From Chapter One of Mirage: Escape from Nomanisan - Inheritance
Summary: As Mirage sits and watches the rocket carrying the Incredibles fly away, she reminisces about her first encounter with Syndrome.
Mirage gently stirred her tea with the delicate silver spoon. She looked out, staring at the trail of smoke which had started to dissipate in the wind. She leaned forward, stretching her neck to look higher above to see if she could still see the rocket. It had gone. The rumble of its powerful engines had faded.
Mirage realized how quiet the observation deck she sat in was now. The silence would not last for very long. Someone down there, Saunders himself probably, would notice that everything going on for the last few minutes had been far from following normal procedure. All responsibility would point to her.
I'll be gone soon, she thought. I did not get all the information, but I've seen enough to push my case and call for a sweep. She smiled. I wonder how he'll take it when he finds out?
She was annoyed with herself for having thought of him. But as she knew she was on her way out of the island and that the mission drew to a close, she could not help herself: Mirage's mind drifted back, back to that very day she had first met Syndrome, arch enemy of all Supers.
Mirage sat alone at a table of one of Metroville's numerous cafes, in the downtown financial district. She wore her best suit for the interview: A white shirt under a fitted navy blue jacket and matching skirt, hemline rather long, barely above her knees. Her matching Pradas, bought the day before, complimented her apparel perfectly. She felt confident as the Agency had managed to gather enough information on her potential employer, that Mirage knew it would not be hard for her to infiltrate the mysterious man's lair. The Supers were all disappearing one by one... All evidence pointed to one man, an eccentric billionaire named Buddy Pine who liked to refer to himself as Syndrome. He was a secretive man, Mirage thought. No one could confirm that he actually wore a suit and a cape, boasting that the privilege of a Super suit could be bestowed upon any who were worthy of it, even if the bearer had been only a mere mortal.
A long black limousine, its windows tinted, had driven up to the sidewalk. Mirage checked her watch. They were right on time. She got up. The chauffeur had seen her and had rushed out to open the door for her. Mirage cautiously approached the open door. She looked inside the limousine and stepped in.
"Good morning, Miss Mirage," a woman said. "Oh, I'm sorry, last names will not be necessary."
Mirage sat opposite of the woman who had addressed her. "I am Anna," the woman said. "I am Mister Syndrome's private secretary." Mirage could not help notice how close the secretary resembled her: As tall and thin as Mirage was, Anna had straight and long black hair that contrasted with her bright white business suit. She could have been Mirage's photographic negative. "Mister Syndrome apologizes for not being here in person, but he decided at the last minute to remain aboard his plane. He his waiting for us on the runway." She looked out the window. "We should arrive at the airport any minute now."
Upon learning that the limousine was heading towards an airport, Mirage wanted to object as she had not expected to be flying away. Anna reassured her. "Please relax, it's all been arranged. Security is not an issue... Mister Syndrome is above such mundane things as passports. This is a privilege he bestows upon his guests," she said. Mirage understood tacitly she did not have much of a choice.
The limousine had passed through the airport's gates without even stopping. It went to the end of a short runway to halt besides a small black plane. Mirage, an experienced pilot in her own right, had never seen such a design before: The plane's shape and colour reminded her of a manta ray, a gentle creature of the sea which could grow to have a wing span of more than fifteen metres.
Mirage got out of the car, followed the secretary up the stairs and entered the cabin.
The plane's interior had just a few wide and comfortable leather seats set around a small table, like an executive conference room. Mirage glanced at the cockpit: Two well built men with sunglasses, their faces expressionless, sat at the controls. Mirage noticed they were more than just trained pilots as she saw the holstered pistols they wore. Whoever owned that plane did not take their security lightheartedly.
The secretary motioned Mirage to sit down in one of the chairs as she did so herself. Both women were now facing a single chair that had been turned away from them on the opposite side of the table. A man sat there.
As he had heard them sitting down, the man suddenly snapped his chair around to face them. He greeted them with the widest of eyes to then unceremoniously lean forward and put his elbows on the table. He stared at them for a second.
"Finally!" He said, rather loudly and enthusiastically. "You're here." Mirage could barely hide her surprise as she looked at him. "I'm Syndrome," the man said. "Yeah, Syndrome... Syndrome's my name." He gestured. "Welcome aboard my plane. It's my own design you know..."
Mirage was speechless. The rumors had turned out to be true. Buddy Pine, as he was known under his civilian name, sat in front of her wearing what appeared to be a genuine Super suit. He had donned the complete apparel that all Supers possessed. An uniquely designed suit, matching boots, gloves and above all, an eye mask. It took Mirage a second more to realize the white stripe she could see on his black chest was a stylized 'S'.
"I'm delighted to meet you," Mirage said, composing herself immediately.
"Mirage," Syndrome said, still wide eyed. "Sorry, I hate last names... You don't mind that I call you Mirage do you? Last names make things so, so formal..." He got up. "So, you've met my personal secretary, Anna... That means we can be on our way. Boys!" He lifted his nose at the two pilots. "Take us up. Let's show Miss Mirage what Metroville looks like from above..."
The plane had lifted off the ground a minute later. Mirage could now see the large city's skyscrapers through her oval window.
The aircraft had now leveled and the seatbelt sign had gone off. Syndrome had been boasting about his plane's technical features when he suddenly stopped and got up again.
"Ah," he said. "My favorite time... Champagne time." He snapped his fingers. "Anna, my dear, open a bottle, please. I'm thirsty and I'm sure our guest is also." The secretary acquiesced.
The bottle had been opened and the glasses filled. Syndrome settled back in his seat. He stared at Mirage, as if he studied her. "So, you're looking for work, are you?" he said. Mirage took a breath as she wanted to reply, but did not have time to answer as he cut her off. "I've seen your resume and it shines." He nodded. "I'm really impressed... The island definitely needs a systems architect of your level..." He smiled. "Well, I'm not the type of man who beats around the bush. You're hired."
Mirage was relieved. She had promised herself to thank the Intelligence people if she ever had succeeded to get in.
"Thank you," was all she managed to say.
Syndrome did not say anything else for a moment. He stared at her, as if he tried to read her mind. He finally spoke. "You know, Mirage," he said, "the tasks you'll be undertaking are very, very special…They are, in fact, very unique." He smiled wryly at her. Syndrome lowered his voice, as if he had wanted to make his point even clearer. "Do you have any sort of problems with ethics, Mirage? With morality?" He put his hand on his chin. "I need someone who is strong enough to take decisions, decisions which could prove to be very difficult."
He squinted his eyes at her. "I would be very disappointed if morality came in the way of work that had to be done."
Mirage stared at him for a second. She had to give him an answer now, or he would turn around and not hire her. She straightened herself a bit, shifted her legs and discreetly flattened a wrinkle in her skirt. She had noticed Syndrome watched her. She spoke in a soft, yet assured voice: "We live in an imperfect world… I clearly understand decisions have to be made from a rational perspective. Anything else is secondary. Questioning ourselves in this manner can only be wasteful. It can only steer us away from our true priorities..."
Syndrome said nothing. He suddenly burst out laughing, a laugh guttural and sinister. "I like you, Mirage," he said, pointing his finger at her repeatedly. "I like you!" Mirage gave him a coy smile. "I'm sure you and I will get along," he added. He waved his glass up. "Anna!" he said loudly. "We need to celebrate! More champagne for us all." As the secretary poured him another glass, he took her hand and kissed it. She quickly pulled it away, pretending to be annoyed. "Having a great team is part of my success, Mirage," Syndrome said as he stared up and down at Anna. "Anna is totally devoted to me; she comes with me wherever I go." He smiled. "I trust her with all of my most personal affairs..." The secretary tilted her head and smiled. Syndrome's eyes focused on Mirage. "Can I expect the same from you, Mirage?"
There was no way out now. She would have to go all the way. Mirage took a deep breath. "Yes," was all she answered.
Mirage looked out the window. She could see through the clouds that the plane now flew above the ocean.