Comics Cookies and Revenge

By Lejindarybunny

A/N: I actually started writing this the minute after I finished chapter 4, and could have posted the same night. But I thought it would be counter productive, since I hadn't gotten any reviews for the last chapter yet. So up it goes thismorning instead. Also, this is a very fangirly chapter, as Sharon begins to realize exactly what she is doing.

Disclaimer: Disney and Pixar own the Incredibles, Syndrome, and all related characters.

Sharon/Vex is mine.

Chapter 5: Running Away from Home with a Stranger

Syndrome clasped her hand in his. His eyes glinted. See, it had worked perfectly. Much better than picking someone up in a bar, hiring through an agency, or throwing a bag over someone's head in an alleyway. He was surprised no one had thought of if before him. Of course, he was a genius, so it wasn't surprising.

"Welcome aboard, Vex," he said with a grin.

She nodded, also beaming. See that? A happy fangirl; and a happy fangirl was a loyal fangirl.

"Oh, uh, one question," she said, ending the handshake. "There's some stuff in my house that I don't want to leave, can I get them, before we go?"

The look in her eyes was slightly dazed, understandable.

"Of course, of course," he nodded, "My car's outside, would you like to go now?"

"Um, sure," she stood up awkwardly, loosing her balance and almost knocking over her frappe. Syndrome steadied the drink with one hand, and the girl with the other. The shock and amazement would wear off gradually, he thought, satisfied, giving way to a general wonder and gratitude.

She smiled, and flushed embarrassedly. "Sorry. I'm...a little flustered."

"Hey, hey, it's fine," he reassured her, leading her out of Spotlight coffee.

He got how she felt.

Yeah, like that time his favorite superhero made him a sidekick, he thought sarcastically...oh wait that didn't happen. His gaze hardened momentarily, but he fought off the wave of bitterness with visions of his revenge. Oh yes. This time they would all pay. And dearly.

"This is your car?" she asked, as they stopped at the Ferrari.

"Yeah, oh, I did mention I'm really rich?" he asked with a bit of pride, knowing he hadn't.

"No!"

"Well, how else did you expect I could buy an island and hire minions?" he raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Uh, good point. Did you inherit the money?" she asked as she got into the passenger sear.

He chuckled. "Yeah, right. That's a good one. Listen, maybe I should tell you a bit more about myself."

She laughed nervously. "That would put us on a little more even footing, since you know so much about me."

"Hey, everything I know about you was available on the internet. Maybe you should think about that," he smirked.

"Oh, yeah..."

"Anyway," he said as he started the car. "Oh, I'll need directions to your place."

"It's not far, I'll tell you where to turn."

"Good. Now, where to begin...Aha, I'll just give you the short version for now, okay?"

"That's fine."

"Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a superhero. I was obsessed. I was president of the Mr. Incredible fan club. I went to these great lengths to get him to make me his sidekick. That was when I made my first invention, rocket boots."

"You invent stuff?" she asked, captivated.

"Yes. Yes I do. Weapons mostly, oh and sundry other gadgets. That's how I made the money, selling some of the less inventive inventions to small countries. But I'm getting ahead of myself...where was I, oh yes! I wanted to be Mr. Incredible's sidekick. I even fought by his side once, or I tried to. See, he didn't like having me around, because I didn't have any powers. He berated me and sent me home."

"That elitist jerk!" Vex sympathized.

He nodded, liking her all the more. "So I went home, angry, and embittered, but not quite disillusioned. I still wanted to be a hero, and if the supers wouldn't let me, I'd just have to get rid of them."

"Makes sense."

"So I spent the next fifteen years inventing, and planning, and building up a power base. I eventually used various versions of my giant robot Omnidroid to covertly wipe out all but a hand full of the original heroes. And after they were all gone, I would be the only 'hero' left when I unleashed my robot on the world. That," he said, pursing his lips and glaring at the road, "was the part of the plan that was supposed to happen a week ago."

"Oh," she said, looking at him concernedly. "So you wanted to save the world from yourself?"

"Yeah, I see how stupid that was now. Now all I want is revenge on the heroes who humiliated me, and to conquer the world."

She laughed. "Oh is that all? Oops! Turn here!"

Syndrome swerved to make the turn, catching it just in time.

"Sorry about the late-turnyness," she said.

"No problem," he said smiling again. "We're almost there, right?"

"Uh yeah. Take the next left, then it's down this street, number 81. It has big bushes in front of it."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Hey, can I ask kind of a silly question?" Vex inquired.

"You can ask, but I can't promise I'll answer, if it's really stupid."

"Okay, um...You said you've been doing this for fifteen years, so, how old are you?"

Syndrome laughed derisively. Did he make it sound like he was really old? "I'm twenty-five, Vex."

"Oh." She seemed to think about that. "You were only ten?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. Your life's just been one big disappointment after another, hasn't it?"

Syndrome cocked an eyebrow at her amusedly. "Whoa, thanks for the ego boost, babe."

She laughed softly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

"You didn't. It's true."

"Hence what drove you to be the villain you are today?"

"Exactly hence."

"And now I'm your henchperson."

"Nu-uh. Henchpeople are a dime a dozen. You," he poked her lightly in the shoulder as he said this, "are my lieutenant. My right hand woman."

"Yay!" she said with glee that was obviously both sincere and ironic. "Look ma, I'm an accomplice!"

Syndrome laughed. She had the same wry sense of humor in person as she did in her writing.

"Oh, speaking of which, how do you want to handle things when we get to your house?"

Sharon paused in her giggles. She hadn't thought about it. What was she going to tell her mother? Anything? Or was she just going to grab her stuff and run out the door? Or...

"Um... I don't know. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well. It depends on a) how much stuff you plan on taking and b) if you think anyone is going to try to stop you. If you have a lot of stuff, and/or think that your parents are gonna ask too many questions, we'll have to do it the more exciting way, which will likely alert the police to the fact that I'm still alive."

"Oh." She definitely didn't want to blow Syndrome's cover, or do anything that would less than endear her to him. "You're rich you said?"

"Yeah."

"So you can buy me a new wardrobe?"

He laughed. "I think I can manage that."

"Then all my worldly possessions will fit into one lousy backpack," she admitted with a grin. "Pretty sad...Damn. I wish I could sneak into my room without having to go through the front door Because my mom probably will ask questions. She doesn't like me going out after its gotten dark, and she'll be especially suspicious if I go out again after just coming back."

"Your room is on the second floor, right?"

"Yeah, that's the problem all right."

He smirked. "No problem. Do you lock your window?"

"No...why?" she wondered what he was suggesting.

"Remember that demonstration you wanted? Well, you're going to get it," a rakish grin spread across his face. "Oh, this is your house, isn't it?" he slammed on the breaks.

Sharon winced, and was glad she was wearing her seatbelt. "You don't drive much, do you?"

"Aw man, you can tell?" he chuckled. "Hop out, and point to me which window it is."

She got out of the Ferrari, and walked around to the back of the house quietly, feeling life a thief in the night. Her heart was beating fast, as she realized this was probably the last time she was ever going to see it. Could she really handle that?

She stood under her window, and pointed. "That's the one."

"Good. You're not afraid of heights, right?" he didn't wait for a response as he scooped her up in arms, and suddenly, after a moment of propulsion during which the bottom dropped out of Sharon's stomach, they were hovering in front of her window. He had obviously used those jet boots he had mentioned.

It was only then that she realized how pleasant it was having Syndrome holding her that way.

"Open the window for me?"

That startled her back to reality, and she flushed slightly, glad for the darkness. "Oh, uh sure, boss," she said with a sardonic grin. She pressed her hands on the window, trying to force it open, but it wouldn't give. "Damn, it's stuck!"

Syndrome frowned. "Hmph. Hold on to me for a sec, I need a free hand."

She nodded, and put her arms around his neck, and watched in amazement as instead of opening the window in a conventional manner, he pointed a white, gloved finger at it.

From his hand shot forth a beam of blue silver energy that engulfed the entire window. He gestured upward, and the window complied, pulling open. Syndrome flew them inside, over her bedside table that was perched by the window, and set her down, then landed himself with a small thunk of the boots on the floor.

She stared at him. "Wow. What was that?" She did, however, remember to be amazed quietly, so that her family didn't know anyone was there. She was lucky she had left the door closed.

"I call it zero-point energy," he explained. "Basically it freezes all inertia at any certain point, or series of points, and lets me manipulate it however I want."

Sharon kept staring. "That's awesome! You invented that? That's way better than my gloves..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your gloves?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, um," she smiled sheepishly, feeling extremely inadequate. "It's just something I was playing with for a while, nothing impressive at all."

"Oh?"

"I basically just built a tazer, but modified it into a pair of gloves because I thought it would be cooler to shock people from my hands," she said quickly, wishing she hadn't said anything in the first place.

"Weh-hell, great minds really do think alike!" he said with a boisterous grin. "You wouldn't happen to have them with you with you now?"

Sharon was self-conscious, and felt terribly out-classed, but the eager look on his boyish face made her hold her left hand up just the same, if painedly.

"You were wearing it? I didn't even notice with the sleeves," he peered closer, and took his sunglasses off for the first time. "Hmmm, simple, but effective, and very sharp looking. I like it. The trigger is Spider-Man style?"

She nodded, rather gratified. "Yes."

"Not too shabby. Anyway, what are you going to be bringing?" he looked around the room. "The longer we stay here the more chance we get caught."

It suddenly occurred to Sharon to be mortified of the state of her room, and of the fact that Syndrome was in it. It wasn't that it was a terrible mess (it was only sort of a mess); it was the fact that the walls were covered with all sorts of fan posters, and not a few of her own drawings, most of which portrayed various versions of her in mild romantic poses with comic book villains.

"Um," she said nervously, emptying her book bag of everything except the vital notebook, and began grabbing things. "Just a few things."

She grabbed some of her favorite books and comics, her favorite shirt, her CD collection, and the disks with the backs ups of her fan work. And suddenly realized those were the only things in the house that really had any more than transient value to her. What an empty life she'd been leading.

Of course, she wished she didn't have to leave all the posters behind, but none of them were irreplaceable, so...

"Just one more thing," she said, and stood over her computer keyboard. She pulled up Microsoft paint, hastily typed something, and said it as her computer background.

All it said was, 'Bye, love Sharon', violet letter on a black field.

She zipped the bag and hefted it onto her shoulder, then nodded to Syndrome.

"Let's roll," he said, grabbing her again without warning, and flying out the window. He left it open, the curtains blowing in the breeze. Sharon smiled, reminded of 'Peter Pan'.

Syndrome, it seemed, certainly wasn't without a sense of flare.

She wondered, as he lowered them to the ground, if it had occurred to him as he had read her fanfiction, that her character always ended up romantically involved with the villain she accompanied? Had he factored this in, or had he overlooked it? If he had noticed, was it maybe part of the plan?

She felt her shoulders comfortable within his warm embrace. One thing was for certain, she already had a massive crush on her new boss!

To be continued....

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