Light filtered softly through the thin curtains, casting muted streaks of morning across the familiar but somehow foreign contours of Buddy's bedroom. The quiet hum of the city outside was a distant murmur beneath the steady ticking of a clock somewhere beyond the walls. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, the heaviness of sleep lingering like a bad hangover, reminding him that some nights were harder to shake than others.
He lay still for a breath, the weight of the night yet to fully lift, his breaths shallow and carefully measured. The room felt like a memory—somewhere he had been but never really wanted to return. Yet here he was. Again.
Fingers twitched against the soft fabric of his faded, light blue suit. The insignia—the IncrediBoy symbol—stared back at him like a badge from a past life he hadn't exactly won "Most Improved" for. Even now, it felt a strange mix of familiar and foreign, as if it belonged to someone he used to be but wasn't quite sure he recognized anymore.
This isn't a dream. I'm really here. Again.
The thought rolled around his mind, both grounding and maddening. The weird, impossible truth was undeniable: he was a kid again, but not just any kid—Buddy Pine, carrying every adult screw-up, every bitter memory, and every regret stuffed into this ten-year-old body. Talk about baggage claim on steroids.
He sometimes blamed himself for how things turned out—recklessness, bitterness, and mistakes piled up like bad paperwork. But maybe unfairly, he had also blamed Mr. Incredible from time to time: for unreal expectations, for the overshadowing legacy, and for the cracks that had formed between them. It wasn't just blame—it was confusion and a complicated mess of feelings twisting inside him.
His gaze drifted to the side table where his rocket boots rested quietly, as though they were silently judging him for still owning them. This time, there would be choices—real choices—and the stakes felt impossibly high.
What would he do with this second chance?
For years, Buddy had felt tangled in a web of expectations—his own, his family's, and the city's. Maybe... maybe he didn't have to be That Guy this time. Maybe he could just, you know… not mess everything up.
He let that thought settle. Maybe a normal life wasn't the worst plan. Maybe making some decent money without rocket boots or supervillain chases sounded pretty good. Money talks, and right now, that voice was way louder than any heroic call.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, muscles creaking like an old engine waking up. He felt small and fragile under the weight of knowing more than anyone should at his age. It was kind of like carrying a whole pizza delivery on your back—except the pizza was cold, soggy regrets and questionable life choices.
Do I need to go back to school? he wondered with a half-smile. Wait... is today a school day? Why did I think it was a good idea to go… "superheroing" on a school day?
He chuckled quietly to himself. Was I always this much of a mess?
The thought actually made him grin for a moment—a little spark of lightness in the heaviness of his tangled thoughts.
He looked around the room—it was a shrine to a boy's life lived half in wonder, half in struggle. The walls were plastered with posters of heroes in action, some worn and curling at the edges, others freshly taped up like badges of honor. The baseball glove on the dresser looked well used, and the old radio on the windowsill hummed static like a heartbeat anchoring the space.
Dominating the room, hung above his bed, was the biggest poster of all—the towering figure of Mr. Incredible in a defiant pose. It wasn't anger or bitterness that gripped Buddy's chest at the sight, but something quieter, heavier: disappointment. Not just in Mr. Incredible, but in what he himself had hoped their relationship could be. The poster wasn't just a reminder of a towering hero—it was a reminder of expectations unmet and bonds frayed like an old cape's stitching.
I want to make that right, he thought, but it scares me. What if I'm just the same guy again?
The spark inside—the one that had driven him through countless failures—was there, but it wasn't shouting. Not yet, anyway. It was more like a flashlight in a foggy room, flickering uncertainly.
He padded over to the window, pressing his palm to the cool glass. Outside, Metro City stretched vast and complicated—a playground full of possibilities and hidden dangers, bright lights flashing promises and threats in equal measure.
He exhaled, breath fogging the glass slightly. The city felt like a puzzle, and this time, he wasn't sure where the pieces would fit.
This time… let's not blow it. Let's just see where it goes.
As the morning light grew stronger, illuminating the path ahead, Buddy Pine made a quiet promise to himself: to face this new day not with the weight of what he was—or what he feared becoming—but with the messy, uncertain hope of a kid trying to get it right.
And maybe, just maybe, to get through school without sounding like a walking encyclopedia. That would be a win.
~End of Chapter~
*This is a work of fiction and is intended for entertainment purposes only. I do not own The Incredibles or any of its characters, settings, or related intellectual property. The Incredibles is the property of Pixar Animation Studios and Disney. This fanfic is created purely for the enjoyment of fans and is not intended for profit. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*