Title: Steam Powered Static
Rating: T for Teen
Author: Ctrl_Issue
Author's Note: I wanted to do a steam punk version of Static Shock, so here it is. I'm doing this strictly due to my own whimsy, so it might not be as tight as some of my other works. Not sure if there are gong to be any pairings just yet, I've got a pretty gen plotline right now, though that is subject to change, but I still hope it entertains you. Unbeta'd.
Chapter Word Count (including header): 4000
Steam Powered Static
Chapter 02
The next day dawn crisp and cool, but afternoon clouds rolled in promising more rain and cooler temperatures. As the last bell for the day echoed through the schoolyard, Virgil picked up his books, put in them his bag, and headed towards his meeting place with Richie with his usual excitement.
"Mr. Virgil?" Frieda said, running to catch up with him.
Her school dress, standard for all females attending Dakota Academy, had a tighter upper bodice, buttoned up all the way to the throat, and a skirt that swayed at ankle length. Virgil himself wore the male uniform of dark gray pants and jacket with a perfectly formed tie around his throat.
"Ms. Frieda," Virgil greeted her, properly taking her schoolbooks. "How are you today?"
"I'm good," she replied as she glanced over her shoulder.
Glancing back himself, Virgil saw Francis watching them, his eyes narrowed.
"Are you ready for our walk?" she asked as he opened the door for her.
"Indeed," Virgil nodded, giving her his arm.
She smiled as she took it, and the two of them began descending the steps towards the street. Being very careful, she leaned over to him and whispered, "I'm beginning to question Mr. Francis's intelligence. He just isn't catching the hint."
"Maybe you should introduce him to… someone else?" Virgil whispered back.
"That would mean I'd have to talk with him, unprotected." She muttered as she straightend her posture. "I've been trying to avoid that, if you hadn't noticed."
"Oh, I've noticed," the dark-skinned male replied. "But, I'd think with such a bright mind as yours, you'd be just as interested investigating other people's opinions and infatuations with Francis as you would what Mr. Alva is up to. Some stories start out small, but build up. Or so I've heard."
"Leave no stone unturned," Frieda nodded. "Yes, but… There's just something disturbing about the way he fixates."
"It has led him to do some great things," Virgil informed her. "I doubt he would have survived this long if he didn't fixate on something other than his health."
Frieda sighed in acknowledgement, but did not say anything to contradict him.
"On the other hand, I imagine that his supposed links to the darker side of Dakota doesn't help any potential attraction," Virgil snickered. "You may be interested in news, but even you stay clear of bad news like him."
"Oh, I don't know. Bad news can be good news, but he… I don't need that kind of big news in my personal life," she said with a shrug. "And speaking of news, where exactly are we heading?"
"It's Wednesday," Virgil said, as if that explained everything.
And, in a way, it did.
"Ahh, new dime novels are out," Frieda nodded with a knowing smirk. "I take it we're going to meet up with Richie?"
"You know it," Virgil laughed softly. "We're both dying to find out what happened to our favorite heroes."
"It's a good thing that you two are so willing to share," Frieda said with an affectionate roll of her eyes. "I can only imagine how much you two would spend if you each had to buy your own books."
"We'd have our own library of science-fiction pulp novels," Virgil agreed. "But it's fun, and it doesn't hurt anyone."
"Which is more than I can say for some hobbies," Richie said as caught up with them. "Ms. Frieda. Virgil."
"Mr. Richie," Frieda greeted with a smile, holding out her other arm.
With a slight blush, Richie smiled while he declined the opportunity. "I'm sorry, but I'm filthy, and I wouldn't want to ruin your dress with any still drying ink."
"I think I can face off against a little bit of ink," Frieda said archly.
Virgil looked over to see his friend wearing a cap, the pale sleeves of his shirt tied off around his biceps and elbows to keep them from catching on the printing press machinery, and a thick leather apron.
"Well, then, would you believe that I prefer my skin in tact, and with as wanted as you are by people who can make my life miserable, I'd prefer not to be seen escorting you around the city in a manner deemed familiar and improper?" Richie rambled, his blush intensifying as he began to struggle out of his apron. Once out, he rolled it up and tied it so that he could move more freely with his friends.
"Oh, all right," she laughed. "That I believe."
"So, any ideas where to start in your investigation to what Mr. Alva is really up to?" Richie asked, his blush slowly receding.
"Well, first thing first," Frieda nodded. "I'm hoping to get a tour of the power plant as a special project for the school newspaper. I think that would help point me in other directions on where to look."
"And how are you going to go about getting that tour?" Virgil asked as they turned the corner. Only one block more to go before they arrived at the book store.
"I am sending them a letter on the school letterhead, and insisting on freedom of the press to get a pass in," she nodded firmly.
"Well, I wish you the best of luck," Richie nodded, eyeing the outside racks of newspapers and magazines. "But I think what you're doing is crazy."
"I think it's dangerous." Virgil agreed.
"And I think it'll be brilliant." Frieda said. She released Virgil's arm and silently asked for her books.
With a grin, Virgil handed them over to her. "You better be careful."
She chuckled as she headed away from them and towards the post office.
"Crazy," Richie said with a shake of his head.
"You said it," Virgil agreed.
The two shared a conspirator-smile before heading into the store.
Thirty minutes, and a forty cents later, the two emerged from the store, each holding two books.
"So, which one you going to read first, V?" Richie asked as he looked between the two books he carried. For him, each book was a treasure.
Right up until a lit match landed on the new, shiny cover.
"Hey!" Richie shouted, dropping the book. He stomped on it a few times, trying to put out the fire.
"Damn," a familiar voice drawled. "I better work on my aim."
Virgil looked up from what Richie was doing to glare at Francis. The other young man was leaning against the corner of a building next to them with easy access to the alley between them. "That was completely uncalled for."
Francis covered his mouth with his handkerchief and coughed delicately into it. "Oh, please. It's a stupid book read by stupid people. I saved his intelligence, what little there is of it, by destroying that rag."
"Damn your eyes," Richie growled from his knees as he tried to repair the damage to the book. When he looked up, tears of rage shimmered in his eyes behind his glasses. "You need to back off."
Francis shook his head and scoffed. Crossing his arms across his chest, he sighed. "Seems I'm a bit late to save your little catamite."
It was all Virgil could do to hold Richie back. "What do you want, Francis?"
"I want Miss Frieda," the redhead replied, as if it were the most natural and possible thing in the world, and so completely obvious it didn't need stating except to the mentally deficient. "And you're getting in my way."
"I do not control Miss Frieda," Virgil said, still standing in front of Richie. However, he was no longer holding the blond back. If anything, the blond was now watching out to see if he would have to restrain Virgil. "You would be wise to not try to either."
"Or what? You'll inflict some physical violence on my persons?" Francis smirked. "Trust me, neither of you have the… skills."
"Just because you're ill doesn't mean I won't beat you down," Virgil warned.
Francis chuckled darkly at the threat even as two others came out of the shadows of the alley. "Oh, I'd love to see you try."
"Yo, Francis, I bet Virgil could take you."
"Wade?!" Virgil asked, shocked. He and Richie both turned to look at the fast approaching young man.
Wade was dressed in his dockworker's clothes, though Virgil knew that he hadn't gone on shift yet. The older man muscled his way forward like a bulldog, causing the two people that Francis had brought with him to back down. Two others followed Wade, and Virgil had a sudden errant thought in his head, wondering if it was normal for people to run around in packs and small mobs when they spent more of their lives in the darkness than in polite society.
Virgil felt both relief as well as disappointment upon seeing the older male. He had been rescued from similar situations in the past by Wade, or at least someone from his 'crew', and while there had never been a call for him to return the favors bestowed upon him, he knew that it was just a matter of time.
"Bet Virgil could wipe the floor with you," Wade continued.
"Heh," Francis chuckled softly. "Then why don't we see about that? Bring him to the duel tonight, let him be your stand-in."
"You going to be-"
"We'll see you there," Francis interjected with a smug smile before twisting down the alley, and running off with his two associates.
"Man, for someone with weak lungs, he sure can run," Virgil remarked as he peeked around the corner to see the trio leaving. He felt more than saw Richie get up and lean against him to see down the alley as well.
"Oh, he'll be hacking up half of it whenever he stops to catch his breath," Wade said with a disgusted shrug. He stood staring down the alley, his arms crossed across his chest. "That boy has been in and out of the hospital so many times, he should be a doctor by now. Doesn't help that all that down time just feeds his sadistic streak. Idle hands and devil's playground and all that other rot."
One of the two following Wade snickered at that.
"Uhm, Wade…" Virgil hesitated, not wanting to irritate his errant savior, but… "You know I'm not a fighter. More of a lover, yeah?"
"Oh, yeah, but don't worry. As my second, all you have to do is show up." Wade said with a shrug, still looking down the alley. "I know you, Hawkins. You're a good kid."
"…Thanks." Virgil muttered as he straightened up.
"But you got shit for a reputation. You're easy pickings, too much of a square, and Francis knows that. He's picking you off as the easiest entertainment for himself. And because it seems you caught the eye of someone he's interested in."
"Ouch," Richie muttered.
"What do you get out of this, Wade?" Virgil asked, not bothering with subtlety or propriety.
"Me?" Wade asked, finally turning to look at Virgil. He smiled widely and shook his head. "I'm just helping out your sister. She'd be very upset if something happened to you."
"My… sister?" Virgil squeaked. "You're interested in my sister?"
"What?!" Wade asked, shocked so much that he fell out of his wide stance, and dropped his arms to his side. "No, man, she's been helping me and my brothers. She's been helping some of us find different jobs and making connections, trying to help us get a better life."
Virgil and Richie shared a look before turning back to Wade.
"You know, and you may already know this," Wade remarked with a rueful smile. "If your sister and her debutante friends ever put their mind to it, they could take over this town and rule it like a new Cartel."
Virgil blinked as he thought about that, thought about his sister sitting behind a large, dark wood desk while smoking a pipe and issuing out death orders. Thought about some of her friends walking into the room, talking about shoes and dresses and charities and about who to kill next. He shivered at the thought. "Thankfully, that would never happen."
"I know, but it's still something to think about," Wade laughed as he shook his head. "Meet up at the docks tonight, Pier 23, at around midnight. Duel won't occur until one, but it's helpful to be there early to gauge the layout of the land."
"I'll be there," Virgil muttered, completely un-thrilled with the idea. "Weaponless, but there."
"Don't worry. I'll have something you can use."
"Oh, joy."
Wade chuckled as he patted Virgil on the shoulder, and then he headed off to work, his crewmembers following behind him as silent as shadows.
"Man…" Richie said slowly, watching Virgil rather than Wade. "This is not a good idea. This is seriously not a good idea."
"I know." Virgil sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"This is so seriously not a good idea, I'd rather you go with Miss Frieda to help her investigate Alva." Richie continued.
"I would almost prefer to be with Miss Frieda," Virgil agreed. He shook his head and stuffed his two books into his book bag. "But, if I don't show up, not only would I be giving Francis more material against me, but I would also be disappointing Wade."
"And Wade is one guy you don't want to disappoint," Richie agreed with a grimace.
"Exactly." Virgil shook his head.
The two looked at their feet for a moment before turning towards Virgil's home.
"I guess it's going to be a late night for you, then," Richie said quietly.
"Yeah," Virgil agreed. "And school will start just as early tomorrow."
"There is that," the blond agreed.
Virgil gave a deep sigh. "I am so dead."
"Agreed."
The two young men soon parted ways, as Richie had to get back to work and Virgil had to go home.
Dinner that night was a casual affair, and Virgil allowed his sister to dominate the conversation. Not that he had much choice in the matter, really, but he liked to believe that if he had wanted the attention, he could have had it. After dinner, the three Hawkins retired to the parlor where Sharon began to work on her embroidery and Virgil worked on his homework.
The youngest member of the family prayed that there would be no tests the next day, as he couldn't remember anything he went over, his mind far too filled with dread at what he would be doing later that night.
He had never really thought about his home life before, but for the first time, he began to mull it over. Unlike some people, including his best friend Richie, his family was in the upper echelon of society. With his mother a Lady-Nurse and his father a well-known businessman, his family could afford to heat their four-bedroom house, indoor plumbing for the kitchen and wash-closet, as well as keep a healthy stock of candles and food. The parlor had a small cabinet of liquor that remained closed unless there happened to be a special occasion or a holiday, though the baby grand piano seemed to be touched every day.
Closing his book, Virgil turned in his seat to stare at one of the three photographs in the room. It was the only one of his mother, and it was so old that Virgil appeared as just a toddler in his mother's arms. Idly, he wondered if that would be the only photograph ever taken of him.
At some point during the evening, rain began to pour down the windows. It took a crash of thunder and lightning to make them all turn to see.
"It looks like there is going to be a storm tonight," Sharon said as she set aside her needlework. She moved over the largest window of the room and closed the curtain, trying to keep any chill that might try to enter out.
"Mr. Hawkins?" came a quiet, slightly accented voice.
"Yes, Mrs. Baldur?" Mr. Hawkins asked, standing up as the elderly woman came into the room.
"I have a pie setting in the kitchen, should you be interested in a late night snack," she said with a soft smile.
"Ah, thank you, ma'am," he said taking her hands in his. "But it is late. You should be getting home soon, yes?"
"Yes," she nodded happily. "My Tony, he should be here any moment."
"Is he picking you up in the back?"
"Yes, yes," she nodded. "I be back tomorrow, though. Bright and early."
"Of course, Mrs. Baldur." Mr. Hawkins smiled. Giving a sly look to Virgil, he added. "And I'm sure your pie will be just fine in the mean time."
"Hey!" Virgil shouted good-naturedly.
Mrs. Baldur just laughed and shook her head. "Food is only good if you eat it!"
Mr. Hawkins chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "You take care tonight. Seems to be a storm is on its way in."
"Ah, not a bad one, though," she corrected. "My bones, they tell me this is nothing."
She left the three of them, and soon after Virgil excused himself for the night. He stopped by the wash-closet to clean up before slipping quietly upstairs and into his own room. As quietly as he could, he got out of his normal after school clothes and got into some of his more raggedy clothes. If he was going down to the docks later that night, he didn't want to ruin any of his good clothes, or at least ruin any clothes that he could get in trouble for. He also made sure that he was dressed warmly, though he knew his rain jacket remained down stairs close to the front door.
Virgil lay back in his bed, and listened as both his sister and then his father retired for the night. He remained in his bed until he heard the down stairs clock chime the eleventh hour. Then, moving with extra caution, he slipped out of bed and out of his room. He skipped over the stair that squeaked, his senses on over drive as he tried his best to remain silent. Using all the stealth he had, he grabbed his rain jacket and traveling hat. Then slipped to the kitchen so that he could sneak out the back door.
As he opened the door, Virgil glanced over to the table and noticed the pie that was still sitting there. With a mournful sigh, he teenager left the pie unmolested as he escaped into the night.
He made his way quickly down to the docks, running most of the way. Fortunately, the rain cleared up the closer he got to the docks, so there was at least one concern that e wouldn't have to worry about. As he neared, he found other teenagers, most not from his school though they were around his age, converging on the docks along with him. Easily slipping through the gate that someone else held open, a nameless teenage female with Latin eyes and golden hair, Virgil followed the flock of teens to the designated pier where they divided up along three groups: one group going towards Wade; the second group going to another, thinner black man; and the third group just finding places to watch the duel.
Virgil took a deep breath, more or less trying to catch his breath after running for so long, before he moved over to be at Wade's side.
"I see you made it," Wade grinned. "And only giving me a slight heart-attack. Could you have cut it any closer?"
"Sorry," Virgil said, his lungs still burning. "I had to run most of the way here, and it took me longer than I thought it would."
"Yeah, well…. I'm just glad you made it."
"So… what am I supposed to do now?" Virgil asked, noticing Francis standing behind the other black man, obviously the second half to this duel.
"Here's the deal," Wade said, beckoning to another person to come over. For a moment, the person looked familiar, and Virgil could only guess by the man's larger frame that he had seen him before somewhere. The stranger handed Wade an ornate wooden box before slipping away again.
Opening the box, Wade displayed two very ornately detailed wooden and brass pistols.
Virgil sucked in a breath before taking a partial step back. "Wade-"
"You are going to take the second one, load it, and have my back in case I fall and Ebon over there wants to take a second, unfair shot at me. Or in case Francis wants to take a shot." Wade explained, motioning with the box for Virgil to take one. "Francis is Ebon's second tonight."
"You want me… to carry a gun?" Virgil hissed before he looked everywhere but at Wade. Unfortunately, everywhere he looked, Virgil saw people looking at him. Watching him.
Waiting for him to back down and show the world what a coward he was.
They were standing in front of crates to the side, and sitting atop of metal canisters further along the pier. Some were even sitting in boats floating in the near-by waters.
Turning back to the larger male, Virgil stepped forward again and whispered. "You know my mother was killed by one of these things!"
"I know," Wade nodded. "But I also know that sometimes a lot of good can come from guns."
"Like what?"
"Police officers use them-"
"And so do smugglers."
"Virgil," Wade warned.
Virgil looked passed Wade, towards where Francis and Ebon stood watching them.
"Just because you hold the gun doesn't mean you have to use it." Wade murmured to him. "If that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. You can stay at my back, but I'll just pretend you aren't there."
The smirk on Francis's face grated, and Virgil knew the only way he was going to ever get that expression off the redhead's face was if he picked up the gun.
"Just make sure you don't shoot me by accident." Wade continued.
Virgil shot the man a venomous glare, but squared his shoulders and picked up the pistol. It rested heavy in his hand, but was somehow warm to the touch. Wade nodded his head, and then picked up his own pistol. He snapped the box shut before tossing it the gentleman who had given it to him. Then, Virgil watched as Wade loaded the weapon, following the directions as close as his cold, numb fingers allowed.
When they were finished, Wade nodded, and then motioned for Virgil to take a few steps back. Taking his cue, Virgil not only got a few steps behind Wade, but also managed to put a large crate between himself and Francis. When he noticed Wade's expression, he shrugged.
"What? You know he's gunning for me."
Wade chuckled softly. "As you say, kid."
"Are you ready?" Ebon asked, his voice surprisingly smooth, even in the chilled air.
"I am. And you, sir?" Wade asked. "Though I use the term loosely."
Ebon gave a devious smirk before bringing his pistol up. Wade did the same. Virgil looked out from behind his barrier to watch Francis, who seemed to be quite content just watching him, that smug smile firmly in place.
The world seemed to fall away as the two men cocked the pistols.
Shots fired.
And the world exploded.