The Path of Redemption

The Incredibles: The path of redemption.
Englishwitch
Disclaimer: Disclaimer- I do not own The Incredibles, it is a Disney/ Pixar animation motion picture

Chapter 12- The devil you know

Voices. Shapes. Light. Shadow’s; lots of shadows. There was nothing and yet there was more than he had been aware of for so long. He didn’t know how long he had stayed in his dream, how long his mind hadn’t been his own, but all he knew was that it was all over now.
“He’s coming round.” Said a muffled voice. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He didn’t even know if it was from inside his own head.
“Leave him. He has a long way to go.”
The voices faded and he drifted around for a while in a mixture of dreams and reality.

**************

Minutes or hours later he awoke and his thoughts were clear. His head felt heavy and his limbs weak but he was awake and able to move under his own power again. His eyes opened and focussed on the details around him. Wherever he was, it wasn’t exactly the Ritz. The walls were dark brick, covered in a thin layer of slime. The place was illuminated by harshly bright industrial lamps that hung from the walls by thick electrical cable. Faintly he could hear the hum of a generator. There was a rusting steel door, that had no handle on the inside; he couldn’t open it. Despite the grotty surroundings he was lying in a brand new and crisp white hospital bed. Even an I.V. drip stamped with the insignia of a hospital; St Mercy General, was attached to his arm. Saline. Read the ID on the clear plastic bag. Well this clearly wasn’t a hospital, so the only assumption was that this gear was stolen.
He pulled back the blankets and tried to sit up, his head went light for a few seconds but he fought against it and managed to stay upright. He was dressed in a grey jumpsuit, dirty and slightly stained with old remains of food that had dropped from his fork while trying to eat. He had worn this same outfit for so long, he just couldn’t remember how many days, weeks, or months it might have been.
Sitting at the foot of the bed was a switch attached to a long white electrical cord; a nurses call switch. Only god knew who it would call in this case. The young man decided to leave it alone for a second as he tried to figure out what was going on.
“First things first.” He said in a hoarse voice he hardly recognised. “Where am I?” Then it slowly occurred to him. “No, first thing; Who am I?” He grabbed his head, feeling a rising panic charging through his head. He couldn’t even remember his own name. He concentrated hard, trying to recall any kind of information he could.

*********

He was a young boy, no more than ten years old. Laying in his bed. It was late but he wasn’t sleepy. He could hear his mum pacing around the rest of the apartment impatiently. She had arrived home with some strange package and had spent some time alone in her bedroom before dragging a box from the back of the closet. He knew this box well, it held a suit and lots of pictures of his mum wearing the suit. All the pictures looked like they had been clipped from newspapers. There were articles too but he’d never read them. His mum had shown him this box when he was young. She had told him about a time from before he was born. A time when his mum had worn this suit with pride and helped many people and earned the fame and recognition that those articles brought. A time when she went by the name of Psychwave. The time of the Supers.
His mum poked her head into his bedroom and saw that he was awake. She stepped inside and he saw that she was wearing her super suit. On top of the suit was a pair of jeans and there was a blouse in her hands; she had been in the middle of getting dressed in civilian clothing.
“Grandma’s on her way over. She’ll take care of you for a couple of days until I get back.”
“I don’t want you to go.” He said, with tears in his eyes. She came in and sat back down on the end of his bed.
“I know love. But this is something I’ve got to do. Important people have asked me to do this and I have to go. I’ll be back in a couple of days and everything will be fine.”
There was a knock at the door.
“That will be grandma.” She hugged him tightly. “Be a good boy. Don’t worry I’ll be back soon.”

*********

“Only you never came back.” He muttered to himself as the memory faded away in his head. “And I took your name to honour you.” It was all coming back to him slowly but surely. His head was clearing up and he was starting to think properly again. The drugs; he remembered that part now. Mild sedatives given to him in all of his food and drink had kept in a drunk-like state for so long. He didn’t know how long but he knew it was more than a few weeks. This wasn’t the government; they wouldn’t risk taking him out of his cell. Or if they did they would have increased his meds. No, this wasn’t the government, this was someone else. He decided he had waited long enough and pressed the call button.

The door opened but no one came out of it. Psychewave slid off the edge of the bed and moved slowly and carefully across the room and looked into the corridor. It led right down to a set of double doors. The corridor was well lit. the walls were covered in old ceramic tiles, white and green an random pattern. The floor was a dirty blue linoleum. The air spelt musty. A permanent musty smell that only came from a very old building, even air conditioning wouldn’t get this smell out, at best it would cover it. Wherever it was, it was an old place and probably disused; closed off to the public. The doors were wood, red with faded and flaking paint. Psychewave pushed it open gently and looked inside the room.

The place was large. From the architecture Psychewave recognised it instantly; the place was a disused rail station built in the 1900’s. He’d read somewhere, he couldn’t remember where, that a lot of them had been closed down in the early 30’s after the stock market had crashed. This particular room looked like it had once been the entrance terminal. There were even a couple of cast iron benches still remained but pretty much everything else had been torn out. What had replaced it was a mad scientists wet-dream. Tables lined the rooms full of electronic parts, wires, circuits and shapeless pieces of metal. Screwdrivers, soldering irons, clamps and other tools were placed around in random areas, left where they had been put down. The centre of the room was a large metal operating table that had thick leather straps to hold something human sized down. Dark stains were around a drain on the floor, stains that looked suspiciously like dried blood. Oddly enough there was a large kitchenette off to one side of the building, away from the lab area. It had cabinets, a microwave and a coffee maker. Then, weirdly enough, next to the kitchenette was a set of chairs, a sofa and an old TV. Frankenstein has a modern home.
There were four people in the room, three of them stood in the background, in the shadow‘s. Psychewave could see their shape, but no features. The person closest to Psychewave sat in a wheelchair, he wore a black cloak, with the hood drawn up over his face.
“It’s good to see you are up and around Psychewave?” He spoke in a hoarse voice.
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage.” Psychewave said in a neutral tone. “You know me but I don’t know you.”
“Of course I know you.” The stranger spoke. “I wouldn’t have risked so much to brake a complete stranger out of prison.”
“Then you have my gratitude.” Psychewave responded, with slight irritation. “But also my curiosity. Who are you? And why *did* you go to so much trouble to rescue me?”
“Who I am is of no consequence. You are the important one here. You and your vision.”
“My vision?” Pychewave said, with awe. Someone who understood his vision.
“Yes.” The stranger replied. “Your vision was a thing of beauty. Practically a work of art. Such a shame no one else understood.”
“They should have been made to understand.” Psychewave growled. “They all would have seen in the end. It was for the good of everyone.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” The stranger said casually. He held up his hands, they were gloved in black leather. “That is where I come in. You have the will. I have the way.”
Psychewave’s anger instantly calmed and he looked at the hooded figure with wide eyes. “I’m listening.” He said slowly.
“For all your planning, for all your intelligence and determination; you were defeated. All because of one person.”
Psychewave growled and gritted his teeth. Nearby, two glass beakers shattered. His powers were beginning to return to him now the sedatives were fading from his body. “Vanisher.” He muttered angrily.
“Yes.” The stranger said neutrally. “Once she was free of your influence and her good side was reawakened her morals and sense of duty would never allow her to let you win. She would defeat you, or die trying.”
“Did you free me just to mock me?” Psychewave yelled.
“The point I am trying to make is that without your power affecting her thoughts Vanisher would never have come to your side. What you need is a group of people who share your vision. Namely; us.”
“And *who* are you?” Psychewave asked, returning to his very first question. The stranger nodded his hooded head. From underneath the hood came a dry laugh.
“I didn’t want to reveal my identity until I had your attention. Until you knew I was on your side.” He raised up one of the gloved hands and tossed the hood of the cloak back. Psychewave jumped back and gasped in shock. The figure underneath the hood barely looked human to him. The face was horrifically scarred, flesh tones from pink to pale white. They looked like burn scars. Almost all of the hair on his head was gone, only a few wispy patches remained. An ear was missing and the other was half gone. Several teeth were gone from his mouth. But there was something more than flesh on his face. The entire left jaw was gone and replaces with a shining metal that looked like titanium. Tiny bits of flesh had been grafted onto the metal. Psychewave could see his neck, over the right side was more mechanical parts. A metal tube ran down the side of the neck where the jugular was. Psychewave dreaded to think of what the rest of his body looked like. But that wasn’t the thought on his mind at the moment. What was on his mind was the identity of this stranger. Despite the horrific disfigurement there was no mistaking him; “Syndrome.” Psychewave growled.
Syndrome nodded his head. There was, just audible, a tiny whirring of motors. “Yes. I am…I was Syndrome. Genius, weapons designer and millionaire…former millionaire. Ahh, it seeme so long ago now. I stood tall, so and indomitable. Then there was Him; Mr. Incredible. Thanks to him I was left broken, burned and dying. So little of me left that a few…replacements were needed.” He rubbed the side of his face along his metallic jaw. “Thankfully my mind and genius remained intact. My talent for inventing and skill with robotics has restored me….More or less. I kept my brilliance alive and that was enough.”
“You killed my mother.” Psychewave growled. Syndrome smiled and nodded knowingly.
“I see, so you really are the son of Psychwave. She was an interesting challenge. But that is all irrelevant now. Despite what has occurred in our pasts it is our futures we must focus on. Like you, I had a great vision for the future, so similar to your own, and it was taken from me. Now only together can we achieve our goal.”
“We are nothing alike.” Psychewave yelled. “Your vision is nothing like mine.”
“Isn’t it?” Syndrome said cockily. “We both wanted fame and fortune to force our ideals upon the world. To be in charge for the good of mankind. We differed in only one area; you wanted the Supers in charge while I wanted them wiped from the face of the earth.”
Psychewave fell silent but continued to glare at Syndrome. That last thing he wanted to do was admit it, but the guy did have a point. Their ideas were so very similar. Slight differences but at the core the plans were identical. Syndrome knew that he had won the argument and smiled. It was an ugly smile when half of his face was mincemeat and the other was metal.
“Well now.” He said smugly. “Since we are finally all singing from the same song sheet; allow me to introduce the rest of the workers.” He wheeled his wheelchair to one side, giving Psychewave a clear view of the three shadowed figures. Syndrome cleared his throat ad held up a gloved hand; as if he was giving a business presentation. “First let me present you the muscle of out little group; the two responsible for your liberation.”
A man stepped forward. He stood at almost six feet tall and had an impossibly thin body frame. His waist could be no more than twelve inches and all his limbs were stick thin. The slenderness of his body made his hands and feet look larger than they should be. His face was taut, like there was nothing between the flesh and the skull. The skin was deathly pale and his eyes were large and listless, cold and grey. The only flesh on his body was on his head. From the neck down the rest of his skeletal body was covered in metal that had a slight golden colour. He was a cyborg like Psychewave, only his mechanical parts were more advanced. He could stand on his own two metal feet while Syndrome seemed confined to the wheelchair.
“This is Alpha.” Syndrome said with pride. “One of my two greatest pieces of work. He is built for speed and agility. So flexible he can fold himself in half, by leaning backwards. He is virtually bullet proof, all vital organs are contained behind the armour plating. A metallic compound of my own design. Stronger than titanium yet light as a feather.” He laughed a little to himself and looked from Pschewave to his creation. Alpha stood to attention and nodded his head.
“An honour to serve you.” He said in a voice that sounded slightly electronic; like a computer mimicking a voice it had recorded. Psychewave nodded his head in return.
“Secondly I wish to present…”
From the shadows stepped a larger man. He stood close to seven feet tall with a chest almost as wide as a car bonnet. His skin was ashen grey and his eyes were dark, empty pools. Like Alpha he was human only from the neck up. The rest of his body was covered in the same metal only his had more of a silver tint than a gold one. The metal over the chest was much thicker and piled on in several layers, like a kind of body armour. Huge hands where the armour was shaped like gauntlets from a medieval suit of armour and his legs ended in armoured boots that rose from his feet to his knees. His thighs and arms were covered in metal but the metal wasn’t laid on as thick as the rest of his body, probably to aid movement when it came to running, or punching.
“Omega. My second piece of great work. Alpha is for speed and agility; Omega is raw power. A mobile tank I like to say. You may notice the thicker armour; ideal for breaking down walls, doors…people.” He laughed a little more and took a breath. “Do you want to know the truly insane thing Psychewave; *They both* volunteered for these modifications.”

Psychewaves eyes grew wide in shock. He stared at Syndrome for a couple of seconds. Then he turned back and looked at the mechanical men. Knowing what he knew of Syndrome and how persuasive he could be and his talent for finding the right people for the right job; he believed Syndrome when he said that these men wanted these changes.

Syndrome took a deep breath. His demeanour changed slightly; it became more, affectionate. Almost hard to believe that such an evil man was capable of affection. “And last but my no means least I present my partner, equal and saviour…”
This person did not step forward but instead the lights clicked on and the whole room became illuminated. Psychewave blinked several times and shielded his eyes. He’d become too used to the gloom. She stood next to the light controls and smiled at him. A Japanese woman; wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie. It was a mans suit, but that didn’t seem an issue with her. She had long flowing raven black hair and large eyes that seemed to sparkle like the stars. Psychewave was almost captivated by her strange, almost unearthly beauty…Almost.
“Doctor Shibasaki Tasuya. Shiba. A doctor of biology.” He looked at Psychewave sincerely. “She found me, a half dead broken shell of a human being and helped me. She became my hands when my own were unable to do what I needed. She helped me to survive and become what I am.”
Psychewave looked at the metal substitute for a jaw. Had she helped with that? He knew inside that she had. She had fixed him and probably helped a little with Alpha and Omega. Helping Syndrome bridge that gap between biological and mechanical. In trying just to survive Syndrome had become the prototype, work that had been refined and perfected in Alpha and Omega.
Shiba walked over to Syndrome and kissed him passionately on the lips. It was a sight that slightly churned Psychewaves stomach and had to turn his head. When she was done she looked to Psychewave with a smile on her face. “I healed the man and resurrected the genius.” She looked back down to Syndrome, resting a hand on his shoulder. “His vision was beautiful. His vision is just like yours. A glorious future for all. But it cannot come true, unless we are with you and you are with us, Psychewave.”

Psychewave looked at the party of persons. Two crazed genius’ and the fruits of their combined labours. Was this all he had? Well it was better than the resources he had at his disposal before. At least these soldiers were loyal. With these people on his side he would be able to take the entire city in less than a week. He would bring the people around to his way of thinking. They would see it his way in the end, all of them. But first he needed to make sure there was nothing clouding their visions; nothing in the way. Then they would see that he was right. Everyone in the city…no, the country, was looking at Her. She was the symbol of the pure, the just and the righteous. With her they would not accept change. But he could solve that. He knew how. Already the thoughts were seeded in his mind and beginning to grow. The old way had to be broken and destroyed before the new one could be made.

But first…one could not go to war without the proper appearance. And the dirty clothing he was wearing was hardly anything like the proper appearance.
“Very well.” Psychewave said coldly. “The time of change will begin soon. It will be fast and it will be brutal. None who stand in our way shall be spared.” He said, a slight manic tone appeared in his voice. “But first.” He said, calm again. “We need to make the proper arrangement. And for that I require…Edna Mode.”

To be continued.