Man, this chapter is really long, so long that it is not completed yet - sorry. But don’t worry, it’s close to completion. Just one more part and a few more days, guaranteed. 
Till then, here is part 2 of Chapter 3. For those with FF.net accounts, Chapter 3 is updated, too.
[u][b]Chapter 3: Life - Part Two[/b][/u]
Metroville Cineplex, 7:30PM. The only ticket booth standing by the entrance of the building was filled with a long but ordered queue, a usual sight on a Friday night at the Cineplex. The movies featured that night were great, too.
One of the wide variety of films available there was a creature feature about a green, building-sized Tyrannosaurus ‘Rex who rampaged his way through cities everyday but failed to intimidate any people in his life.
Another one told the story of a brilliant scientist’s theory of relativity, a black-and-white documentary showing Alberto Agatha’s life and death during the early ‘80s.
There was even a retelling of the Supers’ beginning, their fall during the Super Relocation Program and Mr. Incredible’s triumph over Syndrome with the aid of his family of Supers – all citizenship names altered, of course.
Despite all the tempting choices given that night, the distressed couple had booked tickets for a movie of a difference choice long before their date took place; “ZARD·E,” a science fiction romance about a 113 years old cleaner robot working in a starship throughout its entire life, before it met its love interest; another robot of a more advanced technology. Neither of the mature duo found a movie of such childish elements to be appealing, of course, but a movie of romantic elements seemed appropriate for that special night, and that movie was the only one possessing such elements.
Nevertheless, they had no regrets for their choice, only for their false display of feelings. For thirty minutes, they sat side by side in awkwardness.
Violet had changed at school before their date, of course, into something more comfy. The sportswear she wore for her afternoon track-and-field club activities looked cool on her, but it was not a suitable wear for a date. Hence, she changed into a pink, cotton-filled, long-sleeved sweater reaching above her neck for additional warmth. A pair of Prussian-blue jeans might not had been the most suitable garment in matching her cute top, but it matched her style alright, and it definitely matched her soon-to-be boyfriend’s cerulean dungarees and his red number 14 Spartan jersey with the small BNL sponsor icon by the right of the front.
She showered – of course – at the school, though, meaning that she had no knowledge of the equally troubling events occurring at home…
Despite the attractive clothing they had picked beforehand, the night was still constrained by guilt and insecurity.
They had bought drinks and popcorn like most of the patrons, but the food was untouched. The movie brought warmth to others, but they felt cold – not from the chilling air but from each other – each individual wanting to throw words onto the other’s visage but couldn’t find the courage to do so.
It goes without saying that Violet had utmost fascination for Rydinger and the same could be said for Tony towards Parr. Nevertheless, Kari’s friendship meant a lot more to Violet; her obvious jealousy had made courting the jockey the least of Violet’s desires that night.
For Rydinger, however, it was a mixture of insecurity and cowardice that sealed his lips. Out of the many female classmates he had laid eyes upon, this one was special. Thus, when their first date was filled with unfriendly treatments, naturally, a boy of such humility would be cautious in his words and assumed the problem being himself.
Yet, both knew that confrontation must be made at some point if the relationship was to progress. Inhaling a deep breath, both dug deep for bravery, while hoping the next few words wouldn’t be the last.
“There’s something…” both blurted out – loudly, triggering the throwing of hushes.
Seeing that both had a matter to declare in that speech-restricting hall, the two paused in their words, but they would had continued their confessions in silence… if it was not for the building tremor quaking the theater.
At first, it was just mere harmless dust floating from above that had caught the attention of some of the audience, but then, falling pebbles bouncing off the carpeted steps drew in more attention, and the sudden explosion did its job in intimidating all, sending people climbing and dashing with screams and terror occupying the once tranquil scene.
The combustion had caused some parts of the ceiling to shatter; the debris – crashing towards Parr and Rydinger. Their eyes were glued to the ceiling since their noses were tickled by the falling dusts, but the plunging concrete was quite a shocker.
Despite their surprise, both the Super and jockey were mildly prepared for the debris. Yet, with their concern placed on each other rather than themselves, their first thought was to get their respective date away from their imminent doom.
Rydinger, being the more athletic individual, was naturally faster to react.
Before the ‘Invisible Queen’ could threw out even portions of a force-field, Tony had already thrust her onto the sticky flooring – a state resulted from the past soda spills of irresponsible kids – just in time, too, when one of the ceiling fragments crashed just inches behind their feet.
The rescued damsel in not much distress would had taken that moment of relief to savor the football jockey’s muscular torso laying above her – if it was not for the second series of collapsing detritus.
With seconds to spare, she hurriedly stretched out her left arm from underneath the moderately built quarterback in generating a force-field over them… Just in the nick of time; she prevented a broken back, or worse.
Angry and curious about the mysterious event, the couple pulled themselves – and each other – up on their sport shoes and looked to the source of the explosion. However, the hole that which was once there was then cloaked with thick clouds of fumes exhaling from the opening on the ceiling like the smoking nostrils of a raging dragon.
It was not long after, though, when a silvery shade of hue gradually darkened into a shadowy silhouette before finally, a greatly muscular humanoid tore through the tender clouds of fumes curtaining the hole. The two pairs of openings, illuminating a soft yellow glow, located across the soles of the robotic being’s equally fuming iron boots were evidently the source of those fumes. As the man – or whatever species ‘it’ belonged to – in the gleaming metallic suit leisurely descended to the ground, the projected light from the movie screen, though little in amount, was sufficient in revealing the details of his garment.
His leggings were plated with flaps of more dull-gray iron reaching up to his upper thighs, where the protruding sheets of metal ceased in overlaying each other. There, a diagonal line on each thigh cut off the bumps of steel where behind them laid a smooth plating of solid armor – under the same color, of course – reaching all the way to the warrior’s torso, leaving no underwear-outlines across the sides of his crotch.
A chest-plate seemingly assembled together with four separate parts protected his front, with two of the pentagon-shaped ones protecting the upper parts of the torso. His arms were well-shielded from any possible attacks, too, with a convex armor pieces across each of his shoulders, descending to his biceps; his lowers arms were not lightly protected, either – they were secured with heavily armored armguards plated with an additional pad of steel-coating above; naturally, his shimmering titanium-based gauntlets were no fragile items, either. To top it all off, his curvy helmet was sleek, adorned with more silvery plating at the cheeks and a pitch-black inverted-triangular visor with a round bottom that masked the center of his visage.
Like an angel, he gracefully made his descend towards a mystified Violet Parr, her pupils reflected the tremendous glow generated by the armored suit.
“Violet Parr?” a deep, heavy robotic voice abruptly boomed from somewhere around the helmet.
Instead of being gripped with fear, she expressed a look of utmost wrath and fury; she was most certainly unhappy about that interruption in her first and most important date with her beloved crush.
Inside, Tony Rydinger was obviously as afraid as Violet could had gotten at that moment, but he stood firm, waiting to pull the first girl he really liked away from danger, if needed.
“Who are you?” she firmly inserted, her eyes glaring ferociously, her fists forcefully clenched.
“Need not to know.”
The reply took Violet aback, surprising her enough to shake off her angry eyes, temporarily replacing them with two round, curious ones for few seconds. But the short moment was sufficient for the armored warrior to raise his palm at her. Within it, that same ol’ familiar soft glow once was once again generate inside a hole large enough to fill the entire palm, turning from a dull gamboge hue to a white, shining light, accompanied by that sharp noise you hear before a laser fires…
Though the device – obviously a blaster – took merely a second to recharge, it was enough for Violet’s recognition of it and to react accordingly – and in this case, with a generated force-field. Rydinger was just inches from panic, though, but he managed to keep himself stable enough to ready himself for a task of rescue. Nevertheless, before the trio was able to do anything, another occurrence lured in their attention – it lured in all’s attention.
Before the man – or beast – in the metallic suit was able to fire whatever it was across his palm at his target, a thin projectile hit the side of his hand – a long, slim claw, rather - causing a misfire to occur. His attack, a thick, white flash of laser, hit one of the linen-covered walls instead, resulting in a larger hole to be formed at the side of the theater. A parent and his son, while standing at the cinema hall holding ZARD·E merchandises, stared through the opening in confusion.
“What the…?” the still floating being remarked while rubbing his sore hand with the other.
“Put down your blasters. You wouldn’t want to hurt an innocent girl, would you,” a younger voice, not part of the crowd gathered under the broken ceiling, commented, “Spectre-san?”
The little illumination available aided the mysterious arrival in cloaking his identity, leaving only an outline of his body amidst the blanket of darkness. He seemed short, but not enough to be younger than 12.
Upon hearing the smooth voice of the theater’s latest guest, a hint of annoyance was expressed through a short snort audible from beneath the armored man’s visor, as if he was threatened. Nevertheless, he made attempts in hiding his fear by shrouding it with confidence.
“I should had known that you’d come,” the masked villain replied while making landing on the flooring, the fumes disappeared as he did, “saving damsels in distress has always been your hobby.”
“Barou,” he firmly inserted in a determined tone, “she’s innocent but not in distress, I came here to apprehend you, not rescue the independent teenager.”
Beneath the masquerading visor, the being smiled inside with utmost satisfaction; his rival was as skillful as he remembered.
“Oh, still as sharp as ever, huh… Chimera Boy?”
Upon chanting the name, it was like entering a command, the hidden savior gradually stepped out from the dark, letting the moonlight from above gently flowed across him. Slowly, partials of his appearance were revealed. His blue boots were cut off with a black right-angled triangle shape on each side of them, forming a sort of blue trapezium on the toe caps pointing to the front.
Further illumination revealed his trousers to be made of black leather instead, reaching all the way to an ordinary silvery belt with a small convex cylinder at the center – no underwear lining, either. When the light had been shined across his torso, the mysterious figure appeared to have dressed like any ordinary Super; his top consisted of a blue shirt with the large, black, block letters of ‘C’ and ‘B’ overlapping each other, filling most parts of it. The black sleeves – diagonally cutting off the blue, stretched all the way to his hands. No gloves could be found, his hands were part of the sleeves.
Finally… his face. It was angelic, but that could be due to the soft glow poured across his blue, leathery hood. Nevertheless, his smile was tender and friendly, though with a hint of pride and disregard. At a second, even, his stare had been diverted to Parr in a distracted manner. Though some parts of his visage were shadowed by the hood, sufficient lightning revealed his eyes of moderate size to be conceived under a thin piece of eye-mask. The sides of the mask stretched all the way to the sides of his hair, forming a certain smooth diagonal stripe across each side, though they were camouflaged under his hair’s equal darkness. His haircut was not pertaining to retrospect, either; his face was not flooded with hair yet it was kept short enough to leave several bundles of hair sticking out of his scalp and some bangs suspending across his forehead.
Violet helplessly blushed, two light shades of pink were obscurely displayed under the dim moonlight shine, not because she was grateful but because the hero she was grateful for turned out to be much appealing in appearance than she had expected. ‘Cute’ was the word.
“Yeah, too bad the same cannot be said for you,” the teenaged Super retorted, his head lowered as he did, though his eyes were sharply shot into those of the armored man in a denunciative manner, “Spectre-san.”
“It’s a pity…” the metallic assassin murmured, his head lowered, “up till now, you remain blinded from the just I carry out. I am merely taking out the trash of this city. My killings are utterly required.”
The eyes of the Super who had been called “Chimera Boy” followed the gestures made by the killer called “Spectre” as his insipid lies poured out. He was rather bored by the ‘Spectre’s’ performance, and, after a short moment, glad when he had paused, giving the Super his opportunity to end the wastage of that night.
“Don’t make me laugh,” he instantly retorted upon the ending of Spectre’s sentence. “Kip Kaider, currently 25 years old, born in New Jersey, an ex-convict charged for the murder of three people throughout five years.”
As the confident Super laid out the information regarding his identity, Spectre’s hidden eyes remained locked on him, he watched as the pompous child unfolded his true intentions.
“Recently, you became desperate due to the Feds closings in on your arrest. Just as two of their officers were about to take you into custody, a man in a black suit saved your life and went on in offering you a place in his underworld syndicate, which you graciously accepted out of the suitability of the conditions given. Your only orders were to take out certain people they asked you to, an act you were greatly comfortable in carrying out, in exchange for complete protection from anyone in anywhere.”
Out of satisfaction – or pure defeat – Spectre lowered his head again, hanging it in solemn. Not a word came out of him when the ‘Chimera Boy’ ended his speech, merely a short utter of ‘humph,’ displaying, not contempt, but rather, pleasure in the Super’s great skills.
“Did I miss anything, Spectre-san?”
“Very good, squirt, looks like you did your research…”
“Baka, I don’t need research to know about the notorious Kaider. As for the organization’s acceptance, that part was a guess. I thought about what a member of a mysterious organization who was once a desperate killer heavily pursued by the U.S. government’s Federal Bureau of Investigation would had done back then. Even a six year old could had figured that one out.”
At that moment, it was more than apparent that the Super had a long back-story with that armored assassin, one that Spectre, at that moment, obviously desired in ending immediately. Nevertheless, it was obvious that Spectre was in a respecting position as well, evident from his lack of intervention during the Super’s monologue.
“So? What’s it goner be?” the young Super questioned commandingly, his once gleeful eyes fainted into a grim glare. “No more hide-and-seek, or should I just end this now, Spectre?!”
The atmosphere then was tense, naturally. The crowd by the side of Spectre, a little too quiet at that moment, stared with utmost anticipation, wondering if their assailant would be apprehended or if his escape would be inevitable. Silence was among them for a while. Both hero and villain merely glanced at each other’s every tiny movement, ensuring they wouldn’t be at disadvantage if the opposite party was to attempt an ambush.
Then, suddenly, one of them broke the quiescence.
“I choose hide-and-go-seek.”
Hurriedly after his sudden comment, the Spectre raised his palm towards the still immobile Super. That time, no charging was required – the cannon fired immediately.
The spherical flash of laser was fired straight to the Super, though he stood still and no sign of panic could be perceived. It was fast, barely visible to the naked eye.
Fortunately, its result was shielded by equal amount of ‘invisibility’ as well.
Instead of vaporizing its target as it should had, an unexpected obstruction in the form of a purple wave blocked the attack, triggering a grin on the Super’s lips when he lightly tilted down his head.
“Thank you, innocent girl,” he urgently blurted out before leaping away high above the ground.
In the split second upon his ascend, his right hand stretched behind his left ear, and as he did, the nail atop his index finger literally transformed into a long and slender bistre-colored claw. Spectre was not idle, either, as, at the very same moment, he retargeted the Super, lashed out his arm above his gleaming visor, and initiated the charging of his attack once more, triggering the reappearance of that familiar gradual growing illumination.
One of their attacks had to be fired before the other.
And, of course, I’m still working on the last part of Chapter 3. It probably won’t be too long but, you can’t rush perfection. 
Thanks again, and you guys should learn from him and 
That’s the first time I’ve seen Al-Bob give a perfect score…