Buddy's workshop was bathed in the warm glow of scattered lamplight cutting through creeping evening shadows. The thick scent of solder, metal filings, and the faint bitterness of stale coffee filled the air, a mixture both familiar and comforting. The cluttered table beneath his hands was a battlefield of half-completed gadgets and sketched blueprints, each a silent promise of potential and progress.
Staring at the tablet screen, Buddy studied a grainy surveillance clip. A figure moved with purpose through the darkening streets of Metroville—clad in sleek black armor trimmed in amber and gold, energy pulsating softly from her gauntlets. The low hum of power, the fluid grace in her movements—Nova.
He had never met her, but he understood the loneliness etched into her every motion. She fought with what she had—a patchwork of scavenged tech and self-taught skill, struggling to wrest control from a city that made no promises. And while she was a wildfire in a concrete jungle, she lacked the tools that could truly make her unstoppable.
Buddy leaned back, the edge of his smirk illuminated by the soft glow of his cluttered workspace. "Running on scraps, fighting the odds," he murmured, eyes flicking to the array of cables and components near at hand. "She needs better gear—my gear."
His thoughts raced. No grand heroic crusade filled his mind. This was business, opportunity packaged as necessity. "I'm offering an edge," he whispered to himself, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "A collaboration. Discrete. Mutual benefit."
He hesitated, then crafted a message—a terse (brief), encrypted note to be sent into the unknown, designed to ignite curiosity but cloak intent. The message hinted at tools, knowledge, and something more—support for those who dared to operate beyond the lines but dared not trust the system.
________________________________________
Meanwhile, Nova sat quietly atop her damp rooftop perch in a different part of Metroville. The rain, fading into a persistent drizzle, left slick trails on surfaces, and the air smelled of wet asphalt and ozone. The sun had long dipped behind thick clouds, the promise of daylight dimmed by the caprice of the weather.
She exhaled slowly, the mist swirling around her in fragile spirals. "Sunlight's a luxury out here," she muttered, voice barely audible over the city's distant buzz. "Rules everything—the strength in my arms, the fire in my veins." Her suit's amber glow flickered faintly as her gauntlet powered up, fighting the gloom.
The cadence of footsteps below drew her attention—a late commuter hurrying past, oblivious to the quiet war waged above. Nova's mind drifted to the tightening noose around vigilantes—crackdowns, surveillance, the NSA watching every move.
Her communicator buzzed softly. A new encrypted signal pulsed through static. She frowned, heart quickening—not out of fear, but calculation. Trust was precious currency, often counterfeit.
She opened the message with cautious eyes. It was succinct (to the point) but charged—a lifeline tossed with precision into the murky depths. An offer for tools, for an edge, for something more than solitude.
A flicker of something like hope warmed her chest. Maybe this was the connection she'd been waiting for—the first step toward reshaping the game on her terms.
________________________________________
Back in his workshop, Buddy tapped at his keyboard with renewed energy. This wasn't about grand gestures or saving the world; it was about finding his place in a chaotic city, about building an empire one piece of tech at a time.
Tonight, the shadows held a glimmer of possibility—and Buddy was ready to see where it would lead.
~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.*