Yes, yes. It's true. I am, indeed back, and hereby dedicate the grand reopening of Running to one crzysheelf, whose own Incredific made me remember my own, as well as her wonderful review reply simply asking me to redo this. So, well, here we are, back at the beginning; scenes have changed, been added, been twisted, etc. so that they match the plot I have in mind now.
Expect an update every week or so, and for God's sake, review, please; I lost inspiration when the reviews tapered off, leading to the story sucking more, leading to less reviews, leading to less sam morale, leading to worse chapters... it's truly a horrible downward spiral that is easily avoided. just click the shiny purple button or I'll have to resort to using bad authoress review-mongering tactics. Pleasepleaseplease, just review. I promise not to flake out this time. If I do... well, if I do, I will gladly let DSS come take my poor abandoned baby and be relocated to a foster home to be raised and cared for properly translation: I will allow someone else to take the story, with my plot line of course, and do what they like with it; that is, as long as I trust their parenting/judgment skills as well as let you guys pelt me with the yummy sugar cookies I offer in exchange for reviews until I go into an e-coma.
One more thing: the GENERIC ACTION TITLE HERE thing? Part laziness, part unknowing exactly when I felt like the movie being set at this point or, conversely, remembering when I wanted it set.
But, for the sake of appearances, I totally left it there for comedic reasons.
So, without further ado, I reintroduce to you... Running. da da da!!!
The guard paused at the frosted glass door, halting at the thought of the man inside; he hadn't slept in days, but had sat in this room, staring at his screens, firing all that displeased him, sometimes firing a gun- though he never hit the mark, it always came frighteningly close. With a deep breath, he entered the code on the pad and the doors lock clicked open. He pushed it open.
"Sir?" He stammered nervously, struggling to regain control of his voice. "Th-the base is secure."
"Good." The man answered in a harsh, guttural grunt. "Clear any remaining bodies and destroy any evidence when you arrive there."
He went back to staring at his computer screen obsessively, watching the other henchmen loitering the premises, looking nervous and confused at their leaders seeming solitary confinement, at their lack of work, at what had been rumored to be coming up. Rubble was strewn across the previous base; the security there had had strict orders to detonate if the plan went astray, to destroy any evidence. But now, months later, he was operating from another, smaller base, securely hidden.
"They'll pay for this." He muttered to himself; the guard was sure the obsessed man hadn't registered that he was talking aloud. "They'll pay."
"Violet, honey, hurry up!" Helen Parr called from the kitchen. "The bus'll be here in ten minutes!"
"Um, Mom, I don't think I'm gonna go today, I'm not feeling too well, and-"
"But, sis!" Dash grinned innocently. "If you don't go, you could be missing an opportunity to talk to Tony."
"Shut your mouth, you little insect." Violet hissed, angry.
The morose teen sighed, shoulders slumped, hair hanging in front of her face as usual, as she took her seat at the kitchen table, idly poking at her cereal. It had been a grand total of three months since Syndrome had died, and the image of his jet exploding as he was thrown backwards into the turbine still haunted her dreams, ripping her from sleep in a hazy, terrified fury. Not, of course, that she would admit that to anyone; her father looked back on that memory fondly, as did her brother. Her mother never mentioned it.
About three weeks ago, Tony had asked her out- of course, with her assistance to push him along. Then, upon hearing his 14-year old daughter had gotten herself a boyfriend, her father had nearly broken down. Violet had been forced to invite Tony over for dinner, a spectacle that began with her father crushing the doorknob in his fist as he close the door upon Tony's entrance. It ended with Jack-Jack bursting into flame behind the nervous boy's back and nearly setting his jeans on fire.
On the way to the bus, she thought bitterly about the way her father had spoken to Tony. He had, by the end of a quasi-disastrous dinner, decided that Tony Rydinger was Not Good Enough for his daughter. Violet had burst into tears as soon as the door had shut behind Tony and run to her room; then, later, feeling bolder and angrier, fought with her father for a half-hour for the right to date her crush (she had lost, of course, but managed to save her dignity in the end by throwing force fields around the living room, knocking over furniture and shattering a window).
Looking back on the event, Violet felt a tinge of regret and foolishness, but it was dwarfed in comparison to her anger. Was it so unreasonable for her to be happy, for her to have what she wanted? Why should Tony avoid her? If he had really liked her, her father shouldn't have deterred him. Why should she be the one to suffer? This wasn't her fault! When she reached her locker, she carelessly tossed her books inside, slammed the door shut, and stalked towards him.
"V-Violet!" Tony stammered in surprise. "What's up?"
"Well, you would know, if you bothered to find out." She snapped. "Why don't you talk to me?"
"Vi, I-" Tony sighed, closing his eyes. "Your…"
"My father?" She guessed, more than a hint of scorn in her voice.
"Yeah." Tony sighed again, his face turning slightly red.
"My father shouldn't be able to scare you away." Violet announced. "If you really liked me, you wouldn't care."
She started to walk away, but Tony caught her by the shoulder, a calmer look on his face.
"Meet me at the movies on Friday." He said quietly.
"Sir?" The guard asked, not as nervous this time. "All systems are back and running."
"Good, good!" He said, waving a hand.
"Anything else you want, sir?"
"Yes, actually. I want you to find someone for me." Taking out a scrap of paper and a pen, he scribbled something down. "She goes by the name of Elena Benson. Should be found in the New York area."
"Will do, sir."
"Dismissed, Neal."
The man sat back in his chair, observing the numerous monitors displayed before him. Some villains preferred to hire security to watch the cameras. No, no, that wasn't him. He liked to be in control, and though having a few more people under said control would be nice, it was better to be able to control the cameras himself. If anything went astray, he would know about it immediately; if anything were to go wrong, he would know what to do.
At the moment, seven cameras were positioned in the Parr residence. Two in the living room, one in the kitchen, one in the garage, two in the hallway, and, finally, one in Mr. Incredible's office. There was also one FOW camera- a fly-on-the-wall. As its name suggested, it took the form of a small black fly, and flew around the house at his bidding, landing and using suction-cup-like devices to secure it to the ceilings or walls.
Several other cameras revealed empty cells in the new base; a few more showed henchmen, wandering around the base with no real objective. Neal was the only one in the past three months who had served any real purpose; he was the only one competent enough to. The others slacked, seeing no real purpose in defending a base that wasn't attacked, taking orders from a man that seemed to have no purpose in store for them. But they wouldn't question their boss. Neal served his job to the fullest, understanding the truth of the matter. Both his parents, criminals, had been killed by supers. He was trusted above all the others, and knew more than all the others. If none of the other guards did, Neal at least knew they served some purpose.
"Mom, I'm going to the movies!" Violet shouted from her room, pulling on a jacket over her t-shirt.
"With who?" Helen asked, her neck stretching so her head could stay in the doorway to Violet's room, while her body walked the laundry downstairs to the washing machine.
"Cleo, Thalia, and Patricia." She lied smoothly, smiling.
"Do you want me to drive you?"
"No, that's okay, I can take the bus." Violet's grin widened in nervous apprehension.
"Okay." Helen shrugged before shrinking her neck to its normal size and continuing her trek to the washing machine.
Violet boarded the bus, apprehensive. She had never done anything without her parents' permission before. Well, this was technically with their permission, but they didn't know the full extent of the circu-
Oh, shut up, Violet. She scolded herself. Chill, would you?
"Violet!" Cleo shouted. "Over here!"
So, she hadn't exactly lied. She just didn't tell the full truth. Cleo, Thalia and Patricia were there, but they were going to a different movie.
"Hey, Vi." Tony said shyly, and it was like the beginning all over again. Like they hadn't already done this.
"Hey, Tony." Violet said, equally shy, and smiled. "What movie are we seeing?"
"Well, I figured we could go see that new action movie-"
"Oh." Vi bit her lip, suppressing a sigh.
"Well, which did you wanna see?" He asked apprehensively.
"I was hoping we could go see that one." She pointed to the title for a comedy of some sort. Tony sighed.
"Well, I was really hoping we could go see that one." He pointed to his choice.
"But-"
"Two for GENERIC ACTION TITLE HERE, please." Tony smiled at the old woman sitting in the ticket booth and wrapped an arm around Violet's waist tightly, pulling her closer.
She sighed.
"Sir?" Neal stuck his head through the doorframe. "Update on the woman you were searching for?"
"Yes, yes, come in." He waved a hand, inviting Neal to sit down. "What's the update, Neal?"
"We found her living in Brooklyn."
"And?"
"We ordered a jet for her and had her things packed. All her accounts are being transferred to your banks. She should arrive any second now, sir." Neal stood up straight, standing at attention- before his switch to the henchman life, he had been in the military.
He grinned, the smile slowly stretching across his surprisingly unmarred face.
"Good man, Neal. Thank you." He clapped Neal on the back, then sat back in his chair.
"Sir, an Elena Benson to see you?" A bored guard stuck his head through the door, abandoning proper etiquette around his boss. He snapped his wad of gum loudly.
"Thank you. Show her in, put her bags in the second master suite, and drop your gun off at the main station. You're fired."
"But-"
"Your job will be terminated by the end of the day." He smirked, twisting the emphasis on the word terminated. The guard gulped.
"Yessir."
Not much changed, but enough to make it an easier, better read, I suppose. So, please, REVIEW. I will in fact arm you with the sugar cookies you so want to pelt me with for going on a year-and-a-half hiatus I don't consider my small comeback in June relevant.
And, one day, the title Running will actually make sense.
I'm not sure when, because I don't remember why I named it that, as there isn't much running in this fic at all. Ah, well. I'll work it in somehow, I always do.
REVIEW!!
Yours flakily,
the irish piratess