Authors Note:
I don't own the Incredibles.

She had never lived by herself before. Needless to say she couldn't really tell what type of situation she was in. Was it normal for the kitchen to lack counters? There were supposed to be walls separating the rooms, right?

Violet set her duffle down inside the door way and peered down at the sheet of paper in her hand.

"This can't be it." She mumbled, looking over her shoulder at her new landlord.

"I'm sorry. But this can't be it." She held up the paper. "This is supposed to be a one bedroom not…" She motioned frantically with the paper. "This!"

Her landlord, a short Hispanic woman with a questionable looking mole on her upper lip, shook her head firmly.

"This is studio." She crossed the small floor space to the one wall with windows. She pulled on the roller shades and they snapped up quickly.

"Look. With view."

Violet nudged her duffle away from the door, and picked it up after another second of deliberation. She trudged the ten feet across the apartment to stand next to other woman at the window.

"What?" She said.

Down below, she had a charming view of a blue dumpster next to an eerie looking door with cement steps and a rusted hand rail. The other windows view was dominantly brick wall and filthy concrete.

"That's not a view!" She said, frustration causing her voice to rise in pitch.

"Look! View!" The woman said, pointing to the left of the alley. Violet sent her an incredulous look and leaned further into the window to see.

"Oh… Yes. The corner of a building and a hot dog cart…" She rubbed her forehead. "The magic of the space is truly over whelming."

The landlord smiled and pulled the shade down. It didn't stay, and Violet jumped back as it rolled up with a snap.

"Good! You like. Okay. Rent is due every month on the first."

She was already at the door before Violet realized she might actually be stuck here.

"You have problem you call? Yes? But not between eleven and two." She clapped her hands to jar Violets blank stare.

"My stories on. No call." She said, shaking her finger slowly in front of Violet's face. "No. Call."

She suddenly grinned and Violet couldn't help but notice the mole dragged down the left side of her mouth.

"Welcome!"

She handed Violet the key, leaned in to grab the door handle and slammed the door right as Violet raised her hand to protest. She stared at the door for several minutes, idly twisting her duffle bag's strap and rocking back and forth. She turned back around, wondering if her first impression had really been that bad.
Maybe it wasn't so- Oh god it was horrible!

She dropped her duffle and sat down dejectedly on it. The white carpet was stained in many places, and the walls and shades had turned a dim looking yellow from the previous renters smoking habits. The kitchen had two small cabinets over a fridge from the fifties, and a stove stop with only two burners. The bathroom consisted of a small room with a sink, a cracked mirror, a toilet, and a small tub.

"Where's the shower head?" She asked herself quietly, noticing a large hole in the upper part of wall where she'd assume a showerhead should go. She didn't even have time to speculate before she felt a vibration from her pocket. Checking the caller ID on her cell phone before answering, she grimaced. It was her mother. She pressed the 'answer button' and summoned up a cheery sounding, "Hey mom."

"Hey! Sweetie! Did you make it okay?" She heard dishes clinking in the background and closed her eyes, able to envision her mother standing there, doing the dishes with the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. She couldn't quite explain the tug at her heart as she did this.

"Yeah, I did. I'm sitting in the apartment now." She said, refusing to open her eyes, clinging to picture in her mind.

Violet felt a tingle against her scalp, and sighed as her body slowly disappeared underneath her denim jacket and shorts. She didn't comment on it, or react, since this usually happened when something new, or over whelming was happening. She would disappear, and the physical separation from her surroundings usually gave her time to reflect on how to deal with it.

She'd experienced this many times during parties, sleepovers, and the occasional public outing. Even once while her and Tony had been to dinner with his parents.

"That's great! How is it? Is the neighborhood nice?" Her mother's voice was followed by the sound of the faucet being turned on then off and it managed to bring Violet back into focus. When her legs finally reappeared she concentrated on her shoes and the evenness of her laces.

"It's…" Violet closed her eyes again for only a split second, as if the lingering blink would fix what she was seeing. "It's something."

"Oh..." Helen trailed off, setting the dishes aside and wiping her hands on a towel. "Well is everything okay? It's there, right? I mean, you're not sitting in front of some Chinese restaurant that has the same address are you?"

Violet smiled. "Yeah. It's here… It's just a bit of a fixer-upper."

"Okay, well, then what's wrong?"

Violet shook her head, as if her mother could see her. "Nothing, nothing. I'm good. I'm going to hang some pictures, get my stuff in. It'll be great."

Her mother paused before speaking, debating silently to herself.

"Alright. If you need anything, Vi, just call. You know we're here for you."

Violet smiled. "I know mom. Say hi to Dash and Dad and Jack-Jack for me, okay? I should probably get my stuff out of the car and into the restaurant. Oops, I mean apartment."

"Ha ha. You're very funny." Helen smirked. "Love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

Violet held the phone against her chest for several minutes after the call ended. So lying to her mother had been easier than she'd thought it be, didn't make it feel any better.

"What am I going to do?" She mumbled to herself.

In the end she had to summon what was left of her 'new city' girl attitude and trek down two flights of stairs to her car.

She first carried up her bucket of cleaning supplies, and the vacuum her mother had given her as a housewarming gift. The next two hours were spent scrubbing all surfaces, including the walls, and trying with little success to return the carpet to its original state of white.

Once done, and feeling more grimy than she thought possible, she was back outside. The old station wagon had seen better days, but didn't look too out of place parked along the sidewalk. It was packed to the ceiling with boxes and bags, so she decided to start with the bed frame and the small mattress tied to the roof of the car first.

Violet had collapsed face first on her bed as soon as she'd dropped the last box inside the 'kitchen' and locked the door. Her arms ached, her back was sore, and she was pretty sure she'd stepped in urine. With that in mind she allowed her flats to drop off her feet. It had taken her quite some time to get everything up and into her apartment, and after checking the time she realized she wasn't going to have time to walk around the neighborhood to find a potential grocery provider.

She didn't mind going out and just buying something premade, but she'd wanted her first night in the apartment to be special, and making dinner had been apart of that.

"So much for christening the apartment." She mumbled, staring at the darkening ceiling with a growing sense of sadness.

Already she missed home and she'd only been in the city for a couple hours. Everything she'd built up in her mind had been demolished down to a miniscule version of itself, and she was starting to debate whether or not this internship was worth it.

Working at the Tina Hoffman Art Gallery wasn't exactly her dream location, but she needed the experience, and for some reason the curator, Jenny Johnson had taken a particular interest in her. And while the contemporary feel of Hoffman's art wasn't exactly her forte, it was still art. For Violet, nothing spoke to her more strongly than art.

During a phone call, Miss Johnson and Violet had drifted off from a conversation about Violet's art class attending a showing, to discussing Violet's studio art courses. Violet had gone on and on about post modern photography, and that had led to an outright invitation to come spend some time at the gallery. Violet had been flattered, and after a second phone call to confirm, she made the arrangements to move.

The apartment had been listed on Craigslist, and although she'd been expecting it to be small for the price she paid, she never expected it to be… Like this.
She rolled off her mattress and walked over to a stack of boxes in the corner. After tearing at the tape on the 'clothes' box, she dug around for something cleaner to wear on her adventure for food.

She decided to wear a cream top with elbow length sleeves and a green gingham skirt that matched her pair of green brocade heels. She stretched and wiggled around in the bathroom to try and get a good view of herself in the mirror. Before she'd left home, a visit to Edna Mode had ended in a new wardrobe, and the sad burning of her favorite sweaters and baggy pants had soon followed.

Violet didn't find it surprising that the new clothes were much more form fitting and so much less her style. But, they certainly added a few extra years to her appearance, and that, she did not mind. After another moment of thought, she kicked off the heel for a pair of flats instead. Edna could redo her all she wanted, but Violet was still Violet. That and it wasn't like Edna was here to yell at her, or anything.

She pulled on a knitted beret and a light jacket too as she gathered up her purse, (her courage), and opened the door. She flipped off the bright overhead light via the switch and pulled the door securely behind her. She realized that her door would only remain closed when she held it firmly, and that she had to jiggle the key in the key hole in order to get it to lock correctly.

Violet stared at her door for several moments, occasionally poking it to make sure it wasn't going to swing open the moment she walked away.

A door closing to her right caused her to jump slightly, and her head snapped in that direction. A man in the apartment two down from hers was locking up, and he didn't look up at her until he was close to walking by.

She hadn't meant to stare; he had just looked… so out of place in the darkness and muck that coated the walls and floors. He was much taller than her, with dark skin and jet black dreadlocks. They were pulled back with a bright orange band that matched his orange cargo pants and the soles of his otherwise black sneakers. But he was clean shaven save for a neat goatee, and he walked with confidence.
She tucked her hair behind her ear after offering him a small smile. He must have noticed her, because he lifted his hand from the satchel at his side and waved before assuming his grimace and hurrying along down the hallway. She watched his hunched form disappear around the stair rail and down.

Someone several flights up began screaming, so she deserted her musings and hurried outside. The street was lit up well, and she noticed for the first time just how many people were in the area. A lot of couples walked around with food wrapped in foil, smiling and chatting animatedly. There were groups of kids hanging out in front of buildings, smoking cigarettes and drinking from bottles in paper bags. Old men sat outside their buildings in lawn chairs, and a group of boho chicly dress girls sat around the bench for the bus stop. There were brightly lit restaurants all up and down the street, and she stopped at one to rush in and order herself a burrito. It smelled divine, and she didn't bother waiting until she was home to eat. She leaned right against the building outside, and watched people come and go.

When Violet had graduated from Metroville High School, her mother and father had been prepared to send her to a University up north. She had excellent grades, good teacher recommendations, not to mention a personal letter from the Mayor himself after she'd organized many hours of community service her senior year.

But she wanted out of Metroville, and the state altogether. She wanted away from the villains, and the monologues, and most of all, she wanted away from The Incredible Family name.

When they'd finally come out as heroes, when the hiatus had drawn to a close, she'd been thrilled. She could finally use her powers, and allow her abilities to be known. She soon found out that it wasn't her that the city of Metroville was finally able to see; it was another mask, another… 'Her'. Whether or not she'd meant to, she'd created a persona that hid who she really was.

Moving to the city and taking this internship had been the best thing for her. She'd start in a week, and in the meantime, she'd get her apartment together and learn the Do's and Don'ts of her neighborhood. She'd search for a part time job that actually brought in money, and try not to stand out too much.

She wouldn't have to be super, or even slightly above average if she didn't want to be.

She could be normal.

She could just try to be Violet.

After all, she'd faced bigger challenges before.

And those ones wore tights.