Buddy slung a worn backpack over one shoulder, the fabric of his black hoodie brushing softly against his neck. The morning air was crisp and damp, remnants of the previous night's rain lingering in the atmosphere. Metroville buzzed beneath a blanket of gray clouds, its streets glistening with puddles that reflected the muted light. The echoes of distant traffic punctuated the urban hum as Buddy navigated the familiar route, a lone figure threading his way through the waking city.
His first destination was a local hardware store nestled between a pharmacy and a weathered bookstore. The narrow storefront seemed unassuming, but inside lay an entire world of possibility: aisles of gleaming cables, dusty crates of screws and bolts, shelves heavy with tools and contraptions promising solutions to problems no one else seemed to notice. The scent of metal, lubricants, and sawdust mingled in the air—a workshop's perfume.
Buddy moved with purpose, scanning labels and picking items with the precision of a seasoned scavenger. Coils of insulated wire, lengths of tubing, soldering irons, and a pack of rechargeable batteries found their way into his bag. He paused at a sturdy multi-tool nestled among wrenches and screwdrivers, running a finger along its cool surface before adding it to his haul. Each piece represented a small advantage, a way to push the limits of his inventions and stay ahead in a city full of powers and unpredictable foes.
As he exited the hardware store, the damp air clung to him, a reminder of the rain-soaked night that had passed. He adjusted the strap of his backpack and headed toward the convenience store across the street. The harsh fluorescent lights hummed overhead as he stepped inside, scanning the aisles for better grocery options.
His mother had a stash of cash set aside for family use, a small reserve she kept for emergencies or unexpected expenses. Today, Buddy decided to dip into that fund, knowing that a few extra dollars could mean the difference between a meal that filled his stomach and one that left him wanting. He grabbed fresh produce—crisp apples, a bunch of bananas, and a bag of mixed greens—along with some whole grain bread and a jar of peanut butter. He even splurged on a couple of frozen meals that promised to be more nutritious than the usual canned fare.
"Gotta keep the brain fueled for all this genius," he muttered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips as he imagined his mother's reaction to his grocery haul. She'd probably be proud, or at least relieved that he wasn't living off cereal and instant noodles.
With his bag now heavier and more promising, Buddy stepped back outside, the cool air wrapping around him like a damp blanket. He took a moment to adjust the strap of his backpack when a flicker caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Across the street, partially hidden in a deep alley, a figure moved with uncanny fluidity. Her silhouette was streaked with glowing amber and black—a dynamic contrast to the muted cityscape. Nova.
Buddy paused, the world shrinking to the pulse of her movement. From this vantage, he observed her approach: a tense exchange at an intersection where a mugger confronted a young pedestrian, fear rigid in their stance. Nova was a tempest of grace and power, her form radiating energy as she deployed a sudden burst of blinding solar light from her gauntlets. The attacker staggered, momentarily disoriented, as Nova closed in with precise, effortless agility.
The confrontation was swift and decisive. Before the wailing sirens crescendoed in the distance, Nova vanished into the dark fabric of the city, a whisper against the chaos.
Buddy stood rooted, breath shallow, mind sharp. This was the moment—a glimpse into a world he could not just watch from afar but potentially influence. She was real, formidable, and isolated in her fight. And maybe, just maybe, he was the edge she needed.
He felt a grin pull at the corners of his mouth, a spark of that self-serving pragmatism rekindled. No sudden moves yet; this was an opening, a possibility. A connection to forge.
Turning away from the empty street, Buddy quickened his pace toward home. His workshop awaited—along with the opportunities hidden in gadgets, alliances, and the dance between shadow and light.
~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.*