How Fast Is Dash Parr In The Incredibles?

I'm Kelly. Everyone calls me Speed. I'm all about control. I'm in control on the racetrack. I'm in control of my car. I'm in control of how I fought to raise my deaf little brother. I live for being in control. Except in my personal life, I have no control and I don't know how to handle it. I don't know where I fit. Should I go with what I have been taught all my life as normal or should I give in to myself and let my true desires come out. I'm Brick. When I first met Speed I could see instantly she needed someone to take control. She needed the Dom in me to help her safely explore her needs and desires. She needed to submit to me and to her true self. She needed me to guide her as she explores who she is and what she wants. She needs a safe place only I can give her to step past what was drilled into her as right and follow her heart. I'm Gretchen. I'm a bunny for the Reckless Renegades. I service the members, most of the time means having sex with them. I was ok with that. Well, I was ok with it until I met Speed. I was drawn to her instantly. I wanted to get to know her but more than that I wanted to be with her. Before I can even make a move she finds out I'm a bunny and won't speak to me anymore. Being a bunny was fine for me but now I want more. I want to help Brick to get Speed to open up. I want to be with her in every way even if that means sharing her with him and giving up my bunny was.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

A rich scion of Jelthorne, Owen Waller, loves cycling. I am invited as a special guest competitor to take part in the cycling competition he organizes. But at the starting point, I see my wife, Reyna Cleveland, who brings along her junior, Timothy Spence, to compete. As soon as I walk over, she slaps me in front of everyone. She fumes, "Are you really this paranoid? Do you have to follow me wherever I go? Do you even know how to cycle? Why come here and make a fool of yourself?" I am just about to take out my invitation pass when Timothy lets out a derisive laugh. I smile in response and propose, "Then why don't we compete?" Timothy replies, "Sure. If I lose, I will jump into the lake and swim naked. But if you lose... You'll divorce Reyna!" I nod calmly. What they do not know is that I was once the most talented pro rider in the country.

The day before the race, I burned my car and announced my withdrawal. Overnight, my fanbase collapsed. Supporters unfollowed in droves, and casual fans turned on me just as viciously. Jasper, the man who had always treated me as his only real rival, put on a show of false concern. “Without him, the race feels too lonely. No matter what, I still hope he’ll return to the track and face me properly.” I sneered. In my previous life, the racecar I had painstakingly modified ended up identical to his. No matter how many videos I released of full recordings of every step I personally took, all Jasper had to do was tearfully tell his fans, “Then let Finn use it. He needs it more than I do. I’ll win on my own strength.” And just like that, I became the shameless thief in everyone’s eyes. Later, the moment I started my car, the components inside exploded, and I was left in a vegetative state. His fans called it karma. Even on the day my fiancée pulled out my oxygen tube and watched me die, I still couldn’t understand. Why had everything that belonged to me—my career, my girlfriend—all become Jasper’s? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the race schedule was first announced.

After getting a second chance at life, I immediately cut all ties with Natalie Duvall and Cody Hudson. In my previous life, Natalie blindsides me with a divorce eight years into our marriage after falling for a race car driver. She looks down on me, complaining that I'm just a boring homebody who does nothing but cook and clean. Even Cody piles on, telling me, "Mr. Maddox is going to be a world champion one day, Dad. Stop being so pathetic and petty!" The two of them pack their bags and walk out on me. I can't let them go, but my desperate search for them that night ends in a fatal car crash. As my life bleeds out on the asphalt, regret consumes me. Natalie forgets that I used to be a world-class driver myself, only to give up my career and step out of the spotlight to focus on our marriage and raise our kid. So, with a clean slate in this life, I sign the divorce papers without a moment's hesitation and vanish without a trace. Five years later, at the Elandorian Championship, Natalie and Cody push their way through the crowd like madmen, cutting off my path. With bloodshot eyes, Natalie corners me and demands, "We spent five years looking for you. Did you seriously ditch your family just to go back to racing?" Her audacity takes me aback. Before I can even muster a response, my daughter, Daphne Hudson, grabs my hand. "Daddy, Mommy and the others are waiting to celebrate your big win. Who are these people?"

At one in the morning, my husband Grayson's phone lit up. A message from Leah popped up on the screen: [I sprained my ankle during rehearsal. It hurts so bad I can't sleep. Can you come hold me?] Watching Grayson throw on his clothes, I leaned back against the headboard and nearly laughed out loud. She was pouting in the middle of the night and making a married man drive halfway across Seattle to take care of her. For a twenty-two-year-old dance academy intern, she really wasn't very considerate. At least nowhere near as thoughtful as a certain sports science major I knew. That evening, Nolan had just gotten his professional motorcycle racing license and ridden his new bike across the bay to deliver the silver-gray heels I needed for tomorrow's board meeting right to my office building. Before he left, he'd pinned me between the car door and his chest in the parking garage and kissed me until my knees went weak.