Comics Cookies and Revenge

By Lejindarybunny

A/N: I'm starting to become afraid of myself. I haven't been even close to this obsessed since writing Darwinian Rhapsody when I was 15! I love it! Mwhahahahahaha!

Okay kiddies, quiz time. In your next review give me your honest to badness opinion of Sharon's nickname, Vex.

Disclaimer: Incredibles, Syndrome and all affiliates are property of Disny/Pixar. I own Sharon/Vex, and any characters you don't immediately recognize.

Chapter 6: Lieutenant

Syndrome got back in the car glad that they had managed to grab her stuff without her parents noticing. He smirked cruelly. Oh boy, wouldn't they be surprised when she didn't come home? And that room; he hadn't seen the room of a person that obsessive since his own as a kid! And it had taken him how long to convince her to come with him? Twenty minutes, give or take. Which meant he had been right, she had been ready all along. Heck, if he hadn't come along, she'd have probably have turned into a villainess herself, the gloves were a sure sign of that!

He was actually still rather amazed at how easily everything was coming together, considering how badly they had been going before. So forgive him if he was a bit giddy and self-congratulatory. Now, if only the rest of the plan would go as well, they'd be all set.

He'd located the perfect new base over the internet earlier that day, and arranged a meeting with the current owner for the actual transaction. It wasn't at all like his tropical headquarters, but sadly buying another island might attract unwanted attention. Also, he didn't want to spend the time in construction that he had prior hq, and the land he was buying came with a fully functional compound.

"So now what?" Vex asked quietly, glancing at him now, and away from her window.

"I'm glad you asked that," he told her. "First we go back to my hotel; I have to arrange for a flight for us."

"Oh okay. Where are we flying to?"

"Russia, which is where the new lair I'm buying, is. Well, technically it's in Siberia, and technically it's a used lair..."

"Whoa, who are you buying it from? Boris Badinov?" she asked with a quizzical smile.

Syndrome chuckled. Ah, references. "Close, but no cigar. Rather, a certain retiring Russian scientist, name of Dr. Viktor Rasputin."

"Oh! I've heard of him, he did experiments in bio-chemistry like ten years ago, right?"

"Very good," he nodded approvingly.

"See, I do pay attention to some things..." she crossed her arms, and Syndrome couldn't quite tell if she was really pouting, or just joking.

He was about to say something reassuring, when she laughed. "This is crazy. I'm running away from home with a super villain, who was stalking me over the internet. I must be dreaming."

"Well," he said with a straight face. "You've got two options, you can either believe it, or I can drop you back off home before your 'rents notice you're gone."

Her eyes grew wide, and her face a little more serious, the desired effect. "No, no! I just mean... I believe it!"

"Good."

There was a time and place for skepticism, but if Vex didn't at least try to realize how deadly serious this was going to be, she could make a deadly mistake for either or both of them. And that was not in the plan. Although her fannish delight was refreshing, after Mirage...

"So, how exactly does one go about hiring minions, anyway? You're not planning on an army of rabid fangirls, are you?"

He had thought about it, but no. One fangirl was one thing, but they tended to get crazier the more of them you put in one room. He supposed fanboys were guilty of the same, but less...giggly. "No," he said decisively. "There are organizations you can go through. And the lair might actually come with a few, though those might be spies, or there are the want ads."

"The want ads?" she demanded incredulously.

"Yeah."

"What does it say, experience lackey seeks evil overlord with plans for world domination?"

He laughed. "Not quite. There are code words."

"Oh...That makes sense I guess."

Sharon sat a little uncomfortably in the passenger seat. After all, she wasn't used to foreign situations; basically the last three years had been a constant merry-go-round of school, home, and internet. Sure, theoretically she should be able to handle this with ease, given all her fanfiction, but it was one thing to write, and another thing to do.

That wasn't saying she was regretting her decision! Not in the least. It would just take her a little time to get used to the new status-quo. It would probably be easier when they were actually doing something, and not just driving around, getting stuff ready.

Also, it was the first time in a while that she had actually met a new person, never mind that he was a villain. She wasn't used to his personality yet, wasn't even sure that she knew what it was, beyond the obvious, and so she wasn't quite sure how best to act around him. Or even how he expected her to act.

That was another thing, she needed to get a grip on herself and lose the whole hysterical fangirl feeling. Syndrome was right, she needed to either start believing, or go home. It wasn't just pretend any more. She would have to do her best to by an able and compliant lieutenant for him, or else he'd get rid of her. Obviously he felt that she was capable, or else he wouldn't have come for her. Or had he just picked any fangirl at random? Was one much the same as another?

She imagined her new boss in front of a computer monitor on FFnet, pointing at the screen and saying 'eeny-meeny miny moe'. If that was the case though, she decided she would have to be twice as good as he thought she could be.

'That's right,' she instructed herself, 'You're not plain old Sharon Mitchell the fangirl any more, you're Vex, right hand to the evil genius Syndrome. Get serious and act like it.'

She watched the lights by the road as they sped towards their destination; it was only just past six o'clock, but the early November darkness only added to the illusion that it had been much more than an hour since she had walked away from a normal life. And every moment took her farther from the possibility of going back.

Vex looked down at the bag in her lap. This was all that was left of her other life, should she have brought more? She hadn't been thinking clearly at the time. Was there anything else she really needed? Maybe she didn't even need what she'd brought? Oh, whatever.

They pulled up to the front of the hotel Syndrome was staying at, Vex had never been there before (it had valet parking!) and walked inside. The inside of the hotel was pretty ritzy, but she made an effort not to stair, and allowed Syndrome to lead her over to the elevator.

"We're on the tenth floor," he said. "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head. "No." She hadn't really been thinking about food.

"Me either, we'll order room service before I call for the jet."

"Thanks."

"No prob. Gotta eat, ya know." He grinned.

Vex smiled back. His impish expression set her more at ease, and her mind was warring as to whether to react to him as a boss, or a friend. Both? Neither? Arg!

"How long do you think the jet will take?" she asked, as they stepped out and walked down the hallway. It reminded her strongly of the hotel in Ghostbusters.

"Oh, an hour, hour and a half," he shrugged. He stopped at door number 1015, and taking a keycard out of his pocket, slid it through the lock terminal at the side of the door. It beeped, and she heard the door unlock.

Syndrome opened the door, and she followed him into the room- no, the suit. She stood in the sitting room, with couch, chair, and large screen TV, and various other amenities.

He must have noticed her bemusement, because he said with a smirk. "I don't do things half-way. Close the door, will you?"

She nodded, and pulled it shut. In her mind she laughed. Time to get used to taking orders!

To her mild surprise the villain immediately plopped himself down on the left side of the couch, and licked the television on with the remote. Then he picked up the pone on the coffee table and said, "Room service? Room 1015, send up dinner for two. Yeah."

He hung up, and looked over at her. He was giving her that evilly amused smirk again. "You can sit down, you know. I don't bite- much."

"Okay. Uh sorry, I was just looking around. It's a nice hotel." She sat down on the couch, not close enough to seem over intrusive, nor so far away as to be rude.

"Eh, it's okay," he handed her the remote control. "You go ahead; I'm gonna call for the plane."

She nodded, expecting to see him pick up the phone on the table again, instead he pulled a small, very new looking cell phone out of his pocket. Why...? And then she realized her was being cautious. The hotel lines might record their calls, in a place like this. And, theoretically when her mother found out she was missing and called the police, they would immediately go investigate the coffee shop. The workers might remember her, and be able to describe who she was with, then they could possibly track them to the hotel, and if he used the hotel phone, to the plane. And then the police would know where they had gone.

Which would suck mightily.

Vex was amused to find herself thinking so blithely about being chased by the police, but was proud of herself for understanding the possible chain of events. It was a good start.

She was even more amazed to find herself almost completely uncaring that her mother would be worrying where she was about now, maybe already having found the note. Pfft. They'd get over it. It wasn't as if she was an integral member of the family. Not really.

She picked up the remote from her lap, and began switching channels, there was nothing really interesting on, that is, until she was about to flip away from the news, when something the reporter said caught her attention.

"-accomplice to the super villain, Syndrome, known as Mirage."

And Vex's eyes were glued on the screen. There was a woman with white hair and tan skin in a black dress, being led out of court with a man Vex assumed was her lawyer.

"The charges against 'Mirage' are being dropped, due to the testimony of Mr. Incredible, who asserts that she played a vital role in Syndrome's defeat."

"Aw man," Syndrome whined, after ending his phone call. "I just knew that was gonna happen!"

"That's your old lieutenant?" Vex asked rhetorically, glaring at the screen. "Why'd she betray you?"

His glittering blue eyes hardened to ice. "She says it was because she didn't like my methods. But for real? She fell for Mr. Incredible."

She grimaced. "Ew." Mr. Incredible, from the recent pictures she'd seen was really harsh looking, balding, and anyway, didn't he have kids? "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, she had her shot. Not that I wouldn't mind a little revenge, but now isn't the time for it."

"Well," she assured him, "You can bet I won't be falling for any hero types."

"I know."

'Not', she thought to herself, 'that any would have me if I did.' Looking at Mirage, Vex was surprised Syndrome hadn't turned and fled from the coffee house when he saw her. Okay, so she wasn't really that ugly, but she certainly wasn't model beautiful like his last lieutenant. Would he have come if she'd had a picture of herself posted?

Why was she even thinking about this, anyway? It wasn't even likely that he wanted a romantic relationship with her! Hell, she didn't even know if he'd had a relationship with Mirage, she was just making assumptions.

There was a knock at the door, jarring Vex from her thoughts. Room service had arrived.

"Get that," Syndrome told her, scooping up the remote, and changing the channel. "Here," he fished in his pocket and pulled out some money, for the tip, obviously.

"Right," she nodded, grabbing the bills, and hurrying over to the door. She opened it, and found it was indeed room service, a spiffily dressed bell boy, with an entire cart of food, which he wheeled into the room.

"Thank you," she said, nodding to him, and handed him the money.

"Enjoy your meal, sir and ma'am," the bellboy said, before leaving, closing the door behind him.

"Finally," Syndrome said, clasping his hands together. "I'm starving!"

Vex gave a small giggle and began taking the plates, cups, silverware and platters of food off the cart and arranging them on the larger coffee table in front of the couch. Taking the lids off she found an opulent array of dishes, including T-bone steak, an entire roasted chicken, some kind of fish, and about a dozen side dishes and vegetables, not even counting soup and salad, a pitcher of water, a carafe of coffee, and a bottle of wine with two glasses.

She couldn't help thinking to herself. 'Wow. I could get used to this.'

Syndrome grabbed one of the empty plates and began filling in from the platters, and Vex took her cue from him, doing the same, before sitting down beside him on the couch.

"Do you want a glass of wine?" he asked, already reaching for the delicate looking glasses.

"Er, I donno..." she had never actually had any alcohol before. Her parents were really strict about that sort of thing, and it wasn't as if she had a gaggle of friends running around with fake IDs.

"C'mon, just one," he coaxed. "To celebrate your new employment, and my new plans."

Well, when he put it that way... "How can I resist?" she returned his grin.

He grabbed the wine-bottle by the neck, and, rather than opening it conventionally, used his zero-point thing to do it. The bottle made a little 'thoop' noise as the cork came out, and Syndrome poured a large amount of the dark red liquid into both glasses, and handed one to her.

He raised his glass, and said, "To world domination!"

Vex raised her own and repeated. "To world domination!"

They clinked their glasses together. Syndrome's face was alight with wicked glee, and he gave the impression of great power, intelligence, and not a small amount of genuine malevolence. They each took a sip, and Vex found it sweet, and a little tangy, and it left an odd sensation at the back of her mouth.

Syndrome began to chuckle darkly, which quickly became a full blown, rich, throaty maniacal laugh. Vex watched him, her chin resting on her palm, grinning in admiration and awe. How could Mirage have betrayed him? He was practically perfect, at least in her eyes, a genius, handsome, sympathetic, funny, commanding and powerful, a little arrogant, and of so very evil.

She took another sip of her wine, and started in on dinner.

Syndrome, after his laugh, also began to eat. Thoughtful, but not particularly concerned. He was quite pleased at how his new lieutenant was getting along. She had, as he had hoped, quickly lost the hysterical edge and lapsed into an acquiescent respect. She followed simple order like 'get the door' quickly, and without hesitation, and even took the initiate of setting the table. Very promising. Not to mention that she had seemed to take an immediate dislike to Mirage, and even before the wine she was beginning to become more comfortable around him.

The plane would be at the airport in roughly an hour, they'd fly to Siberia, and he'd set up shop, hire minions, and outfit his new lab. Outfit... that reminded him. He had plenty of copies of his own uniform on hand, like the one he'd dressed the robot in, but he had the feeling that unlike his former lieutenant who wouldn't wear one if he begged her, Vex would want a costume for herself. Probably more than she wanted that new wardrobe she had mentioned.

"So," he began between bites, "what sort of colors do you see yourself wearing on a regular basis?"

"Uh, I'm a big fan of blue, and black. What for?" she queried. He noticed her cheeks were a little rosy, and her wine glass was mostly empty so he suspected she'd never drunk before.

"Well, as my lieutenant you'll need a properly impressive costume," he looked at her slyly out of the corner of his eye, and said nonchalantly, "unless you'd prefer plain clothes, of course."

"I want a costume!" she said quickly, and with some excitement. "I didn't know you wore one. I kinda thought you always dressed like the evil businessman, Xanatos type."

Syndrome chuckled. "No way! A good costume is vital in making people respect you, hero or villain. I just couldn't attract a lot of attention when I was coming to get you."

"Ooooh, I see," she nodded. "So, what's it look like?"

"My costume?"

She nodded.

Hmmm, he could go into the other room and change, but he didn't really want to go to all the trouble. Maybe...He flipped the channel to another one of the news stations, nothing. And tried another, still nothing. And another-

"There!" he pointed to the screen. They were talking about the return of the supers again on this channel, and thus, about him. "That's an awful picture, but you get the idea."

She inspected the picture carefully, before they replaced it, as the channel started talking about a scare of mad cow disease in Wyoming. "That's so cool! And look at your hair! How much gel do you use?"

"Not gel. It's a variation of the zero-point."

"You're joking? That's awesome, so it doesn't get all scrunchy and nasty," she giggled.

Syndrome smirked, amused, and made a mental note to help her build up a better alcohol tolerance.

So, blue and black then. That worked well. He'd send her measurements to Maurice Defonce the next chance he got. Maurice wasn't quite as well known as Edna Mode in the fashion circuit, but he asked fewer questions, and was much more compliant with his customer's wishes, and his suits were just as durable.

When they had eaten their fill, but by no means everything that had been brought, Syndrome poured himself a second glass of wine, and was glad that Vex didn't ask for one. He didn't want her passing out before they got to the airport.

"Alright," he said, standing up. "Time to get this show on the road."

"Right," she nodded sharply, and followed him out the door and down to the elevator. They road down in a mutual pleasant silence. Syndrome checked out of the hotel, giving the snobby clerk his keycard and the money. Syndrome glared at him, not liking the way the clerk was looking at him and Vex.

Outside, the night air had grown quite cold, and he saw Vex pull her light jacket more tightly around herself. He turned the heat on as they got in the car.

"Syndrome," she asked, as she settled into the passenger seat again. She was feeling very warm, and happy; the wine, she surmised. "Thanks for picking me. I promise I won't disappoint you."

He smiled smirked at her, but this time she thought it seemed gentler. "I'll hold you to that, you know."

She crossed her heart. "My word is my bond."

He nodded, and they were off again, but this time she was sneaking glances at Syndrome out of the corner of her eye instead of focusing on the road. If she did a good enough job as his lieutenant would he fall in love with her? That was how it worked in her fanfics...

Vex saw the small Upsateville airport looming in front of them as they got closer to it, airplanes landing and taking off above them. She wondered about the jet that Syndrome had called for. Was it as impressive as the hotel, and the car? He seemed to have a thing for prestige. It was actually really attractive, in her opinion, but she knew that she had a thing for arrogance, and Syndrome was not in short supply.

He parked the car, and she hopped out into the cool evening, barely remembering to grab her bag. Was this a good time to mention that she hadn't flown before, ever, let alone in a private jet? But she didn't think she'd be afraid, so she didn't worry about it. And anyway, what use was an evil lieutenant who was afraid to fly in an airplane?

Then a legitimate thought occurred to her, as they were walking towards the entrance. "Syndrome? Hey, Syn!"

He turned his head. "Huh? What is it?"

"I don't have a passport or anything," she hissed.

He waved a hand negligently. "Relax babe, I can handle it."

"Oh, okay then," she nodded, trusting to him to work it out.

"Hold on a sec, is there anything metal in those tazer gloves of yours?"

She had completely forgotten about them. But thankfully, "No, it's all plastic."

"Smart girl."

Vex could have melted.

She followed him through metal detectors into the hustle and bustle of the airport, and towards one of the desks. She watched Syndrome looking around, taking stock of the area. His eyes came to rest on a fast food nook.

"Go get me a soda," he told her, handing money again, "and one for you too. You could use the caffeine at this point. Meet me over there." He pointed at one of the far desks.

She nodded compliantly and hurried over to the food joint, standing in what was a middling to long line. She tapped her foot impatiently, and looked over at Syndrome. Her boss was busy talking to the woman behind the desk, and showing her his identification.

Finally she got the drinks, and walked quickly over to where he stood.

"Thanks," he said, nodding to her, and he took one of the sodas and immediately spilled it all over her shirt.

"Eep! Cold!" she complained, stiffening as an ice cube fell down into her bra.

"Oh Oops!" Syndrome said, hurriedly using the sleeve of his coat to try and wipe the shirt dry. But what he was really doing, she noticed, was using the gesture to cover what he was really doing, which was toss all the baggage from the baggage claim around the large room with his power gloves, sending all of the security guards immediately running off in the direction of the raucous, and away from them.

One of the heavier bags even flew their way, as Syndrome hissed, "Come on," and grabbing her wrist, pulled her down a long corridor to where the plane would be waiting. The bag in question hit the woman behind the desk in the face, knocking her out.

They got out to the air field completely unnoticed in the commotion, and there was a pilot waiting in front of a small, expensive jet, to meet them. At least he looked like a pilot, but Vex couldn't help but wonder if the eye-patch he was wearing was exactly safe.

"This is Jared," Syndrome explained, as he urged her onto the plane. "He's flown for me before, and don't worry, the eye-patch is just a gag."

She felt immediately relived as she collapsed into one of the large, comfortable airplane's chairs, a little out of breath from the sudden dash, and her shirt was still soaked. She took off her own coat and toweled at it, but it didn't seem to be getting any dryer.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "Had to do it."

"Oh, it's okay. You needed cover," she nodded. "I'm just a little cold."

He chuckled, and gestured to her bag. "Didn't I see you pack an extra shirt?"

"Oh right!" she grabbed the bag, and unzipped it, pulling it out.

"Um..." she said.

Syndrome looked away.

Vex immediately pulled off the wet shirt, and on the dry black one with a white monkey ninja of doom on it. She wasn't sure, but she thought she caught Syndrome peeking.

She blushed, and said. "All done."

He nodded. "The plane should take off in a minute, and the flight will take a while, so I suggest you just relax."

To be continued....

Poor Vex, she's only known him two hours and she's already hopelessly in love. Awwww...

VegetandAru: Feel free to use all the bad language in your reviews as you like, this fic may not show it, but I swear like a sailor! Love and hugs to you too sweetie!

Maya Beebop: Too realistic? Should I make her a little more contrived? (I am asking this seriously, should I?) I have had practice writing quickly, because I would always save all my projects to the last day. Also, I have a little Syndrome gremlin telling me to write fast or he'll do nasty things to me (hey, maybe I should slow down...) I feel honored that you would adapt that quote for me! hugs I lurve you!

Shadow Fox Forever: Yes, we really need to get cracking...

Megan The Vampire Slayer: you mean update more than once or twice a day? Honey, I'm not even sure I could manage that...unless, well, maybe I could if you sent me a Syndrome plushie!

Next chapter: To Russia, With Love

See ya later, Space Cowboy