Disclaimer:

I'd be crazy to suggest that I owned the Incredibles so I don't. However, I DO own all the original characters that never existed in the movie.

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The Secret Origins of Mr. Incredible
A "The Incredibles" fanfic
Chapter 4: Preview
By Darksoar
E-mail: half the kids at Bernard High, Bob Parr wasn't much for cursing or swearing, but at the moment, he felt that the situation was appropriate for it.

"#$$#! My face feels like it's been between a hammer and a nail! Damn, it hurts!"

In contrast, walking beside him and whistling cheerfully, Lucius Best seemed oblivious to his newfound friend's agony.

"Yup sure looks like it frum where I stand. Heh, I'll betcha won't be comin' ta school fer another cupla' days, at least. Haha, this'll make it twice in lit'le more than a week! Bro, yer sumthin' else, ya know that?"

Bob was about to scowl at his friend, but his bruised face reminded him that it wasn't a good idea. He reluctantly settled for ignoring Lucius's remark and concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other.

It was an hour after the marathon fight against the Wolverines, and he was almost completely drained of energy. His muscles ached and complained continually, letting him know that they were not happy at all with the current state of things.

However, as miserable as Bob felt, the fact that he had once again come out on top of his enemies, the Wolverines, enabled him to ignore some of the pain. Despite that, he wanted to get home as soon as possible in order to shower and then get some well deserved sleep.

The uninvolved members of the Wolverines who had witnessed the fight would've undoubtedly mobbed the Bob, but fortunately enough, it never happened. The school's vice principal had seen the gathering of students and had gone out to see what was going on. Luckily, she'd noticed it only a few minutes after the fight had ended.

A couple of students had caught sight of her approaching the field and had quickly spread the word. Under the direction of Lucius, a very impressed trio consisting of Simon, Russ and Sam had grabbed up Bob between them and had hustled him off the campus.

Two blocks later, the five of them had stopped to catch their breath. Once that was done, they'd agreed that it was getting late and heading home was probably a good idea. Despite Bob's protests, Lucius had told Bob that he was going with him to make sure that Bob wouldn't fall asleep halfway to his house or something.

Bob didn't argue that strongly because quite simply, he lacked the energy to do so. Indeed, deep inside, he was grateful; he knew his limits well enough that there was a very good chance that he wouldn't be able to make it all the way to his house unless someone helped him.

After his mom had died, the young Parr had grown up with father. In Bob's opinion, George was the world's greatest dad, and a terrific role model, but he was still a man, and as such, lacked a mother's touch.

As a consequence, Bob had grown up a bit stubborn and independent as possible, which included being accustomed to doing things by himself. He wasn't used to asking people for help; if they did him a favor like Lucius had done, he would make sure to return the favor as soon as possible. He didn't much like owing other people or being in their debt.

But Lucius Best was turning out to be something of an exception. Somehow Bob instinctively knew that Lucius wasn't the type of person who was always looking to get an advantage or a hold over other people. Even though the two of them had only known each other for less than a week, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Upon dwelling upon that, it was a bit puzzling, but Bob shrugged and decided not to bother much with it, odd and awkward though it was. He felt that he could trust Lucius, and to his point of view, that was more than enough to convince him.

The Wolverines; Cohen, Kreiger, Stiller, Thompson, and Millers. He couldn't believe that he'd beaten them all single-handedly. Well, almost all of them. Thompson had turned yellow and had run off. But still, that didn't change the fact that what he'd done today was, simply put, amazing. A glow of pride settled down upon his shoulders; despite the ache and pains all over his body, he felt good about himself.

What he'd just done just might be some sort of record, he suddenly realized. After all, he'd never heard anyone his age accomplish successfully what he'd just done.

A smug grin decorated Bob's face, which faded away a second later because of the bruises on his face. He wanted to strut proudly down the block, but unfortunately his current condition flatly denied permission.

The idea of a hot shower and his bed sounded like heaven.

Lucius, however, easily picked up on Bob's feelings and said as much. "I'll betch'a feelin' pretty good 'bout yerself, ain't cha?"

A momentary smirk appeared on the bigger boy's face and he told Lucius what he thought of his own accomplishment.

"You've got a point there Blondie," Lucius agreed.

"It's Bob," the blonde corrected with a mocking glare.

"Blondie fits you better," Lucius persisted.

"Bob."

"Blondie."

The two of them continued arguing in this good-natured fashion as they walked on.

"Well, Lucius, this is it. My home sweet home."

"Beautiful," Lucius replied, obviously unimpressed. He had a good reason too; except for the dark blue color, Bob's house looked exactly the same as the others in his neighborhood.

Bob would have replied but then he remembered that he was dead-tired and REALLY needed to rest ASAP. He turned to Lucius and said, "Um, look, Lucius –."

Lucius interrupted him by holding up a hand and shook his head. "I gotcha man. I'll stop by later when yer feelin' up ta it, aight? Now guess I'll take off now and so I'll catch ya later tomorrow, that is, IF yer gonna be at school."

Bob grinned wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not sure about that," he confessed. It was right then he came to a startling realization.

"Oh geez," Bob moaned, "I don't know if I wanna go back to Bernard High with my face looking like roadkill."

Lucius chuckled. He playfully swatted Bob on shoulder and said, "See ya, man."

Bob lightly punched him on the arm in return. "Yeah, hopefully not tomorrow," he remarked optimistically.


Two hours later, while sleeping blissfully in his room, Bob was abruptly woken up by a large hand shaking his shoulder insistently.

"Whaa ---, who?" he mumbled dazedly, a little annoyed at being woken up so soon. Wasn't it just a few minutes ago that his head had just touched the pillow? With superhuman effort, he cracked open his eyes and saw who his tormentor was.

"Oh, hey Dad, just got home?" he asked, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"'Bout thirty minutes ago," George Parr admitted, looking intently at his son's colorful face. "You look like Hell," he commented blandly, lifting his eyebrows in an unasked question.

In his half-coherent state, Bob muttered, "Yeah, yeah, so what'd ya want?"

His father asked him, "Did you take them?"

Bob blearily gazed up at George's face and said, "Yup."

"Did the school catch you in the act?"

"Nope."

His curiosity satisfied, George chuckled and rubbed his son's shoulder affectionately and with fatherly pride. "Good boy, now go back to sleep."

"Thanks Dad," were the last words Bob uttered before sleep reclaimed him.


A couple of neighborhoods away, in her room on her king-sized bed on the second floor in a two story house where she and her parents lived, Jenny Watkins was most definitely not happy.

In fact, in her own opinion, ever since the afternoon, her day had utterly SUCKED.

Seeing your boyfriend and some of his teammates get beaten down by one -ONE- guy kind of fell in the categories of "extremely humiliating" and "incredibly depressing." Thus, it wasn't completely surprising that she hated a certain Bob Parr with everything she had.

Contrary to what everyone at school believed, Jenny was with Joe Miller primarily because she loved him and not just because of the popularity (though that was very nice). She had just come back from Joe's house after carefully tending to his injuries.

Thank goodness that the other Wolverines who hadn't gotten involved had quickly picked up their unconscious teammates and had gotten out of the school's campus with all available speed.

For the second time in less than a week's worth of days, her pride and her love had been wounded, bruised. Last week, she was ready to go head-hunting for Parr but Joe had promised her that he would for sure be victorious in the inevitable rematch. But as events had just proved, he'd been unable to keep that promise, which only added to her anger.

When she'd been at Joe's house, the beginnings of a plot to get revenge for Joe, and herself as well, had slowly formed. After coming home and thinking about it, refining it for an hour, Jenny was certain that it was perfectly workable.

"Robert Parr, you'll get yours! I swear that you will," she laughed out loud to herself, incidentally sounding like an evil female villain from a cartoon. Reaching over to the desk at the right side of the bed, Jenny picked up the phone and dialed a number.

When the other side picked up, she said, "Hello? Yeah, this is Jenny Watkins; remember that favor that you owe me?"


At his house, Joe Miller wasn't having a good night.

Despite all his efforts, he couldn't get to sleep simply because of the pain from his collective bruises. For the umpteenth time that night, he started roundly cursing Bob Parr.

The volume of his swearing got so loud that eventually his dad Tom opened his door and threw a book at him, ordering Joe to quiet down.


Back at his house, Bob rolled over and sneezed twice in his sleep.


At that exact moment, several miles away to the north, in an average town called Irving, a fight was taking place in the local park. A tall, imposing figure of 6'3, wearing a long, dark brown coat and black jeans was squaring off against an even bigger opponent, a street punk and an enforcer ofthe Bloodbats.

Around ten members of saidgang had already fallen victim to the newcomer. Their unconscious bodies sprawled in awkward looking positions all around the park.

The enforcer, a 6'6 scarred-faced, bald-headed hulking brute roared in anger and swung a vicious haymaker at his opponent's face.

Said opponent merely smirked, reached up with his left hand and casually caught the punch in one smooth move. The gang member's eyes bulged in disbelief as he tried to pull his fist free; when his efforts failed, a hint of fear began to show in his eyes. That was soon replaced by a pained look as he realized that his fist was slowly being pressured by his opponent's grip.

"Ow-owww! Okay, okay, okay OKAY! Enough man! I give up already! C'mon leggo! Uncle! Uncle! You win, man, you win! Lemme go already! Argggghhh!"

As the pressure slowly grew, the gang member sank to his knees, unable to think of doing anything else except of the bone-crushing pain. The agony grew to the point that his brown eyes started tearing up.

"Hmph, pathetic," his tormentor commented with disdain. "And here I thought you might be more of a … challenge," he admitted in some disappointment, shaking his head.

The punk couldn't say anything except to continue whining out loud on how bad the pain was.

The man wearing the dark brown coat shrugged and said, "Huh, I'll guess I'll put you out of your misery. You're not worth my time at all." So saying, he abruptly released his death-grip on the punk's nearly crushed hand.

But before the enforcer could do anything, he was grabbed again, this time around the throat, and was easily lifted inthe air like he weighed nothing.

A look of astonished panic appeared on the enforcer's face as he began making choking sounds. Of course he tried to struggle loose, but to no avail.The dark brown coated man seemed to be amused as he began laughing out loud, a cold-sounding mocking chortle.

End Chapter 4 Preview

Author's Notes:
Well, I'm back, after a disgustingly long absence. Decided to put up this little preview to let you all know the story's not dead and neither am I. Expect the full version of Chapter 4 to be up...soon, I hope. :-D