Comics, Cookies and Revenge
By Lejindarybunny
A/N: Due to familial matters, I am no longer able to update at the frantic once a day pace that I started with. Trust me, this is not my choice. Chapters will be posted every other day, or every three days, depending on how vindictive my father is feeling.
Yeah, here I am, 19 on the 15th of January, still whining about the same problems I had writing fanfic when I was 15...
I recomend if you haven't already, that you go check Deviantart for new CCR stuff.
A note on the rating of this fic. The movie the Incredibles was rated PG, so therefore, in a PG-13 fanfic, I am allowing myself to show and imply as much as was done so in the movie. Nyah.
Disclaimer: The Incredibles, Syndrome, and all related characters belong to Disney/Pixar. No money is made from this endeavor.
Chapter 16: Mercenary Tactics
Violet had been asleep when she heard the phone ring, lost in a sea of tangled blankets and tangled thoughts. The clock on her dresser said it was only eleven at night, not long after she had gone to bed. Long strands of black hair falling over her face, she strained to hear the telephone as it was answered.
"Hello?" it was her mother who picked up. "Oh, Mirage, Bob said you might call...No, he's out right now."
Violet's eyes widened, so Mirage had decided to call after all. Not something Vi had expected, but definitely a good thing. Well, probably a good thing. At least it meant that she wasn't going to have figure out how to tell dad about her little spy adventure. ...Probably. Too bad she couldn't hear what Mirage was saying.
"Yes, he did tell ?...Of course, go ahead."
The raven haired girl pulled the blanket up over her shoulders as she sat up quietly.
"Okay. Thank you...yes. We'll check it out... Are you going to-? I'll tell Bob you called....Bye."
She heard the phone hang up, and quickly lay back down as her mother walked past her door, which was open a crack. The look on her mother's face was of mild consternation, concerned, but not quite worried.
'Am I the only one who is freaking out over this?' Violet demanded of herself. 'Is this like so typical for mom and dad that they don't even care?'
Of course, technically nobody knew that Sharon was a friend of hers. Yeah, she might have mentioned her once or twice around the house, but it wasn't something she'd gone around displaying publicly. Maybe if Violet had actually shared that information with someone, there would be a little more upset. But as it was, Sharon was just some girl who had been kidnapped, probably killed. Oops, sorry, nothing we can do.
Now Violet felt pretty bad, like she had been a pretty rotten friend. Not that it was all her fault, by any means. After all, shouldn't a high school Junior have friends with like, cars, and stuff? And not hanging around with somebody barely old enough to go to the mall by herself, Vi added ruefully.
Maybe she should tell somebody how much this was upsetting her. But then, they were probably already going to go check it out tomorrow, as her mother had implied on the phone, so why bother? Why bother whining about it when it would probably be fixed up anyway?
She pulled the covers up over her chin. They'd bust into wherever Syndrome was hiding, kick his butt, and Sharon would be back in school on Monday.
000
Vex was draped over one of the chairs in the control room, cape dangling near the floor, doodling in her sketchbook. Syndrome had usurped the main screen, and had asked her to monitor the security feeds and alert him when the plane arrived. So she sat; one eye on her work, one eye on the screens, vaguely bored, vaguely excited.
She was erasing a graphite smudge on the paper, when she saw an approaching aircraft on one of the outer long range cameras.
"They're here," she said, nodding to the screen.
Syndrome looked up from his terminal. "Good. I showed you how to open the hangar, so do that for me, then we'll go up."
She nodded, and sat up to the keyboard, lowering the base defenses, and opening the hatch for the plane to enter. Syndrome stood, and reached a hand out to her. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet.
"Okay, let's go," he said, leading her out of the control room.
"So," Vex asked, jumping on the chance to actually get her question answered. "What exactly are these guys? You mentioned want-ads but that really doesn't tell me much."
"They're mercs," he explained, as they climbed into the elevator.
'Ah,' Vex thought. 'Now that makes sense.' Mercenaries, sell-swords. Men who fought for the highest bidder.
"Don't let them intimidate you," Syndrome continued warningly. "Yeah, they're grizzly and think they're tough, but after me, you are the one in charge of them. And they'll give you the respect you deserve, because otherwise, they break their contract." He smirked.
She nodded, thinking, 'Rule number one, show them who's boss. "Right. They won't intimidate me, Syn."
"Good. Oh, by the way, I inputted a lower level access code for the security doors, to give to the mercs. So, make sure when you're entering yours that there's no one watching you."
"Got it," she nodded a second time. 'Rule number two,' she thought, 'don't trust the minions.'
The elevator opened at the far back of the terminal, and she and Syndrome stepped out, lingering beside it, as the plane came in for a landing. As it did, Vex felt a rush of cold air, and saw the light of the grey Siberian sky. She was glad the base was so well heated, though the costume, she noticed, kept her quite well insulated.
The plane was huge, much, much larger than Syndrome's little private jet, easily seating a hundred people, plus cargo. Vex waited impatiently with Syndrome as the plane came to a stop, and a few minutes later, the mercenaries began to disembark.
She followed Syndrome toward the large crowd, trying to imbue her steps with the same confidence that he walked with. It wasn't difficult, as all she had to do was to let herself fall into the pattern of the malicious duchess she was wont to role-play.
They must have made quite the impressive pair, she thought, clothed in black, capes billowing behind the, The mercenaries certainly all stopped their chatter at their approach, and gave them full attention.
"Gentlemen," Syndrome said loudly, clasping his hands behind her back, adding, in deference to the few rather macho looking women scattered through the crowd, "and ladies. I am Syndrome, your employer, and this is Vexxation, my second in command." He gestured to her.
Vex looked up, and nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
"From this day forward you will carry out any orders given by myself, or Vexxation. Without question. Of course, all of this is outlined in your contracts. Therefore, those of you who have been hired in a specialized capacity, please follow me. The rest of you, the first order of business is to remove the cargo from this plane. My second will show you where to put it. You may claim your personal belongings after this has been carried out."
"The tech labs?" Vex murmured to him.
"Yep."
Vex waited as all of the mercs filed over, and piled large boxes from the plane. She crossed her arms, and resisted the urge to tap her foot. Instead she looked over at Syndrome, who was overseeing the technicians, and leading them down into the base, for some kind of briefing, Vex assumed. She loved the air of command he possessed, his eyebrows raised imperiously, and his cape brushing her heels.
When all of the cargo had been pulled from the aircraft, and it seemed each mercenary had as much as he could carry, she strode toward them.
"Follow me, thank you," she said. "The freight elevator is this way."
It was one thing to have minions who respected you; it was another to have them think you were a heartless ice bitch. The first was productive, the second was not. ...Unless you were dealing with Youma, she recalled, thinking of Mark Latus' fanfiction 'Thy Kingdom Come', but these were regular people, not soulless demons.
She led the first dozen or so men into the elevator, "Wait here," she told the rest, as she rode down to the second level of the base. The freight elevator opened up into the large, empty technical laboratories.
"Pile it against the wall," she instructed. "and then wait here. It doesn't have to be unpacked yet."
As the mercs worked, Vex headed back upstairs to get the next batch.
'See?' she pointed out to herself. 'Not hard at all, huh? Tell them what to do, and they do it,'
After she had led the last of them down into the labs, and all of the boxes were neatly stacked she dismissed the lot of them to go get their things, as Syndrome had mentioned. Now what to do? She wandered over to one of the door panels, and pressed the PA on it.
"Syndrome, please respond to terminal...15," she glanced at the number, as her words rang out through the base.
A moment later Syndrome's face appeared on the intercom screen. "What's up Vex?"
"It's all unloaded, I sent them to get their junk," she replied.
"Good, I have one of the techies posted by the plane to point out the barracks. They should be bickering over who sleeps where for the next hour or so," the red-head rolled his eyes.
"Oh, fun," she giggled. "Just like summer camp."
"Summer camp...of doom!" Syndrome wiggled his eyebrows comically.
Vex burst out laughing. "Has anyone ever told you that you remind them a bit of Bobby Buttnick from 'Salute Your Shorts'?"
"That's low Vex," he grinned.
"Come on, the hair, the freckles, the eyes, the attitude?" she chuckled. "You two could practically be twins!"
He shook his head amusedly. "They're setting up in the security room, come down and see me in the main lab, okay?"
"Will do," she smiled.
"Syndrome out," he smirked, the display going black.
Vex laughed happily as she took the elevator down to the main lab. Syndrome just made her so happy, happy like nobody else ever had. It was completely insane, here on the one had was this driven, dominating genius, who made her melt like putty inside, and on the other hand, here again was this dorky fanboy she could share in-jokes with, who just made her giggle and want to give him a big glomp. Vex didn't know what she could possibly have done to get so lucky, or if she should be worried that there was some huge jolt of karma just waiting to spring on her and say 'Ha! Gotcha that time, didn't I?'
Vex pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the hard lump of silver beneath her costume, her Loki pendant. 'Keep me lucky,' she begged silently. 'At least for a little while longer.'
The elevator stopped at the lab, and she stepped out. Syndrome was sitting in a swiveling chair, his back toward her, and Vex saw the opportunity to repay him for startling her earlier. She crept up silently behind him, and dove to his shoulders with a glomping hug.
Or at least she tried to.
At the least she tried to, because, at the last second, he turned the chair around, and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap, and kissing her before she could recover from her surprise. Vex reveled in the warmth and strength of his embrace as their tongues wrestled and caressed.
"Aw," she pouted, as the kiss ended, "How'd you know I was coming?"
He pointed at the monitor in front of him. "Cameras, sweetheart."
"Tch, cheater," she crossed her arms, resting her body against his.
"Hey, you knew I was a villain when you ran off with me," he pointed out, brushing her cheek at the point just below her mask.
"Oh sure, counter me with logic," she smirked, wrapping her arms around him.
"Well I can't just let you walk all over me, now can I?"
"No, that wouldn't do at all," she breathed, as he leaned down and pulled her into another kiss, running his fingers over the sensitive spots on her sides. Vex shivered.
"Nice as this is," Syndrome murmured, "Why don't we take it, elsewhere?"
000
Violet's mom and dad were having a conversation at the breakfast table when she wandered in that morning. She lingered behind the doorway, just in case they were inclined to stop when she entered.
"It's only reconnaissance, Helen, there's no need for you to come along," her father said.
"Oh, yeah, because we both know how well that worked last time."
"Look, if you come, who'll watch the kids?"
"The kids don't need watching anymore, Bob they can take care of themselves for a little while."
"And we both know how well leaving them home alone worked last time," her father replied, throwing back the earlier sentiment.
"Oh, so you want to bring them along?"
"That's not what I said. I think you should all stay here."
"Because you prefer to work alone?"
"No. Because I don't think we need that many people just to see if Syndrome's really there or not. "
"And what if it goes bad, what then Bob? For all you know, this could be another trap!"
"Mirage said-"
Violet's mother cut him off mid-sentence. "And you believe her?"
"I can't believe you don't," Bob shot back. "After everything she did to help us You don't trust her because you happened to walk in when she was having an emotional moment."
"I don't trust her, Bob," she said, sounding highly offended, "Because she worked for Syndrome for years. Because she helped him kill supers. You think she didn't know what she was doing? You can't just erase that, Bob, can't make that go away. One good deed doesn't stop her from being an accomplice to...to genocide."
"I'm not trying to say she was right, Helen, or excuse her action in any way."
"No, you're trying to defend her."
"Because she's changed."
"So you say."
Violet was practically holding her breath as her parents argued. Truth told, she sided completely with her mother, well, except for the part about having to stay at home. She was glad that somebody shared her opinion of Mirage, unlike her father, who seemed half in love with her, or her brother who definitely had a crush. 'Men!' she though scornfully. Dangle a blonde bimbo in front of their faces and it won't matter if she had a knife to their throat.
The young super took it upon herself at this point to stop the fight, and putting on her most cheerful face, strolled into the kitchen as if she hadn't heard anything. "Morning mom, dad," she said smiling. "What's for breakfast."
"Oh, good morning honey," her mother greeted, the argument suddenly buried with a single consolidating look between the two adults. 'I didn't cook anything yet, but I can make you something if..."
"No, I'll have cereal," she said, pulling a box of corn pops out of the cupboard. "It's fine."
She grabbed a bowl, and the milk and slumped down at the table.
"Is Dash still asleep?" her father asked.
"Yeah," she shrugged. "No cartoons on Sunday."
Violet had resolved last night not to mention Sharon as her friend, but it seemed that if she didn't, she was definitely going to be left behind when they went to tackle Syndrome. She heaved a large sigh.
"Is something wrong, honey?" her mother asked. "You seem down."
"It's not that boy you're seeing, is it?" her father added.
"No... It's not Tony," Violet shook her head.
"What is it, Violet?"
"Well. It's just my friend, Sharon, she wasn't in school on Friday, and I'm really worried about her, because it says on the news that she was kidnapped."
Bob and Helen Parr exchanged a look, and her mother nodded almost imperceptibly. Violet's father put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
"Violet, it...looks like your friend was kidnapped by Syndrome."
"What?" Violet demanded, feigning disbelief. "But he's dead!"
"It looks like we were wrong on that."
"Vi," her mother broke in, sighing. "Your father and I were going to do some reconnaissance on where we think Syndrome might be hiding. Would you like to come along?" Helen gave her husband a withering look that said 'cross me if you dare'.
"Yeah. Thanks mom."
000
Later the same day Syndrome made sure that all of his new minions had their matching uniforms and body armor, and everyone was scheduled for their various duties. A lot of them were busy assembling the equipment in the tech lab, a process Vex was dutifully overseeing. Syn glowed warmly when he thought of the girl's soft kisses and warm smile. Mirage, for all her dignity and beauty had often been cold and aloof, whereas Vex was so warm, and full of life.
In the main lab, he worked on one monitor, combing Rasputin's files for information on his various projects and the equipment still in the lab, while he had another monitor linked to the camera feed, watching Vex as she stood, long hair falling in front of her mask, while the mercenaries assembled equipment.
'Do I really look like Bobby Buttnick?" he wondered to himself amusedly, recalling her earlier words. 'Well, maybe a little.' Except the actor had a much narrower face than the villain did.
Syndrome's thoughts jumped immediately as he caught sight of a potentially useful file. Dampener notes. If that was what he thought it was...
As his blue eyes skimmed across the page, a grin spread over his face. This was it.
"By applying a certain type of energy in constant amount it has been successfully tested that an extraordinary metabolism may in fact be suppressed entirely. The method involves a field of a certain wave length, which must be constantly applied, as the Para-waves which cause said metabolism are constantly in a state of replenishment. Following here in is a log of the information relating to the constant filtering of para-waves."
This was exactly what he wanted. Or at least...a brilliant place to start.
000
Vex stood quietly watching the mercs from a corner. It was a simple, if boring task, as they didn't need much direction. The technical mercs were there to show them how it was done. She was just there to look authoritative. Darth Vader overseeing the Death Star's completion, or something.
She sighed, and wondered if a cup of coffee would ruin her image. The thought of a hot mocha cappuccino filled her mind with the remembered aroma. She glanced over at the workers, who were all quite busy. Surely no one would miss her if she just ran off and got something to drink out of the pantry?
She turned on her heel, cape swooping around her ankles dramatically (god she loved how it did that) and walked out of the tech lab into the elevator. As it descended slowly, she rested her shoulders peacefully against the wall. Her life was perfect. Handsome, funny, intelligent man who would give her anything she wanted? Check. Vengeance on all who had wronged them soon to be carried out? Check. World soon to be at their feet? Also check.
Vex sighed dreamily, thinking of the bright freckles that adorned Syndrome's face beneath his mask. The elevator doors parted, and she stepped out into the private apartments. Inside the well stocked pantry, she was unfortunately unable to find anything resembling a cappuccino machine. But she did find a regular coffee maker, and there was plenty of milk and sugar, and maybe she would even put some chocolate syrup in it...
She peeled off her long gloves and began to rinse out the coffee pot with cool water. Running her fingers beneath the faucet she felt a sudden strange tingling deep inside her chest, and a horrible dizziness gripped her. Vex cringed, and swallowed hard, but the sensation didn't go away, in fact it got worse. She started to cough, harsh, racking chokes, and she set the pot down, holding up her hands to her mouth as she doubled over before the sink.
For a minute her head was spinning, and she couldn't breathe; there was nothing but the coughing. And then as suddenly as the sensation had begun, it was gone, and Vex was left wheezing, clutching the side of the sink with one hand. Slowly, gaspingly, she regained her breath, and the spinning feeling in her head subsided.
'What the hell was that,' she demanded to herself, her throat feeling like it had been torn apart with hooks. She grabbed a glass, and drank the sweet, cold water. The first sip burned somewhat, but then it began to feel better again. Vex sighed deeply. She'd probably just, swallowed a bit of dust or something.
'Oh yeah, because dust can totally-'
She stopped mid thought. There was blood on her hand, and on the lip of the glass that she had been drinking from. Vex reached up, and wiped her lip, feeling a hot, sticky substance. She had coughed up blood.
As she stared, the glass, which she had been holding tightly, slipped from her grasp, and shattered on the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces. Vex felt sick to her stomach. She had been holding the glass. She hadn't let go of it, had she? And yet there it was, in pieces.
She sat down heavily in the chair by the table, gripping the back of it tightly, trembling. Something was wrong, very, very wrong.
To be continued...
CD Anders: What real things are you referring to? I assure you, I've done things similar to this, and never had difficulty, if it's the deviantart page you're referring to.
WormmonABC: Eee! Someone who likes my fluff! hug Go check my d-art page. One of the drawings you requested is up.
Artymas: A crush on Mikhail? Hehehehe. Interesting choice...
Shadow Fox Forever: If you take over the world? I want France.
Like I said, I won't be updating every day anymore, at least not until the holidays are over, but I will as close to it as possible.