Comics, Cookies and Revenge
A/N: Hmm, it seems my opening chapter is well received. Yay! That means new chapter! Also, I saw the Incredibles a second time today, so it is fresh in my mind. That is good. Which brings me to the point that, yes, in the movie they drive 1950s cars and live in 1950s houses, but they have really advanced tech, so, to lejindarybunny, that says they have the internet. So nyah. Maybe they just have a very retro sense of style?
Oh, and I have been invited to join some sort of strange Incredibles-related cult. Also Yay!
More notes. Firstly, I mean no offence to any fangirls. Not even the ones who like Legolas. Hell, with my taste in men, I don't have the right to judge anybody! I love you all, and this is all in good fun.
Also, my OC could fit pretty well into the Mary-Sue category. I freely admit it, in that she is a reflection of myself. I hope, however, that readers can look past that and see that she is not a "perfect" character, and I hope that there is an amusing amount of irony involved and she is well written enough that you all continue to read the story.
It also occurs to me that I forgot something in the last chapter and that is the
Disclaimer: The Incredibles, Syndrome, and all related characters and ideas are property of Pixar and/or Disney. Sharon belongs to me. Seriously. I bought her through the Asian slave-trade. Mwahahahaaha
Chapter 2: Our Lady of Serenity
The problem with Mirage was that she was such a Bond girl. He should have seen it before. That type of woman always ends up betraying you and mooning over the hero. Even when he was balding, and already married, apparently. Pfft.
Syndrome had waded through fanfiction for days, hanging mostly around the comic book and cartoon areas. It was slightly easier than say, slogging through the Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter sections, but still frustrating. Didn't anyone over fourteen write fanfiction anymore?
It almost made him long for the days of badly circulated fanzines and clandestine conventions.
Almost.
However, if fanfiction was still only printed in zines, there was no way he could pull his plan off, so quality was traded for easy access.
Finding the right type of girl had been harder than he had expected. It seemed that even most of the so called dark-fangirls were hero-suckers at heart, turning a blackguard into some misunderstood hero.
Maybe yesterday, when he had still wanted to play the knight in shining armor, even if it meant breeding his own dragons to slay. Maybe then that would have worked. But the black cloak was more than mysterious trapping now. If the world of heroism had no place for him, he would simply have to embrace its opposite number.
Before his defeat he had still, somewhere in the back of his heart, held the feeling that he was still doing right, and that he could be embraced and loved, like he had the heroes of his youth. Such was his folly.
To hell with justice. Might, it seemed, really did make right, and he would claim all the rights that he could.
And the fangirls who seemed to have a similar view? By and large they were creepy, gothy cutters. Syndrome considered himself extremely intelligent, and fairly open minded, but he just couldn't wrap his head around someone who derived, or thought they derived, pleasure from their own pain. The pain of others, certainly, but not your own. That was just stupid.
At first it had seemed like his best bet was a writer who mainly delved into Darkwing Duck, and Invader Zim, but, upon further inspection of her art gallery, he noticed that not only was she a little too heavily into 'slash' for his tastes, and not only that. She was also, it seemed, married.
But this next girl; she had promise. She was a consummate lover of darkness, with half a dozen finished works, and twice that number in progress were stalled. Her tastes seemed to run in the field of mad geniuses, dark lords, and cruel wizards. She was 17, only had a sprinkling of slash (some was almost inevitable), she seemed reasonably intelligent, and her livejournal revealed that while she was dark, and rather bitter, she didn't have any serious suicidal tendencies.
And, she wrote copious amounts of 'mary-sue' type stories. She was practically begging to be kidnapped and made a lieutenant. In fact, she really was! No, really! That was what most of the stories were about!
She was perfect!
Now he just had to make contact.
Sharon was late to math class. She was inevitably late to math class, because she had it right after chemistry, and rarely managed to tear herself away from the lab before the second bell rang. The shaven headed math teacher, Mr. Coffie, raised an armed-services eyebrow at her, but she just shrugged and collapsed into her seat in the back. Well, middle, technically, but it was behind everyone else. It was a small class, only eight people, including her. Because it was advanced, ya know?
The teacher started saying something, and writing an accompanying something on the board, while Sharon studiously doodled in her notebook. She'd get whatever he was saying out of the text book later, a good excuse to avoid coming downstairs for dinner, anyway.
She sat, Sharon Mitchell, bent over her notebook, strands of dark brown hair failing from her pigtails onto the desk. He round, large spectacles glinted in the bad fluorescent lighting. She wore a long-sleeved button-down white shirt, and a pleated knee length navy blue skirt, which was perfectly normal for someone who attended Our Lady of Serenity catholic high school. Not that she was actually a catholic, though her parents were. Nope. In fact, concealed beneath the breast of her shirt was a heavy silver pendant with the Norse runes for Loki, god of mischief and chaos, inscribed in it. Not that she strictly believed in him, either, but it was a pretty idea, and a pretty pendant, and even the semblance of paganism in a catholic school was certainly good for intimidating people when she didn't want them pestering her.
She was lucky, after math class was homeroom and free class, she could run to the library and take another look at the schematics for that tazer she found on She had been thinking, after her initial look, that it would be pretty easy to modify the design into a pair of gloves, which would be infinitely cooler than its traditional shape.
She felt eyes on her, and looked up slightly, glaring under hooded eyes. It was Anna, peeking at her notebook again. Sharon didn't know why she bothered; there was nothing really useful to anyone but her in it. Whatever.
"You want something?" she asked the blonde girl in a low voice.
"Ah, no."
"Good then," she looked back at her paper and tapped her pencil on the notebook. What to do? Waves of boredom washed over her. She contemplated actually listening to the teacher for a few minutes, but that was not going to happen. Are you kidding?
So the minutes passed slowly, but bearably, as she roughed in a bit of artwork in her notebook. Nothing exciting, just a doodle of a a girl, who looked suspiciously like herself, in a cape, posing dramatically. She should have been writing another chapter for her most recent fanfiction, but she just wasn't inspired.
The bell rang, finally, and Sharon picked up her books and hurried down the hall. In the hallways she was bustled and jostled, and even deliberately shoved into a locker by someone. She glared, rubbing her bruised arm, as the offending girl walked away.
She finally made it to homeroom, which she only ducked into for a second, to make sure that the teacher knew she wasn't skipping class, and hurried on to the library. She paused to nod an acknowledgment to the librarian, and then collapsed into the chair before the computer, as the announcements came on the PA.
The first thing to check was her email, Vexxation, although she shouldn't have been able to. She'd found a way to slip through the school tech guy's firewall a while ago, and used it to her best advantage. She had a couple of new messages. most of which turned out to be fanfiction reviews, always a good thing, and one email...from someone she didn't know.
Someone named DarknessSyndrome.
Dear Vexxation,
I have been reading your fanfiction, and browsing your art gallery. It is very interesting, and I would enjoy speaking with you. My Aim is Syndrome.
And that was all that was written.
To be continued...
Sorry it was so short, next chapter will be longer. Also, next chapter, I will start responding to reviews.