Erasing the Line
By Dancer of the Moonlit Lake
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In the time it had taken both his sister and his father to leave the table, Dash had run into Violet's dimly lit room and waited patiently at her desk.

Violet finally arrived. Dash waved and greeted her with a forceful, "Hi! We have to talk."

Violet picked up her pillow and threatened to throw it at him. "We don't have to do anything, you little worm. Get out of my room!"

Faster than her eyes could see, Dash ran behind her and leapt onto the bed.

"So, why'd you lie at dinner?" he asked. He began to jump up and down on her bed, mocking her. "Didja chicken out of stopping the robbery? Or were the bad guys too much for you?" Violet cast a force-field bubble around him. As he jumped, Dash hit his head on the roof of the bubble. He fell to the bottom and rubbed his head painfully. "Ow!"

"Sit still," Violet commanded. Dash complied as his sister organized her thoughts. "Yes, I saw the criminals. Except… They didn't seem like they were in it for profit, you know? It was like… They were trying to prove themselves." Violet looked at her brother, and saw that one of his eyebrows was raised skeptically. "I mean, they were just like us! They had super-powers, but… I got the feeling they NEEDED to do what they did. That's why I didn't stop them."

"Vi'," Dash pleaded, leaning up against the wall of the bubble, "We're Supers. It's our job to stop anyone who breaks the law. There are good guys, and there are bad guys. We're good guys because we stop bad guys. The line is clear."

"I wish I could be as sure as you are," Violet sighed. The force-field around Dash faded away. Violet hugged herself and seemed to become smaller, as only Violet could. She sat down next to Dash and stared at her lap. "I'm so confused. He… he was so nice…"

Dash had no idea what Violet was talking about. Of course, how could he, Dash had not been there when Joshua had smiled at his sister so kindly. Dash looked around, as if to make sure no one was watching, then hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Vi'. We'll get them next time. They'll go away to jail and you'll never see them again."

For some reason, this fact didn't comfort Violet at all.
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Mirage awoke the next morning to the wonderful smell of sausage and brewed coffee. She lifted herself from bed and wrapped a robe around her nightdress. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she entered the kitchen. At the table was a marvelous spread of breakfast foods. She didn't need to think very hard to realize who'd put it there. Mirage suppressed a shiver. Personally, she thought Syndrome was laying the charm on a little too thick, and she had extremely mixed feelings about the fact that he might have been in her room while she was sleeping.

Glancing at the clock, she realized that it was already ten-thirty. Usually Mirage arose much earlier, but of course, she was no longer running her own company. Along with providing breakfast, Syndrome must have also taken the liberty of un-setting her alarm clock.

Mirage sat and poured herself some coffee. It was very good, and undoubtedly expensive... Mirage sighed. At least Syndrome was trying to make amends. She just wasn't sure how she felt about it.

Once dressed in her usual grey attire, Mirage ventured outside her confinement. To her surprise, there were no guards or escorts posted at the door. She wandered around the island metropolis freely.

Already Syndrome had workers installing teleportation-devices to replace the slower transports. All a person had to do was stand on a silver disk and- flash- they were instantly whisked away to their destination; no cars, no hassles. It heavily reminded Mirage of Star Trek, but then again, Syndrome loved that kind of thing.

Mirage approached them and spoke quickly. "Where can I find Syndrome?"

"Um... one of the conference rooms in Wing D, I believe. He's meeting with those Supers, overseeing the production of the newest Omnidroid."

"Thank you," Mirage said, then expertly walked off. Everywhere Mirage turned she saw evidence of Syndrome's control; his latest security inventions were being installed and the 'S' insignia had returned.

Upon finding the conference room, Mirage lingered outside the door. The guard had said that Syndrome was going over his plans... Would her presence make him dismiss whomever he was speaking to, as he had last night? Or would he have her dragged back to her quarters? Not wanting to risk the latter, Mirage leaned an ear against the wooden door and listened.

"The Omnidroid is almost ready for it's trial run," Mirage heard Syndrome's eccentric voice say. "My new modifications are flawless. When it's done, I'll find some way to get that so called 'incredible' family here. You three will take care of Elastigirl and those children… I want to duke it out with Mr. Incredible himself, man to super-freak."

"How come I have to be on kid duty?" the deep voice of a large man said.

Syndrome explained, "I underestimated that family last time I fought them. They work best as a team. I took down Mr. Incredible when he was alone, no sweat. But when his family teamed up, they defeated my Omnidroid. Besides, Wildfire, restraining yourself will be enough of a challenge for you."

"Why do I have to restrain myself?" Wildfire replied indignantly.

"Use your brain, big guy! This is a dormant volcano, if you go over-board with your powers, it may not stay that way-"

"Um… Ms. Mirage?" A voice caught the blonde eavesdropper by surprise, and Mirage visibly jumped. She whirled around, her eyes uncharacteristically wide. She saw a timid henchman; probably someone who'd never participated in villainy before. Behind him stood a semi-large box. He spoke again, "This arrived for the boss… From an 'Edna Mode'…"

Mirage brushed a few loose strands from her face and slipped back into her professional mindset. "Thank you," she said curtly, "You can leave that with me. I'll deliver it myself."

The worked hurriedly ran off. Mirage lifted the box under one arm, it was light for it's size. It obviously contained Syndrome's awaited super-suit.

Without her previous hesitation, Mirage burst into the conference room unannounced. As he did before, Syndrome immediately stopped talking. The four men, Syndrome and the Super-powered boys, were crowded around a table filled with documents and maps.

"You're suit is here," Mirage said, taking advantage of the silence. "I trust you'll be pleased with it."

Syndrome's eyes immediately brightened, but as he was determined to keep his business-like appearance, only Mirage noticed. "Boys," he said, "Why don't you see how the Omnidroid is coming, and bring back a full report in an hour."

The Supers headed towards the door obediently, the oldest and youngest each offering Mirage a "good-bye." The blue one, however, only nodded as he had before. The moment they were gone, Syndrome was upon his package like a child on a birthday gift.

"Why doesn't that pale blue child speak like his companions?" inquired Mirage.

"Who, Indigo? He doesn't have a voice of his own," Syndrome said absently as packing paper and tissue flew everywhere. A sheet of paper floated to the floor, and Mirage picked it up.

"Here it is!" Syndrome proclaimed, lifting the dark fabric from the box. His face instantly fell. "Hey… It looks the same as before!"

"This says," Mirage told him, reading from the sheet she picked up, "That you suit contains all the specifications you asked for, even the cape."

"But I wanted something new! I wanted it to look different!"

"Says here that it's a whole shade darker than your last one, which gives it a different 'mood.'"

Syndrome stared at the fabric. "How much…" he said cautiously, as if trying to control his temper, "Did I spend on this? More or less than six figures?"

"More. But not a lot more, mind, and that's including that gadgets for Edna's studio," Mirage consoled.

Syndrome cringed. Though he was unspeakably rich, his wealth was not endless, and he hated being ripped off. He stood, bringing the suit with him.

"I'm going to try it on," he said. He could not hide the disappointment in his voice.

As Syndrome stomped off to the empty conference room across the hall, it took Mirage a moment to recognize the emotion within her was pity. She didn't know why she felt sorry for him. He was wealthy; he could buy ten thousand super-suits if he wanted. Not to mention he was selfish, always bent on revenge and making himself happy. Why should she feel sorry for him… why should she feel anything at all?

It must have been his face. Try as he might, Syndrome could never hide his true emotions. He would cover it up with false superiority, or his over-the-top the moods… But his true motives always shined through.

Indeed, why should she feel anything? She was Mirage, prurient and beautiful, sleek and desirable. He was a man who'd never really grown up, who needed to be accepted, who was, in so many was, still a child. Mirage wasn't sure of what she wanted, but the logical side of her brain doubted that Syndrome was the one to give it to her.

"So, how do I look?" the very same man called from the door.

It was like gazing back in time. Mirage saw him, standing there, tall in proud in his super-suit. It was as though nothing had changed over the past three years, as though she'd never had to grieve for his death. Time had stood still for Syndrome; he looked exactly the same. Another emotion, a mixture of grief and longing Mirage could not identify, welled up inside her.

She swallowed. Though Syndrome was incapable of hiding his emotions, Mirage could.

"You look great."
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Much later that same day, Bob Parr found himself walking through the front door of his house, home from work. He hadn't really been aware of the passing day, his mind on Edna's call. He barely realized that his wife was talking to him.

"Huh? What was that, honey?" Bob asked, hanging up his coat and hat.

Helen sighed. "I said, how was your day at work? You'd think I was asking you to do Violet's calculus homework…"

"It was fine." Bob half-heartedly laughed at Helen's joke. "Listen… I got a call from E'…"

"Edna?" Helen asked suspiciously. Her eyes followed Bob as he put away his briefcase. "She called you? What about?"

Bob took a seat on the couch and beckoned his wife to join him. He took a long time to get the words out, because he wasn't sure how to say them. "I… I think, well, really, Edna thinks, but I think she might be right…"

"Bob, you're rambling."

"Sorry. The point is… I think… Syndrome might be alive."

"WHAT?!"

Bob nodded and stared at their fading carpet. "Yeah. Apparently someone ordered a super-suit, nothing unusual, right? Well, when Edna received the measurements, the logo for SyndroCorp was pinned to them."

Helen looked at her husband, shock written all over her features. "SyndroCorp? But... But didn't Mirage turn that company into 'Illusions Incorporated?'"

"I thought so, too. But if Syndrome is alive, I doubt he'd have any trouble taking back his island."

A sickening, horrifying fear leapt in Helen's chest. With one hand she turned Bob's face, making him meet her eyes. "Do you think..." Helen choked, "Do you think he'll come for Jack-Jack?"

"I don't know," Bob whispered. He wrapped Helen in a tight embrace. For the first time in a long time, the great Mr. Incredible was truly afraid.

A long, long moment of silence fell into the room, settling on them like snowfall. The clock ticked away, making the moment stretch into seconds, the seconds stretch into minutes... At last Bob let his wife go. He grasped her shoulders.

"We have to go after him."

Helen jumped up and pulled away, giving Bob a look of utter disbelief. "What?! Bob, no! What do you expect we do, rent a plane and storm the island? I've tried that before, and trust me, it doesn't work out so well!"

Always quick to anger, Bob stood and returned her loud words with his own. "No, I didn't say that! I mean, of course we couldn't just 'storm the island-'"

"Then what?! What are you saying?!"

"I... I don't know, okay?!" Bob shouted. He looked away once more. When he spoke again, his voice was hopeless. "I don't know anything. We have no way of contacting Mirage—I've already tried. And we can't let Syndrome stay on that island, surrounded by technology. Who knows what he could invent?"

Helen put a hand on Bob's shoulder. "Let's not talk about this right now. We'll think of something." She turned and headed for the kitchen. Bob started towards his office, but Helen's hand stretched across the room and landed on his shoulder. "Bob... Don't tell the kids what we know. I don't want them to worry."

Bob nodded. What they didn't know was that their invisible daughter had heard the whole thing.

Violet retreated to her room and flung herself across the bed. If Syndrome was truly alive... Then Violet knew the identity of Joshua's boss.
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Author's Note:
I apologize for not having this chapter up when I said I would; there's a "kink" in the fourth chapter I had to work out, and a change would influence this one. I didn't want to post this chapter and have to change it. That would be confusing!
I hope you like where the plot is going, and that you won't run away scared because of my obvious pairings. The next chapter or two are going to be more "action oriented," and I can't wait to have them done. Thanks again for reading. :)