Buddy sat cross-legged on the floor of his workshop, surrounded by a chaotic array of tools, blueprints, and half-finished gadgets. Since breakfast that morning, he had been immersed in his work, doing what he knew best—creating. The soft whir of machinery filled the air as he focused intently on his latest creation—a compact grappling hook designed for quick escapes and stealthy maneuvers. Nearby, a multi-tool gauntlet lay in pieces, waiting for his attention, while a set of rocket boots rested on the workbench, their upgrades still incomplete.
In the background, the radio crackled to life, the familiar voice of DJ Max Reynolds cutting through the silence. "Good evening, Metro City! This is Max Reynolds with your nightly news update. We've got some interesting developments in the world of vigilantes. Reports have been flooding in about sightings across the city, and authorities are urging citizens to report any suspicious activity."
Buddy paused, his attention drawn to the radio. He wiped his hands on a rag and leaned closer, curiosity piqued.
"Just last night, several witnesses reported seeing a figure in a sleek black suit—rumored to be the elusive vigilante known as Nova—intervening in a robbery at the old bank on Fifth Street. Eyewitnesses claim she was able to disarm the thieves with impressive agility and skill."
A flicker of nostalgia surged through Buddy. He had seen Nova in action before, and her reputation as a skilled vigilante was well-deserved. Her solar-based abilities allowed her to channel and manipulate energy drawn from sunlight, generating concentrated bursts of solar energy for offense and creating protective light-based shields. But the mention of her name also stirred a sense of unease. He remembered her from his previous life, where, after the Supers got banned, she and her fellow vigilantes had tried to continue their fight for justice. Unfortunately, they struggled to make an impact with the police and the NSA cracking down on them. Without the resources to hide from the authorities, they were often thwarted at every turn.
"Additionally, there have been reports of two other vigilantes—one going by the name of Shadowstrike, known for his stealthy tactics, and another called Blaze, who has a knack for creating distractions with her fire-based abilities. While their intentions may be noble, the police are urging caution. Vigilantism can lead to dangerous situations, and we encourage everyone to report any sightings to the authorities."
Buddy frowned, the weight of the situation settling in. "Yeah, yeah, report them all you want," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "If they had my gadgets, they wouldn't have gotten caught in the like last time. I mean, come on! A grappling hook? A multi-tool gauntlet? They'd be untouchable!"
He chuckled to himself, imagining the headlines: "Vigilantes Foiled by Lack of Buddy Pine Technology." It was a ridiculous thought, but it sparked an idea. If he could help these vigilantes improve their fighting capabilities, it could be a win-win situation. They'd get the tools they needed, and he could make a tidy profit on the side.
As he resumed working on his grappling hook, Buddy's mind raced with possibilities. If he could help these vigilantes, maybe they wouldn't be seen as threats but as allies in the fight for justice. With the looming possibility of the Supers being banned, the vigilantes might be the only ones left to protect the city.
But then, a dark memory crept into his thoughts—his past life, where he had witnessed the downfall of heroes caught in the crosshairs of the NSA. They had been labeled as criminals, their intentions twisted into something sinister. Eventually, they had all been arrested, and Buddy couldn't shake the feeling that he might be putting himself at risk again.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the doubts. "I can't let fear hold me back," he muttered to himself. "If I can help them, maybe I can make a difference—and make some cash while I'm at it. I mean, who wouldn't want a Buddy Pine original?"
The radio continued to play in the background, the DJ's voice a steady reminder of the world outside. "Remember, folks, while these vigilantes may have good intentions, it's crucial to stay safe and report any suspicious activity. The city needs heroes, but it also needs to ensure that justice is served within the law."
He shook his head, brushing off the warning signs. "Fear's for other people," he muttered with a smirk. "If these vigilantes want to stay off the radar and maybe actually do some good, they'll need better gear. And lucky for them, I have it. I'm not doing charity here—if I'm smart, I get paid. Big time. They get boosted, I get the cash. Win-win."
The radio droned on, Max Reynolds' voice filling the room with reminders about safety and the law. Buddy barely heard it. His mind was already working on how to convince some vigilantes to trust him—and his gadgets—enough to take a risk. Reputation was everything, and he needed a few names in that underground circle willing to vouch for "Buddy Pine's Tech."
Leaning over his cluttered workbench, Buddy grinned. The city's chaos was his opportunity. And if the vigilantes wanted to survive the crackdown that was coming, they'd have to make a deal—with him.
~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.*