An Incredible Scar

The movie begins with a colored backing. A magnificent, masked man in a black-and-blue superhero suit is sitting in a chair: mid-twenties, ruggedly handsome and powerfully built, he fiddles with a clip-on microphone. We’re watching a faded documentary, shot in 16mm. A title fades in, identifying the man as Mr. Incredible

Mr. Incredible: “Is this on?”

Interviewer: [offscreen] “That’s fine.”

Mr. Incredible: [muttering to himself] “I can break through walls, I just can’t...”

Interviewer: [offscreen] “That’s fine.”

Mr. Incredible: “I can’t get this on.”

Interviewer: [offscreen] “So, Mr. Incredible, do you have a secret identity?”

Mr. Incredible: “Every superhero has a secret identity. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t. Who wants the pressure of being super all the time?”

Resume documentary: Another striking, masked superhero, a woman this time. A title identifies herself as Elastigirl

——On-screen text: Walt Disney Pictures Presents——

Elastigirl: “Of course I have a secret identity. Can you see me in this at the supermarket? Come on. Who’d wanna go shopping as Elastigirl, y’know what I mean?”

——On-screen text: A Pixar Animation Studios Film——

Resume documentary: Another striking, masked superhero, a man this time. A title identifies himself as Frozone

Frozone: “Super Ladies, they’re always tryna tell you their secret identity. Think it’ll strengthen the relationship or somethin’ like that. I said, “Girl, I don’t wanna know about your mild-mannered alter ego.” or anything like that. I mean, you tell me you’re a super-mega-ultra-lightnin’-babe, that’s all right with me. I’m good. I’m good.”

——

Mr. Incredible: “No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. Sometimes I just want it to stay saved, you know? For a little bit. I feel like the maid. I just cleaned up this mess. Can we keep it clean for ten minutes?”

Interviewer: “I could get to that point.”

Mr. Incredible: “Please?”

Interviewer: “Wait, no, don’t get up. We’re not finished.”

Mr. Incredible: “Sometimes I think I’d just like the simple life, you know? Relax a little and raise a family.”

—

Elastigirl: “Settle down? Are you kidding? I’m at the top of my game! I’m right up there with the big dogs! Girls, come on. Leave the saving of the world to the men? I don’t think so. I don’t think so.”

The screen then fades to black as the intro music begins to play.

(A/n: A decade later and this music still hits.)

——

Sirens wail. Lights flash. We’re in the middle of a classic car chase: A police car in hot pursuit of another car driven by armed bank robbers. The robber riding shotgun primes his sub-machine gun and unloads on the cop car, which swerves into oncoming traffic to avoid the hail of bullets. Bob Parr, a dashing, golden-haired man in his thirties listens to his radio. If he looks familiar, it’s because he is the same man we saw earlier: Mr. Incredible, minus the mask and super-suit. Suddenly the music is interrupted by an announcement

Police Radio: “We interrupt for an important bulletin. A deadly high-speed pursuit between police and armed gunmen is underway, traveling northbound on San Pablo Avenue.”

Bob presses a button. The radio flips: converting to a screen filled with a moving aerial map of the city streets. He selects “Isolate Pursuit”. Two red dots appear, moving quickly over the map. He makes a hard right turn. Looks at the screen. A tiny “i” icon (Mr. Incredible’s logo) closes in on the two red dots. He checks his watch

Bob: “Yeah, I’ve got time.”

He presses another button: “Auto-drive” and selects “Merge Pursuit”. Bob takes his hands off the wheel and a rapid series of automated actions begin: the seat back drops flat; the passenger seat folds against the window as the driver’s seat slides to the center. Bob raises his arms as metal bands lock around his waist, then separate, sliding apart toward his head and his toes, removing his clothes to reveal his slick, brightly colored Mr. Incredible super-suit underneath. He presses another button: the car’s exterior converts into the coolest retro-futuristic vehicle ever seen: The Incredi-Bile.

The Incredi-Bile drives faster than ever before. But it’s not enough to catch up the chase, so he pushes the red button and BOOM, he zooms off using his turbo boosters.

But then comes a bump on the road in the form of a little elderly woman who waddles her way into the street, waving to the hero.

Old Lady: “Mr. Incredible. Um, Mr. Incredible...”

Mr. Incredible looks up: Through the windshield we see an old lady waving him down. Quickly, he halts his vehicle using the brakes and parks it over to the side. His window whooshes open

Mr. Incredible: “What is it, ma’am?”

Old Lady: [pointing to tree] “My cat, Squeaker, won’t come down.”

He gets out of his car and sees the meowing orange cat up on a very tall and wide tree, more specifically on the branch of it. He then glances at his screen: the pursuit is headed his way. He thinks, making some quick calculations, then makes the decision to help the elderly woman and her cat, Squeaker, because that’s what heroes do. He closes the door.

Mr. Incredible: “Certainly, ma’am! But I suggest you stand clear. There could be trouble.”

Old Lady: “No, no. He’s quite tame.”

Then, Mr. Incredible, with his unparalleled strength, pulls the tree out of the ground, then leans it forward, shaking it to get the cat off the branch, but the stubborn feline wouldn’t let go.

Now, the super strong hero was on a time crunch. The police and armed gunmen were near him and circling around the park, shooting at each other, so now he shakes the tree faster.

Mr. Incredible: “Let go now!”

The cat yowls from the shaking as it’s claws still attached the the branch of the tree. Then, as if luck was on his side, a super hero arrived on the scene.

Female Hero: “Easy... let’s not scare him half to death.”

From the sky drops Echo—sleek navy suit, low‑glare visor. Her chest Sigil is an echo symbol, her dark brown hair tied in a ponytail. She raises one hand, and the air around the tree seems to soften. The cat’s panicked cries dampen, the sound field shifting into a hush. The old lady blinks, suddenly calmer too.

Echo: “Thirty seconds. Keep the trunk steady.”

Mr. Incredible shoots her a look—half impatience, half gratitude—then shakes harder, more rapidly, the darn cat still clinging to the branch. The cat finally loses its grip and falls safely into the old lady’s arms. She beams with joy, hugging Squeaker tight. Squeaker was less than thrilled from the experience but quickly calms down with the sounds around it reduced.

Old lady: “Oh, thank you! Thank you both!”

Bob doesn’t linger. He hefts the uprooted tree like a baseball bat, eyes narrowing as headlights streak toward him. Tires screech—the getaway car barrels into view. With perfect timing, Bob swings the tree down across the road, blocking the criminals’ path. The car slams into it, crumpling to a halt. Police sirens wail closer.Echo, meanwhile, gestures a three‑count hand cue to bystanders, guiding them back from the crossfire. Her calm presence contrasts Bob’s brute force.

Echo: (to the old lady, gently) “Brave little one. He’ll be fine now.”

—One arrest later...—

Mr. Incredible puts down the tree, making sure it’s secure into the ground so it doesn’t fall again. He then turns to look at the Cops, the old lady and squeaker, and Echo, the young hero with the power to use sounds.

Policeman #1: “Thank you, Mr. Incredible, and you too, Echo. You’ve done it again.”

Policeman #2: “Yeah, you’re the best.”

Mr. Incredible: “No, we’re just here to help.”

Then, Mr. Incredible looks over to his vehicle where he hears a dispatch radio transmission.

Police Radio: “Attention all units. We have a tour bus robbery and-”

Mr. Incredible frowns and looks at his watch. He makes a calculation, muttering to himself

Mr. Incredible: “Tour bus robbery. I’ve still got time. Officers. Echo. Ma’am. Squeaker.”

Upon saying his goodbyes, he climbs back into his Incredi-Bile... but then realizes, there’s a stowaway, just on the passenger seat.

???: “Cool, ready for take-off!”

Mr. Incredible: “What the?... Who are you supposed to be?”

Small kid: “Well, I’m incrediboy”

Mr. Incredible: “What? No. You’re that kid from the fan club. [stammering] Brophy-Br-Brody-Bu-Buddy! [sternly] Buddy.”

Buddy (lncrediBoy): “My name is IncrediBoy.”

Mr. Incredible: “Look, I’ve been nice, I’ve stood for photos, signed every scrap of paper you pushed at me, but this is-”

Buddy (lncrediBoy): “No, you don’t have to worry about training me. I know all your moves, your crime fighting style, favorite catch phrases, everything! I’m your number one fan! ”

The passenger door whooshes open and IncrediBoy is ejected from the car. Mr. Incredible fires the afterburners and peels off, leaving Buddy standing alone

Buddy: “Hey! Hey, wait!”

———

A trail of stolen goods scattered across a rooftop leads us to a mugger. He mutters to himself as he roots through a stolen purse, disregarding some items, stuffing others into his pockets. A shadow looms on the wall behind him

Mr. Incredible: “You know...”

the snatcher looks up. Mr. Incredible grins

Mr. Incredible: “You can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her purse, but maybe that’s not what you had in mind.”

Snatcher: “Hey, look... ”

Mr. Incredible closes in on him. The snatcher drops the purse and pulls a gun. Suddenly, an arm stretches and punches the snatcher’s jaw. Mr. Incredible looks up and sees a dazzling masked woman in an equally dazzling suit. She smiles. If she looks familiar, it’s because she is the same woman we saw earlier: Elastigirl, aka the soon-to-be Helen Parr

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “Elastigirl.”

Helen (Elastigirl):: “Mr. Incredible.”

Elastigirl moves to the snatcher, begins to pick him up

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “No, it’s all right. I’ve got him.”

Helen (Elastigirl): “Sure, you’ve got him. I just took him out for you.”

She says as she drops the snatcher.

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “Sure, you took him out. His attention was on me.”

Helen (Elastigirl): “A fact I exploited to do my job.”

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “My job, you mean.”

Helen (Elastigirl): “A simple thank you will suffice.”

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “Thanks, but I don’t need any help.”

Elastigirl assesses him. Slowly moves closer

Helen (Elastigirl): “Whatever happened to “ladies first”?”

Mr. Incredible: “Well, whatever happened to equal treatment?”

Snatcher: [regaining consciousness] “Hey, look, the lady got me first... ”

Elastigirl coldcocks the crook with one stretched punch

Helen (Elastigirl): “Well, we could share, you know.”

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “I work alone.”

Elastigirl smiles, moves very close to Mr. Incredible

Helen (Elastigirl): “Well, I think you need to be more...”

In one fluid motion she loops around his body, suddenly behind him and before he can turn, back in front again

Helen (Elastigirl): “...flexible.”

Bob (Mr. Incredible): [dazzled] “Are... you doin’ anything later?”

Helen (Elastigirl): “I have a previous engagement.”

She makes a little stutter step to the edge of the roof and jumps, flips, loops and stretches across the rooftops like a liquid cat, disappearing into the setting sun. Mr. Incredible lets out a low whistle. That. Is a woman.

———Meanwhile — same time as this was happening.———

Echo can be seen hovering in the air, her silhouette framed against the fading sky, before she drops down lightly near the edge of the school grounds. She quickly slips into a secluded corner, hidden from any wandering eyes, where the shimmer of her suit vanishes beneath layered streetwear. Moments later, she steps out calmly as Lena Park, blending in with the crowd in a crisp school uniform, her stride steady and unremarkable—just another student heading across campus.

She calmly yet speedily walks into the school before the day ends. She enters her class room just in time. She attends a technology class, going over the history of how technology evolved over the years. She sat at her desk in the middle of the classroom.

The room hums with period detail: wooden desks, a pull‑down chart of Vacuum Tubes vs. Transistors, an overhead projector buzzing faintly. A tray of IBM punch cards sits on a side table.

The teacher, chalk in hand, writes across the board: “Problem Solved → Problem Created.”

Teacher: “Transistors solved the problem of heat and reliability. But what new problems did they create?”

Lena slips in just before the bell, sliding into a middle‑row desk. She opens her notebook with quiet confidence.

He writes briskly on the chalkboard, the squeak of chalk punctuating his words. The class sits in neat rows, the hum of the overhead projector filling the silence.

Lena: “Miniaturization. Smaller circuits mean more complexity... and more ways to fail.”

She speaks evenly as she slides into her seat, blazer crisp, notebook already open. A few students glance at her, surprised she answered so quickly after just arriving.

Teacher: “Exactly. Reliability shifts from the part to the design.”

He nods approvingly, underlining the word “design” on the board.

Boy: “You sound like you’ve been through this before.”

He leans back in his chair, broad shoulders relaxed, a curious grin tugging at his mouth. His notebook is filled with blocky sketches of circuits and machines.

Lena: “Enough to know brute force doesn’t fix bad wiring.”

She smirks faintly, tapping her pen against the desk in a steady rhythm—one, two, three. Her tone is dry, confident, with a hint of challenge.

Boy: “Brute force has its moments.”

He chuckles, leaning forward now, intrigued by her sharpness.

Lena: “Sure. Just aim it.”

Her eyebrow arches as she meets his gaze without flinching.

Teacher: “Pair up. Chart one shift—problem solved, problem created.”

The teacher claps chalk dust from his hands. Desks scrape as students shuffle into pairs.

Boy: “Looks like we’re partners.”

He leans toward Lena, offering a hand. He’s tall for his age, broad‑shouldered but still lanky. His auburn hair falls slightly into sharp blue eyes. His pencil taps a quick rhythm against his notebook, a steady stimming beat that keeps him focused.

Lena: “Lena Park.”

She shakes his hand firmly, tomboy‑confident. Her pen is already poised over her notebook.

Atlas: “Atlas.”

He nods once, his crooked grin quick but genuine. There’s a spark of recognition—respect for her sharp answer earlier.

Lena: “So, hardware or signal?”

She tilts her head, eyebrow raised, already steering the project.

Atlas: “I’ll take hardware—tubes to transistors. You take signal.”

He flips his notebook around, showing a rough sketch of a circuit path. His pencil taps against the page in rhythm with her pen.

Lena: “Deal. Three beats to outline, then we move.”

She taps her pen—one, two, three. Atlas unconsciously mirrors the rhythm, syncing with her cadence.

Atlas: “You always work on a count?”

He smirks, intrigued, leaning in slightly.

Lena: “Keeps the noise in line.”

Her reply is dry, but her eyes flicker with amusement. She’s already jotting down “Constraints → Methods → Trade‑offs” in neat columns.

Atlas: “Not a bad system.”

He chuckles, settling into the rhythm she’s set. His restless energy doesn’t vanish, but it finds a channel—focused, purposeful. His auburn hair catches the projector’s glow, making him stand out even as he blends into the classroom’s hum.

He turns his notebook toward her, pencil poised, waiting for her reaction.

Lena: “Deal. Three beats to outline, then we move.”

She taps her pen again—one, two, three. Atlas unconsciously mirrors the rhythm, syncing with her cadence.

——

The bell rings, signaling that school is over for the day.

The metallic clang echoes through the halls. Students shuffle out, chatter filling the terrazzo corridor. Lena gathers her books with calm precision, while Atlas fumbles with his notebook—pages filled with half‑finished sketches and quick notes. His pencil still taps a rhythm against the cover, steadying him.

Atlas: “You’re quick with answers. Most people don’t even try to keep up in that class.”

He slings his bag over one shoulder, hair falling into his eyes. He brushes it back, revealing the auburn strands catching the late sun through the window.

Lena: “Most people don’t try to sketch half a circuit during a lecture.”

She smirks, adjusting her blazer. Her stride is calm, but her eyes flick to exits and corners—always scanning.

Atlas: “What can I say? My brain doesn’t like waiting its turn.”

He grins crookedly, tapping his pencil against his thigh now. His foot bounces as they walk, restless energy spilling out.

Lena: “Then maybe you should aim it better.”

Her eyebrow arches, tone dry but not unkind. She matches his pace, her steps falling into rhythm with his tapping.

Atlas: “Aim it, huh? You sound like you’ve got a system for everything.”

He glances sideways at her, curious, not mocking. His blue eyes are sharp, observant.

Lena: “Keeps the noise in line.”

She taps her pen once, twice, three times against her notebook as they walk. Atlas notices, and his tapping unconsciously syncs to her beat. His restless energy steadies.

Atlas: “Not bad. You’re good at this.”

He chuckles, the sound genuine. For a moment, his fidgeting slows, his attention fully on her.

Lena: “Good at what?”

She tilts her head, feigning innocence, though her half‑smile betrays her amusement.

Atlas: “Making me feel like I’m not... out of step.”

He shrugs, a little awkward, but his grin lingers. He doesn’t hide the honesty in his words.

Lena: “Maybe you’re just walking with the wrong crowd.”

Her voice is calm, confident. She pushes open the school doors, the late afternoon light spilling across the steps. They step out together, their strides unconsciously matched—three beats, in sync.

Atlas: “So... cocoa in the cafeteria? We can argue about brute force versus clean signals.”

He gestures loosely toward the commons, his grin widening.

Lena: “If you don’t brute‑force the vending machine.”

She smirks, adjusting her bag strap. Her tone is playful, but her eyes are sharp, measuring him in a way.

Atlas: “No promises.”

He laughs, falling into step beside her as they head down the steps.

Lena: “Then at least choose your signal.”

Her words hang in the air, light but pointed. They walk off together, their rhythm steady, the spark of partnership unmistakable.

———

Mr. Incredible handcuffs the snatcher to a pipe.

Mr. Incredible: “Now, you just stay here. They usually pick up the garbage in an hour.”

Frozone: “Hey, lncredible!”

Mr. Incredible turns. A helicopter sweeps past, machine guns blazing back towards its pursuer. Frozone swoops down, hot on its tail, surfing a sheet of ice that materializes in his path.

Mr. Incredible: “Hey, Frozone!”

Frozone leaps, grabbing on to one of the chopper’s skids.

Frozone: “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

Mr. Incredible frowns, glancing at his watch. Mr. Incredible yells at the retreating copter.

Bob (Mr. Incredible): “I still got time.”

Off-screen, a woman screams, catching the hero’s attention.

Woman: [offscreen] “He’s gonna jump!”

Mr. Incredible runs to the edge of the building and looks down. A large crowd is gathered on the streets below. Mr. Incredible follows their upwards gaze to the roof of a skyscraper with a man, Oliver Sansweet, who stands poised to jump, then does. Mr. Incredible quickly gauges distances, and then dives off the edge, making a spectacular leap, and tackles him in mid-air and then breaking through an enormous window on the far side, and tumbles to the floor in a shower of glass. Safe and sound.

Sansweet: “I think you broke something.”

Mr. Incredible: “Well, with counseling, I think you’ll come to forgive me.

He then senses something, Something wrong...

Mr. Incredible: “Wait a minute...”

Mr. Incredible slides Sansweet over to a desk and props him up against it.

His acute senses turn his attention to the hallway, toward the elevators. As he follows his ears, we become aware of a sound: a tiny series of regular beeps. Mr. Incredible locates a spot on the wall and presses one ear against it. The beeps accelerate. Mr. Incredible starts to push away and... BOOM! The hallway is filled with smoke and debris. A silhouette emerges from the newly blown hole in the wall; a tall, rangy man in a mime costume carries two stuffed duffel bags. This is Bomb Voyage. He surveys the scene with a wicked smile. A vault door is embedded into the wall directly opposite the hole. It moves aside, revealing Mr. Incredible behind it, dazed but unharmed. He sees the mime and growls.

Mr. Incredible: [coughing] “Bomb Voyage!”

Bomb Voyage: “Monsieur Incroyable!”[Translation: Mr. Incredible!]

IncrediBoy: [offscreen] “And lncrediBoy!”

Both Mr. Incredible and Voyage turn and stare in disbelief at the kid, who awkwardly flies over to them.

Bomb Voyage: “lncrediBoy?”

IncrediBoy: “Hey, hey! Aren’t you curious about how I get around so fast? See? I have these rocket boots--”

Mr. Incredible: “Go home, Buddy.”

IncrediBoy: “What?”

Mr. Incredible: “Now.”

Bomb Voyage: “Petit idiot.”[Translation: Little oaf.]

IncrediBoy: “Can we talk?”

IncrediBoy then takes Mr. Incredible aside as Bomb Voyage just stands there, watching this play out.

IncrediBoy: “You always, always say be true to yourself, but you never say which part of yourself to be true to. Well, I’ve finally figured out who I am. I am your ward...lncrediBoy!”

Mr. Incredible: “And now, you have officially carried it too far, Buddy.”

Mr. Incredible grabs Bomb Voyage before he could get away. There is an ugly flash in Buddy’s eyes.

IncrediBoy: “This is because I don’t have powers, isn’t it? Well not every superhero has powers, you know. You can be super without them. [re: his rocket boots] I invented these. I can fly. Can you fly?”

Mr. Incredible could tell that he really wanted to help. But the situation was far too dangerous for someone of his age, especially it sort of reminding him of another. Mr. Incredible then gives IncrediBoy a last warning.

Mr. Incredible: “Fly home, Buddy. I work alone.”

Bomb Voyage: “Et ton costume est complètement ridicule!”[Translation: And your outfit is totally ridiculous!]

IncrediBoy: “Just give me one chance! I’ll show you. I’ll go get the police.”

As Buddy jogs to the shattered window, Mr. Incredible sees that Voyage has clipped a small bomb onto Buddy’s cape.

Mr. Incredible: “Buddy, don’t!”

IncrediBoy: “It’ll only take a second, really.”

Mr. Incredible then takes off after him, tossing Bomb Voyage to the side and determining to save Buddy from certain death and preventing any other kind of casualties.

Mr. Incredible: “No, stop! There’s a bomb!”

Mr. Incredible grabs Buddy’s cape just as “IncrediBoy” takes off, taking Mr. Incredible with him. Mr. Incredible and the boy rocket wildly out of control, spraying sparks in every direction, Mr. Incredible grabbing at the cape desperately for the bomb.

IncrediBoy: “Let go! You’re wrecking my flight pattern! I can do this if you let go!”

Mr. Incredible: “Will you just...?!? I’m trying to help! Stop!”

IncrediBoy: “Let go of my cape!”

Mr. Incredible finally grabs hold of the bomb and flings it free. Both he and the bomb fall onto the elevated train tracks below. The bomb explodes, blowing away a large section of track. Mr. Incredible groggily looks up; A train is coming. And heading straight for the section of track that is no longer there. Mr. Incredible sets his jaw and starts running toward the oncoming train, leaping the chasm to intercept the train before it gets there. Mr. Incredible pulls up and plants himself. The expression on his face says it all: this is going to hurt. The train hits; Mr. Incredible taking the full impact. Rail ties break behind Mr. Incredible’s feet, spraying in all directions as Mr. Incredible, miraculously, wrestles the train to a stop.

Finally, Police and paramedics have arrived, cordoning off the accident scene and treating the injured. At last, Mr. Incredible hands Buddy over to the police.

Mr. Incredible: “Take this one home. And make sure his mom knows what he’s been doing.”

IncrediBoy: “I can help you. You’re making a mista---hey!”

The cops shove Buddy into the backseat of their car.

Mr. Incredible: “The injured jumper. You sent paramedics?”

Police Officer: “They’ve already picked him up.”

Mr. Incredible: “The blast in that building was caused by Bomb Voyage who I caught in the act robbing the vault. Now, we might be able to nab him if we set up a perimeter.”

Police Officer #2: “You mean he got away?”

Mr. Incredible: “Well, yeah. Skippy here made sure of that.”

IncrediBoy: “lncrediBoy!”

Mr. Incredible: “You’re not affiliated with me!”

A tiny alarm sounds. Mr. Incredible checks his wristwatch.

Mr. Incredible: “Holy smokes, I’m late. Listen, I’ve gotta be somewhere.”

Mr. Incredible signals the Incredi-Bile with a remote. It roars into view, squeals to a stop next to him.

Police Officer: “What about Bomb Voyage?”

Mr. Incredible: “Any other night, I’d go after him myself, but I really gotta go. But don’t worry. We’ll get him! Eventually!”

Mr. Incredible fires the afterburners. The cops watch in dismay as the Incredi-Bile roars off.

———

The Incredi-Bile then parks to the side of a church, transforming back into the previous car before. He enters, dressed smartly in a tux, fumbling with his tie.

Bob: “Hey, is the night still young?”

Lucius: “You’re very late.”

Bob: “How do I look? Good?”

His best man named Lucius Best (aka Frozone) stops him before he...

Lucius: “Oh, the mask! You still got the mask.”

Lucius reaches up and pulls off his Mr. Incredible mask. Bob takes a deep breath and pushes open the chapel doors.

Bob: “Showtime.”

Bob, the groom stands at the altar with his bride, Helen, who we quickly realize is also Elastigirl.

Minister: “Robert Parr, will you have this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?”

As the preacher talks, Helen and Bob have their own chat. Making sure they don’t reveal anything. Somehow despite whispering it.

Helen: “You’re late. When you asked me if I was doing anything later, I didn’t realize you’d actually forgotten. I thought it was playful banter.”

Bob: “It was playful banter.”

Helen: “Cutting it kinda close, don’t ya think?”

Bob: “You need to be more...flexible.”

Helen: “I love you, but if we’re gonna make this work, you’ve gotta be more than Mr. lncredible. You know that. Don’t you?”

Minister: “...so long as you both shall live?”

Bob: “I do.”

Minister: “I pronounce this couple husband and wife.”

They kiss, as people are cheering and whistling. Gazerbeam, Stratogale, Dynaguy, Meta-Man, Thunderhead, E and Rick Dicker can be seen for a few seconds clapping.

Helen: “As long as we both shall live. No matter what happens.”

Bob: “Hey, come on. We’re superheroes. What could happen?”

———

The screen switches to a news flash.

Newsreel Narrator: “In a stunning turn of events, a superhero is being sued for saving someone who, apparently, didn’t want to be saved. The plaintiff, Oliver Sansweet, who was foiled in his attempted suicide by Mr. Incredible, has filed a suit against the famed superhero in Superior Court.”

Oliver Sansweet’s lawyer stands next to him on the crowded front steps, and speaks to a cluster of reporters.

Sansweet’s Lawyer: “Mr. Sansweet didn’t ask to be saved, Mr. Sansweet didn’t wanna be saved! And the injury received from Mr. Incredible’s “actions”, so-called causes him daily pain!”

Mr. Incredible: “Hey, I saved your life!”

Sansweet: “You didn’t save my life, you ruined my death! That’s what you did...!”

Mr. Incredible: “Listen, you little [interrupted by his lawyer] piece of....”

Mr. Incredible’s Lawyer: “My client has no further comment at this time.”

Newsreel Narrator: “Five days later, another suit was filed by victims of the el train accident.”

Shots of a courtroom filled with neck-braced, cast-wearing, train-wreck victims. A lawyer goes through his paces, often gesturing toward a glowering Mr. Incredible.

Newsreel Narrator: “Incredible’s court losses cost the government millions, and opened the floodgates for dozens of superhero lawsuits the world over.”

A series of spinning newspaper headlines describing the succession of lawsuits brought against superheroes saying, ”DynaGuy sued!“, “′SUPER’ DAMAGES!“, ”X-RAY VISION PEEPING TOM?" Irate Taxpayers demonstrate, waving placards that read: ”NO MORE SUPER BAILOUTS!“, ”$UPER EXPEN$IVE!“, etc. A government employee addresses her colleagues

Government Public Speaker: “It is time for their secret identity to become their only identity. Time for them to join us, or go away!”

Newsreel Narrator: “Under tremendous public pressure, and the crushing financial burden of an ever-mounting series of lawsuits, the government quietly initiated the superhero relocation program.”

Superheroes exiting the public stage, as they wave goodbye (ala Nixon), duck into cars in a shower of popping flashbulbs, cheered by supporters, jeered by opponents, etc.

Newsreel Narrator: “The supers will be granted amnesty from responsibility for past actions, in exchange for the promise to never again resume hero work. Where are they now?”

A throng of people mill about the city streets in diverse anonymity.

Newsreel Narrator: “They are living among us. Average citizens, average heroes. Quietly and anonymously continuing to make the world a better place.”

The music crescendos as camera lifts up to the horizon and the sun streaming through the clouds.

To be continue...

A/n: AAAAA!!!! The scene with Atlas and Lena was so difficult. I did have to use AI and I apologize if it sounds like absolute garbage nonsense. I have no strength to figure it out any more and I’m gonna take a break.

Pray for the whole world to renounce and Repent its sins and turn to God, for he is our Father and we wants us with him in heaven.

Spread the Good word of God to everyone, let them know Jesus. We may not get Everyone into heaven, but we can get most people to heaven. Just read

Matthew 7:13-14King James Version (KJV)13 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:

14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

Matthew 24:13-14King James Version (KJV)13 But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.

14 And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come.

I hope you all Read your scriptures, praise the lord, And As always, Have a blessed Morning / Afternoon / Evening / Night / Day / Week / Month / Year / even a second/ millisecond.

And always remember,

Jesus Loves you.