and turned to Gary. "Hey man, don'cha sweat it. We really don't mind if yer yellow and don't wanna get hurt; yer welcome ta quit 'd team cuz we really got no need fer cowerds like ya!" He howled in amusement and suddenly farted on the spot. Everyone near him paused in what they were doing, gave him a single glance, and collapsed in laughter.

Rolling his eyes, Henderson looked to the skies as if seeking divine patience to help him tolerate this crew. He shook his head; he didn't really feel a need to get revenge for Miller's sake just because the idiot had lost a fight which he had called for. Gary was only there at the meeting because Randy, in his opinion possibly the only one in the group with brains, had asked him to attend.

Thompson's insults didn't really bother him; heck, he'd had worse and besides, he was by nature a really thick-skinned person. Thompson didn't really rate as a significant person in his life so Gary didn't pay him much attention and regard at all.

However, it wasn't the case with Ben Lotbern. His face flushed red, his body stiffened, and a pissed look appeared. Closing his hands into tight fists, he stepped forward a foot and shouted at the linebacker, "Thompson, step up here and say that again to my face right now! C'mon! Do you have the balls to repeat what you just said?"

Said redhead ceased laughing and narrowed his eyes at Lotbern. "Oh? Say that again? I've got ta be goin' deaf? Are ya honestly tryin' ta provoke moi?" Ben glared angrily at him then replied, "You heard me, you little, gutless turd." At that insult, the other boys started going "Oooooooooohhh." One of them said to Thompson, "Hey man, you gonna take that standin'?"

Thompson's reply was instantaneous and short. "Hell, no. Watch yer mouth, Lotbern, b'fore I decide ta clean it out wit' a knucklesan'wich!" Completely unaffected by the threat, Ben shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Taking a few more steps forward, he reached the middle of the Wolverine circle and cracked his knuckles suggestively. "So, you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?" he asked with a sneer.

"Jus' hold that pose, buttercup," the redhead demanded, beginning to move forward himself and slamming his right fist into the open palm of his left hand. Undoubtedly, the two of them would have gotten into a completely unnecessary and wasteful fight if their teammates hadn't pulled them away from each other and forced them to calm down.

Allowing the two angry Wolverines to settle down, Nathenson sighed loudly. "All right then, we must decide on how we are going to proceed on this situation. I suggest that we all take a vote; those who find the desire within themselves to deal with this Robert Parr person shall do so as they see fit. Those who do not want to participate in this matter shall do the same. All of us shall state our individual choice in the next two minutes, which shall give us sufficient time to think about it."

Cohen snorted loudly. "Two minutes to think about it? We don't need that much time, we already know what to do!" Gary frowned at his outburst in disapproval. "Shut your trap Cohen, and stop thinking of yourself, you idiot! Not all of us are willing to risk getting our scholarships approval rejected just because of one stupid fight!"

Edward Wagner added to two cents. "Besides, not all of us are born with a spoon in his mouth, so getting that scholarship means a great deal! Zip it and give us two minutes of silence so we can think it over, you spoiled twit!"

Cohen, who came from a very well off family, decided to take offense at the pair of insults. His eyes narrowed and his temper flared up angrily. Stepping forward, he scowled and pointed his finger threateningly at the two of them. "What the hell did you call me?"

Needless to say, the meeting took a long time to come to a conclusion. In the end, what happened was...


DarkSoar presents An 'The Incredibles' fanfiction The Secret Origins of Mr. Incredible "Freshman Year"

Chapter 3, Part One: Bob Parr VS the Wolverines, Round Two….

Monday morning, 7:30 am:

The bowl of Kellog's Frosted Flakes and milk before him lay half-
eaten. It was absolutely silent that morning around the dining table in the Parr's residence, so silent that the only sound heard was the ticking of the wall clock. Bob Parr wasn't feeling too well at the moment. Not because he was sick, or he didn't get enough sleep, no none of that. It was something else entirely.

One guess to what was bothering him?

He was once again thinking and worrying about having to deal with the consequences of the fight he'd won against Millers and his two lackwits he'd brought with him. It was a blessing that the young man didn't have anything else to worry about, because currently, Bob personally felt that what he was dealing with was all he could handle. Despite his best efforts and any advice his dad had given him, it had remained quite a heavy burden on his shoulders and mind. Heck, the only respite he'd had was when he'd trained with his dad, and also chatted with his neighbor and best friend Anne. Aside from that...

Life reeaaaallly sucked sometimes.

Thus it wasn't surprising that he didn't feel at all that eager to go to school. Definitely not that morning, possibly not the next day, not the next week, and probably not until the end of the year.

With his mind on the inevitable confrontation between him and Miller's other teammates, he was absentmindedly stirring a spoon around in his milk, not realizing that the sweetened flakes having been turned to mush five minutes ago. "I am so dead," he murmured what was probably the tenth time ever since coming to the table for breakfast. "Jeez, what on earth was I thinking when I accepted Miller's challenge? I'm such a blockhead sometimes..."

"Bob."

"I mean, the entire football team is probably going to wait for me in one group when I show up at school. That's too many of 'em for me to fight..."

"Bob."

"I am soooo dead that it's not even funny. What am I supposed to do?" He continued to moan and whine about how he was going to end up looking like a piece of raw meat, without paying attention to anything else.

"ROBERT PARR! LISTEN TO ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" Completely shocked and taken off guard by the sudden loud shout, Bob fell out of his chair. "Ouch," he muttered as he rubbed his head where it had impacted painfully against the tiled floor. Looking around the side of the table, he glared at the person responsible, namely his father. "What's the big idea? What the heck was that for?"

George Parr couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. "Son, I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes, but all you've done was just sitting there, lost somewhere in Wonderland. Now get back up and tell your old man what's up," he commanded authoritatively. Sighing in resignation, Bob slowly stood up and sank bonelessly back into his chair. Slumping against the back of the chair, he said "What else could it be, Dad? It's the football team thing that I'm worried about. I can't stop thinking about it... I am soooooo dead," he moaned, bending forward and knocking his head against the table gently.

"I can't believe it."

His head still on the table, Bob asked, "Can't believe what, Dad?"

"I can't believe that I've raised such a coward for a son. I'm so ashamed; and after all these years I've wasted my time training you in boxing, oh I don't think I can show my face at work today!" 'Careful, George don't overdo it.'

Of course by this time, Bob was on his feet. His face was slowly turning red with anger and disbelief. His mouth was agape with shock at the sudden insults he was receiving from his father. It was taking him a while to recover the function of normal speech. "Wha-wha-what the heck are you saying?"

Completely ignoring his son, George clapped his hands over his face and continued ranting, "What kind of son have I raised? A chicken? A yellow blooded coward who runs away from all his problems? A spineless wimp? Oh, what would my father have said if he was alive to see this day?" George's father Ben Parr had passed away ten years ago due to old age.

"What! Hey, quit that will you, Dad! I AM NOT A CHICKEN NOR A COWARD!" The younger Parr's temper rose and his blood began to boil. How can his Dad say such things when he knew that they were so obviously not true at all? "Stop saying those lies!"

Despite Bob's demands, his father wasn't cooperating at all. With his hands still over his face, he shook his head in apparent shame. "Oh my only son, a whining disgrace! Afraid of a little thing like this! I'm so ashamed, my only son, a coward!"

Trapped between punching his father and or by showing him how wrong he was, Bob wavered. But when George started moaning on the absence of courage in his son's heart, said son finally had it. That was the final straw; enough was enough! Forgetting breakfast entirely, he fiercely grabbed his bag and took an angry pose of indignation beside the table. Lifting his right fist up and clenching it as tight as he could, he glared at George wrathfully. "A COWARD? A COWARD? CALL ME A COWARD, WILL YOU? WELL I'LL SHOW YOU DAD! I'M GOING TO SCHOOL AND I'M GONNA FACE THOSE IDIOTS, AND WE'LL SEE WHO'S GONNA BE LAUGHING IN THE END!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. When he finished his speech, he was breathing heavily. Pausing only to throw his backpack on, he threw George one final glare, ran towards the door, opened it, and dashed outside to take the school bus, which coincidentally, had just arrived.

The moment Bob exited the door, his father had a complete change in attitude.

"That's my boy." Taking his hands off his face, George calmly sat upright, reached up, and gave himself a pat on the back. "I knew taking that 'Human Psychology 103' class way back in college would eventually pay off," he murmured, continuing to eat his breakfast with a smug grin. He hadn't really wanted to do that, but there were several reasons which had overridden that reluctance. One, he wanted Robert to get out of the funk he'd been slipping into over the past weekend; two, he had felt a little ashamed that Bob would let himself get scared of something that would or wouldn't happen; three, Bob had to learn now that there were other alternatives to dealing with problems besides resorting to fists. George was doubly sure that his wife wouldn't have liked her only son to become a big time troublemaker.

Oh yeah, there was one more reason and which was probably the most important one of all of them. If Bob hadn't left when he did, he would've surely missed the bus.

"Go give 'em hell, Bob."


If looks could kill, anyone on the bus who met Bob's enraged gaze would've died on the spot. Fortunately for them, upon entering the school's transportation, George's son had plopped down in the first seat available, which happened to be the first one in front. He didn't bother to try to socialize with his neighbors; it seemed he was content to just stare straight ahead with his jaw clenched angrily. He alternated between tightening his hands into fists and releasing them, running his father's words to himself over and over again, unintentionally psyching himself up for, in his mind, the inevitable showdown.

'I can't believe Dad would say such things to me! And right in my face too! I mean, doesn't he remember that I told him that I beat three guys, all by myself? Dammit, he should be proud of me, not the opposite! Grrrrrr, it looks like I'll have to show him what a big mistake he made in saying those things!' Red hot, boiling rage was filling every pore of his body, it seemed, and he found himself shaking with eager anticipation and impatience.

The more Bob thought about it, the more righteous his indignation grew. He'd beaten their captain, yeah so what? It was a one on one challenge, and Millers had lost. Heck, he'd even beaten those two lackeys with him, and they weren't supposed to get involved in the fight at all! And now, just because he'd won, he would suffer? No matter what angle Bob turned it to look at, the logic of the situation was sincerely messed up. He simply couldn't understand it. It seemed to him that the only thing to do was to go forward with the day and if anyone should try to mess with him... Well, in his current mood, he was more than willing to 'correct' anyone if they tried to confront him on the issue of a certain football captain.

Bob tried to calm himself down and think of what he was going to do once he reached Bernard High. But it was near impossible to do so; his blood was running too hot to permit him to plan clearly. After three false starts, he gave it up and restrained himself (barely) from telling the bus driver to speed up. He couldn't help grimacing impatiently every time they had to stop to pick up more students. Of course, with his current demeanor, every new arrival avoided asking Bob if they could sit down. On another day, Bob would have enjoyed having the entire length of the seat all to himself, but now he hardly noticed.

The human ability for self-preservation can be increased to abnormally high limits. Thus, any student sitting within six feet of Bob Parr suddenly felt fear and anxiety run up their back like a pair of slithering snakes. Instinct pinpointed the source, and of course, seeing his tensed, hunched over body with the shoulder slightly shaking with suppressed emotion, helped by giving them a clue. Of course upon seeing that, they decided to try not to attract his attention, as they felt it would fall somewhere in the description of 'a very, very bad idea'.

It was good for them Bob ignored everything else; he was totally focused on trying his best to wait patiently enough for the bus to arrive at Bernard High. If he'd taken time to think over his current state of mind, Bob would've been definitely surprised to note that his earlier apprehensiveness about going to school was gone. In its place was a burning, extremely eager impulse to show the other members of the Wolverines who exactly they were messing with. Just let them try! He'll make anyone who dared regret it!

The bus driver, an old, gray bearded man in his late fifties, had caught the expression on the tall and obviously well muscled boy's face. Over the course of his job, he'd seen that look many times and nothing good ever came of it, only a whole lot of pain and injuries. Whoever had gotten on that Parr kid's nerves would soon be sorry they had ever thought to cross him, that the driver was sure of.

Well, it was none of his business. He was paid to pick up the kids and get them to school safely and on time. Whatever happened to them after that was not his responsibility. Putting those thoughts aside, he signaled and made a right. Three blocks to go before they would be coming upon their final stop.

Bernard High's parking lot.

End Chapter 3, part One

Author's Notes:

Whoooaahh, (lets out a breath of relief), I must apologize for the delay in this chapter. A number of things conspired against me in the last month and a half…writer's block, school, personal issues, stuff like that. Grooooaaan.

On a lighter note, Chapter 3, part two has already begun, and will be longer this chapter in any case. It SHOULD be coming soon (at least, in a shorter time period than this part one :D). Expect to see Lucius once again, Bob having it out with a certain football captain's girlfriend, and another new, very significant character shall be introduced.

Till next time!