Post by RandallBoggs on Jul 22, 2013 18:25:46 GMT -5
I admit it, I got a little inspired, but not exactly in the way you think 0_-
While people may go full-on-ship with Randall and Violet, I simply take it as yet another flight of fancy for humans as a mass. I mean come on, they both have a similar gift, of course someday it's going to be noticed. Do they have similar qualities? Some-what, yeah. Could they be friends? Sure. But don't go all-out "let'em bed"...seriously...
ANYWAY...I found the concept interesting in a crossover sense. My earlier piece, before I got better at writing, showcased a scene involving the Incredibles, Ran, and Edna Mode. I thought it was funny, interesting....
But with the recent Infinity thing, I got to wondering again about the plausibility of a crossover, and what that might mean. And then it clicked.
Nope, it's not something romantic between Randall and Violet. It's something else actually. A concept that bridges the two worlds. I got to thinking...ok...Randall and Violet have similar abilities...Randall was born naturally but how did Violet get hers? In fact...how did ANY of the Supers get their powers? Look at the real world today and you don't see men/women flying all over the place, demolishing buildings with a few punches. So WHERE do these powers come from?
Now...add the monster world in and...you've got yourself an interesting connection. Remember...Monsters were some-what humans themselves...but changed "somehow". So the question begs...what is it...that changed some humans...into Supers?
======
Now technical stuff. My expert field is Randall, not the Incredibles...so my knowledge and writing potential is lacking in their department. Did skim a little (mostly in regards to another character some of us known), and had to guess at a few things. And there may be less fluff since I had to book it to get it done so I can get to other, more important projects. It's mostly the concept and what this prologue sets the foundation of is what I was going for.
Well anyways, here we go. We see the NSA, a few old faces, a few new ones, and an interesting visitor that may be shown in a scene in MI's sequel, proper.
========================
The Deal
==========
He was getting too old for this.
Rick richarder adjusted his tie on his formal suit, re-gripping the suitcase in his left hand, waiting for the blue steel elevator to silently bring him to the bottom floor. The director of the NSA had asked him to attend a meeting with some other agents. Rick richarder wasn't one for paper work, and he was too old to be out in the field, he just wanted to get through the last year or so to reach retirement. By then he'd be in some tropical locale, not too warm, he had bad complexion, drinking some fruit drink he wouldn't be able to spell. He'd be able to relax, not be in a constant war with morals and society demands. Supers did good work, but the collateral...people think about that too, especially when it's their car or skyscraper that got destroyed in some brawl.
*ding!*
Clearing his throat, the doors to the elevator opening, Rick stepped out. His shinned black shoes graced the blue carpet as he made his way down the hall to the meeting room. It was, for the most part, a reverse process for some government agencies to keep their more private, more controversial, discussions and projects out of public view, even to the point of ground levels. They weren't going to be having this meeting on their top floor, surrounded by windows and starring down on the city as if they were in charge of it. Quite the contrary, Rick felt like a grandiose custodian sometimes.
He arrived at a thick metal door with several bar locks that would take hours for a welder to work through, or at the very least sprain his hand several times from persistence. As routine, he pulled out his security card from his front pocket, placing it to the scanner on the side.
"Rick richarder. NSA Agent 2nd Class. Access granted."
Sighing as he put his security card back, Rick disliked being referred to by class. He could have rosen to first class if he'd wanted to. But with all he had to handle at the level he was already, he couldn't imagine with the high flyers had to do. Leave that stuff to the younger folk.
The thick bars of the metal door began to pull from the door, taking time as if to prove their resilience by flexing their non-existent muscles. Rick sighed again. He thought he saw a flicker of color are the corner of his left eye, and turned to see another NSA agent approaching. Dressed in a white silk suit that complemented her near-white blonde hair, she approached with a comforting smile. Well now, this was surprise.
"Agent richarder, we don't see you down here often," said the smooth female voice.
Rick turned back to the door. Nope, still flexing. "Hello, Agent Mirage," he grunted in return.
"The Director asked me to accompany you to the meeting, I hope that's alright," she asked, looking at the still opening door. No, it was more of a vault than a door.
"That's fine. Having somebody under me for a change in the same room might make me seem more important to these go-getters," Rick replied.
Mirage smiled a little. It was true, Rick was her superior, but mainly because he was partly responsible for her employment at the NSA. The other part was thanks to Bob Parr, or rather, Mr. Incredible. Through a combination of Mr. Incredible's recommendation and Rick's ties in the NSA, Mirage soon became one of the NSA's experts at tracking and cataloging Supers. Her computer and analyzing skills also have proved to be an asset, one of which even Helen Parr, aka ElastiGirl, have admitted she is a welcomed edition to the organization.
Suddenly, her expression changed to one of concern, watching the vault door starting to finally open. "I heard some things about this meeting."
Rick nearly let a smile creep over his old features. That was one thing about the young, women especially...they always seem to notice or hear things a little better. Maybe it was that whole gossip thing he was never partial to.
"The Director's meeting with somebody who has a lot of knowledge about the organization. They're not even an agent, yet they may know about every Super in the NSA database. I can personally say, that's extensive," Mirage informed. While she herself was unaware of the limits of the NSA database on Supers, Syndrome's own proved to be a capable catalog of Intel. With the thoughts of revoking the Super Registration Act, she had been recently involved in similar work.
Rick rose a brow. The NSA wasn't exactly...a firm secret. SOMEBODY paid for the damages after all, and some couldn't be easily waved off. That's what mind erasers were for, for the variety of situations to lessen the overall bulk the NSA would have to deal with. But knowledge about Supers...they had aliases and cover stories, either their own or from the NSA, for a reason. Mostly, it boiled down to safety of themselves and loved ones, noble reason of course. Protecting these identities, Rick admitted, was one of the NSA's top priorities. If security had been compromised...
The vault door opened, and Rick stepped inside, halting at the threshold to gesture Mirage behind him. When she did, they started inside.
He was unsure why he did these actions. It was as if he, as a man, was taking the lead to protect a woman from might be a dangerous situation. Chivalry he guessed. They said it was dead. Man, he was getting old.
*
"What IS that?"
Rick richarder had seen a lot in his life. Being an NSA agent has had you bear witness to Supers, villains, machines and technology, things boarding on magic, and thousands of lawsuits. But what he saw at the back of the room gave him pause for reflect on his career, and the spare thought that maybe he should see his doctor about possible heart conditions.
There was a single long silver meeting table in the middle of the white room, ten oval white chairs, to match the color scheme, around it. The high security vault door just made things even more self-contained, surrounding inhabitants in a sterile environment.
The NSA director, Joseph Gordon, was on his feet, like most of the other people in the room. He wore his tight fitting blue business suit, with darker pants to match. A lit cigarette was protruding from his mouth, the smoke drifting out through unseen filters in the room, the beard around it giving off a tan-colored twelve o'clock shadow. His dark brown hair was slightly unkempt, as if he had recently run his hand through the once-clean-and-proper style. He looked...nervous.
Rick didn't recognize anyone else in the room, and by that, it meant they weren't as important to him. Five men, two women, that was as much of a description as he could hold in his mind at the moment, as his focus was on the director's state and the...thing...at the back of the room.
"Ahh richarder, good of you to come," Gordon muttered in haste, reaching over and dabbing his cigarette in an ash tray on the table near him. richarder eyed him for a moment. He knew Gordon well enough to see the signs. The man was frazzled. Generally Gordon was always on his agent's case about the expenses and tasks involved with Supers, to remind everyone the severity of their jobs. He'd look angry, he'd look frustrated...but he never looked shaken.
The way he said what he said...it was like he was relieved somebody else had come in, as if his presence reminded the director that there was a world outside this secure room.
Gordon make his way over, shaking Rick's hand. "Good that you here. We can get this started." Rick was going to ask why he was nervous, but Gordon turned to look to the back of the room, as did everyone else in unison. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Rick, this is Mr. Amon Beyog."
"Not at all gentlemen. I've allowed for lateness."
The curious being at the back of the room finally turned, and Rick got a good look at what it was that certainly made Gordon nervous. It was...human shaped, as far as he could tell, at least the body seemed to be. Two arms, two legs, one head. But there were obvious differences. It didn't seem to have..."skin"...but jet-black, almost shiny flesh that reminded Rick of something from the Alien movies. As it made it's way around the table, Rick saw that it had four claws instead of a foot, each one looking incredibly sharp and polished. Most of it's body was, probably to show a more civilized look, was hidden under a dark blue business suit and white undershirt, each pressed and clean that it looked fresh off the rack.
But the head...the head is what made it even more frightening. It was almost egg-shaped, but with the mouth jagging outward like the beak of some rabid bird. Two tendrils extended down, close to the neck, from the back of the head. The eyes....two of them...were yellow orbs that glowed eerily against the black surface it spawned from. There were no pupils, just the golden yellow abyss.
"Is that a Super?" Rick asked, leaning slightly to look at Gordon.
"In a manner of speaking, I honestly don't know what-" Gordon began, but silenced himself. Rick stared sideways at him, confused. Then he looked over to Mirage, who was starring at this "Mr. Beyog" with widened eyes. She had no idea what to make of this either. The fact that the director was in a room with...whoever this is...brought too many questions that neither of them knew what to do.
Mr. Beyog, whatever it was, looked to Rick, that yellow gaze piercing through any defense on the NSA agent's part to be steady. "Rick richarder...fifty-nine years of age. Serving as NSA agent for twenty eight years. Recently elected for promotion for efforts in the Syndrome Case."
Rick nearly flinched, this creature knew about him. Even those tidbits of information being known made him uncomfortable.
Beyog look toward Gordon. "Straight to business. Gordon, you have informed me that you desire more material for the project."
Rick stared at Gordon. What project?
"Yes," Gordon replied, nearly chewing on a new cigarette. "With this whole Syndrome issue, super villains are on the rise. They take the incident in Metropolis as a sign that things are changing, that Supers are coming out of hiding. We've got some good ones, yes, but we know that threats are going to be coming soon and we need to be prepared."
"So, you are afraid," Beyog replied.
"Cautious...cautious," Gordon stated, almost hesitantly. "With the deaths of many other Supers, the ones who served society, from Project Kronos...we will be lacking in numbers if real danger presents itself. We need more."
Rick saw the desperation on Gordon's face, and leaned toward him again. "Gordon, what's going on? What project, what are you two talking about?" Rick whispered.
"Yes, you were neglected," Beyog suddenly said, making Rick look over. Had he heard him?
"The director has forgotten to tell you of the service I provide, as well as one of the projects that make the NSA what it is."
"What...what do you mean?" Rick asked, starring at the creature. He deluded himself into thinking this thing was a Super, probably altered from some chemical accident or something.
Beyog turned, heading to the back of the room. "To sedate your curiosity, I am no human richarder. I am no...Super...as the term is applied to a human."
Rick took a step back, and he was sure Mirage did the same.
Beyog half-turned back, one piercing yellow eye gazing at everyone in the room. "I'm a monster."
Rick felt his throat go dry. Monster? What did...that...?
Beyog ran the back of a hand against his suit, as if to swipe away invisible dust. "Confusion is understandable. Let me educate you on your job richarder."
"A long time ago, humans believed that there were monsters that frightened them when they were young. Creatures that provoked the primal fear that they either have had from birth, or one developed from worldly interaction. When they grow up, most of the time they feel their fear was unwarranted, that it was their imagination. This is, of course, false. Monsters exist. And there is one standing in this room right now."
"A...a monster I...I don't quite understand what..." Rick began, shaking his head, he was completely lost.
Beyog turned to him, directly. "Explore this consideration on your own merit. All you need to know...is that Gordon here, like every director of the NSA since it's creation, has entered into a deal, one between humans...and monsters such as myself."
"W...What deal?"
"Gordon, why don't you explain? Explain the human need, the desire, to do whatever is required to be...cautious was it?"
Rick looked to Gordon. "Gordon, what IS this? What is going on?"
Gordon gulped, probably taking ash from his cigarette, looking away, then motioning Rick to look away with him. "Gordon, he's telling the truth. Only the highest level of agent, those in this room, know about this project. The NSA was made under a deal we have made with Mr. Beyog here. He...is...a monster. There's a whole other world out there Rick, it's best not to know and just focus on what we're getting."
"Gordon...WHAT deal?"
Gordon let the cigarette drop from his mouth, he looked distraught. "Rick...have you ever wondered HOW Supers came to be? How they're born?"
Rick blunk, thinking. In all the business, he never actually questioned it. He thought it was simply natural. Supers were born, their offspring were Supers. His latest interaction with the Parr family had strengthen that thought. But...
"What are you talking about Gordon?"
Gordon took a deep breath, his hands opening and closing. "Rick...we make them."
Rick nearly dropped his suitcase. "W...WHAT?"
"Yes richarder...the NSA...creates Supers."
Director and agent both turned, seeing Beyog starring his yellow eyes at them. "Ever since certain incidents, a deal was made between our organizations. We supply the NSA, the organization born from this exchange, with the material to create Supers. In exchange, our own organization runs without interference."
"What do you mean...WE make them?" Rick asked, looking to Gordon, but knowing Beyog was going to answer. He did.
"Yes. You see," Beyog began, moving to the back of the room. "There are many types of monsters, with many abilities. Some are exceptionally strong, others incredibly fast, or some with unique talents that set them apart even in their own world."
Beyog turned, facing everyone in the room, hands behind his back, gesturing occasionally with them.
"From primitive, natural means...to the technological advances of today, we are able to extract and copy the genetic code, or equivalent, that allows these abilities to develop, or be accessed. You see, humans are a...template. Easily manipulated by modification, especially at birth."
Those yellow eyes seemed to focus on Gordon. "So, what the NSA receives is suggested material, suggested modification serums, that will be applied to humans they wish to make as Supers. For what reason? I do not care."
Rick was too stunned by this, he honestly couldn't speak.
"Sir is...is he telling the truth?" Mirage asked, looking to Rick, then past him at Gordon. She was surprised she asked, but Rick wasn't doing it, somebody had to.
Gordon gulped, physically noticeable. "Yes. The Supers in our database were created using serums supplied by Mr. Beyog here. Most of the time...it doesn't work. But when it does, a Super is created with the abilities from the...whatever it was the serum came from."
"And we need MORE," Gordon added, directly to Beyog.
Beyog seemed to grunt at this, shaking his head. "You seem to mistaken that you can demand more Gordon."
"B-but-! Things will be changing! We don't have enough Supers to counteract emerging super villains!"
"Am I suppose to feel for your position?"
Gordon grunted, seemingly close to defeat. "We have a deal Beyog! We need more serum, more Supers...if you don't supply-!"
"Are you threatening me Gordon?"
Gordon suddenly straightened, looking more nervous than he had at the start. "N-No, that's not what I-"
"Because Gordon, that would be a mistake," Beyog added. Rick was unable to read the creature's expressions through this entire episode, but he knew that it seemed to be holding the full deck of cards in this meeting.
"You humans may have your Supers...but remember...they were made from my monsters. They pale in comparison. Threaten me, you threaten a world. A world that can destroy yours quite easily. I offered negligence on your part to remove difficulty. You proceed to ADD that difficulty, I will have to demonstrate how weak you truly are."
Gordon backed down, looking at his feet. Rick couldn't believe it...Gordon had been shut down.
"I am here," Beyog began, eyes still to Gordon. "To inform you that we will no longer be supplying serums to your world." The other agents at the table gave shocked expressions at this information, while Rick was unmoved, still trying to understand what was going on. He looked to Mirage for some sense of relief, but she was starring at the monster with obvious fear. Gordon...he seemed to be just...gone.
Beyog made his way toward them, black polished claws clanging against the metal floor, hands behind his back. "Recent developments have caused our mutual agreement to become one-sided. If I feel the option is accessible again in the future, you will hear from me again."
Rick saw what Gordon was doing a second too late. He was reaching a hand over when Gordon placed his own on Beyog's shoulder, halting the monster's progress. It was a stupid idea. Even if he were human, Beyog was a foot taller than Gordon was. Size would matter in a few moments.
"You...CAN'T...do that to us! We NEED Supers now more than ever!"
Beyog's head tipped, as if to look at Gordon's hand, then to the human himself. "So you refuse this arrangement?"
"O-of course I do!" Gordon bellowed.
"Hm," Beyog muttered, eyes seeming to look to Rick and Mirage. "Who is your next, senior, agent Gordon?"
Gordon's eye twitch. "Well...technically that would be richarder over there, but he's not-"
"Ah, convenient," Beyog stated, moving his hands up. richarder notice that they were like a humans, five digits, but have been hidden under black gloves. Rather delicately, Beyog started removing the glove on his right hand, digit by digit, revealing sharp sickle claws. Almost in a flash, the clawed hand went to Gordon's, gripping hard, the claws digging into the skin, but not drawing blood.
"AH!"
The agents at the table got to their feet and Rick backed up against Mirage, who hid behind him. Gordon was yelling in severe pain, trying to pull Beyog's claws from his hand, but the grip was too tight, he wasn't letting go. Within seconds, accompanied by some sort of sizzling noise, Gordon stopped fighting all together, his other hand lowering limply to the side. Beyog pulled his claws away, and Gordon dropped to the floor.
"Pity Gordon, your usually so...compliant," Beyog commented, starting to replace his glove, focusing on the task.
Rick stared down at Gordon. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead, but he could see his chest rising and falling. He was alive...but whatever that meant from what just happened, he couldn't know. Everyone, despite all their experience, including his own, was afraid to get even close to this...this monster.
"richarder."
Rick flinched, looking to Beyog, who was focusing his yellow eyes at him. "You are the senior agent. With Gordon unable to perform his duties at the moment, that means your in charge. You know the details now, and Gordon keeps his access card in his sealed pocket. Review the files as you see fit, to indulge any curiosity. If the situation changes, you will hear from me again," Beyog states, walking over and opening the vault door.
"By the way," he begins again, looking to the rest of the shocked faces. Two of the agents had already started to run to Gordon to check his vitals. "I am aware that you have a capable group of "supers" to accommodate your "need" for protection against the unknown. They have recently influenced your decision on that registration act. You have enough to be capable. But as I told Gordon, do not consider yourselves capable of growing invincible."
With that final warning, Beyog left, though the question of how he managed to get out of the building proper lingered later in the evening. For now, several of the agents started checking Gordon and run ran to contact a medical team.
Rick stayed in front of Mirage, starring at the scene. He held his head, feeling like his brain would fall out through the skin. What the heck was going on? Supers...monsters...that...that thing? A deal? What made Supers what they were....what...?
He turned his head, looking to Mirage. Usually so collected from the times he'd seen her, she was against the wall, holding her files close to her chest, looking past Rick to Gordon. She was shaken, as he was. They'd both seen several Supers before but...that creature was unlike anything they'd ever encountered before.
Rick took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, trying to think on what this all meant. There was a deal...humans left monsters, wherever they are and whatever they are, alone with a certainty...in exchange, they supplied the means to create Supers, granting humans a boon, or bane, to their society. But now that deal was over, at least the benefit for them was. So...nothing changed right? Only what he knew...
Beyog was gone, for now, somebody had to take charge....
Rick looked to Mirage again, seeing her shaken. "...Gwen."
Mirage flinched, but looked to Rick. It was a long long time since she had been called by her real name, or at least part of it. Rick may have been unaware of this, but being called something other than Mirage was what broke through her hesitation.
"He's gone now," Rick said carefully, trying to be reassuring in his tone. "Take a deep breath and call security just in case."
Mirage did as he suggested, straightening himself up, running a hand down her hair as it to confirm it wasn't the threads of tension given physical form. "R-right...I'll get security," she managed to say, taking a few steps to the door. She hesitated.
"Uhh...uhh...you," Rick started, looking to one of the male agents near Gordon. "Escort this woman to contact security." The man looked surprised at this order, but nodded, coming beside Mirage and leading her out, both looking down the halls to make sure the creature wasn't around.
Rick's attention went to Gordon now. The NSA director was still on the floor, only breathing. His eyes looked to be permanently open, starring in shock at the ceiling. "Oh Gordon...what did we get ourselves into?" Rick thought.
====================================
"This is...inhuman," Mirage said in disbelief.
Gordon was transported to the medical wing under the assumption that the NSA director had had a heart attack, as Rick cautioned the others that even mentioning what happened in the meeting was still confidential. Causing panic would do none of them any good.
Security had informed that no such "person" had been spotted in any part of the NSA facility, public or otherwise, and had not been seen leaving either. Wherever Beyog was...he simply had vanished. At the least, it put the involved agents at ease.
Now, having retrieved Gordon's access card, Rick proceeded to his office, along with a more calmed Mirage, to see what it was the NSA had secretly been doing, below the secrets they already had. The doors sealed, Rick opened files, opened safes, and him and Mirage combed through files.
"None of this seems human," Rick muttered, his elbows on the desk, hands to the sides of his head.
"No I mean this," Mirage began again, coming over to him and setting a file down. "The serum delivery is always in a different place, as if whomever gives it to the NSA has access to virtually anywhere in the world."
"That's not exactly inhuman Mirage...disturbing yes but-" Rick started.
"No, THIS is disturbing," she started again, flipping pages. Rick looked over the file, a tired expression on his face. Then, suddenly, it became more and more engrossed in what it was seeing.
"They...pick potentials from...hospitals."
"Children Rick..." Mirage whispered. Rick looked up at her, clearly seeing the distraught expression. Mirage, as far as records go, never had any children...but perhaps it was paternal instinct, or a female inclination, that made the thought of children involved in such things...horrific.
Rick looked back to the file, unable to see her that way. "...They pick potentials based on family records and brain activity...run tests...if applicable...serum is applied to the developing brain."
"Before their mothers can even hold them..." Mirage whispered to herself, leaning away and rubbing her shoulders, feeling colder than the room was.
"Test results show," Rick started again. "That the serum lies dormant in the brain till accessed under certain conditions...the genetic modification causes dormant brain activity to function through the special abilities of the specific serum...evolution of abilities possible."
Rick leaned back in the chair, thinking. So...the NSA finds human subjects, human babies still developing, and injects them with a genetic serum to give them the abilities of monsters. Laser vision...gravity control...atomic manipulation...telepathy...all these powers...accessed thanks to modification from monster DNA. Why?
Rick let a hand fall over his eyes. Why make destructive weapons? Why make political struggles? Why make war? It's because it's human to want more. Somebody probably thought that Supers would be useful in, or to prevent, or cause, power struggles. As a form of "protection" for whomever wanted them. Whatever it could be...it was selfish. These were KIDS...and the NSA changed their lives, probably forever, because of selfish reasons.
"What have we done..."
"Rick..."
Rick lower his hands, looking to Mirage. "Yes?"
Mirage, several feet away from Rick, at an open safe, holding a file. She stared at it for a few moments, then came over, handing it to Rick. Suspicious about it for a second or two, Rick took it, looking at the top. Instantly, it was clear.
"Parr Family a.k.a The Incredibles"
Rick nearly tore the file open, looking at the initial page.
Subject Super Name Monster Serum
"Robert Parr a.k.a. Mr. Incredible" (B. A. S.)
"Helen Parr a.k.a. Elastigirl" (U. P. S.)
"Violet Parr a.k.a. Invisigirl" (R. J. B.)
"Dashiell Parr a.k.a. The Dash" (T. M. MG.)
"Jack-Jack Parr a.k.a. Incrediboy" (EXPERIMENTAL)
Robert and Helen. Their kids...their daughter...their son...their baby boy...
Rick let the file drop from his old hands and just stayed there with Mirage looking on.
He was getting too old for this.
Too old for these life changing, life destroying moments.
While people may go full-on-ship with Randall and Violet, I simply take it as yet another flight of fancy for humans as a mass. I mean come on, they both have a similar gift, of course someday it's going to be noticed. Do they have similar qualities? Some-what, yeah. Could they be friends? Sure. But don't go all-out "let'em bed"...seriously...
ANYWAY...I found the concept interesting in a crossover sense. My earlier piece, before I got better at writing, showcased a scene involving the Incredibles, Ran, and Edna Mode. I thought it was funny, interesting....
But with the recent Infinity thing, I got to wondering again about the plausibility of a crossover, and what that might mean. And then it clicked.
Nope, it's not something romantic between Randall and Violet. It's something else actually. A concept that bridges the two worlds. I got to thinking...ok...Randall and Violet have similar abilities...Randall was born naturally but how did Violet get hers? In fact...how did ANY of the Supers get their powers? Look at the real world today and you don't see men/women flying all over the place, demolishing buildings with a few punches. So WHERE do these powers come from?
Now...add the monster world in and...you've got yourself an interesting connection. Remember...Monsters were some-what humans themselves...but changed "somehow". So the question begs...what is it...that changed some humans...into Supers?
======
Now technical stuff. My expert field is Randall, not the Incredibles...so my knowledge and writing potential is lacking in their department. Did skim a little (mostly in regards to another character some of us known), and had to guess at a few things. And there may be less fluff since I had to book it to get it done so I can get to other, more important projects. It's mostly the concept and what this prologue sets the foundation of is what I was going for.
Well anyways, here we go. We see the NSA, a few old faces, a few new ones, and an interesting visitor that may be shown in a scene in MI's sequel, proper.
========================
The Deal
==========
He was getting too old for this.
Rick richarder adjusted his tie on his formal suit, re-gripping the suitcase in his left hand, waiting for the blue steel elevator to silently bring him to the bottom floor. The director of the NSA had asked him to attend a meeting with some other agents. Rick richarder wasn't one for paper work, and he was too old to be out in the field, he just wanted to get through the last year or so to reach retirement. By then he'd be in some tropical locale, not too warm, he had bad complexion, drinking some fruit drink he wouldn't be able to spell. He'd be able to relax, not be in a constant war with morals and society demands. Supers did good work, but the collateral...people think about that too, especially when it's their car or skyscraper that got destroyed in some brawl.
*ding!*
Clearing his throat, the doors to the elevator opening, Rick stepped out. His shinned black shoes graced the blue carpet as he made his way down the hall to the meeting room. It was, for the most part, a reverse process for some government agencies to keep their more private, more controversial, discussions and projects out of public view, even to the point of ground levels. They weren't going to be having this meeting on their top floor, surrounded by windows and starring down on the city as if they were in charge of it. Quite the contrary, Rick felt like a grandiose custodian sometimes.
He arrived at a thick metal door with several bar locks that would take hours for a welder to work through, or at the very least sprain his hand several times from persistence. As routine, he pulled out his security card from his front pocket, placing it to the scanner on the side.
"Rick richarder. NSA Agent 2nd Class. Access granted."
Sighing as he put his security card back, Rick disliked being referred to by class. He could have rosen to first class if he'd wanted to. But with all he had to handle at the level he was already, he couldn't imagine with the high flyers had to do. Leave that stuff to the younger folk.
The thick bars of the metal door began to pull from the door, taking time as if to prove their resilience by flexing their non-existent muscles. Rick sighed again. He thought he saw a flicker of color are the corner of his left eye, and turned to see another NSA agent approaching. Dressed in a white silk suit that complemented her near-white blonde hair, she approached with a comforting smile. Well now, this was surprise.
"Agent richarder, we don't see you down here often," said the smooth female voice.
Rick turned back to the door. Nope, still flexing. "Hello, Agent Mirage," he grunted in return.
"The Director asked me to accompany you to the meeting, I hope that's alright," she asked, looking at the still opening door. No, it was more of a vault than a door.
"That's fine. Having somebody under me for a change in the same room might make me seem more important to these go-getters," Rick replied.
Mirage smiled a little. It was true, Rick was her superior, but mainly because he was partly responsible for her employment at the NSA. The other part was thanks to Bob Parr, or rather, Mr. Incredible. Through a combination of Mr. Incredible's recommendation and Rick's ties in the NSA, Mirage soon became one of the NSA's experts at tracking and cataloging Supers. Her computer and analyzing skills also have proved to be an asset, one of which even Helen Parr, aka ElastiGirl, have admitted she is a welcomed edition to the organization.
Suddenly, her expression changed to one of concern, watching the vault door starting to finally open. "I heard some things about this meeting."
Rick nearly let a smile creep over his old features. That was one thing about the young, women especially...they always seem to notice or hear things a little better. Maybe it was that whole gossip thing he was never partial to.
"The Director's meeting with somebody who has a lot of knowledge about the organization. They're not even an agent, yet they may know about every Super in the NSA database. I can personally say, that's extensive," Mirage informed. While she herself was unaware of the limits of the NSA database on Supers, Syndrome's own proved to be a capable catalog of Intel. With the thoughts of revoking the Super Registration Act, she had been recently involved in similar work.
Rick rose a brow. The NSA wasn't exactly...a firm secret. SOMEBODY paid for the damages after all, and some couldn't be easily waved off. That's what mind erasers were for, for the variety of situations to lessen the overall bulk the NSA would have to deal with. But knowledge about Supers...they had aliases and cover stories, either their own or from the NSA, for a reason. Mostly, it boiled down to safety of themselves and loved ones, noble reason of course. Protecting these identities, Rick admitted, was one of the NSA's top priorities. If security had been compromised...
The vault door opened, and Rick stepped inside, halting at the threshold to gesture Mirage behind him. When she did, they started inside.
He was unsure why he did these actions. It was as if he, as a man, was taking the lead to protect a woman from might be a dangerous situation. Chivalry he guessed. They said it was dead. Man, he was getting old.
*
"What IS that?"
Rick richarder had seen a lot in his life. Being an NSA agent has had you bear witness to Supers, villains, machines and technology, things boarding on magic, and thousands of lawsuits. But what he saw at the back of the room gave him pause for reflect on his career, and the spare thought that maybe he should see his doctor about possible heart conditions.
There was a single long silver meeting table in the middle of the white room, ten oval white chairs, to match the color scheme, around it. The high security vault door just made things even more self-contained, surrounding inhabitants in a sterile environment.
The NSA director, Joseph Gordon, was on his feet, like most of the other people in the room. He wore his tight fitting blue business suit, with darker pants to match. A lit cigarette was protruding from his mouth, the smoke drifting out through unseen filters in the room, the beard around it giving off a tan-colored twelve o'clock shadow. His dark brown hair was slightly unkempt, as if he had recently run his hand through the once-clean-and-proper style. He looked...nervous.
Rick didn't recognize anyone else in the room, and by that, it meant they weren't as important to him. Five men, two women, that was as much of a description as he could hold in his mind at the moment, as his focus was on the director's state and the...thing...at the back of the room.
"Ahh richarder, good of you to come," Gordon muttered in haste, reaching over and dabbing his cigarette in an ash tray on the table near him. richarder eyed him for a moment. He knew Gordon well enough to see the signs. The man was frazzled. Generally Gordon was always on his agent's case about the expenses and tasks involved with Supers, to remind everyone the severity of their jobs. He'd look angry, he'd look frustrated...but he never looked shaken.
The way he said what he said...it was like he was relieved somebody else had come in, as if his presence reminded the director that there was a world outside this secure room.
Gordon make his way over, shaking Rick's hand. "Good that you here. We can get this started." Rick was going to ask why he was nervous, but Gordon turned to look to the back of the room, as did everyone else in unison. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Rick, this is Mr. Amon Beyog."
"Not at all gentlemen. I've allowed for lateness."
The curious being at the back of the room finally turned, and Rick got a good look at what it was that certainly made Gordon nervous. It was...human shaped, as far as he could tell, at least the body seemed to be. Two arms, two legs, one head. But there were obvious differences. It didn't seem to have..."skin"...but jet-black, almost shiny flesh that reminded Rick of something from the Alien movies. As it made it's way around the table, Rick saw that it had four claws instead of a foot, each one looking incredibly sharp and polished. Most of it's body was, probably to show a more civilized look, was hidden under a dark blue business suit and white undershirt, each pressed and clean that it looked fresh off the rack.
But the head...the head is what made it even more frightening. It was almost egg-shaped, but with the mouth jagging outward like the beak of some rabid bird. Two tendrils extended down, close to the neck, from the back of the head. The eyes....two of them...were yellow orbs that glowed eerily against the black surface it spawned from. There were no pupils, just the golden yellow abyss.
"Is that a Super?" Rick asked, leaning slightly to look at Gordon.
"In a manner of speaking, I honestly don't know what-" Gordon began, but silenced himself. Rick stared sideways at him, confused. Then he looked over to Mirage, who was starring at this "Mr. Beyog" with widened eyes. She had no idea what to make of this either. The fact that the director was in a room with...whoever this is...brought too many questions that neither of them knew what to do.
Mr. Beyog, whatever it was, looked to Rick, that yellow gaze piercing through any defense on the NSA agent's part to be steady. "Rick richarder...fifty-nine years of age. Serving as NSA agent for twenty eight years. Recently elected for promotion for efforts in the Syndrome Case."
Rick nearly flinched, this creature knew about him. Even those tidbits of information being known made him uncomfortable.
Beyog look toward Gordon. "Straight to business. Gordon, you have informed me that you desire more material for the project."
Rick stared at Gordon. What project?
"Yes," Gordon replied, nearly chewing on a new cigarette. "With this whole Syndrome issue, super villains are on the rise. They take the incident in Metropolis as a sign that things are changing, that Supers are coming out of hiding. We've got some good ones, yes, but we know that threats are going to be coming soon and we need to be prepared."
"So, you are afraid," Beyog replied.
"Cautious...cautious," Gordon stated, almost hesitantly. "With the deaths of many other Supers, the ones who served society, from Project Kronos...we will be lacking in numbers if real danger presents itself. We need more."
Rick saw the desperation on Gordon's face, and leaned toward him again. "Gordon, what's going on? What project, what are you two talking about?" Rick whispered.
"Yes, you were neglected," Beyog suddenly said, making Rick look over. Had he heard him?
"The director has forgotten to tell you of the service I provide, as well as one of the projects that make the NSA what it is."
"What...what do you mean?" Rick asked, starring at the creature. He deluded himself into thinking this thing was a Super, probably altered from some chemical accident or something.
Beyog turned, heading to the back of the room. "To sedate your curiosity, I am no human richarder. I am no...Super...as the term is applied to a human."
Rick took a step back, and he was sure Mirage did the same.
Beyog half-turned back, one piercing yellow eye gazing at everyone in the room. "I'm a monster."
Rick felt his throat go dry. Monster? What did...that...?
Beyog ran the back of a hand against his suit, as if to swipe away invisible dust. "Confusion is understandable. Let me educate you on your job richarder."
"A long time ago, humans believed that there were monsters that frightened them when they were young. Creatures that provoked the primal fear that they either have had from birth, or one developed from worldly interaction. When they grow up, most of the time they feel their fear was unwarranted, that it was their imagination. This is, of course, false. Monsters exist. And there is one standing in this room right now."
"A...a monster I...I don't quite understand what..." Rick began, shaking his head, he was completely lost.
Beyog turned to him, directly. "Explore this consideration on your own merit. All you need to know...is that Gordon here, like every director of the NSA since it's creation, has entered into a deal, one between humans...and monsters such as myself."
"W...What deal?"
"Gordon, why don't you explain? Explain the human need, the desire, to do whatever is required to be...cautious was it?"
Rick looked to Gordon. "Gordon, what IS this? What is going on?"
Gordon gulped, probably taking ash from his cigarette, looking away, then motioning Rick to look away with him. "Gordon, he's telling the truth. Only the highest level of agent, those in this room, know about this project. The NSA was made under a deal we have made with Mr. Beyog here. He...is...a monster. There's a whole other world out there Rick, it's best not to know and just focus on what we're getting."
"Gordon...WHAT deal?"
Gordon let the cigarette drop from his mouth, he looked distraught. "Rick...have you ever wondered HOW Supers came to be? How they're born?"
Rick blunk, thinking. In all the business, he never actually questioned it. He thought it was simply natural. Supers were born, their offspring were Supers. His latest interaction with the Parr family had strengthen that thought. But...
"What are you talking about Gordon?"
Gordon took a deep breath, his hands opening and closing. "Rick...we make them."
Rick nearly dropped his suitcase. "W...WHAT?"
"Yes richarder...the NSA...creates Supers."
Director and agent both turned, seeing Beyog starring his yellow eyes at them. "Ever since certain incidents, a deal was made between our organizations. We supply the NSA, the organization born from this exchange, with the material to create Supers. In exchange, our own organization runs without interference."
"What do you mean...WE make them?" Rick asked, looking to Gordon, but knowing Beyog was going to answer. He did.
"Yes. You see," Beyog began, moving to the back of the room. "There are many types of monsters, with many abilities. Some are exceptionally strong, others incredibly fast, or some with unique talents that set them apart even in their own world."
Beyog turned, facing everyone in the room, hands behind his back, gesturing occasionally with them.
"From primitive, natural means...to the technological advances of today, we are able to extract and copy the genetic code, or equivalent, that allows these abilities to develop, or be accessed. You see, humans are a...template. Easily manipulated by modification, especially at birth."
Those yellow eyes seemed to focus on Gordon. "So, what the NSA receives is suggested material, suggested modification serums, that will be applied to humans they wish to make as Supers. For what reason? I do not care."
Rick was too stunned by this, he honestly couldn't speak.
"Sir is...is he telling the truth?" Mirage asked, looking to Rick, then past him at Gordon. She was surprised she asked, but Rick wasn't doing it, somebody had to.
Gordon gulped, physically noticeable. "Yes. The Supers in our database were created using serums supplied by Mr. Beyog here. Most of the time...it doesn't work. But when it does, a Super is created with the abilities from the...whatever it was the serum came from."
"And we need MORE," Gordon added, directly to Beyog.
Beyog seemed to grunt at this, shaking his head. "You seem to mistaken that you can demand more Gordon."
"B-but-! Things will be changing! We don't have enough Supers to counteract emerging super villains!"
"Am I suppose to feel for your position?"
Gordon grunted, seemingly close to defeat. "We have a deal Beyog! We need more serum, more Supers...if you don't supply-!"
"Are you threatening me Gordon?"
Gordon suddenly straightened, looking more nervous than he had at the start. "N-No, that's not what I-"
"Because Gordon, that would be a mistake," Beyog added. Rick was unable to read the creature's expressions through this entire episode, but he knew that it seemed to be holding the full deck of cards in this meeting.
"You humans may have your Supers...but remember...they were made from my monsters. They pale in comparison. Threaten me, you threaten a world. A world that can destroy yours quite easily. I offered negligence on your part to remove difficulty. You proceed to ADD that difficulty, I will have to demonstrate how weak you truly are."
Gordon backed down, looking at his feet. Rick couldn't believe it...Gordon had been shut down.
"I am here," Beyog began, eyes still to Gordon. "To inform you that we will no longer be supplying serums to your world." The other agents at the table gave shocked expressions at this information, while Rick was unmoved, still trying to understand what was going on. He looked to Mirage for some sense of relief, but she was starring at the monster with obvious fear. Gordon...he seemed to be just...gone.
Beyog made his way toward them, black polished claws clanging against the metal floor, hands behind his back. "Recent developments have caused our mutual agreement to become one-sided. If I feel the option is accessible again in the future, you will hear from me again."
Rick saw what Gordon was doing a second too late. He was reaching a hand over when Gordon placed his own on Beyog's shoulder, halting the monster's progress. It was a stupid idea. Even if he were human, Beyog was a foot taller than Gordon was. Size would matter in a few moments.
"You...CAN'T...do that to us! We NEED Supers now more than ever!"
Beyog's head tipped, as if to look at Gordon's hand, then to the human himself. "So you refuse this arrangement?"
"O-of course I do!" Gordon bellowed.
"Hm," Beyog muttered, eyes seeming to look to Rick and Mirage. "Who is your next, senior, agent Gordon?"
Gordon's eye twitch. "Well...technically that would be richarder over there, but he's not-"
"Ah, convenient," Beyog stated, moving his hands up. richarder notice that they were like a humans, five digits, but have been hidden under black gloves. Rather delicately, Beyog started removing the glove on his right hand, digit by digit, revealing sharp sickle claws. Almost in a flash, the clawed hand went to Gordon's, gripping hard, the claws digging into the skin, but not drawing blood.
"AH!"
The agents at the table got to their feet and Rick backed up against Mirage, who hid behind him. Gordon was yelling in severe pain, trying to pull Beyog's claws from his hand, but the grip was too tight, he wasn't letting go. Within seconds, accompanied by some sort of sizzling noise, Gordon stopped fighting all together, his other hand lowering limply to the side. Beyog pulled his claws away, and Gordon dropped to the floor.
"Pity Gordon, your usually so...compliant," Beyog commented, starting to replace his glove, focusing on the task.
Rick stared down at Gordon. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead, but he could see his chest rising and falling. He was alive...but whatever that meant from what just happened, he couldn't know. Everyone, despite all their experience, including his own, was afraid to get even close to this...this monster.
"richarder."
Rick flinched, looking to Beyog, who was focusing his yellow eyes at him. "You are the senior agent. With Gordon unable to perform his duties at the moment, that means your in charge. You know the details now, and Gordon keeps his access card in his sealed pocket. Review the files as you see fit, to indulge any curiosity. If the situation changes, you will hear from me again," Beyog states, walking over and opening the vault door.
"By the way," he begins again, looking to the rest of the shocked faces. Two of the agents had already started to run to Gordon to check his vitals. "I am aware that you have a capable group of "supers" to accommodate your "need" for protection against the unknown. They have recently influenced your decision on that registration act. You have enough to be capable. But as I told Gordon, do not consider yourselves capable of growing invincible."
With that final warning, Beyog left, though the question of how he managed to get out of the building proper lingered later in the evening. For now, several of the agents started checking Gordon and run ran to contact a medical team.
Rick stayed in front of Mirage, starring at the scene. He held his head, feeling like his brain would fall out through the skin. What the heck was going on? Supers...monsters...that...that thing? A deal? What made Supers what they were....what...?
He turned his head, looking to Mirage. Usually so collected from the times he'd seen her, she was against the wall, holding her files close to her chest, looking past Rick to Gordon. She was shaken, as he was. They'd both seen several Supers before but...that creature was unlike anything they'd ever encountered before.
Rick took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, trying to think on what this all meant. There was a deal...humans left monsters, wherever they are and whatever they are, alone with a certainty...in exchange, they supplied the means to create Supers, granting humans a boon, or bane, to their society. But now that deal was over, at least the benefit for them was. So...nothing changed right? Only what he knew...
Beyog was gone, for now, somebody had to take charge....
Rick looked to Mirage again, seeing her shaken. "...Gwen."
Mirage flinched, but looked to Rick. It was a long long time since she had been called by her real name, or at least part of it. Rick may have been unaware of this, but being called something other than Mirage was what broke through her hesitation.
"He's gone now," Rick said carefully, trying to be reassuring in his tone. "Take a deep breath and call security just in case."
Mirage did as he suggested, straightening himself up, running a hand down her hair as it to confirm it wasn't the threads of tension given physical form. "R-right...I'll get security," she managed to say, taking a few steps to the door. She hesitated.
"Uhh...uhh...you," Rick started, looking to one of the male agents near Gordon. "Escort this woman to contact security." The man looked surprised at this order, but nodded, coming beside Mirage and leading her out, both looking down the halls to make sure the creature wasn't around.
Rick's attention went to Gordon now. The NSA director was still on the floor, only breathing. His eyes looked to be permanently open, starring in shock at the ceiling. "Oh Gordon...what did we get ourselves into?" Rick thought.
====================================
"This is...inhuman," Mirage said in disbelief.
Gordon was transported to the medical wing under the assumption that the NSA director had had a heart attack, as Rick cautioned the others that even mentioning what happened in the meeting was still confidential. Causing panic would do none of them any good.
Security had informed that no such "person" had been spotted in any part of the NSA facility, public or otherwise, and had not been seen leaving either. Wherever Beyog was...he simply had vanished. At the least, it put the involved agents at ease.
Now, having retrieved Gordon's access card, Rick proceeded to his office, along with a more calmed Mirage, to see what it was the NSA had secretly been doing, below the secrets they already had. The doors sealed, Rick opened files, opened safes, and him and Mirage combed through files.
"None of this seems human," Rick muttered, his elbows on the desk, hands to the sides of his head.
"No I mean this," Mirage began again, coming over to him and setting a file down. "The serum delivery is always in a different place, as if whomever gives it to the NSA has access to virtually anywhere in the world."
"That's not exactly inhuman Mirage...disturbing yes but-" Rick started.
"No, THIS is disturbing," she started again, flipping pages. Rick looked over the file, a tired expression on his face. Then, suddenly, it became more and more engrossed in what it was seeing.
"They...pick potentials from...hospitals."
"Children Rick..." Mirage whispered. Rick looked up at her, clearly seeing the distraught expression. Mirage, as far as records go, never had any children...but perhaps it was paternal instinct, or a female inclination, that made the thought of children involved in such things...horrific.
Rick looked back to the file, unable to see her that way. "...They pick potentials based on family records and brain activity...run tests...if applicable...serum is applied to the developing brain."
"Before their mothers can even hold them..." Mirage whispered to herself, leaning away and rubbing her shoulders, feeling colder than the room was.
"Test results show," Rick started again. "That the serum lies dormant in the brain till accessed under certain conditions...the genetic modification causes dormant brain activity to function through the special abilities of the specific serum...evolution of abilities possible."
Rick leaned back in the chair, thinking. So...the NSA finds human subjects, human babies still developing, and injects them with a genetic serum to give them the abilities of monsters. Laser vision...gravity control...atomic manipulation...telepathy...all these powers...accessed thanks to modification from monster DNA. Why?
Rick let a hand fall over his eyes. Why make destructive weapons? Why make political struggles? Why make war? It's because it's human to want more. Somebody probably thought that Supers would be useful in, or to prevent, or cause, power struggles. As a form of "protection" for whomever wanted them. Whatever it could be...it was selfish. These were KIDS...and the NSA changed their lives, probably forever, because of selfish reasons.
"What have we done..."
"Rick..."
Rick lower his hands, looking to Mirage. "Yes?"
Mirage, several feet away from Rick, at an open safe, holding a file. She stared at it for a few moments, then came over, handing it to Rick. Suspicious about it for a second or two, Rick took it, looking at the top. Instantly, it was clear.
"Parr Family a.k.a The Incredibles"
Rick nearly tore the file open, looking at the initial page.
Subject Super Name Monster Serum
"Robert Parr a.k.a. Mr. Incredible" (B. A. S.)
"Helen Parr a.k.a. Elastigirl" (U. P. S.)
"Violet Parr a.k.a. Invisigirl" (R. J. B.)
"Dashiell Parr a.k.a. The Dash" (T. M. MG.)
"Jack-Jack Parr a.k.a. Incrediboy" (EXPERIMENTAL)
Robert and Helen. Their kids...their daughter...their son...their baby boy...
Rick let the file drop from his old hands and just stayed there with Mirage looking on.
He was getting too old for this.
Too old for these life changing, life destroying moments.
