I would like to thank everyone else who took the time and energy to review my story: sche z., Onyxlight, redturtle, Kioa, MeLaiya, ValkrieCrow, pitaC89, tsuka-kun, MsManga, Shadowstar, Kai michi and Mendaia. You don't know how much your comments have helped me.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, still no profit. And all is right with the world

Warnings: Slash, minor violence.


Mind the Gap

Chapter 2: Light Exercise and a Nice Chat

Richie felt himself scream as a moldy hand burst its way through the window, causing glass to fly inward.

"Get down!"

Virgil grabbed Richie roughly by the wrist to rush them away from the falling shards, but the blond was already halfway out. They dropped to the floor and gracelessly crawled the rest of the way to the relative safety of a nearby alcove, ducking from sight.

"What was that?" Richie gasped.

Virgil turned to look back out the alcove to look at their table, paused for a moment, then turned back to Richie. "Zombies."

"What? No way…" Richie pushed past Virgil to look, and then retracted himself back into the shadows. "Ok, looks like a zombie. Fine. But how do we know it's not some metahuman with greenish-grey skin and sunken pits for eyes? Who…who just happens to also have a clearly visible ribcage over a sunken stomach, and smells like rotting meat?"

Virgil didn't look convinced, and in unison the boys peeked past the wooden divider. The creature was at a 90° angle, half of its body still outside and its torso on their table. It let out a guttural groan as nails worn to bloody stubs scratched on the table in frantic flails. It raised its demonic head, revealing a black gaping hole where the mouth should have been, and Richie's heart clenched when its sockets seemed to focus directly on them. It let out another rasp as it continued to try to pull itself through the window with just its bony fingers, resulting in an earsplitting SNAP when one of its brittle digits broke.

The boys ducked back behind the barrier.

"Richie?"

"Yeah?"

"That's a zombie."

"Yeah." Richie sighed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes, suddenly feeling very, very tired. The other patrons on the restaurant had just begun to catch on that the crash they heard wasn't the clumsy dropping of plates, and there was suddenly a melody of screams aided with the percussion of scraping chairs.

"Oh my God!"

"Someone call an ambulance!"

"He's on drugs!"

Luckily due to the time of night the only people in the restaurant were a handful of couples and drunken students from a nearby college, so there wasn't a large riot as the group began to scramble for the front doors when they realized that the man hanging over the booth in the romantic corner of the restaurant wasn't all that human. They lived close to Dakota after all, and they probably were already drilled with the safety measures regarding unexplained events: Run Away! Run Away!

Virgil, however, never got that talk. "Looks like he's got company," he noted, lips pulling back to reveal his teeth. Richie put on his glasses and looked again. A pale woman with a matted helmet for hair staggered to the opening to the restaurant, before clumsily slumping over the window and tumbling within the diner with a thud. Another figure appeared on the other side of its still floundering brethren. It was flabbier than the others, but the 'missing half its face' thing pointed to the fact that it was obviously dead. It reached an arm into the restaurant towards the boys, releasing a howl as the rest of its body was blocked by the walls. Virgil shook his head again. "Man… real-live zombies. Well, you know. Where's a shotgun when you need it?"

"V, this isn't Resident Evil, nor is it Texas. Closest thing we have to weapons lying around are the butter knives." Richie wasn't being completely serious with his reply. He knew if given the chance Virgil would likely never have used a gun, anyways. Even against the already dead. Richie ducked a hand into his jeans. He only had two zap caps on him; the rest was with the rest of Gear's equipment, hidden behind a dumpster in an alley next to the restaurant. "I think we should be able to contain them. As long as any more don't show-"

"-up?" Virgil helpfully finished as two more cadavers came into view, groping mindlessly past the jagged glass.

"Well, that just happened at the most ironic moment possible." Richie winced as he saw a zombie slit its arm from a sharp shard, but no blood leaked out from the long ago withered arm.

"Look, we can't let these guys get out of sight long enough for both of us to run to where we left our stuff. At least the restaurant got cleared of witnesses." The corpse-woman raised itself from the floor.

"Dead people tend to do that. I don't like where you're going with this, V."

"Tough." Virgil grinned. "Alright, I'll stay here and keep them around while you get more caps. Then we'll take these guys out, get changed, and find out what the hell is going on."

Richie frowned as he considered the plan. He'd have to go through the kitchen, out the back door, run down the alley, climb a chainlink fence, then grab the stuff behind the dumpster and go back the same way. The entire journey would take approximately two to two and a half minutes, time Virgil would have to face alone with the zombies. "Why am I the one who automatically gets to turn tail and run?" Richie asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Virgil let out a quick electrical blast when the corpse-woman took too many shuffling steps forwards, causing her to fly back against the wall and then lie in a twitching pile of limbs. Virgil then shot Richie a 'duh' look.

"Jerk." The blond boy grinded his teeth and pulled out the two zap caps, thrusting them in Virgil's waiting palm. He hated it when V was logical, it was like someone using Richie's greatest weapon against him. "Don't let them overwhelm you."

Virgil watched as the first zombie finally pulled itself fully through the window only to get tangled in the tablecloth, rolling itself and the fabric onto the floor. It let out a toneless bellow of despair as it attempted to free itself from its self-made cocoon.

"You know? I really don't think that'll be a problem."

Richie took one last look at the broken window, watching as the female zombie twitched and started forward again, and then took to the kitchen with a run. "If they get too close…!"

"I'll walk away." Virgil amended his statement when Richie shot him a reproving look. "Very quickly."

Virgil did have a point, the zombies were sorta pathetic. Still, the worst things happened when the two of them let their guards down. But Richie didn't have time to argue further, so he just pushed his way through the doors into the kitchen.

"Hello! Is anyone still here?" He rushed through the apparently quickly abandoned kitchen. A halibut was even burning on a skillet. "Fire!" He figured that might empty the kitchen of any stragglers more easily than, "Your diner's being attacked by incompetent zombies!"

Receiving no answer, Richie ran the rest of the way through the kitchen, barging through the backdoors to an alleyway that opened up into the street. A small section of the alley in the back was blocked off by a locked chainlink fence, evidently to keep unwantables out of the restaurant's trash. Richie rushed to the back of the alleyway, and then considered the fence for a moment. It would be harder getting over it without Virgil to give him a boost, but it wasn't as if he had a choice. Besides, spending the last few months chasing after the big and bad and ugly made for an excellent workout. He wasn't as physically agile as Virgil yet, but he was miles from what he was before. Richie reached as high up as he could, gripping the links tightly, and scrambled up the fence. It was all gravy until he got to the top, where a misplaced hand sent him falling the remaining feet to the ground.

Richie figured that he should have expected this. If he didn't somehow sprain his arm on his trip, the night would have been just too goddamned perfect. He pushed himself up from the ground with his right arm, the left one still beneath him. A concerned beep beep arose from the dumpster, as Richie's most prized invention crawled out from under it.

"Did… did you record that?"

Beep beep

"Yeah, remind me to confiscate that later… or photoshop a… a matrix move in there or something." Richie groaned and made it to his feet, testing his arm. Ok, it wasn't sprained, just a bit bruised. Nothing but embarrassing, mostly. "Backpack, think you can unlock the fence for me?" It wasn't really a question. The machine beeped an affirmative and scrambled to do the work.

Richie held his breath as he grasped at a well hidden backpack (the bag, not the bot), removing the belt where he held his caps. He probably didn't have time to change into Gear, and he could only hope that the police wouldn't arrive until then. The last thing they needed was anyone seeing Virgil using his powers to whack zombies with tables, or Richie hanging around with Gear's robot.

"Backpack, do a full scan of the area. Are Virgil and I the only humanoid beings in about a 200 foot…" Richie turned and widened his eyes, stepping back. "I guess not."

At least a dozen shadowy forms were swaying at the mouth of the alleyway. It was too dark to see their faces, but Richie could tell what they were. His biggest hints were all the missing limbs, and one of them had his neck at a 90° angle.

"You know, it's so much easier to mock the protagonists in a horror movie for splitting up when you're not in one…"

He held his breath as the undead crew moved closer, nearing the kitchen door. He couldn't let them in there, where they'd catch Virgil unawares. He and V saw enough zombie flicks to graphically imagine the potential ending to such an encounter. As pissed off as Richie was at Virgil, he liked his friend's brain in his cranium, not in some monster's stomach. And Richie left the door ajar, too. Stupid, stupid!

"Hey!" Richie threw a zap cap when the crowd got too close to the kitchen. It was in an awkward hurl, underhanded to get it over the fence. When it landed it let out white gas to create some sort of fog, and a loud sizzling bang. Not very helpful, he felt in retrospect, but it did what he intended it to do. The monsters kept their attention on him, and maybe hopefully oh please oh please Virgil heard the noise when the cap went off.

Richie backed away as the group moved forward again. He was closed in, but not trapped. His supply of zap caps were dwindling, maybe not enough to take out all dozen. But his boots were just waiting for him behind the dumpster… it seemed like a good time for a strategic retreat.

"Backpack, guard!"

Richie turned his back on the fenced area, and kicked off his shoes and pulled out his boots. After twisting around to put them on, he stared at his twining hands while he calculated. He should have more than enough time to finish lacing the boots and gather all their items. Judging by the rate of speed the creatures traveled and the distance between them, Richie should have had about 45 seconds before the situation became critical. So Richie was very surprised to hear a frantic pulse of beeps from Backpack and the sound of the chainlink fence falling inwards.

He fell backwards in surprise and caught himself with both his hands behind him. Half sprawled, he raised his eyes to meet the gaze of a giant. Richie took in the appearance of the new opponent, analyzed his potential power, and Richie's own chances for escape or victory against him in the same time it took him to take another breath. If only his body worked as fast as his head, he wouldn't be stuck on the alley's dirty floor, one foot with its boot half-tied and the other just in a pair of ruined socks.

Decay had not withered this one's muscles. Its pale skin and dried bullet-hole on its chest was the only sign of its true state, unlike its more far-gone companions. Perhaps it was the reason this zombie managed to make it to the end of the alley and push down the fence approximately 35 seconds sooner than it should have. Its face was covered by a greasy beard, and its hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. It wore a plain black tank top, baring arms covered with gang tattoos. It had to be over 6 feet tall, Richie guessed perhaps 6'7", and its girth was huge, completely blocking the way out to the street. Its army boots crunched over the fallen fence at it started towards him, hefting the lead pipe in its hand.

Well, Richie thought, that was just overkill. Completely unfair. Zombies shouldn't use weapons. They're ZOMBIES for crying out loud. But this one was quick, and evidently didn't find simple concepts such as opposable thumbs and how to use them as difficult to grasp as the others. And its eyes… there was a kind of intelligence there, not like the empty stares of the other monsters. But the kind intelligence of a hunting animal, not of a human being. Cunning, not intellect. Still, this zombie was not like the dismal corpses that he had left Virgil to contain.

And there Richie was, unable to blast away, sitting on his ass on the ground beneath it. He had Backpack and a belt of zap caps… about nine of them. Quickly his mind calculated various plans of action, and as usual the best plan was the most obvious one. Richie grabbed a zap cap with his good arm, and threw it at the monster before it could take another step, then moved his hands down to finish locking his boot. The trapped creature swayed, and then jerked itself forward, forcing Richie to roll to avoid the huge mass of the corpse landing on him.

He almost made it, but his bid for freedom was thwarted by the weight of the 200 pound zombie's stomach landing on his knees. "Hey!" Richie screamed unhelpfully. "Get off!"

He lifted himself on his hands and strained his neck to view his situation. He was trapped on his stomach by the weight of a smelly dead biker guy. 'Ain't this the stuff dreams are made of?' Humphrey Bogart crooned Richie's subway's crowded celebrity compartment.

"God, I hope I was being sarcastic there or I'm more screwed up than I thought…" Richie muttered as he grabbed another zap cap. Backpack was doing its best to pull the heavy zombie off Richie's legs, but it'd have to use a lever to completely lift 200 pounds of decaying muscle. Richie twisted to watch the mouth of the alley. The group of zombies was getting closer, having been steadily moving forward since Richie first saw them. Transferring the cap to his left arm, he threw as hard as he could manage at the closest three. An electrical charge caused the ones caught in its blast to tremble and fall to the littered ground, but Richie counted at least seven left standing. He had to get out of there.

"Backpack! Give me a hand!" The robot gave one last determined tug on the zombie's tank top before crawling over to Richie's head. "Help me pull myself out…" The stench of death grew deeper. Things were starting to look pretty bad…

Then the fence glowed with purple-blue electrical energy as it was lifted upright again, and was thrust against the crowed of zombies, sweeping them up like broom. It then circled in on itself, trapping five of the undead hoard in a makeshift cage full off squirming limbs and evil cries.

"Static!" Richie yelled, knowing who it was instantly. "Watch out for their teeth, if their bites don't kill you, the tetanus will."

"Isn't tetanus for rust, though?" The African-American youth hovered between Richie and the remaining free zombies on the back of two kitchen pots. Richie thought he looked as ridiculous as he ever saw him.

"Actually it comes from exposure to the bacterium Clostridium tetani, which… Can you get the gross corpse off my foot now, please?"

"Sorry." Virgil raised his hands. He lifted the metal binds of the zap cap, the growling zombie with them. He hovered the creature over the dumpster, and after lifting the lid of it, dropped the corpse with a downward jerk of his arms. "How did it manage to get the drop on you? If they were going any slower they'd be going backwards!"

"That wasn't like any other zombie, ok? It was… some kind of… Uber-Zombie." Richie rolled on his back. Virgil carefully took his upper arm to help him up. "It must have been at least four times as fast as the others. Besides, it's not like I didn't trap it."

"It just trapped you right back." Virgil reminded him before shutting the dumpster lid as an afterthought.

Richie glowered as he grabbed another zap cap, briefly thinking about using it on the living. As if he wasn't already irritated at his friend enough… "Can we concentrate on the zombies, now?" Richie asked, raising back an arm to throw his weapon.

But he never got to. After nine of their numbers were defeated, the final three creatures stilled, before collapsing to the ground like puppets with broken strings.

Richie frowned. "Hey!"

Virgil dropped from his pots, allowing them to clatter on the ground behind them. "I don't like the sound of that, bro. You sound like you're disappointed."

"We should be fighting three zombies right now. Six, including the three I shocked and thus should be getting up soon. I want to know what happened." Richie checked his watch. It wasn't any time special, 12:24, so it wasn't a 'stroke of midnight' thing.

"We just fought of a hoard of Dawn of the Dead rejects and NOW you're complaining of things not making sense?" Virgil asked, handing Richie his other boot.

Richie crouched to put it on, but did not tie it up. "If they were from Dawn of the Dead, we'd be in real trouble. Those guys could run." He straightened. "How did you manage to take out the ones in the diner so fast?"

Virgil shrugged. "Well, the ones who were outside the window just gave up. The two that were inside just got a visit from the inventions you left me. Then I heard a bang and came out here. But now that I've rescued you from the decaying flab of doom…" Virgil grinned as Richie glared, but refused to meet his partner's eyes. "We better check on the ones who left. We can't let them just wander the streets to nibble on pedestrians." He moved to the backpack abandoned next to the dumpster. "And I was thinking of the earlier Dawn of the Dead… from the seventies."


The three other zombies were found soon, collapsed on the other side of the alley's wall. Gear had the fun job of examining the zombie that was so different from the others, which thanks to Virgil had added the stench of leftovers from a fish food restaurant to its wide repertoire of stenches. What was even more frustrating was that Gear found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it, compared to the other cadavers. When the police arrived the superheroes explained what happened with censored detail, but did not stay long. They then split up to look for clues, Gear checking out the nearest graveyard to the east, Static to check out the morgue in the west. They discovered nothing; no graves were overturned, no bodies unaccounted for. After an hour the two boys reunited on the roof of a tall apartment building.

"I found nothing," Static shook his head and sighed. "I even combed the streets on my way back. No strange walkers and no screams of terror."

"Backpack has been listening in to police reports and calls coming in for the last hour and a half. So far the only thing that matches the descriptions of the monsters we just fought was… a call describing the zombies we just fought." Gear looked up. "The owners of the restaurant called in after they fled the diner." He then sighed and shook his head. "I'll have Backpack tell me if something comes up, but so far that means there was only one attack."

Static let out a huff of air. "Either they were after the diner, or they were after us. And I don't think zombies are fighting for fishes' rights to life."

"That leaves us… but the zombies didn't see Static and Gear-"

"-they saw Virgil and Richie." Static sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Right…" Gear moved his hands from Backpack, standing up. He had already mentally gone through all possible explanations, running through the short list of all those who may know their secret identities. Gear then decided to set that mystery aside for now, and instead work on the one where he could actually get some concrete answers. "Static- V… what happened back there?"

"Uh… we were attacked. By the undead…"

"Before." Gear frowned. They had been putting this off long enough.

Static didn't think so. "This isn't the time. It's late, the walking dead know our secret identities…"

"I want to talk about how you were acting before we were attacked." Gear crossed his arms.

"Let's talk about the zombies."

"No, let's talk about the date!" Gear growled as a hand tucked under his crossed arm moved into a fist.

Static looked away quickly, running a hand through his hair again. "C-can we not talk about this out in the open? I don't want to be wearing a mask."

If it was an attempt to put off the conversation, it was ruined by Gear ordering Backpack to pick the lock of the stairwell leading into the building. The two boys entered the shadowy stairway, Static practically dragging his feet. Gear just wanted it over with. While Static used his powers to activate the light, his partner ordered the robot to guard the next few flights down, so the heroes could safely take off their visors after shutting the door. Finally, Richie was resting against the wall across from his best friend, who was staring at a point between his feet.

"So go."

"Ok" Virgil said. "Ok…" He looked at Richie in the eyes. "I thought… it would be the perfect plan, you know? If you weren't interested, you wouldn't know anything was going on. And even if you started to think that… you wouldn't believe it, or you'd ignore it."

Richie managed to look a bit guilty. Perhaps he could have just acted dumb, instead of cornering Virgil with his accusing stare in that booth. But he didn't think about NOT acknowledging it. It shocked him so much it practically bowled him over, and Virgil's presence gave such Richie such a feeling of safety that he didn't feel the same nervous need to think every reaction through that he felt at all other times of his life. His friend was still talking.

"And if you were interested… you'd catch the signals, and we'd be happy and on a date. It was foolproof."

"Yeah. Real smart." Richie interjected, and then sighed, shaking his head. "You took me on a date. With out my knowledge, or consent…"

Virgil nodded, and licked his lips, before bravely venturing, "You sound upset…"

Richie snapped, kicking the back of the wall with his heel. "Upset? Upset doesn't even cover it! Tonight I dodged fireballs, saw my best friend smashed into walls, killed a defenseless flower, almost got my eyes poked out by flying glass, tumbled off a fence, got crushed by a falling corpse, was almost gangbanged by zombies, flew clear across town to hang out in a graveyard after midnight, and was compelled to practically do an autopsy of Dead Man Crushing's fishy skin after it got a nice soak in the trash. And you know what, V?"

Virgil mutely shook his head.

"Not one of those things was the worst thing that happened to me TONIGHT!" Richie raged, kicking the wall again for good measure.

"Ok, man… ok…" Virgil held out his hands in an appeasing gesture. "I got it, you're straight. I'm so sorry… please." Virgil looked at him, begging with his deep brown eyes. "Don't dump me on this."

"Oh no, I'm gay." Richie responded without thinking. Hey, he had wanted to tell Virgil since he met him… well, only deep, deep down. The top part of him wanted anything but Virgil to find out about it. But really, when would he get a better time than this? "Still mad, though."

"W-what?" Virgil gathered his wits, and managed to look hurt. "You're gay? And you haven't told me?"

"Don't you try to lecture me about honesty, you Non-Consensual Dater. At least I never took you out to a dinner and a movie." Richie felt a strange feeling of gloating satisfaction. Ha! Now who's the one who's been left in the dark?

"How… how long? Have you known?" Virgil looked in shock. He couldn't be that surprised, if he was so certain of Richie's heterosexuality, he wouldn't have tried to pull that stunt.

"I think my first clue was when I wanted to marry the Green Ranger. You?"

"Oh." Virgil shook his head, and gestured to himself. "I'm not gay."

"I know that." Richie responded, rolling his eyes. Then he added in a tone that was unusually cruel. "I mean when did you get in your head this batshit crazy notion about dating me unawares?"

Virgil stopped, and looked away again, thinking. Or buying time. He looked so lost, Richie almost felt sorry for him. But then he remembered the danger being brought to their friendship, and grew angry again. His friend answered. "I… I'm not really sure. It sorta started small, just a few little things… but for the last few months…" He looked at Richie, "You're really not attracted to me at all?"

It could have ended there. It would have been so easy to say, 'No V, I've never looked at you that way, and never will. Best friend only. Dust mops are more appealing to me, and they're more practical.' But Richie could never lie to his best friend, especially when he was looking like he was moments away from dribbling into a humiliated puddle of shame.

"Well… yeah, I'm attracted to you." Fearing this would urge Virgil on with his stupid idea of them as a couple, he quickly added, "But I'm attracted to a lot of people!" Richie thought back to his various fantasies, visited by The Rock all the way to Ewan MacGregor. There was even a time when, against his will, an amorous Batman transformed into someone who strongly resembled a certain shadowy bang baby. A lot of people, Richie repeated in his head, wincing. "But if I actually did anything with all of them, I'd be dead within a week. Either from exhaustion or an STD cocktail." Richie mentally shut up the giggling pervert in his subway, who found his last word very funny. 'The pervert in my brain isn't college-age. He's a freaking 12-year-old.'

Virgil shook his head. "So, let me get this straight…" Richie's pervert giggled again. "You're attracted to me, I'm attracted to you-"

"You just think you are. It doesn't make any sense that you'd-"

Virgil spoke over him. "You're attracted to me, I'm attracted to you. We already like each other. We're not seeing anyone… are we?" Richie shook his head. "Then what's the problem?"

Richie chewed on the inside of his cheek, and spoke as much to himself as to Virgil. "I never thought about this… what if something goes wrong? I don't have any scenarios regarding procedures or proper-"

"You don't have any for a zombie attack, and we winged that one pretty well."

"Actually I do." Virgil gave him a skeptical look. "I do! Ask Backpack. It involved a hayloft and a ladder."

"Geez, Rich. Do you have to analyze everything?" Virgil asked in a strange mixture of frustration and affection.

"Yes!" Richie yelled in a sharp tone that surprised both of them. "Yes, I do! Ever since just before I've become Gear, it's been getting worse and worse! Do you know what it's like to innately know how to pronounce Clostridium tetani? To calculate the average circumference for the holes in your cheerios every breakfast? I can't even read my favorite comic anymore without doing some sorta… intricate critique on its writing style, art form, and continuity blunders, before wondering what they prove about the head writer's daddy issues!" Richie stopped for breath when he saw Virgil's shocked features, but continued to his climax. "The only person I didn't have to scrutinize was you. The only time I could stop investigating everything was with you. You were my break, V, and you ruined it!" Richie tightly crossed his arms again, hard enough to hurt, and looked away.

"Richie… I'm sorry; I didn't know it was so bad." Virgil timidly placed a tense hand at Richie's shoulder, which relaxed when Richie didn't make a move to shove it off. "…But it doesn't have to be that way. We'd make it work, I-"

"I don't want to try to make it work, V…" Richie looked back at him. "I'm happy the way things are. I'm ecstatic, ok? Oh look, I made another pun. I do that now, too." The blond got back on track, trying to make his opinion as clear as possible. "Our friendship is too important to me to risk it for something that just isn't worth it. Things couldn't get any better than this, right? Dates are not essential to me, but what we have right now is."

"Rich…" Virgil said.

"…yes?" Richie asked, waiting.

"…actually, that's all I got right now. Um… Look, I know you're wrong, ok?" Virgil carefully moved his free hand to Richie's other shoulder, looking at him with a new intensity. "Just give me the night to think of a good response, so I can convince you too."

"No." Richie said firmly, enouncing the word carefully. He gently took both of Virgil's hands in his own. "That's it. I suggest we both spend the rest of the night forgetting this… disaster ever happened, ok? We can fix this." The genius nodded while his brain worked rapidly behind his eyes, trying to convince itself that it was true. Virgil face grew dim as the electrical hero removed his hands from his friend's grip. "This night never happened, as of now. It will never be mentioned again, and we'll both be happy and secure and tralalala." Richie gave a pained smile as he snapped on his helmet.

"Richie…"

Gear looked back at him expectantly.

Virgil paused. "…I still got nothing." (1)

Gear rolled his eyes behind his visor. "Backpack!" He called, opening the door. The robot crawled forward on spindly legs, attaching itself to the hero's back. Gear turned one last time, and his stoic form cracked a bit. "V… please. Don't dump me on this." Static was silent before mutely nodding and putting on his mask. When Gear turned his back again Static let out a husky breath and followed, slamming the door with far more force than was necessary.

The only evidence of the superheroes' visit was a lonely light bulb illuminating the darkness.


(1) Not an original joke, I'll admit. I've seen variations of this on The Simpsons and Arrested Development. Still, it's just such a hilarious send up of the 'lightly whispered name in sorrow' cliché that I had to use my version of it.