The Incredibles
All's Fair in Love and Glory
Chapter Thirteen: Planning
Violet sat on her bed trembling, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn't believe someone wanted to kill her. She wished she could talk to Tony about this, but exposing her secret identity would just put him in danger. She wished she knew what to do. She wished she was safe.
It's okay, she tried to reassure herself. You beat him before.
Well, not quite.
She exhaled and closed her eyes. She felt so childish, but maybe if she went downstairs she could get the gist of what was happening. She would feel better if she at least knew what was going on.
"Mom?" she squeaked, tiptoeing into the kitchen, where the adults were gathered.
"Not now, honey," Bob said quickly.
"Are we safe here? I mean, he knows where our house is…"
Helen put an arm around her daughter reassuringly.
"If it makes you feel better, you can stay out here with us," she offered gently.
Vi nodded.
"All right. Let's get started," Lucius declared. "So, how is Mirage going to help us, exactly?"
"Well, she's pretty close to Syndrome, and knows his… weaknesses, and such. And while she's not very strong or much of an asset in a fight, she does have the ability to teleport. Then leave an image of herself at the prior location."
"And that's useful because…?" Vi asked.
Bob frowned. "We're not quite sure. Yet."
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Mirage had tried to keep her mind from wandering, but nonetheless later that day she found herself shuffling through pregnancy pamphlets. Someone knocked on her door and she hurriedly shoved the material under a stack of papers.
"Miss Mirage?"
"Oh. It's you," she sighed in relief, turning to look at Bocci. "If it's all right, I had some questions about these." She sheepishly retrieved the pamphlets – which he had given her.
"Fire away."
Mirage flinched.
"I'm so sorry," the doctor gasped. "I… I guess that word has a pretty bad connotation around here, huh?"
She nodded.
"How can I raise a child right when I've done so many things that were wrong?" she whispered. "I never meant to become like this. When he was killing off all the others, I knew I'd be safe here. I've never even really used my powers – didn't consider myself a Super. But the pay was good, and I needed the money. Now here I am, such a long time later, confessing my sins to my ob/gyn."
"I can help you," Dr. Bocci promised. "But you have to help me."
"Anything."
Starving for knowledge and the chance to redeem herself, Mirage looked up at Bocci hopefully.
"First, you need to convince Syndrome not to harm me," Bocci said.
"Done."
"And then I need your complete trust."
"Of course. You already have it."
"Good. Now I need some money."
"Excuse me?"
Bocci smiled.
"How long does it take supplies to arrive here, Mirage?"
"Well, we grow or produce most of our provisions here," she told him. "But shipments, when needed, take about a… oh, I think a week or so to arrive."
"A week," he mused. "I have a psychiatrist friend back in the States. He can diagnose all kinds of mental illnesses."
"Is there something wrong with the baby?" Mirage cried.
"No, no. Nothing like that. Just with the father."
"What are you saying?" Mirage asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I think Syndrome may be bipolar."
"That explains everything!"
The doctor raised an eyebrow.
"When I saw on the television that Syndrome had been attacked by his own Omnidroid, I called his mother to see if she knew. Apparently, she hadn't heard from him since he was a child. She said he ran away, and hadn't taken his medication with him."
"So then he knew, before."
"I think so."
"Then all we have to do is get my friend to prescribe and send over some medication." Bocci smiled. "Since he's already been taking it, we know his body will react well to it. Now all we need is some time."
Mirage sighed. "If only we had some."
"What do you mean?"
"Syndrome was planning something. I'm not sure what, but I know it involves an attack on his hometown. And I'm not positive when it will happen."
"It could be going on right now," Bocci worried.
"Every time Syndrome plans something violent, it's in one of his bad moods. So you're saying if we can get him the medication soon enough, we'll get him calmed down enough to call off the attack?"
"Precisely," Bocci replied.
"Well," Mirage said, smiling, "I guess my job will come in handy after all. I'm in charge of all our imports."
"Get them to send over that medication. On rush."
Mirage was booting up her laptop as he spoke. I'm already on it."
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For his whole life, Syndrome had always had a plan. He'd made inventions, won contests, had dreams of what his life would be like. But his wish to become Mr. Incredible's side kick had been dashed the night he'd met Bomb Voyage.
After he'd been sent home, he ripped down any memory or memorabilia of Mr. Incredible. Then he discarded his handmade Super suit and stuffed the rest of his important possessions into his backpack.
He'd walked and walked before settling under a bridge for a dinner of a cold roll and some leftover lunchmeat. He wasn't quite sure what he would do, but he had the money from the inventions he'd made, and the blueprints for the ones he was going to. He could take care of himself. He would be okay. Somehow. And then he looked over, and saw him.
The man spoke in broken – if any – English, and seemed familiar. Buddy remembered him, and he remembered Buddy. However, the boy was most recognizable by his suit (now missing), so Buddy's inventions became the item of interest.
Even though they couldn't understand each other, Buddy showed off his inventions, and Bomb Voyage presented his collection of explosives.
When they parted the next morning, Buddy had a blueprint for a new bomb drawn up, as well as most of the bombs. Bomb Voyage did not realize this, as he was still asleep when Buddy left with all of his stuff. Vulnerable and defenseless, Bomb Voyage would wake later to find himself surrounded by police and about to be deported to a jail. In France.
Buddy wandered a lot, searching dumps for materials to make his inventions, then selling them and using the money for food and lodging. One day someone took him in, educated him, and made selling his inventions a business. One night when Buddy was seventeen, he and the old man had a fight. Accusations flew – including one about Buddy being mentally ill.
The next day Buddy sold the old man's house and possessions, and took his company to its new location on a private island. The old man, meanwhile, was recuperating in a hospital.
Buddy's life had been nothing but success but then. Sure, he found himself going kind of crazy sometimes – having strange thoughts, feeling out of control, getting angry or sad for no reason – but things worked out well enough. Until the day it all went wrong. His problem – his syndrome – had gotten so bad and made him so angry, his plans came to a head. Even when the Omnidroid attack was a flop, he still had Jack-Jack to bargain with. Then his rocket boots malfunctioned.
Near death at the hand of his won rocket, he used one of his stolen ideas, and detonated the Super Bomb.
With his jet in pieces, his reputation on the rockets, multiple injuries and no way to get home, Syndrome realized that he was, again, out of a plan. So he did then what he had done before – he walked.
His ravaged body finally gave out on him beside a freeway, where a doctor who specialized in treating burns like his decided to give him treatment. When he finally recovered, Syndrome took Bocci back to the island with him. But as with most, he just took advantage of the doctor. He had a new plan.
All his others had been ruined by Mr. Incredible. That would not happen again.
"Wait a week," he said in a low voice into his phone. "I'm coming down there myself."
Mirage, who had overheard, slipped away.
