A/N: I cannot believe I wrote this. Know how "humor" sounds like a happy prompt? Heh. Not to me, apparently. I actually cried while writing this, too. Yeah. For the full effect that I had, don't read until about midnight, when everything in your house is quiet. Then slip on some headphones and listen to this on a loop: http:/www DOT youtube DOT com/watch?v=A1-7RMAiabM
Not even kidding. I hope you guys like it. I was in such in angst-y mood, and there doesn't seem to be enough angst in this fandom. :) Enjoy. By the way, the format could get a little confusing, because it jumps around, but I'm sure you'll be able to keep up. If not, let me know, and I'll edit it.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing the toys.
1] Humor
"Look out!"
He knew it was his fault.
He knew that he couldn't change what happened. Couldn't erase the memories, nor the sounds from his mind.
He would spend countless hours of the night staring at the ceiling, analyzing every detail from that night. Everything, from the light of the streetlamp that reflected off the knife, to the amount of blood that pooled the road. Going over numerous visions of what went wrong, what he could have done.
Anything different to save Virgil.
Richie knew that it was his fault, no matter how many times his subconscious told him there was nothing he could have done. He still felt completely guilty for everything.
Zmph.
He blinked, for what must have been the first time in... He glanced at the clock. Three hours and forty-seven minutes. It was a noise that knocked him out of his thoughts, he noted, which meant someone was awake. Slowly, he sat up, mindful of the already-made bed, and careful not to mess it up. He stood, and closed his eyes, the dizzy blackness evading his vision, antagonizing his headache further. When the dizziness ceased, he opened his eyes and turned around. He looked at the bed and leaned down to smooth out the wrinkles he'd created.
Laughter. Normally, a sound for expressing amusement. A sound made when one finds something humorous. Virgil would laugh at the cheesy makeup in the movies they would watch. Static would laugh at the stupidity of a robber that ran away from Gear and bump right into him. Then there were those that would laugh at nothing, for nothing, finding anything and everything amusing, or just because they had a voice to laugh with, like Shiv. Insane and psychotic.
Richie righted himself and picked his helmet from the floor next to the desk. He took one last, longing, albeit fuzzy, look around the room before slipping the helmet over his head and summoning Backpack with a thought. The little machine crawled onto the door, unlocked the knob, and made it's way back to it's master, reclaiming it's usual place on his back.
He climbed onto the sill of the already-opened window. He'd keep it open, so they knew he had been there, as was habit. Jumping off the ledge and firing up his skates, Gear flew from the Hawkin's residence, leaving the moon to shine in on the carpet floor of the bedroom that has become his sanctuary.
Then, there were those truly evil, that laughed at the tragedy and harm they caused another being. Those horrible enough to find pure joy with the blood of another on their hands.
Someone like Ebon.
Gear clenched his fists and directed his body to fly higher, to be directly above the city. It was quiet, but not peaceful. Chilly and noiseless.
Zmph.
Gear immediately swirved around, dodging to the left and downward, grabbing a ZapCap from his belt. He looked in every direction, but was too high up for someone to hide behind a building. Unconciously, he calculated the time one would need to reach the nearest building from the distance he was from the ground.
"It'll only take a few minutes, Rich."
Nothing. No one was there.
A trick of the mind, he thought. He returned the ZapCap to the cartridge on his belt, turned around, and continued flying.
"V, please. I'm sure Rubberband Man can handle this one. Let's go home."
In his dreams, Richie could hear the mocking laughter. He heard it as he held his friend, as his mind slipped into one thought: "Please don't die!"
He just wanted the noise to stop. He wanted the blood to stop flowing. He wanted to hear his friend tell him to stop crying and help him finish off the bad guys.
Even if Gear himself, was now dubbed as a "bad guy".
The pure look of hatred he shot Ebon as a warning to cease his laughter only inspired more. He decided to make him stop. His body became numb and cold. His subconscious couldn't do anything but wish the noise would stop, that none of this was happening. After ripping a piece of cloth from Static's jacket and pressing it hard against the source of flowing liquid, Richie mindlessly stood, unable to hear the terrible laughter any longer. He mouthed something, but his voice wouldn't work. His helmet was sending readouts of increasing adrenaline, ferocious heart acceleration, and his body temperature decreasing frantically, from Backpack.
Ebon said something, still chuckling, that Richie didn't hear. All he could hear was his simple thoughts, and Static's words...
"Look out!"
Static's scream...
It was a few minutes after four when Gear took his usual seat on the clocktower, sitting on the left side of the large seven. "Hey, bro." He whispered, staring up in the sky, hoping he was heard. "Tonight's quiet."
When Richie crouched back down to Static, he wiped his hands on his pants as best he could, before pressing down again on the wound, which was still flowing blood in tremendous amounts. "V-Virgil." He said, shakily. His hands trembled as he lifted the head of dreads into his arms.
"R-Rich...I-" A deep-throated cough. "I'm glad you-"
"Why'd you do that!" Gear threw off his helmet with one hand after positioning Static's shoulders carefully in his other arm. "Bro, I need you with me!" His voice softened at the small smile that Virgil struggled to make. Richie removed the white mask from the dark skin. He wiped the tears that had streamed, unaware of his own already tear-streaked cheeks.
Virgil was now struggling to breath.
He only had minutes left, Richie thought as he squeezed one of Virgil's hands.
"Because, I could- couldn't let you get hurt."
Off in the distance, Richie could hear the faint sound of sirens blaring. He could get to them faster if he flew. He pulled an arm under Virgil's knees.
"No."
Richie looked at him desperately. "Virg, let me get you out of here! I can get to them faster!"
Virgil slightly shook his head. "It's too late for me, Rich." He coughed again, but this time, a small stream of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. "D-do me a favor and get t-this thing out of me."
"But V-Virgil... You'll die.."
"I'm sor-ry-" He took a deep, raspy breath. "I'm sorry, Rich."
Richie hesitantly grabbed the handle of the knife that had penetrated Virgil's heart, and exited out his back. "V-Virgil, I-I l-love you."
With as much strength as he could muster, Richie pulled the blade out and tossed it toward the shadow-meta-human's black blood-covered body.
Virgil gasped as the blade slid from his skin. More blood poured onto the pavement.
He looked up at Richie, a bright, white light forming around the two of them. Richie's form was becoming increasingly fuzzy. "Rich. I love you, t-too."
He smiled with pure acceptance as the light blinded his vision completely.
"It was quiet then, too. But we received that message about a robbery on Fifth and Main. The readout said Rubber-band Man was with the cops, and it was nothing major." Gear removed his helmet and placed it in his lap. "But you wanted to check it out."
"As it said, it was just a thug with a bag of jewels, and as soon as he saw us, he high-tailed it down the road."
"I chased after him on my skates, impatiently." Eyes welling up, he took a deep breath. "I should have waited, bro. I had...I had no idea Ebon was in the shadows. I had no idea he had a knife."
"He was laughing about it. Laughing!" He allowed a small sob to escape his throat, but kept talking. "Why'd you push me? I'm supposed to be a super-brain. I'm supposed to be the one to get killed protecting you. N-not the other way around!"
He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, trying to suppress the tears that now freely flowed. "I should have died. I should have been the one Ebon found amusing, sitting in a pool of blood!"
His sobs grew louder.
"I'm not the hero everyone loved! You are! Not me! Please, Virg! Please, God! Why!" He didn't know why he was begging, or what he was begging for. Most likely an answer, an explanation, a reason. He threw his head back and arms in the air. "He was the innocent one! I was stupid! Why do I live!"
Zmph.
Richie stopped moving. He was staring directly in front of him. He was watching a tiny, purple spark dance before him.
A tiny spark of Virgil's power.
Richie lowered his arms and reached a hand toward the small bolt. Nothing was there to make any electricity spark. No metal, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky tonight. As his finger touched it, it disappeared, but not before giving him a small shock.
He looked at his fingers and arm. The hair was standing on end, but nothing to worry over.
Richie looked toward the sky again.
"Virgil..."
He knew it was his fault. He knew there was something he could, he should have done.
He spent hours of the night being taunted by the laugh that killed his best friend. The pure happiness they felt that his partner was laying in a pool of his own blood. The humor that it was to them.
Richie just wanted it to stop.
"Virgil! Don't-"
