Chapter Text
I woke up not really knowing where I was… or when I was.
The last thing I remembered was lying in my bed, scrolling through TikTok videos about The Incredibles lore, crazy theories, and fanart. What the hell happened? Am I dreaming? Was I kidnapped?
I jumped to my feet. The room I was in was narrow, with faded floral wallpaper and a yellowed lampshade that barely lit up the space. Everything had a retro air about it… 40s? 50s? 60s? I didn’t know, but it was definitely too old to be my room.
Instinctively, I reached for my phone—checked my pockets, the bed, even the floor… nothing. The emptiness in my hand made me swallow hard. Panic surged in my chest: how was I supposed to call for help now?
Okay, Y/N, don’t panic. Breathe. Step one: figure out where the hell I am.
I started to carefully search the room, as if someone might barge in and catch me at any second. There were clocks, a few forgotten bags, some food… nothing unusual. But then my eyes landed on a small, old-fashioned TV, and beside it, a pile of newspapers scattered across the table.
I picked one up, and nearly dropped it.
“Mr. Incredible saves 14 children from a bus about to fall.”
“Elastigirl sends famous bank robber to prison.”
“Gazerbeam and Frozone stop a supervillain before he destroys a residential building.”
“Gamma Jack captures a serial killer.”
I froze.
No.
No way.
NO. WAY.
Am I reading this right?
I looked more closely at the date in the corner of the paper: September 1957.
My blood ran cold. I was right in the middle of the golden age of the Supers, that era when they were still celebrated as icons. If my memory was correct, it would only be a few years before public opinion turned against them and made them illegal.
With trembling legs, I collapsed onto the sofa in front of the TV. The rough upholstery and the smell of old fabric hit me like a slap of reality. I wanted to think, to get my head straight, but then my eyes fell on the remote. It was big, heavy, with metallic buttons that looked like something from an industrial machine. I almost laughed at how archaic it looked—until curiosity won me over.
I pressed the button, and the screen came to life after a few seconds of static and a sharp buzzing sound. The newscaster’s solemn voice filled the air:
“In other news, Elastigirl saved a derailed train thanks to her incredible elasticity.”
My heart skipped a beat. These weren’t made-up headlines. They weren’t forum rumors. I was watching real news about the Supers.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to keep exploring the place. Every corner confirmed my suspicion: this was my house. Framed photographs of me smiling in moments I didn’t remember, letters with my name written in elegant cursive, clothes neatly folded in a wardrobe that smelled of old lavender. I lived alone. I was twenty years old. And, according to some crumpled papers in a drawer, unemployed.
I didn’t want to waste any time. I grabbed a hardbound notebook and, with a trembling hand, began jotting down everything I remembered about the original lore—the canon I knew from my world.
I wrote: Operation Kronos.
Notes that made my skin crawl followed: Syndrome’s secret project, the systematic extermination of Supers to perfect his damned Omnidroids, all fueled by his obsessive hatred for Mr. Incredible.
My pencil scratched furiously across the page as I made a chronological list of those who would die one by one:
Universal Man. Psychwave. Everseer. Macroburst. Phylange. Blazestone. Downburst. Hypershock. Apogee. Blitzerman. Tradewind. Vectress. Gazerbeam. Stormicide. Gamma Jack.
And at the end, inevitably—though everyone knows he survives—Mr. Incredible.
I stared at that row of names as if they were tombstones written in advance. Below them all, I scrawled my objective in big letters, almost like a desperate scream:
Save them all.
But then reality hit me: how?
Had Mr. Incredible already screwed everything up with Buddy? Or was there still time?
No, something more urgent: how the hell was I supposed to approach the Supers without sounding insane?
I couldn’t just show up and say: “Hi! My name’s Y/N, I come from a universe where you’re all fictional characters, and by the way, you’re all doomed to die at the hands of Mr. Incredible’s number one toxic fanboy!”
I let out a groan and dropped my head against the back of the chair.
Yeah. Even I wouldn’t believe me.
I was lost in thought, my notebook still open on the table, when a sharp knock on the door made me jump. The sound echoed down the apartment hallway, mingling with distant voices and the smell of food drifting from other units.
I froze, holding my breath. A few seconds of silence passed, and then came another knock, this one softer, almost like a patient reminder.
I cautiously got up and approached the door. I hesitated for a moment with my hand on the knob, then cracked it open just enough to peek outside.
On the other side stood a young blond man, mid-twenties. He held a grocery bag against his chest and wore an easy smile that disarmed suspicion. His clothes were simple: a light button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled, neatly pressed pants, polished shoes that echoed faintly on the waxed floor of the hallway.
“Hi?” I asked, trying to sound firm, though my voice came out more cautious than anything. “What do you need?”
The blond blinked, surprised by my cold tone, and raised the grocery bag like an improvised shield.
“Wow…” he said with a half-smile, tilting his head. “And here I thought, after a couple of hallway chats, I’d at least earned a ‘Hi, Jack.’”
For an instant, I froze. My mind played a cruel trick: a fleeting image flickered across my head—me, or rather her, greeting him in the laundry room, joking about how slow the building’s elevator was. I blinked, dizzy, and the memory dissolved like smoke, leaving behind the sensation of something borrowed, not mine.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I had seen him before… hadn’t I? Yes, in the hallway, loosening his tie after a long shift, maybe even sharing a trivial comment. But I wasn’t sure if those memories were really mine—or if they were bleeding into my head from the life of the other Y/N.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, pretending to be wounded in his pride.
“I guess I’m not as good a neighbor as I thought,” he added, dramatic, though there was a playful spark in his eyes.
I frowned, caught between discomfort and a nervous laugh I couldn’t tell was mine or hers.
“It’s not that,” I mumbled. “I just… wasn’t expecting visitors.”
I let the door swing a little wider, relaxing now that I realized I did know him—at least in some way. I took the bag with a quiet “thanks.” An awkward, heavy silence followed.
“Well… I’ll let you go, then. Thanks again for the food,” I murmured, already starting to close the door.
“Wait!” he exclaimed, blurting it out before he could stop himself. His expression gave him away.
“What is it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jack scratched the back of his neck and gave me a half-sheepish, half-charming smile.
“I was just thinking… would you be interested in a job where I work?”
I eyed him with suspicion. From what few memories I had, our conversations had never gone beyond a casual “good morning.”
“And… what is it you do, again?”
“I’m a scientist,” he said with the ease of someone saying he sold coffee. “Physics, mostly. And I also teach part-time at a couple of universities.”
“Uh-huh…” I frowned. “Well, thanks for the offer, but I’m not really a science person. I’m terrible at that stuff.”
Jack clicked his tongue and propped an arm against the doorframe.
“You could be my assistant. Secretary, maybe? Come on, I’d pay you well. —” His smile widened, his tone slipping into blatant arrogance. “It’s no secret I’m the best in my field, and the best get paid accordingly.”
I opened my mouth to refuse, but just then the power cut out in the apartment. Darkness swallowed the room, and when I looked down, I noticed several overdue bills had been slipped under the door. A knot of frustration twisted in my stomach. What was I supposed to do here? Back in my world I’d barely started university… I had no experience in anything.
Jack leaned in a little, peeking inside. He noticed the blackout, then the bills. His gaze returned to mine, now gleaming with confidence.
“Come on,” he said with a sincere smile, though it carried that same confidence. “I’d feel awful leaving a lady in such a… bleak situation. Let me help you.”
I looked at him doubtfully, but realizing I really didn’t have many options, I decided to accept. After all, if I wanted to save the Supers, I first had to make sure I didn’t starve to death.
“Well, fine. I’ll do it,” I said after a pause. Crossing my arms, I sighed. “When do I start?”
Jack snapped his fingers enthusiastically.
“Tomorrow! I’ll have my lawyer draw up a contract for you. —” He shot me a proud smile, like he’d just won something. “See you around, neighbor.”
And with that, he turned on his heel with almost insulting ease, as if everything had gone exactly the way he planned.
I lingered in the doorway, watching his silhouette disappear down the hall. This had all been so strange. Nothing here had that cartoonish Pixar feel; he looked as real, as tangible as I did, and this world didn’t feel like a movie—it felt like flesh and bone.
Still standing in the doorway, I sighed. Glancing down, I remembered the bill I’d seen on the floor minutes before. I frowned, bent to pick it up… and froze.
It was gone.
The spot where the envelope had been was completely empty, as if it had never existed.
A shiver ran down my spine. When had it disappeared?
I let out a frustrated groan, though deep down what gnawed at me was the uncomfortable certainty that this world was toying with me at every step.