When the door to her penthouse apartment closed behind her, Mirage allowed herself to relax. It was only here, in her own personal fortress of solitude, that she could drop her guard and be herself. It was getting harder to maintain the guise that she had adopted after Syndrome’s death; she walked through everyday, waiting for the phone call or tap on the shoulder that meant she was going to prison for being associated with him. So far, her generosity with government contracts had shielded the company from deeply prying eyes, but she knew that wouldn’t last forever.
One day, a general or admiral whose pet project had been overlooked would delve into her background out of spite and find out that the owner of ChiMera Industries was Syndrome’s former assistant. She needed some way to protect herself from retaliation, something that would elevate her beyond suspicion, beyond the whiff of controversy. She believed that having one of the Incredibles as a spokesman… spokesperson, she corrected herself… would go a long way toward that. She had been working on a plan to cultivate Mr. Incredible himself, but the emergence of his daughter as a power on the team had changed her mind and caused her to put a year of planning and hard work on the back burner.
Invisagirl had all the prestige and glamour of her father’s name but was young enough to be influenced by the right kind of persuasion. A young woman could be persuaded, directed, manipulated. She paused for a moment to imagine herself in control of the younger woman; the power that others had always been able to wield over her could be harnessed in this youngster and forged into a shield against anything they could throw at her. All she needed was to find a lever, a weakness, a way to integrate herself into Violet’s life and then she could forge an emotional alliance with her and use the girl’s power to protect herself.
Mirage looked over the data her research department had uncovered. Violet Parr had been accepted at every college she had applied to, including; Stanford, MIT and CIT but she hadn’t committed to a program yet. The pattern of her applications indicated an interest in physics and mathematics; Mirage inferred that the girl was probably trying to figure out how her powers worked. All the testing data and application paperwork was free of government influence; the girl had worked hard and earned her place at the nation’s premiere institutions on her own merit.
The young woman spent several hours a week training for and playing sports. She was on several teams at her high school, and was a captain or second on all of the teams she played on. Mirage studied videos of the games that her research team had obtained and looked carefully for indications that the girl was using her powers to maintain her competitive edge. She found several instances where Violet had surreptitiously intervened to prevent an injury to a team mate or an opponent due to a bad spill or a hard collision but nowhere did she see the young woman using her powers to gain a tactical advantage.
Violet had a boyfriend named Tony, but spent as much time with her teammates as she did with him. Her best friend seemed to be Kari McKeen, A talkative red head with a fairly lucrative Baby-sitting business. Mirage was surprised that someone so verbose would be the baby-sitter of choice for a family of supers that wanted to maintain the appearance of normalcy, until she recognized the “Uncle” that always escorted the girl home as agent Rick Dicker.
Mirage made several notes for her research team to follow up on. She wanted to know more about Tony and Kari and she needed to find out if the government had perfected a portable memory adjuster. She put in motion the necessary paper work to have ChiMera Industries sponsor a job fair at Metroville High. It would be a good PR move and allow her to arrange a face to face interview with Violet without raising any suspicions. Kari would make an excellent addition to her sales team, so she included the girl’s psyche profile, as a target of the display planning.
Before she turned in for the night, she sent a coded message to one of her contacts at the Department of Justice asking for information about the portable memory adjuster. She was pretty sure they didn’t have one yet, and it was a technology that she was in no position to overtly offer. But if they were to ask, she was certain that she could come up with something that would interest them. Even with the government-imposed restrictions, that contract would be worth millions. Satisfied, she poured herself a nightcap and sipped it slowly in front of the news.
The blinds blocked out a spectacular view of the city skyline. She spared no expense to ensure the inside of her penthouse apartment was free from surveillance, but when the blinds were open, that security vanished. Anyone with a telescope or a camera could see right in. Even here, in her own home, she was afraid and alone. She looked at the picture of the young woman in her lap. Piercing blue eyes, silky ebony hair, shy smile, and power, power enough to protect herself, power enough to protect her friends… Mirage smiled ruefully, “will you be my friend, Violet?” She whispered to the photograph, “Will you protect me?”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Violet ran up to Tony and threw herself into his arms. “Hey baby, you miss me?” He asked, teasing. She just nodded and enjoyed the feeling of being against his strong body.
This is what I need. She thought. Someone strong and safe. She burrowed into his arms and tried to put the unpleasant experience with Kari out of her mind. But she still felt Kari’s hands brushing against her breast, and Kari’s lips eagerly tasting her neck. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. Tony must have felt her tenseness, “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” But her trembling gave her away. He started to ask her again, but she cut him off by grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him deeply. He responded immediately, his lips parted slightly and he wrapped his strong arms around her. She leaned into him, hungrily, searching for the spark. “Hey, Vi, you’ve got to warn a guy first.” He joked as he stumbled backward, thrown off balance by her aggressiveness. She shut him up with her mouth once more, willing her body to react. He responded in kind but his kisses weren’t reaching her. His hands were cold lumps rubbing her the wrong way. There was no passion, no energy and no spark.
“You’re doing it all wrong, you know.” Kari’s voice broke in. “I was watching the Teaching Channel yesterday and they had this great show about kissing techniques and how to kiss a woman. Let me show you.” With surprising strength, she pulled Tony out of Violet’s arms and stepped in before he could stop her. “First you hold her like this and start by nibbling on her neck like this…” Kari’s voice continued, somewhat muffled as her lips reached Violet’s neck. The vibrations of her voice somehow added to the sensuousness of the contact. Violet tried to pull away but lost her balance and grabbed onto Kari’s back, her fingers digging in to the one spot she had hoped to avoid. She saw Kari’s eyes go wide and a sinister smile touched the red head’s lips. “Now you’ve done it.” She whispered. The sound raised the hair on Violet’s arms and sent chills running up her back.
Then Kari’s mouth was on Violet’s neck and her hands were moving randomly over the dark haired girl’s body. Sometimes firm, sometimes so soft that she wasn’t even sure she was being touched, but always moving, always teasing, always exciting. Violet’s breath came in short gasps and her body tingled all over. Kari’s hand cupped her breast, and her breath was hot on Violet’s neck. As she kissed and nuzzled her neck, her nose brushed against the hollow below Violet’s ear and the red head growled softly, sending electricity flowing down the side of Violet’s body. She clutched the baby-sitter tightly. Kari’s hand gently squeezed Violet’s breast and her fingertips brushed across her swollen nipple. Violet felt her hips move of their own volition and a small moan escaped her lips. Kari’s fingers combed through Violet’s hair and her tongue teased and tasted the hollow of her neck, then Kari’s hand was behind her, grasping her neck. And her lips were pressed firmly against Violet’s mouth. Kari’s tongue penetrated Violet’s mouth, and her hand slid purposefully down her stomach. As Kari’s hand pressed down between her legs and she felt her hips arch up into the pressure; her mouth opened and welcomed Kari’s insistent tongue.
“NO!” Violet sat up in bed wide awake and drenched in sweat. The dream image of Kari’s hand was gone but the pressure was still there between her legs and she trembled against it, unable to stop herself from rolling her hips. A tortured groan escaped her.
“Violet?” Her mother’s voice came through the door.
“Mom!” she gasped and the unseen pressure against her crotch disappeared with the tell-tale twinkle of her force-field. Oh! My God! She cried in her mind, What the hell am I doing?
“Are you OK, honey? Were you having a nightmare?” Violet’s mom, came into her room, her faced creased with concern.
“I… I don’t know…”
“Oh, dear, you’re covered in sweat!” Her mom sat on the bed next to Violet and took her gently into her arms. “You’re awake now, honey.” She said as she rocked the young woman back and forth gently. “Just relax and take it easy.”
After Violet’s breathing returned to normal, her mom asked her gently, “Do you want to talk about it?” Violet just closed her eyes and shook her head. “Well, whatever it was, just remember that your dad and I are right here with you, we won’t let anything happen to you.” She began humming a soothing tune and Violet slowly relaxed and fell back into a deep slumber.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“I think we should get her an appointment with a therapist.”
“No kid of mine is going to see some stupid head-shrinker!”
“Bob, she was throwing out force energy in her sleep. If you hadn’t grabbed the couch, she would have put it through the wall.” Helen reminded him. “Who knows where it would have ended up?”
“Yeah.” He replied with a proud smile, “She’s got a heck of a kick when she puts her mind…” He trailed off when he saw the look on her face. “C’mon! Even you have to admit that if she hadn’t been destroying the house it would have been pretty cool.” He exclaimed, “What makes you think she needs therapy?”
“Who can she talk to, Bob?”
“Us…?” He said hesitantly, “You…?” His eyes brightened, “What about that babysitter girl.”
“Your daughter is a seventeen year old girl with super powers and a secret identity.” Helen said testily, “Do you really think Kari has a snowball’s chance to understand anything that goes on in her head? Really, Bob, that girl can’t shut up long enough to eat properly, how is she going to listen to your daughter?” She rolled her eyes, “Besides, Rick wipes her mind every week. What kind of friend can she be?”
“Well, you’ve heard her talk; we can’t just let her blab about Jack and Dash to everyone.”
“All the more reason to get Violet some professional help.”
“She’s not crazy!” Bob shouted.
“I’m not saying she’s crazy, I’m just saying, she needs someone she can talk to.” Helen pleaded. “What if she has a nightmare in Palo Alto… or Boston… and you’re not there to catch the sofa?”
“She’s not going to move that far away…”
“Yes, she is. And there’s nothing we can do to stop her.” Helen stretched out a hand to him and placed it on his arm. “Our baby’s almost completely grown up now, we’re going to have to let go.”
He bowed his head, recognizing the look of determination on his wife’s face. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll talk to Rick, see if the agency can do something for her.”
“Now?” She asked.
“Honey, it’s…” He shook his head at her expression. “I’ll call right now.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Agent Rick Dicker sat at his desk. It was an old desk, covered with loose papers and manila folders. He listened to his visitor with no outward show of emotion. The requests were not unusual, as the young agent claimed, they merely showed that life moved on as it always had and always would. He stopped listening to the man, but let him continue to babble on while he collected his thoughts and made a few decisions.
That ChiMera Industries knew of the memory altering device was not surprising, since the president of the firm had once worked for the man who had invented it. The implication in the query was that either a portable unit was available or the technology now existed that made a portable unit possible. Either of those options was good news for The Agency, and only a fool, fresh out of the academy would think otherwise. Rick checked his memory of the young agent sitting across from him and realized that was exactly what he was facing.
He briefly considered stopping the young man, but he seemed to be enjoying the sound of his own voice, and Rick had long been a member of the “live and let live” society, so he let the kid ramble on about top secrets, industrial espionage and hormonal teenagers with way too much power. That last bit was slightly worrisome to the old man. Young Violet Parr had come of age over the last two years, showing improvement in physical and psychological health as well as emerging as a force in her family’s crime fighting activities. Rick regarded her as a favorite niece and her parent’s report of nightmares resulting in uncontrolled releases of power were disturbing. He went through a mental list of competent and sensitive counselors on staff; it was too short by far. Agency shrinks were used to dealing with shell shock, not teenaged angst. As the young agent wound down, he decided that he’d need to call in some outside help for that one.
“Are you done?” He asked the young man across from him.
“I don’t understand how you can just sit there-”
“Are… you… done?” he asked again, this time spacing the words out.
“I guess so.” The agent said resentfully, “What are we going to do about this?”
“First, you’re going to send word back to ChiMera Industries, indicating we’re interested.” The young man opened his mouth to protest but fell silent when Rick held up his hand in the universal motion for “stop.” “Next, we’re going to find a competent, reliable and above all, loyal, psychologist for young Ms. Parr.” He raised his hand another few inches as the young agent’s mouth showed signs that he was going to start babbling again. “Then, you’re going to write up a report, including all of the reasons why you object to this, and have it on the commander’s desk by ten o’clock tomorrow morning, with a copy for me.” He allowed himself a small smile, “Please make sure my copy is in compliance with form nineteen.”
“But we don’t have form nineteen on the network, I’ll have to write it out long hand.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Rick assured the young man. He watched the kid roll his eyes in relief and waited until he was closing the door before continuing, “I’m sure there’s a typewriter around here somewhere.”
--