Disclaimer: Yes, I know, I don’t own the Incredibles. I’m kind of a pro at writing these disclaimers…

A/N: Ever wonder why Edna became so dead set against capes? Well, here is my theory. It’s going to be a bit of a mini-series, rather than a multi-chaptered fic, or at least that’s my goal. I’m going to be upfront about this next point—though I doubt this will be a shock to any of my readers—no promises as to when I’ll be updating. I hate a lot of other projects (fanfic or otherwise) going at this time, but I just really wanted to lay claim on answering this lil’ question Pixar didn’t fill in for us.

No Capes

Prologue: To Ponder

“I never look back, darling. It distracts from the now. You
need a new suit. Zhat much is certain.”

”A new suit? Where the heck am I gonna get a new suit?”

”You can't! It's impossible! I'm far too busy. So ask me
now, before I again become sane.”

”Wait. You want to make me a suit?”

“You push too hard, darling! But I accept. It will be bold.
Dramatic!”

“Yeah.”

“Heroic!”

“Yeah, something classic, like Dynaguy! Oh! He had a great
look! Oh, the cape and the boots...”

“No capes!”

“Isn’t that my decision?”

“Do you remember Thunderhead? Tall, storm powers. Nice man.
Good vith kids.”

“Listen, E...”

“November 15th of '58. All vas vell, another day saved vhen
his cape snagged on a missile fin.”

“Thunderhead was not the brightest bulb...”

“Stratogale! April 23rd, '57. Cape caught in a jet turbine.”

“E, you can't generalize about these things.”

“Meta-man, express elevator. Dynaguy, snag on takeoff.
Splashdown, sucked into a vortex. No capes!”

oOo

As Edna walked to her work room, through all the stair cases and long open hallways, she couldn't help but think, and sadly it wasn't about Robert's new suit.

She hadn't thought about this for a long time. We'll she'd thought about it, but not really thought about it. Not the kind of thinking that kept you up at night - she had pills or a glass of wine for those thoughts. Not the kind of thinking that drove her to work days at a time, until exhaustion forced to fall asleep in her work room, needle and thread in hand - too many a time had a pinprick woken her in those times.

No, no, Edna had no use for thinking like that. As she always said, she didn't look back, it distracted from the now...

However, she did occasionally ponder.

She pondered what her now would have been like...

She shook her head and dialed in her identification number into the digital pad on the wall. Work would fix her sullen, nostalgic mood. The past was not to be cried over. It was to be learned from.

And learn from it she did.

He had been a boy, and he had been wearing a cape...