Disclaimer:

Bob Parr and Lucius Best are mine...NOT! Everyone else mentioned in this here story are my own creations.

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

Chapter 3, part two

Bernard High School

7:45 am

"Yo man, check out dat fox!"

"Ooooh, boy, I'd love to wake up every mornin' next to her!"

On the southern edge of the left side of Bernard High's 'front yard', two African American teenagers were standing next to each other, doing the one most important thing that was a duty any guy had a right to do: girl watching. One was tall and lanky, about 6'3, with the beginnings of a mustache and a shaved head. His companion was shorter at around 5"8, considerably larger around his midsection and also looked to weigh than 250 lbs.

The duo had picked this spot because it overlooked the parking lot, which preceded the grassy front yard, and also it was beside the main stairway that led to the main classroom building. A lot of girls usually frequented the two areas, especially around the stairway, and so many opportunities were presented were available to both of them.

For the next two minutes they continued on doing this until the one of them saw a familiar face walking across the grassy field and headed in their direction. "Hey, over here man!"

The greeting caught Lucius Best's attention and he looked around, having been caught in the middle of doing some thinking. A moment later, he recognized two of his cousins, Russ Hills (the taller one) and Samuel Best. Lucius also saw that the parking lot, stairway, and both sections of the front yard were all packed. Behind his two cousins, he could see dozens of students exiting cars, bikes, and other modes of transportation as they arrived for school. A good number of kids were hanging around the main stairway that climbed up from the bus stop and led directly to the main doors of the classroom building. Around near the front of the school were many other people just standing around, chatting, gossiping and just passing the time waiting for the bell to ring.

Russ was waving him over to the benches situated under the shade of the trees. Hesitating a bit, Lucius looked over the parking lot and the number of students moving around in it, then made a quick decision. He returned his cousin's wave and pointed towards his destination. "Yo Russ, sorry man, I gotta jet. There's someone I gotta catch; it's pretty important, aight? I'll meet ya two later!" Nodding at the two of them, he continued on his way.

Both Sam and Russ understood; Lucius probably had some business with some new chick he was checking out or something like that. They knew him well enough not to get irritated or angry that he was pulling something like this. They had grown up with him after all.

Deciding to meet up with him later, they returned, quite fervently, to what they were doing before. "Whoah bro, lookie! She's gonna be my future wife, I jus' know it!"

"Not if I got anything to say about it!"


At the moment, Lucius was feeling very confused.

Here he was, standing near the stairway leading up to the main building. Now his position in itself wasn't particularly odd, it was one of his favorite places to hang out before classes started. It was just that he was alone instead of Russ and Sam joining him in checking out the girls who passed by. Another difference was that he was on the lookout for someone he barely even knew.

But what was the most significant part of all, Lucius was in the process of arguing with himself, something he did rarely, if ever.

"Why on God's green Earth am I doin' this?" he asked himself. "C'mon Best, ya don't owe the guy jack! Even if he does come, he's a big boy! Ya saw him give that ass Miller a major beatdown; he can take care of himself!" Due to the raised volume of his last sentence, some of the people near him gave him strange looks and moved away cautiously. He even overheard one or two saying what kind of weirdo would be talking to himself in public.

Lucius scowled at them. Not at all reluctant to speak his mind, he went for it with a vengeance. "Hey, it's a free world, and by the way, was I addressin' ya when I was talkin'? I don think so! Mind yer own bizness, puh-lease!" The targets of his response just glared at him and turned their backs, not wanting to waste their time by bothering with him further. "Yeah, that's what I thought! Next time, keep ya ears closed to stuff that don't concern ya, got it!"

Smirking, Lucius returned to what he was doing. However, even after a minute of further arguing, and despite his own words that he should leave already, Lucius remained there against his will (or so he told himself). Grumbling, but without any real feeling behind it, he shook his afro-covered head in disbelief, unable to understand what he was doing. He did, however, persist in scanning the crowd, looking for a certain blonde haired six feet one inch of walking muscle.

He thought to himself that if 'Blondie' (the nickname Lucius had already tagged him with) did indeed have the balls to show up, he had a faint idea of trying to intercept him and repeat his warning before Blondie ran into Miller's 'goon squad'.

While he was scanning the crowd, he continued to argue with himself. "Okay, lookie here mister. Though Blondie did kick Miller's butt, it wasn't as if I asked him ta do it. He just upped and did that on his own; I owe him nuthin'. Matter of fact, I do believe that he owes me, twice already! I warned him first when Stillers was 'bout ta jump him from behind, and also 'bout the rest of 'em bozo Wolverines seekin' revenge sometime this week, possibly today! So mind ya own bizness and catch up with Russ an' Sam! "

However, Lucius was making little headway in convincing himself to follow his own advice. Although he initially had no idea why, it eventually dawned upon him that while his head was saying "leave", his heart was saying "stay". He glanced towards the top of the stairway, jumping from face to face. His brow furrowed as he picked out the various faces of some of the Wolverines that were standing around there. Noting the anticipatory predatory looks on their faces, a thought occurred to him. 'That Blondie had better not show his ass up today….'

Turning his head down towards where the stairway merged with the parking lot, Lucius idly watched as the school bus pulled up to a stop. His eyes still flicking over the knots of people standing around, Lucius didn't see him until he walked into view. Shaking his head in disbelief, Lucius stared again to reconfirm the identity and then slapped his forehead in disgust. Yes, without a doubt, it was….

'Oh terrific, what's that idiot doin' here? What the hell does he have fer brains? Rocks?' Then, as Lucius got a closer look at 'Blondie', he caught the look on his face. A shiver ran up his spine as he said to no one in particular "Damn, but he looks ready ta kill. He may be suicidal, but he sure got guts, I gotta give 'em that."

Chewing his lip in indecision, he watched Bob Parr for a second. Finally, he threw up his arms in self-exasperation and then turned away. Shrugging once, he reminded himself that it had nothing to do with him and he might as well start walking to where his first class was going to be.

Then again………


Bob Parr stepped out of the bus, his gaze unwavering, his face set and resolute. Ignoring the other students who had traveled with in the bus with him, his entire attention was only for what lay in front of him, which was the stairway and front yard of Bernard High. At the moment, both locations were full of students arriving, talking, and walking around everywhere his eye could see.

He knew instinctively that the Wolverines would try and intercept him either on the steps leading to the main entrance of the school or somewhere inside the class building. A little grin appeared; he didn't care where they did it, just as long as he could just beat some common sense into their thick heads he was fine with meeting them anywhere. After all, he'd beaten three guys at once; how much harder could this fight be?

Feeling very confident, he shrugged nonchalantly and his grin turned into a smirk. "Bob," he said to himself, "it's not good manners to keep them waiting. Let's go." With that he started walking forward at an even pace, resettling his backpack.

In his eyes burned a fire of determination and anger; his hands knotted into tight fists; his jaw clenched and firmed. Not an ounce of fear was present in his eyes, for his fighting spirit was geared up and ready to be unleashed. Keeping his footsteps steady and his path straight, the young Parr made his way towards the front steps.

All of his senses were on high alert; turning his head to the left and right constantly, he briefly studied every person that came within ten feet of him. As of yet, none had appeared to challenge or intercept him. Despite that, he didn't relax at all. Bob imagine that sooner or later, the Wolverines would make their appearance, throw in some words meant to be intimidating and an effort to try and force him to run away, and then finally settle the time and place for the fight.

The tall blonde was so tensed and fired up that when, out of the blue, a hand clapped him on the shoulder, he reacted instantly and whirled around, fist cocked back and ready to punch.

"Whoa, whoa, chill bro, it's me! Lucius, Lucius Best! No need fer Defcon 4, so chill!"

Surprised, Bob blinked his eyes and looked at the boy standing before him. Yup, same afro hair style, same face, it was indeed that guy who helped him out during his fight with Millers. Letting his fist drop down to the side, he allowed himself to relax a little. "Uh, sorry about that. You kind of startled me. I'm a little….hyped up at the moment."

The African American was staring up at him with a mixture of grudging admiration, disbelief and a little bit of disgust (at himself, though Bob couldn't tell). "I can imagine. Man, how the hell did ya pull up the guts ta show up? Ya got a deathwish or sumthin' like that?"

Bob just shrugged and said, "Naw, I don't have a deathwish. What I do have is a rather large desire to beat some sense into a certain football team to leave me alone."

Lucius's eyes widened at this calmly relayed proclamation. He shook his head and gave a short laugh, having trouble believing what Bob had just said.

"Dude, ya do know that there are more than ten remainin' players that ya haven't beat up yet?" He paused and gave a closer study of the taller boy's face and then noticed something….odd. "Hey Blondie, what's up wit' yo' face?"

"My face? What do you mean? And don't call me Blondie; it's Bob or Robert, though I prefer the former."

"Sure thing Blondie!" Lucius remarked cheerfully, ignoring a scowl thrown at him from the bigger boy. "What I'm saying is, what on God's green Earth happened to 'em bruises from last week? I can't see anything purple or yellow anywhere!" He closely studied Bob's face with a scrutiny that soon embarrassed the other boy.

Feeling uncomfortable with the attention, Bob stepped back and held out his right hand in a warding off gesture. "Whoah, hold on there a second. That's too close for comfort. And about the bruises, well, I've always been a fast healer ever since I was a kid. Besides, I've had three days for the bruises to go away. It's not really a big deal."

Actually, now that Lucius had brought it up, despite his words, Bob was rather surprised at the speed of which the injuries from the fight last week had healed. He'd been too preoccupied the whole of the weekend to notice, but it seemed to be a whole lot quicker to recover than the last time he'd fought, which was about a year ago. Bob spent a few seconds dwelling upon this until something more important came to his attention.

His posture, tone of voice, and mood completely shifted into a more serious mood as he asked "So, did you want anything? I'm kind of in a hurry."

Taken aback by the swift attitude change, Lucius considered for a moment. "Well, I suspect that ya already know, but some of Miller's goon squad are waitin' for ya. They be hangin' near the doors." He paused and turned his head aside, as if fighting some internal battle, then relented. "Bro, look, I usually don't say this ta guys I don't really know and whose bizness is none o' my concern, but I somehow I feel I gotta make an exception in yer case." He smirked cockily and then continued speaking.

"Personally, I've seen ya in action an' I've got an idea of how tuff ya are. Ya kick more butt than any other white boy I've ever seen before. Despite that, and don'tcha be takin' this the wrong way, I'm thinkin' yo' gonna be seriously outnumbered should ya decide ta take on the Wolverines this time."

"Outnumbered? Ha!" Bob scoffed, his serious demeanor softening. "I took on Millers and those two goons of his singlehandedly! I was outnumbered then and I still whipped their butts completely!"

Becoming amused at Parr's rising ego, Lucius shook his head. "Blondie," he began, once again ignoring the other boy's annoyed voice saying "It's Bob, Bob!", "from what I remember, ya took out Millers pretty easily 'cuz at first it wuz supposed ta be man ta man. Then, when Tonan an' Stiller joined in, yo' were havin' a pretty tuff time of it. In fact, ya could've had yo' ass handed ta ya if yo's truly hadn't stuck my neck out an' helped ya out."

Although the last remark irritated him, Bob was forced to concede the point, even if Lucius did exaggerate. Had Lucius not warned him about Stiller's last attempt, Bob would have probably lost the fight. He wasn't quite certain that he could survive two sneak attacks from behind. George's son thought about it and came to the conclusion that he did indeed owe Lucius one.

Bob nodded reluctantly at Lucius, who smirked again in reply and said, "As I was sayin', this time around there'll be more than three of 'em idiots. I can tell ya, a fair number of the Wolverines are pretty good friends wit' Millers, an' others are hotheaded and usually do stuff wit'out thinkin' first. When ya near the top," he indicated the section of the stairway just a few steps away from the main doors, "as sure as I'm my mum's fav'rite child, they'll stop ya there an' try ta shake ya down. Not all of 'em, I'm sure, but more than ya can handle, I can betcha on that."

Bob reflexively looked at where Lucius had indicated, but saw no one he recognized, only a number of boys and a smaller number of girls socializing with each other. He suspected that amongst them were at least some of the Wolverines. A pensive look came over his face and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Lucius noticed this and decided he'd done his good deed for the day.

"Anyways, my blonde-headed brutha, I've said my piece and now I've gotta vamoose. Watch yerself, some o' 'em are pretty hard nuts ta crack, plus from what I've seen of their fights in the past, they ain't that keen on playin' fair." He looked at Bob and said, "Oh yeah, and I'll collect later, aight?" With a brief nod, the African American walked past Bob, giving him a light punch on the shoulder on his way.

Turning his head sideways, Bob muttered his thanks to the other boy and then returned his attention to the problem at hand. Actually, Lucius did have a point. Bob had blasted onto the bus in a state of fury, thanks to his father, and didn't even take a moment to dwell upon the situation at hand. His anger, which had cooled down significantly when he and Lucius had been talking, now threatened to erupt anew.

But this time however, Bob kept a clear head and maintained his current line of thought. Then suddenly, inspiration struck as he remembered Lucius saying that the fight between him and Miller was supposed to be man to man. A plan formed in his mind and a crafty smile appeared. His self confidence, which had gone shaky when Lucius had reminded him of being outnumbered, strengthened and solidified.

His smile transformed into a confident smirk as he murmured to himself, "I'm not exactly soft either, myself. Ready or not, here I come!" He gave a short laugh and promptly resumed his march upwards on the stairs, not showing the slightest signs of hesitation or fear.

Fifteen feet behind him, Lucius was watching him advance and was also scolding himself on trying to advise Parr. Yet again, he'd done it without thinking twice and only at the end did he manage to get something for himself out of it.

However, deep down, he did hope that Bob would manage to survive the day.


"Hey, Parr, hold it there. We've got sum' business wit' ya."

"And so it begins," muttered Bob as he looked at the five boys who had gathered together a few steps above him. Some of the anger lying dormant flared up and it showed in his voice. "The hell you guys want with me?" Not that he didn't have a clue or anything, he was just following the script.

The guy who addressed him, a tall redhead standing a few inches over six feet who looked well on his way to becoming a professional body builder. He was wearing a white T-shirt, which only emphasized his musculature development. Bob became a little more concerned with this development, but refused to back down. The redhead spoke again "Ooooh, tuff guy eh? Th' name's Pete Thompson, of th' Wol'v'rines, an' us here don't like what'chu did tah our Cap'n and good buddy Joe! An' seein' since yer th' one tah blame, we're itchin' tah pay ya back."

"Is that so?" Bob asked as calmly as he could, which wasn't easy considering his heart was pounding anxiously, and his mind was silently urging him to introduce Thompson to his fist. He swiftly gave each of Thompson's teammates a swift once-over, trying to assess how much of a threat they were to him.

At the left, in the beginning of the line, was a short boy built like a bull with black hair in a crewcut; Robert Cohen. Next stood the taller, thinner yet still well muscled QB John Kreiger, his shoulder length shaggy brown hair looking like it never felt the touch of a comb before. To Kreiger's right was Thompson, and after him was…

George's son snorted partly in amusement, partly in amazement as he recognized none other than Joe Miller and Mike Stillers. He pointed a finger at the both of them and said, "Oh gosh, it's two of the Three Stooges! Where's your buddy Tonan? Still at home nursing his poor, abused nose! Hahahahah!"

While he was laughing, Bob studied their faces closer and saw the distinct yellowing color of several bruises in the process of healing. 'I guess that they didn't learn their lesson the first time around. They're a bit on the stubborn side….they haven't even recovered one hundred percent from our fight and it looks like they want a rematch. Idiots…'

By this time, both Joe and Mike's faces were slowly turning red with anger. The captain of the Wolverines was the first to regain his ability to speak. "You're dead, Parr, just wait till I get my hands on you, you little piss!"

Stillers got his two cents worth in, "You got lucky last time. This time we're gonna pound you into the ground so hard and so fast that you'll never know what hit you!"

Feeling incredibly amused, Bob snickered and he couldn't help himself, he began laughing out loud. 'Time to put the plan in action and hope that it works!' he thought to himself, while still chortling. "Well, if you guys wanna lose again, then I'll be happy to oblige…" He shrugged nonchalantly and a positively evil smirk appeared as he locked gazes with the duo.

"I'll kill you!" "Die!" These were the phrases spouted by Joe and Mike respectively as they tried to hurl themselves at the tall blonde who was mocking them. The three other Wolverines immediately restrained them.

"Yo Cap'n, cool down man! Now's not a good time!" hissed Cohen as he alternated between throwing angry glares at Bob and struggling to hold back Joe. "Just wait, we'll get him after school!"

Watching the antics of the enraged duo, Bob decided to give the ball a push. Speaking in a loud, clear voice that anyone within a twenty foot radius could hear, he said, "Oh I see! You guys want a rematch? Fine! Today after school, at the football field, around 4:30!" He waved his left arm at the group before him and added, "I"ll take the five of you on, one at a time! Unless, of course, you guys are too chicken and want to go against me all at once!"

Bob turned to the listening and intrigued audience and said, "You heard me, these Wolverines are too scared to fight me man to man; they can only fight when they have the advantage of numbers! That's why they showed up in a group; otherwise they would've been too yellow to do otherwise!"

After he finished his challenge, Bob turned back to regard the Wolverines. He saw in all of their faces, without exception, that they were ready to kill and maim. He could see that their pride and reputation were being tested by his outspoken challenge and felt that the result which he desired had a very good chance of happening.

The entire area around them was silent. Everyone else not involved were looking on with curiosity, amazement, and interest. All were waiting to see what the Wolverine's response was going to be.

Joe Miller somehow forced himself to calm down and gritted his teeth in barely suppressed anger. The other four were looking at him expectantly and impatiently, waiting to see what he would say. 'It wasn't supposed to happen like this, damnit!' he cursed to himself. 'We were supposed issue the challenge, wait patiently, and gang up on him after school!'

He had no idea how that little piss Parr had gotten the idea to announce it to the whole world, but now since with the cat out of the bag, it was obvious to the captain of the Wolverines that their options were limited. They couldn't go ahead with their original plan. Joe had no doubt that by lunchtime the whole school would know that there would be a fight between them and Parr, thus meaning that there would be an audience. Which meant that if the Wolverines just went ahead and ganged up on Parr, those watching would spread the news around that any one of the 'big strong' football team couldn't handle a one on one fight.

Definitely, that would be VERY bad for their public image. If that happened, the entire football team probably wouldn't want to show their faces at Bernard High for the rest of the school year.

Furthermore, Joe had to admit that Parr was quite formidable. Oh he still wanted revenge (and a rematch) for what happened last week, but Miller wasn't in the habit of denying reality on a daily basis. Over the weekend, he'd grudgingly accepted that Parr somehow had managed to overcome himself, Stillers and Tonan. He had to respect that toughness and be aware of it, even though he hated the person who possessed it. Miller was embarrassed to think it, but it just might take almost all five of them to bring down Parr. In that light he might be overestimating how tough their opponent was, but as a football captain, Miller was quite experienced in dealing with strong opposing teams and he well knew it was better to be safe rather than to be sorry afterwards.

With those thoughts in mind, Joe came to a decision and, although it was very much against his will, made it.


Bob looked at the clock for the fifteenth time in ten minutes. It was 8:45, he was in Civics, and was completely bored out of his mind. It didn't help that he was very impatient for school to end. As it was, he couldn't pay the least bit of attention in class and tried to distract himself by doodling on his notebook. He'd been somewhat successful after drawing countless pictures of Joe Miller and company, looking completely beaten up and ragged looking.

When the clock hands reached nine, the bell finally rang. As was the standard operating procedure when the end of the period was signaled, every student in all classes quickly stuffed their books in their bags and began to exit the rooms. For his part, Bob was out of his seat like a shot and was the first person out of the door, which was no mean feat considering that he was sitting in the middle row. After walking down the hallway, he approached his locker and unlocked it. It was then that he heard someone addressing him from behind.

"Hey, you Robert Parr? The guy who's supposed to tangle with the Wolverines after school?"

Looking behind him, Bob saw someone who was unfamiliar to him; a guy at about 5"10, with messy, short wavy brown hair, black eyes, and a slightly chunky build, wearing eyeglasses. Grabbing the book he needed out of his locker and stuffing it into his bag, he replied, "Yep, that's me. Who wants to know?"

The boy considered him thoughtfully, then said, "My name's Scott Winters, and I'm a bit curious, you might say. I've heard the rumors and decided that I wanted to check them out if they had any truth to them."

Bob answered him while closing his locker and snapping shut the combination lock. "That's nice. Okay, so now you've seen me in the flesh. You satisfied?"

"Not really, at least not yet. Hold on a minute; can I ask you a question?"

The tall blonde smirked in amusement. "You just did."

"Wise-ass" Scott cracked good-naturedly, a big appreciative grin spreading over his roundish face. "Seriously now, how many of them are you going to take on?"

"Five." Bob sounded like he was discussing the weather, his voice was so calm and his manner unruffled. The glass wearing boy looked a little bothered and shocked by the easily tossed off answer. Summer's next question sounded exactly what he felt. "F-five? C'mon man, be straight with me. You can't be facing five of them unless you're--."

"Out of my mind? Insane? Crazed? Out to take a visit to the nearest asylum?" Parr frowned and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I've heard nothing else ever since that idiot of a captain, Miller, accepted by challenge earlier on top of the stairs out front. Believe you me, I'm dead serious," he turned to face Scott, held up a fist, and started counting off names. "Besides Milller and Stillers, there'll be three other guys joining them; Cohen, Kreiger and Thompson."

Scott was still having trouble with it. "Yeah, but five of them? I mean, you look pretty tough yourself, but I mean, c'mon, these guys are FOOTBALL players!"

Just then the bell rang and the hallways instantly became a flurry of movement everywhere. Bob sighed and turned to go, but not without saying one last thing, "Look Winters, was it? Stop by the football field after four thirty. You'll see that I'm not pulling your leg... I've got to go now, see you later, all right?" With that he walked away, merging with the flood of students, leaving Scott alone to ponder what he heard.


10:30 a.m.

World History

To his growing irritation, Bob found himself becoming rather well known as the day progressed, and not in a good way. In the rest of his morning classes, a lot of notes were passed to him; more than half asked him if Bob had plotted out a good place where to be buried. Between periods, people would look at him with skepticism or disbelief, laugh or just shake their heads in pity. Others were bold enough to walk right up to him and express their belief that any freshman who dared cross the paths with the Wolverines was, simply put, a complete idiot or mentally unbalanced.

It was damned annoying, and soon Bob was hard pressed to ignore all of it. But try as he might, some of the remarks and comments got to him and increased his irritation, which started darkening his mood and attitude. To try and take his mind off them, he began thinking about the upcoming fight.

While he was thinking about it, Bob suddenly realized something was wrong about the way he was treating the coming fight. Earlier that morning, he was afraid of facing the Wolverines, which was understandable because he'd thought that he'd be facing the whole football team. An alarming concept for anyone to deal with, to be sure.

Yet even now, Bob was mystified with his lack of a reaction, for the most part. He knew who he'd be fighting, how many of them there were, and now there would be a certain order to the fight. Still, even with all that, he was still badly outnumbered. It was possible that he could beat the first two or three guys, but after that, he'd be worn out and too tired to keep it up. The remaining Wolverine members would be fresh and ready to go while he would be tired, hurting, and low on energy and stamina. There was a ninety percent chance that he would emerge from this contest bloody and bruised all over. He'd be lucky if they didn't break any bones of his.

By rights, he should be petrified with fear and troubled by apprehensiveness. Sweat should be running down his face and he should be dreading every tick of the clock hands that brought 5:00 a second closer. He even should be feeling tempted to ditch school and dash out of the building, running for his life.

But he wasn't. He wasn't feeling the least bit worried at all. It was beginning to get a little weird and a bit unsettling. Although Bob had used his previous victory at a morale booster and ego reinforcement, he'd done it to help raise his spirits and confidence that morning while on the bus. On that note, he had to give his dad credit; the old man had deliberately insulted him in order to make him mad instead of wallowing in fear and nervousness. He mentally reminded himself to thank his dad for pushing him that way when he got home after he won the fight.

Pause. Hold on a minute.

There he went again; 'after he won the fight'. Why on Earth was he assuming that he would WIN? In previous fights he'd had, Bob had never had reason to feel this…sure of himself. A sudden worry sprang up; was he getting too cocky and overconfident? Was he overestimating his own abilities and underestimating those of his opponents?

It was very possible, and soon Bob began searching his feelings and thoughts in earnest.

Yes, he'd acknowledged the seriousness of the fact that he was going to fight against five opponents, one at a time. Two of them, he was slightly familiar with, while the rest were a complete enigma. And yes, he'd acknowledged the fact that against such odds, the chances of him emerging victorious were less than 1 in 10. And yes, he'd acknowledged the fact that he'd gotten lucky in his last fight. If they had attacked him all at once and had Lucius not given him that timely warning then he would've lost.

However, what he didn't understand why he, Bob Parr, didn't feel the great pressure one would expect in such a situation like this. He'd felt it before in competitions, tournaments, and the like, but WHY ON EARTH NOT NOW? Especially when the odds were significantly stacked against him! To Bob's thinking, that wasn't normal.

Yet Bob had no answers for that question. The only thing that he did reveal was that for no concrete reason, he had a good feeling about the outcome of the fight. And that was the part which baffled him the most; even with all the factors which he acknowledged, even with all the questions thrown at it, he couldn't find out the slightest satisfactory answer at all….

"Mr. Parr!"

The loud annoyed voice of someone calling him instantly snapped Bob out of his internal contemplation. "Huh, whaa? Who?" he mumbled intelligently, looking around dazedly. His classmates took the opportunity to snicker and giggle at his confusion.

"Mr. Robert Parr! I would definitely appreciate it if you would join the rest of us in World History, thank you very much!" Ms. Starbath glared at him, her wrinkled face contorting with the gesture, making her look like some sort of crazed old witch from a childhood fairytale.

More laughter followed her request. Bob blushed a deep red and muttered a quick "Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am," and fought the nearly overwhelming urge to blush a deep red. He failed however, but luckily managed to cover his face with his textbook, which was standing open on his desk. He hated being caught like that and being embarrassed in public at the same time (who does?).


12:10 p.m.

Bernard Cafeteria Hall

The cafeteria was crowded with students, either sitting at the lunch tables, standing in line, or somewhere in between. The air was filled with idle chitchat and gossip as teenagers of varying ages enjoyed each others' company and relaxed in their hour long break away from the dreary ho-hum of classes.

Bob was sitting by himself at a table in the corner, his food half eaten before him. Currently, he was looking at the lunch crowd and scowling in irritation. All of the bad press was really getting on Bob's nerves. He didn't mind that the school was abuzz with talk of the upcoming fight, but what the real problem was that most of it consisted of speculation of him being pounded to a pulp. Such talk got old pretty quickly and he struggled to tune it out.

The looks he was receiving, whether of pity, amusement, disbelief, contempt, anger (from several certain Wolverine members), and a little bit of sympathy, were getting tiresome and grating on his nerves. He was hot with impatience, wishing that the day would hurry up and end so the fight could begin already. Then he could beat all of 'em and turn around everyone's opinion.

"Yo, Parr!" a familiar voice called out to him from his left. Turning his head, he relaxed a bit when he saw Lucius and two other African Americans whom he didn't know.

"Go ahead, have a seat," Bob remarked. It would be good for a change to associate with someone he knew. It would definitely help him ignore the staring and odd looks and whispered comments. Stupid people, why couldn't they mind their own business.

"Don't mind if we do," Lucius replied, setting action to words as the three of them sat down across the table, facing Bob. "These are my cu'zins, Russ an' Sam. I've told 'em 'bout ya."

Despite his dark mood, Bob managed a somewhat amused smirk and nodded at them. "Hi there. Have a seat." They complied and then Bob asked Lucius, "Did you tell them how I gave Miller a thorough beatdown?"

"Of course, Blondie, that wuz the first thin' outta my mouth."

Russ was the first to speak up. "Even tho' Lucius is blood, he ain't exactly above exaggeratin'. Matter of fact, he's well known in the fam'ly for doing such things. That's why the both of us asked him to introduce us so we could judge for ourselves, ya dig?"

Lucius threw his bigger cousin a dark look and said, "Ya didn't have ta go and tell it like that, fool." Russ cheerfully ignored this comment and was conveniently looking elsewhere.

"Hey, so Parr, you the cat who's plannin' ta push up daisies at an early age? I dunno whether to call you the craziest fool I've evah seen or the most conf'dent egoman'yac I'll evah meet." That from Sam, who had a look on his round face that seemed to be a cross between awe, scornful disbelief, and pity.

Russ chimed in a second later, "Yah, my thoughts exactly. So, Mr. Bob, care to lettin' us know what's up and what's been goin' on?"

"Count me in," a new voice said. Everyone looked up to see who it was. Bob quickly recognized the person who he had talked to in the hallway earlier. "Hey, it's you again."

Pushing his eyeglasses higher up with his forefinger, Scott Winters nodded at the four of them in greeting. Lucius nodded back at him and said, "Hey Winters, feel free to join in. Pull up a seat." Scott immediately complied and said hello to Russ and Sam.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Bob remarked "I met Scott in the hallway a few hours ago, but how do you guys already know each other?" Scott shrugged and replied, "Lucius and I have lived in the same neighborhood for about five years or so, although we didn't go to the same school back then. Russ and Sam, on the other hand, were my classmates ever since the start of junior high. They're wierd, loud, and obnoxious, but they're a good to hang around with."

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Don't go list'nin' ta dat garbage four-eyes is spoutin'. He's a reg'lur motormouth, yakkin' is what he does best." Russ was nodding in complete agreement with his cousin, although a wide grin on both of their faces was mostly undermined the force of the insults.

Satisfied that their ritual greeting was completed, Scott jumped back on track to the original matter at hand. Turning to Bob, he asked, "So, what's up? Are you going to give the story behind the fight that's supposed to happen this afternoon?" From behind the glasses, a gleam of interest could be clearly seen in his eyes.

His mood having been lifted somewhat by the company at his table encouraged Bob to cheer up and start talking. He didn't see why not and began by explaining the accident with Jennifer that had pushed Joe's hand to force the fight to take place. He described with great relish and satisfaction (not to mention in fine detail) how the fight went with the three Wolverine football members and how Lucius had warned him. To Lucius's amusement, Bob made it sound like he fought all three at the same time, rather then Joe Miller first, and then his two friends later on. Skimming over his weekend, which was rather boring compared to the weekdays, Bob finished up with what had happened when Joe had accepted Bob's proposal in public.

"That's a pretty interesting story there, if it's all true that is," commented Scott as he lazily leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I mean, you beating three guys at once is a stretch for the imagination, you know."

"True, true, the man speaks for me," added Sam, pointing to the brown-haired boy.

"Ditto," Russ said, looking at Bob doubtfully.

Being at the center of attention was a bit uncomfortable for Bob, but he tried to deal with it as best he could. The sentiments of disbelief being expressed by the three boys irked him and caused his anger to flare up, but he managed to stamp it down in time. Addressing Scott, he said, "Well, like what I said before, if you don't believe me, just go to the football field around four thirty. As to whether or not you believe whether I won against Miller and his two stooges last week, I've got a witness in Lucius here."

A sudden idea took form and he said, "Whether you believe me or not is obviously your choice. What I did last week is going be peanuts compared to what's going to happen this afternoon; as I've said, I'm going to be fighting five of the Wolverines, and I'm pretty sure that I'll win. In fact, I'm so confident that I'm willing to bet on it."

"Ooh, a bet? Blondie, this is startin' ta sound reeeaaal interestin'." Lucius rubbed his hands together, grinning like a madman. "I'll be the middleman, jottin' down those bets. Any takers?"

"Thanks Lucius, and remember it's 'Bob'? Anyways, here it is. I'll bet the three of you, Russ, Sam, and Scott, five dollars each if I lose today. If I win, however, each of you guys have to pay me five dollars. How's that sound?"

"Heh, I'll take that bet!"

"Same here!"

"Prepare to lose fifteen bucks Parr!"

Bob just sat back and grinned like a Cheshire-Catlike smile.

Lucius watched the proceedings with an inscrutable expression.

The rest of the people in thecafeteria went on with their business.


4:45 pm.

Quite a crowd had gathered at the football field in eager anticipation, massing near a hundred. Most of them were sitting in the bleachers and socializing while patiently waiting for the much waited event to begin. Near the middle of the field, the five Wolverines who were going to take part were relaxing and lounging around. Some of their teammates professed some interest in seeing out it all turned out and decided to stay after school to watch.

Some thirty feet away from them, Bob stood in the middle of a small group comprised of Lucius, Sam, Russ and Scott. His back was turned to the Wolverines and he was currently wrapping his forearms with long strips of white cloth.

While he was busy, Russ took the opportunity to ask him where he got those and why he was doing that in the first place. Although seemingly absorbed in his task, Bob had the presence of mind to answer him. "I just asked the janitor for these, saying that I needed to clean up a spill in Chemistry class. He gave them to me easily, without too much trouble. As for why I'm doing it, well, you see, I'm an amateur boxer. What that means is while I"m practicing, I have my gloves to protect my fists and I don't really have to worry about my forearms being injured that badly because my opponent's gloves help cushion the impact somewhat. But since I don't have my gloves with me, and I really doubt that they (the Wolverines) will wear any, I gotta improvise. Also, since I'll be going up against five opponents, you can bet that I'll be blocking a whole lot of punches. This'll help protect my forearms from getting too bruised. I'll also wrap my fists, in order to protect them from the pummeling they'll take from impacting against a face. I figure that since they play football, even with helmets, their faces are pretty rough after getting hit by elbows, shoulders, and whatnot." Despite the fact being untrue, it caused all of them to have a good laugh.

"A boxer, eh?" Russ remarked with some interest. "Hey, if that's the case, what's are yo gunna call yo'self?"

Lucius looked at his cousin like he was dumb or something. "Idiot, I've already told ya his name."

Shaking his head, Russ corrected him, "Not 's name, fool, what I mean 's a stage name; y' know, sum kind of fancy dancy title all them pro's just luv ta hang on themselves. Like, for 'xample, Mike "The Crushah" Williams, or Paul "Fist of Rock" Dunts. Well, I figah that since Bob here's a boxer or sum'thin', he should hang a title on 'imself as well. Anyone got any ideas?"

Sam took this opportunity to throw his own two cents in. "Hey, don't'cha fergit 'bout the othuh side. How 'bout callin' 'em "The Wolverine Five? Has a nice ring ta it, don'cha think?"

Scott gave his shoulders a little shrug; he didn't care either way. Lucius shared a similar reaction and opinion. Bob wasfocusing on his taskso he couldn't comment. It fell to the remaining two African American boys, who immediately began suggesting various names and titles back and forth. They agreed on 'The Wolverine Five', but kept disagreeing on an appropriate title for Bob. Finally they came to the conclusion that they would wait until the fight was over and then they would see what would be a good name for him.

For Lucius's part, although he didn't admit it out loud, he was feeling kind of worried for the tall blonde. Even after witnessing Bob win against Tonan and Stillers' double team, he was afraid that the day would finish with Bob having to be absent from school for a few days in order to recover. He stuffed away his thoughts for later and looked around the small group. Scott was studying Bob's opposition with a keen eye while Sam and Russ were now arguing about how long Bob would last.

"There we go," commented Bob in satisfaction, holding up his arms for inspection. "Not a bad piece of work, if I say so myself. Not exactly my boxing gloves, but they'll do for now."

A voice from the other side caught their attention, "Hey Parr, are you ready, or do you wanna forfeit and go home to your Momma like a scaredy cat?" A few snickers followed immediately thereafter.

Bob turned around and squarely met the gaze of the owner of the voice, who was of course Joe Miller. Although on the outside he seemed calm, the mention of his long deceased beloved Mom had touched a very painful memory within. All of the impatience and anxiety which he'd managed to barely keep a hold of throughout the entire day yelled to be let loose. His anger, stirred by Miller's bold question, urged him to beat the football captain into a bloody pulp. With all that going on, Bob was still able to note that even now he was still sure of his ability to win this particular contest.

A tight, mirthless smile and, alternatively clenching and relaxing his fingers, he spoke to the four other boys, "I guess this is it, guys. Lucius, do me a favor and keep an eye on them, make sure these three don't suddenly run off when I finish off the last one, okay? In the meantime stick around, all of you are in for one hell of a show." Offering them a nod, he strode towards the Wolverines.

Coming to a stop about fifteen feet away from them, Bob absently noted that everyone's attention was on him and his opponents. He paid it no mind and immediately raised his bandaged fists, an eager predatory gleam shining in his eyes.

"Who's first?"

End Chapter Three, Part Two

Author's Notes:

Bwahahahah! I know you guys must absolutely hate me for doing this but I thought it was a good cut-off point. I love suspense, don't you:D

I must apologize. In the Author's Notes last chapter, I said that Bob would have it out with Jenny, but I think I'll save that for the next chapter! I'm sure you guys can guess who "Scott Winters" is :D Shouldn't be too hard...

Okay, I'll take this opportunity to thank EVERYONE who has taken the time to review The Secret Origins. I really appreciate it and reading such reviews encourages me to write more...keep 'em coming!

See ya in the third, and last part of Chapter Three!