HEY WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT IM UPDATING WITH SOMETHING NEW. Im just full of surprises.

If your confused after this chapter, worry not brave soldier. all will be revealed with time. Keep an open mind.

Disclaimer: Of course I dont own static shock! I mean. if I did, would I be on FAN FICTION DOT NET COME ON why do I even add these things.

"Richie, pay attention!"

The heated whisper next to Richie, if heard, was not acknowledged. The blonde boy barely jerked from his position in his lab chair. He kept his eyes trained to his right, towards the window of the classroom.

He was lost. Lost in the sky, in the dark gray November clouds heavy with snow, in the thought of millions of individual water particles suspended in the air hundreds of miles above them. He was lost in the chemistry that made every snowflake, the certain atmospheric conditions that made the smallest of events possible. His dark gray eyes were out of focus with the classroom full of students around him. In truth, he himself had often felt out of focus with the world around him. Ever since...that night, its been getting worse. Slowly but surely. He did not notice the change until it had already grown around him, like a tree spreading it's many branches in every direction. He saw a flicker of white out the window, and as he looked, he noticed a flurry fall from the sky.

"Rich?" There was a nudge on his arm.

"What Virgil?" The words had come out much too loud, agitated and rough. Virgil raised his eyebrows.

But Virgil was not the only one who noticed the volume of his voice. In front of them chairs scraped against the titled floor to face the source of the disturbance. The teacher, Mr. Sansmith, paused from his lecture and honed in on Richie and Virgil's lab table. Richie's eyes widened.

"Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Foley, I hate to interrupt your conversation with my teaching." He said haughty. His eyes narrowed and flew between the two of them. Beside him, Virgil straightened up in his chair nervously. Richie estimated that it moved about 3.4578 of a inch to the right, but there was really no way to be sure. "However, if you have a better method for teaching the properties of Tantalum, then please illuminate us."

Next to him, Virgil's mouth opened nervously. "Well uh you see sir—um..." Virgil's voice faded off. Mr. Sansmith huffed triumphantly. Richie however, narrowed his eyes.

"Well I see that you both do not grasp the-"

"Tantalum, atomic number 73, atomic weight 180 point 9479. There are 25 known isotopes of tantalum though natural tantalum consists of just 2. It is categorized as a heavy gray metal though it is ductile enough to be used as a wire and is immune to chemical attacks and temperatures as low as -150 degrees Celsius." Said Richie evenly, never taking his eyes off his professor.

His words were greeted with silence.

He had not known what he expected. Maybe applause for something that seemed common knowledge to him. Maybe for Mr. Sansmith to nod on continue with his lecture.

But certainly not the looks of confusion that cascaded around the classroom. All around him were faces of befuddlement, brows knitted in confusion. Directly in front of him Frieda Goren rolled her eyes and scoffed quietly. A few other classmates did the same. There, freaky Foley was at it again. Mr. Sansmith shook his head.

"Nice try Mr. Foley, but I will not have cheating from your textbook on the ex-"

"I didn't read it from the textbook." Richie said automatically. Like most things nowadays, the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

"And you expect me to believe you just knew that?" Mr. Sansmith sneered. Some people in the classroom laughed at Richie's expense. Richie could feel the blood rush to his face, making his skin feel overly hot. His eyes darted around the classroom and at the jeering faces that surrounded him. It was funny, had not most of them been his friends a little over 4 months ago?

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but next to him, Virgil brushed a hand against his thigh from under the table. It was a warning gesture, one used to detour his best friend from whatever comeback was forming on his lips. Richie reminded himself to remain calm.

Just then a familiarly loud sound echoed around the room. The final bell signaling the end of fourth period. It was soon followed by the squealing of chairs and desks as students hurried to pack up their things and move for the door.

Richie's view of Mr. Sansmith was obscured for a moment by moving bodies. He let out a huff of air.

"Dude, whats up?" Next to him Virgil has grabbed both his, and Richie's backpacks with a quizzical expression on his face.

Richie glanced outside once more. The snow was in full motion now, blurring the colorless landscape of Dakota.

"Nothing."

He got up and strode to the door of the classroom, his best friend in tow. But before he could get to the exit, he heard his name being called. He did not turn around, and the source of the voice did no wait to be acknowledged.

"Disrupt my class again and Ill send you out with a referral Mr. Foley. Keep that in mind next time you decide show off during class time." Mr. Sansmiths arrogant smile could be heard from across the classroom. Richie kept his mouth clamped shut. Behind him he could feel Virgil's hand on the small of his back, urging him forward.

"Have a good weekend Mr. S!" Virgil called behind him in an all too jovial tone. He pushed Richie out of the door before the teacher could say another word.

When they were finally far from the classroom and at their lockers, Virgil turned to face his best friend. He looked at Richie searchingly, as if the answer to his unasked question was hidden somewhere in Richie's eyes.

"What the hell was that?"

"What was what?" Said Richie, turning away and focusing intently on the lock of his locker.

"Do not give me that Rich OK, that wasn't cool."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You didn't have to show off like that."

Richie slammed his locker shut. "I wasn't."

Virgil scoffed. "Yeah, OK, sure brainiac. And I'm trying out for the Olympics this year, did you hear?"

Instead of laughing like he was sure Virgil wanted him to, Richie continued staring blankly at the metal of his locker. Once again he was lost in the intricate properties of metal, the bonds it took to make it, the electron make-up of the atoms. His mind did not ask for permission to take control like this, and Richie did not stop it. How could he? How could he control what was happening to him? How could he hope to subdue something he did not understand?

Next to him, Virgil noticed his best friends trace-like state. He hated to say it, but more and more often these things seemed to be happening. Virgil had to admit, since the bang happened 4 months ago and he took on certain...extracurricular activities, he had not had much time for his best friend. It wasn't on purpose; it just took a lot of effort to hide his alter ego from his best friend. But still, he had noticed the signs of something not being...quite right with Richie. He had become more reclusive and...out of touch lately. The smiling boy who ran for class president a few months ago was absent, replaced with this withdrawn and sometimes temperamental stranger who randomly lost focus of everyday situations and rudely interrupted classrooms.

Virgil looked nervously to his left, surveying the hallway. No one was paying them any attention, every able body within earshot was too busy concentrating on collecting whatever possessions they needed and vacating the premises for the much anticipated weekend.

Virgil sighed and put both his and Richie's book bags on the ground. He placed his hands on either side of his best friends shoulders, and turned him around. Richie acquiesced with the movement, obediently moving with Virgil's arms to face him. The glassy look however, only abated slightly.

"Richie...look man. You..." Virgil dropped his voice. "You're my best friend and I...I trust you" Virgil stumbled over the word 'trust' momentarily. "...You know that right?. But...lets be honest. You haven't been yourself in...a while. A long while." Virgil paused once more, unsure where to go. Richie waited, unsure of what he would hear. He willed himself to not be distracted by the unsteadiness in his friends voice. "I just...Is something going on? I mean. I know I haven't been around a lot since...well what I mean to say is..." Virgil sighed and removed his arms. "What I mean is, are you OK? I'm worried about you. This isn't you."

Richie could feel his lips part slightly at that last remark. This wasn't him? How strange that phrase felt in his mind. He spun it around, heard it echo inside his head. This was not him. This was not the way he usually was. This was not who he was at all.

Richie could not stop the bitter chuckle that escaped his mouth. He deliberately looked away from Virgil when he felt the corners of his mouth pull downward, the water in his eyes multiplying in production. When he spoke, he whispered.

"I don't know who I am anymore."

It was such a small sound, he wasn't sure that Virgil heard. As it was however, he would never know, because in that moment he felt a sudden pressure on his back. He stumbled forward for a second before he realized who had pushed him.

"Jesus Richie! Way to piss of Sansmith back there!" Yelled Daisy, jostling herself between him and Virgil. Behind her, Virgil snorted indignantly.

"More like way to show off." It was Freida, striding her way to Daisy's side. He heels clicked methodically against the tiled floor in rhythm with her hips. Her lipgloss glinted off the gleam of the florescent lights above them. She surveyed Richie as a lioness would her prey. "Do tell me your study habits Foley. They must be extraordinary." Beside her, Daisy chuckled.

"That's enough Frieda." Said Virgil, picking up his backpack. He narrowed his eyes at her. Though she kept her eyes on Richie when she spoke, she addressed Virgil this time.

"Relax Hawkins, I was only teasing. I mean, what Richie did back there was impressive, don't you think?" She batted her long eyelashes at Richie and stepped a bit closer into his personal space. Richie did not falter. "Certainly a step up from his D average from last year." She purred.

Daisy giggled next to her. "Who knows Richie, you may have a gift!" She said enthusiastically. Frieda whipped around to face her friend, displaying what had to be the most sassy facial expression she had in her repertoire. Daisy, obviously cowed, clamped her mouth shut.

Virgil however, took this moment to nudge his way between both girls, effectively clearing a path for both him and Richie. "My man Richie is smart alright? Its not like it was a freak accident or something. People have this ability called learning you know. You should try it sometime Freida." Virgil spat out the last comment, turning to face the girl in heels. His eyes flickered to Richie for a moment after he spoke, possibly for support or acknowledgment, but Richie remained still. He was lost in something Virgil had said...

Frieda recovered quicker than him however. She took Daisy by the hand and began to lead her in the opposite direction. But before she was out of earshot she spoke just loud enough so that Richie and Virgil could hear.

"You're right Virgil. Richie is the real freak in this equation."

And just like that, she rounded a corner and was gone. But her and Daisy's laughter echoed around the hallways in their wake. Virgil shook his head.

"I can not believe we used to be friends with them." Virgil said angrily hoisting his backpack on his shoulder and turning toward the exit doors. "Come on Rich." But no Richie came.

Richie was frozen in place, transfixed, it seemed, on a spot in the distance that Virgil could not see. He seemed to be concentrating on something. Under his breath Virgil heard him repeat the word 'freak' quietly.

"Richie?"

The blonde boy's head snapped forward. His eyes widened with something Virgil could only place as comprehension, though his brow knitted with disbelief. Virgil stepped close to him, confused.

"Richie, what-" but his words were interrupted by a loud beeping on his hip. Richie was further pulled from his reverie by the slightly familiar sound.

Virgil closed his eyes in annoyance and blindly grabbed the small device on his belt. Richie watched his friend as his eyes scanned the item that was in his hand, his face falling with every flicker of his dark brown eyes. He had seen the small black box a few times, and it almost always signaled Virgil's absence. But whenever he mentioned it, Virgil always nervously changed the subject and deflected his questions until Richie dropped it.

Secrets. There had never been secrets between them before. Now, here they were, pushing their way between the only friendship Richie had left.. But he hardly had room to talk. He was keeping a few secrets of his own as of late.

"Richie I-"

"Its OK." Richie swayed on the spot, looking at his friend. Something was pulling him away from this place. He did not want to be in Virgil's, or anyone's company right now. "Ill see you later."

Before Virgil could protest, Richie grabbed his bag, turned heal and headed in the direction that Frieda and Daisy had gone. As soon as Virgil was out of earshot, he broke into a run. His mind, like so many increasing incidents in the past 4 months, was reeling. And he suddenly understood why.

He pushed open a door and was assaulted by a blast of icy air. All around him there was snow. The frosty white flurries had quickly covered the ground and surrounding area. His breath made small puffs of air in front of him. But he did not stop his sprint. Despite the absence of a proper jacket to protect him from the cold, he ran, his feet crunching against the snow under him. He ran until he was out of breath, until his hair was blown back by the wind and his clothes and shoes were wet with cold precipitation.

And the whole time, his mind, like his feet, raced.

His legs eventually slowed to a stop and he found himself an an old gnarled oak tea. Its branches were bare of any leaves and were quickly being covered in snow. He leaned up against its bark, letting the oxygen rush from his mouth and filling his lungs with frigid air, bracing himself against the sturdy tree. He closed his eyes and faced heavenward.

He knew what he was. Though Virgil had no idea of it, his words had opened Richie's mind.

Its not like it was a freak accident or something.

But it was. It had always been. A freak accident. Richie could not think of a better classification if he tried.

It had happened months ago, in August, when Richie had rescued Virgil from the gang war that was the big bang. That balmy night was imprinted into his mind. Virgil had disappeared, and Richie went looking for him. He found his best friend, passed out at the docks, surrounded by a foul smelling purple gas. All around him were unconscious bodies, the sound of shouting, and the shrill cry of sirens. He dragged his friend home the best he could, unknowingly, at the time, that he was inhaling a good amount of the noxious fumes around him. He remembered finally, after what felt like hours, getting Virgil home in the dead of night, and sneaking him into the house using the spare key under the mat. However, Richie did not remember much else of that night. He woke up in his own bed the next morning, bruised and sore, with barely any recollection of what had transpired the night before. Virgil seemed to suffer from the same amnesia as Richie.

But in the weeks to come they began to piece together the nights events. All over the city there were reports of 'freak accidents'. Ordinary people were beginning to exhibit some pretty extraordinary abilities. The big bang, as it came to be called, was turning anyone who had been in contact with it, into a monster. The local government had no way to control or contain the victims of the gas, and all over crime was skyrocketing. Dakota had taken a turn for the worst.

Virgil and Richie kept a close eye on each other for the next month or so, knowing full well what they could become because of their presence at the docks that night.. However, it was said that some lucky victims were immune to the mutagen effects of the meta-gene (as it was officially called on numerous news reports.). Virgil was one of those lucky few.

And until today, Richie thought he had to same luck.

The constant pounding in his mind. The elevated intelligence. His recent reclusive behavior. Everything was making sense suddenly.

He was a meta-human.

"I'm a meta-human." Said Richie aloud, as if hearing the phrase would make it any less terrifying. He opened his eyes.

It had started with severe migraines and an inability to focus. Then, slowly at first but then much faster, it escalated. Richie lost hours of sleep because he simply could not shut his brain down. He no longer needed to study, he retained information from the most miniscule details, and most of all; he had a nagging need to create things. Sometimes he found himself drawing blueprints in his mind without even realizing it. Other times, like today, he simply lost himself to the science of everyday life. Nothing was as simple as is seemed anymore. He saw everything as their chemical compounds and atomic make-ups. For a while now, he believed that surely he was going insane, that the genius inside his head was going to drive him into madness. That's what it felt like after months of not being able to control the thoughts in one's mind.

And as Virgil had said earlier, he really wasn't the same. Without even fully realizing it, he had changed, transforming into something alien and possibly dangerous.

He was a meta-human. That explained everything. Obviously his 'power' was super intelligence. He found it ironic that it had taken him this long to realize it.

His thoughts were interrupted by something fast to his left. He whipped his head around.

Up above, in the gray sky overhead he saw the purple dancing light of electricity. Even from where he stood on the ground, he could hear it crackle.

There he was, the only good thing to come out of this godforsaken city since August. His black overcoat billowed behind him in the wind. Under his feet was a metal garbage can lid that he charged with his powers to be able to fly.

Static.

Richie watched him fly towards the city. It was no secret that he admired the hero, because that's what he was; a hero. The big bang had produced nothing but criminals, yet out of all that, here was a shining beacon of hope. Hope that you are more than whats happened to you, that you can be more than what you have become.

Though, admittedly not many meta-humans had followed Static's example.

Virgil hated the guy. Said he was arrogant and that his sister's crush on the hero was disgusting. Richie wondered if Virgil might like the city's savior more if he weren't benefiting from a gas that turned most people into dangerous villains. He would never ask though.

Richie felt a pang of jealousy for Static's flashy and useful powers. It was funny, he had only realized a moment ago that he even had meta-human abilities, and now he was wishing that they were different somehow.

As he watched the last of Static's trail of electricity fade away into the air, he wondered what good he could possibly do with his powers. Could he think adversaries into submission? Probably not.

Maybe if you ask nicely he thought to himself with a smile.

But in a moment his smile was gone, replaced with the fear that the only thing his mutation could do was cause him to go mad. Surely that was the only direction he could go now, right? For he know that he had power now, but knowing of its presence shed no light on how to control or utilize it.

But maybe...there was something more to it.

No, he could not think criminals into submission. But he could create things to do that for him

Richie pushed himself from the trunk of the tree, his mind racing faster than he was used to.

He could analyze any given situation and make it work in his favor. He couldn't fly or shoot energy from his hands, but he could invent things that could accomplish those wonders.

And like Static, he could be more than what he had become.

Without giving his legs permission, Richie broke out into a dead run, following the direction to which the trail of electricity had gone. He willed himself not to stop, not until he reached where he was going.

And for the first time since August, he knew exactly which direction he was going in.

End Chapter 1