Warnings for this story: Stockholm Syndrome, violence and underage sex.

Not a happy romance this, by any means. We're literally dealing with twisted love, corruption and major changes of character. Do not expect Buddy to be anything less than power-hungry and cruel, even when the romance does begin. And you're probably going to hate Violet by the end of this story. But you can avoid all unnecessary heartbreak by turning back now if you don't want to see beloved characters become monsters.

If you're just out for a good read, stick around.

I know it might read very weird, but I'm not going to write the characters in a realistic way, I'm going to comply with the animation aspect. So when I say Violet's big puppy eyes, I mean Violet's big cartoonish eyes. Not a metaphor or exaggeration. And when I say Syndrome's flamed hair, I mean his two foot high red hair that closely resembles a flame. The cartoon characters have their cartoon appearance, that to me feels strangely more appropriate. Or I'm weird.

Kinda disregards Incredibles 2, kinda because I haven't seen it. Heard bad things, and I was kept waiting for the sequel too long to watch it fail to meet the right expectations. I'll watch it sometime, but in this story it never happened.

Leighton Manor, Incredible Safehouse Three, England

What does it say about a government agent; a top official in a top secret agency, in which he himself drives an absolute shambles of a vehicle and remains stoic and unflappable? The beetle has boss-eyed and skewed headlights. The front passenger side window cannot decide whether it wants to wind upwards or down, on its own accord. The wheels...forget it, they're doing their own thing. The engine has to be held together by a lot of tape, it sounds like a toolbox under that bonnet.

Shambles. And Rick Dicker despised having to be in it, let alone drive it. He'd be happier if he was driving it straight to the scrapyard, get a little holiday bonus which he believed he really, really deserved. But he wasn't driving it to the scrapyard, he was driving it to a sixteenth century manor in the English countryside, where the Queen herself has visited a handful of times.

He couldn't make this stuff up. If there is a god, then he has the potential to be the best comedy writer the world has ever known.

But Rick Dicker could've travelled in style, with luxury on top, and do so in a matter of moments. So why such a vast sacrifice in class? Because extreme measures were what it takes now. Inconspicuous two years ago could've ranged from a quick respray, to full out chameleon camouflage technology. But the enemy these days are so intense, you have to think much further outside the box.

And if he was brutally honest, this still wasn't the most embarrassing travelling experience he had in his hectic sixty years working at the NSA (both the original National Security Agency, and the Supers version).

Rick's ordeal was thankfully soon to end, an inward sigh of relief was the only change in Rick's stiff body language. The mixture of medieval versus modern technology clashing as he pulled up to the stone walls and iron railing, only for overhead sensors to scan the entire exterior and interior of both the car and Rick. The brief radiation swooped through his internal bodily systems. Circulatory, digestive, brain activity...but even though Rick has been through this procedure multiple times, he still got a little self-conscious when the scanners got to his reproductive system.

Again, you bite the bullet and think of America. Because this is where security has evolved to in two years.

A robotic voice emanates from an unknown source as the scan completes its operations. "Senior Head Of The National Supers Agency, Agent Richard Dicker." The gates open immediately after the scanners return to their dormant positions. He drives the final stretch of driveway until he pulls up directly alongside the manor's front steps. It was an ugly building really, but a history buff would be drooling at the sight. Rick was not one of them.

A whole team of guards, in full armour and geared to pop, came to meet him. Three took positions on the left and three on the right, standing alert and eyes forward. Two more guards stood either side of the double doors.

Rick was more than happy to lob the car keys directly at the nearest guard, who barely flinched. "Take real good care of the rust bucket, won't you?"

"Affirmative sir" the guard responded automatically, not willing to pick the keys from the floor until his boss was safely within the confines of the manor.

In the entrance hall, a waiter and maid came forward to greet him. The tall, beanpole thin, bald waiter gracefully offered his hand. "Agent Dicker, it's a pleasure to have you here once more."

"Likewise" Dicker's grunt contradicting his words.

"Jefferson is the name" The waiter clearly had to restrain his irritation at the butchering of his correct title. "Walter Jefferson."

"There's only one Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson. And trust me, you people will want to forget all about him" Rick replied, turning to the maid before the British patriot could piece together exactly what he meant. "Hello Miss, what a pleasure it is?"

The bubbly black-haired maid stepped forward, rosy cheeks and face-splitting smile, bubbly in much more than personality. She squashed Rick into what might've looked like a literal bear attack if it wasn't affectionate. "Hello, I'm Sally May, but you can call me Sal. You're looking well, but underfed. I'll fix you something up if you like?"

He was then released, looking quite a bit more purple than before. "I'd love to Sally, but I ate lunch at the airport. I won't be staying for long, I came to see the Incredible Teenager."

"We would love to do the same" Jefferson groaned. "She discovers boredom far too easily Miss Parr does. I cannot for the life of me see why. She's got a fantastically large library of British history to lose herself in, an acre garden to explore under your lots immense security, and the finest classical music of the eighteenth century."

Rick deadpanned back "yeah, wonders never cease. I suppose she should take up casket-making too, she'll need a grave after she hangs herself."

Sally swats the agents arm. A man who had the power to physically have her hand removed for such an action, and she doesn't even think twice. "Now there is no need to be so morbid, death should not be thrown around for fun when a girl's life is currently under threat."

The maid had a point. "You're quite right Sally. Now, when was the last time you saw the international hide-and-seek champion?"

"I saw her only yesterday, but I've heard her thumping all over the house all day. I've delivered her breakfast and lunch to her room for the past month or so, much easier than tracking the little scally-wag down" Jefferson answered him.

"She asked for a towel so she could have a shower at about eleven, but I didn't actually give it to her...personally. It's very disconcerting, like handing something to a poltergeist" Sally chipped in.

Rick put on a face that had heard a lot of the girls antics with invisibility, and much more crazy ones. "She loves playing the haunting game. Don't worry, I came prepared. I'll find her soon enough."

Rick brought out a device that was a combination of x-ray vision and a thermal camera. Which looked like a gameboy with an unnecessarily large joystick. It immediately picked up Sally and Jefferson, who both stood directly before him. It was quite startling for Rick to see Sally with four times the amount of flesh to bone, whilst Jefferson may as well have just painted a coat of skin over his.

This wasn't guaranteed to work on Violet though, as her force field ability can also repel radiation. From the outside she'll also appear very cold, as her powers stopped her body temperature escaping when invisible. This building didn't exactly have central heating, so it was still going to be hard to track the super girl. But all Rick needed was a ghostly outline to appear on the screen and he knew he'd found her. As for her force field ability, there was no real use for it in this place as far as Rick saw, so he presumed she wouldn't be using it.

It appeared though that Violet had very much found him already. How did he notice this? Because he failed to notice how his laces were tied to it's opposite shoes laces, therefore they rather comically tripped him as he tried to walk away.

Wham! Rick connected with the ground, his overly large chin taking the brunt of the fall. His face, as usual, unamused. "Well thank you, Violet, a polite introduction as always".

A disembodied giggle followed "you should know better, Dick. With all that wonderful technology, you always forget about using your eyes."

"Make that my lesson learned."

"Until the next time" Violet mercifully materialised and her smirk slipped into a comfortable smile. "So Dick, what's this about? Can I leave yet?"

Rick's grim face was enough of an answer. Her smile completely disappears (not literally in this case). "Why not? I haven't had so much as a false alarm here, neither has Dash at Safehouse Four. Mom, she's the paranoid one, and even she is beginning to think we're wasting our time."

Rick shook his head stiffly "it's impossible Violet. Can we talk somewhere more comfortable?"

Sally lead them to the dining room, whilst Jefferson went to serve them some soft drinks from the kitchen. Violet dropped unhappily into the head table, whilst Rick took the closest on her right side.

They didn't speak until Jefferson returned with two glasses of orange juice, then he and Sally vacated the room. Alone, Rick began to speak "I know you despise being here, not because of the place itself or the people, but because you haven't seen any of your family in nine months. But Violet, it's more dangerous than it's ever been out there, I'd be sending all four of you to your deaths if I let you leave."

Violet rolled her round eyes and indignantly said "you say you understand I want to be with my family, yet being with my family is not the problem. Aren't we safer together, where we're protecting each other?"

Rick angled his face and gazed at, knowing she already knew his answer. "We spoke about this, it's harder to find you if you're all in different places."

"And where if we are found we have no back-up. We're Supers Rick, a Super family, we're at our strongest together" Violet argued.

"Your strongest wasn't enough nine months ago, that is why you're here in the first place remember?" Rick rhetorically countered.

"Because we were freaking tired and running on fumes! We're fit again. I'm not saying we shouldn't stay in hiding but we need to be together, don't you understand that?" Violet clawed at the table in desperation.

"More than you know, Violet, more than you know" his hand rested on her shoulder, a rare display of affection from him. "But I will not allow Syndrome to destroy the last Supers on Earth, it is not an option. If he comes for one of you we'll fight tooth and nail. It might not be enough, but we will. If we fail though, we will still have three more Supers. All will not be lost."

"For you, no" Violet bitterly replied.

"The bigger picture Violet, the world needs Supers. Any one of you will be a terrible loss, but losing you all is much worse."

Violet looked as enthusiastic as a sloth with depression "Alright. But even you have to admit we can't stay where we are forever. One way or another we're gonna have to give up our protection and come together. It's our only hope of turning this nightmare around."

"Right, and believe me I'm working on that happening, when I do I won't hesitate to let you know" Rick promised.

Violet sighed "so why are you here then? What's happened?"

"Besides from Syndrome's influence over the Mafia, the terrorists, and his league of many villains growing ever stronger. Nothing."

"So what the he-"

"I mean nothing Violet. Syndrome's gone completely under the radar these past few weeks. Sure his lesser supervillains are rampaging all over America, the terrorists killing into the millions now, and the Mafia are buying out every major conglomerate. But Syndrome himself hasn't been seen in weeks. It's worrying." Rick explained this almost as if he wanted to know what Violet knew about it, except for obvious reasons he knew she had no idea.

"With all that going on without his involvement, I can see why he's putting his feet up. But that's not what you think he's doing, is it?" Rick still cannot get used to being able to actually see both Violet's soulful eyes with relative ease. Her raven locks framed her face now instead of concealing it, actually bringing out her blossoming beauty and also her self-confidence as a result.

The downside though, he couldn't escape her gaze now. It made him feel like he could never hide anything from her anymore. He'd spill the most top secret details the White House had to offer, if he looked directly into her eyes. "The last time he publically made an appearance he said something amidst his monologue that caught our attention. Now he's gone into silence. Whatever he's planning is big."

"What are you not telling me? What did he say Rick?"

The agent interlocked his hands on the table. "A brave journalist questioned Syndrome at the Oscars, in which all awards went to companies under his control, anyway this journalist brought up the taboo word."

Violet smirked. "You mean Incredible."

"The very same. He disguised it as a compliment to the many awards his people had received, but either he saw through it or the word itself triggered him off. He talked about the usual destruction of the Incredibles, went through four of you and telling everyone the individual ways in which he'd kill you off. But he never mentioned the fifth."

"Jack-Jack?" Violet quizzed.

"Poor choice of wording on my part there, he technically is the fifth Incredible but not this fifth Incredible. He spoke of your dad mostly, your mom, and both your brothers. But he never outright spoke about his plans to kill you."

Violet chuckled, finding his revelation amusingly dramatic. "You've been worried because a maniac forgot about one member of his arch nemesis' family."

"Not quite. What do you make of this line? "They can't touch me, and before long they won't be able to see me either"" Rick quoted.

"Coincidence maybe. Or he's just trying to find a way to copy my powers. He's probably working on an invention right now. Honestly, are you not seeing clearly in your old age?"

"He also said "you will find out soon the difference between people who disappear, and people who vanish.""

Violet puzzled her brain but quickly gave up. "Look, I'm not the expert on flipping Syndrome, shouldn't you be telling Mom and Dad this."

"We will be, but as I believe he may be focusing on you, I wanted to make sure you were the first person we spoke to about this. This disappearing act on his behalf is worrying me."

Violet appreciated that apparently because her smile was incredibly warm. "Well thank you for that. Genuinely, thank you Rick. But this is one occasion where I think you probably should've gone to my parents first, purely on the basis that I don't think I can help you anywhere near to how they can."

"The NSA always has a plan Violet, even for the unknown. This was just an update" Rick then took one sip of his drink and his face contorted in revulsion. "English water tastes like crap."

Violet chuckled and sprung to her feet after sensing this meeting had reached its conclusion. "Right, I best get back to my reading, this place would be awesome if my family lived here too."

Rick looked surprised, she cut him off before he could comment "do not let the fact I've discovered I love to read, slip to Dash. That's the whole point I'm invisible the whole time here, I will defend that secret with my life."

"Evidently not as valiantly defended as you thought, for you've just told me. But do not fear, I would rather not suffer your homocidal wrath after you would've found out I told him" he returned, getting to his feet.

"Very wise Dick."

"Well that concludes my business. Take care Violet, I'll be in touch soon" Rick folded his arms behind his back and sauntered from the room without a backwards glance.

"If I don't get you first" Violet called as a tease obviously, but he sensed some sadness creep into her voice. He heard her disappear soon after.

Rick was escorted back to the barely attached car by Jefferson, who retrieved his keys for him. He shared a firm handshake with Jefferson, and a parting hug with one-sided tears from Sally.

He finally sat in the car and took a moment to secretly contemplate in guilt. He should've told her. She WILL kill him if she ever learns the truth, especially after he blatantly lied to her face. But it was for her own good.

The startling anthem of his ancient cell phone broke him out of his thoughts. Heaving the heavy block to his ear he accepted the call. "Dicker here."

"Hello Richard, if I can call you that?" the voice addressed him, before releasing an uncaring cackle "pfft, I'm going to anyway. So, how's it hanging?"

"How did you get this number?" Rick gravely responded.

"What number?" The voice responded in an obviously fake confusion. "Oh, you mean for your giant Victorian era communication device, yeah I got your number. And you're absolutely dying to know how I know that, right?"

"I'm itching in anticipation" Rick deadpanned back.

"You're a good actor Richard, I'd happily have my precious studios hire you if you fancy a career change. Perhaps you'll be receiving all of next years Oscar awards. But I know you are very interested in how I found you, I can barely hold it in myself."

"Look you son of a-"

"Oh, nice car by the way. I think that thing must be weaker than my grandmother, and she's dead."

Rick stalled on a second attempt at a comeback insult. "Where are you?"

"Nowhere, I've disappeared remember. The difference between disappearing and vanishing. People who disappear can do so willingly, and doesn't always imply that it's forever. Vanishing is more ominous, does not imply that something can come back again. Where am I? I'm still here, and you..."

Rick impatiently snapped back "I'm what!?"

Suddenly the driver's side window is blasted open in an explosion of glass, followed by a hard jab in the jaw from the butt of a semi-automatic assault rifle. Whilst he's dazed he hears a pinging sound and a hard ball type object lands in his lap.

He knows exactly what it is even groggy. The voice sinisterly answers his question "you're never coming back."

———

Violet watches her friend being engulfed in flames from the window five storeys up. She made a short whimpering noise, but aside from that she shows no reaction to the horrific scene.

She looks at the crooked butler and maid, chuckling manically with glee at the burning beetle.

Violet wanted to bash through and personally smack the looks of their faces, it's only the gentle but oppressive hand on her shoulder that stops her. She aims her darkest glare at him, and he just smiles at her.

"Your friend just did something even you can't do. Vanish."

"You're a monster" Violet spat at him.

"Why, because I showed a liar for exactly what they are? I told you he'd refuse to tell you, "I needed an Incredible to beat the Incredibles"" Syndrome replied. "He made up all that talk about murdering your family, when in fact I only spoke about you. Violet Parr, my personal sidekick, who can teach me how to disappear. And in return I'll teach her how to make people vanish."

"I'll never join forces with you. You're wasting your time."

Syndrome chuckled "I've got too much spare time on my hands if you haven't noticed. But don't forget, you won't have the same luxury without this offer. I will destroy the Incredibles, but I do not wish to kill you. For your own benefit, you should choose to accept the inevitable, you might like it a lot more than you think."

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An: I tried not to be too predictable with that twist, but I would hazard a guess that ninety percent of you probably saw that coming. Good intro though still, I think.