Greetings all,

As always, many thanks to those who have reviewed...even if some of those are threats of vampires!

Thanks also to the ever-awesome Cypher and Summerstarr, without whom this sucker would not be half as good as it is. They're wonderful writers and wonderful people and I can't thank them enough.

Disclaimer: Still too tired to do anything clever. Suffice it to say that if Static Shock was mine, things would've been VERY different...and a lot more naked. No money is exchanging hands.


When the tense silence had stretched into nearly a minute, Virgil sat up again, shuddering at the feel of slime, refuse, and stuff he really didn't want to name dripping down his back from his hair. The inhabitants of the alternate world were frozen in a bizarre tableau. Hotstreak and Aqua Maria were facing him, obviously poised to attack again and just waiting for the word. Sharon and her backup were staring at Adam in shock. Adam, for his part, had thrown himself between Virgil and the group, arms outstretched as though he could keep all of them from attacking.

The silence reigned for another few seconds, and then everyone shattered it at once.

"What the hell?!"

"Have you gone loco Adam?"

"That's Static!"

"We gotta finish him off!"

"Sharon, please, you have to listen!"

The voices rose into a deafening cacophony until suddenly Sharon pumped her shotgun once, aimed at the ceiling, and fired. The roar echoed throughout the tunnel and a hail of cement and dust rained down onto the ground in font of her. "Everyone shut up!" she screamed. Instantly, everyone obeyed.

"That was the most frightening thing I have ever seen," Virgil said slowly. At his words, Sharon whirled on him, aiming the gun at his head. Quickly, Virgil raised his hands in surrender. "Wait! Sharon! Peace, girl!"

"Sharon, stop." Adam stretched one hand out and gripped the barrel of the gun, forcing it down. Sharon looked as though she thought he had gone mad. She subsided, though, and Virgil sighed in relief.

"You have ten seconds to explain." Sharon's voice was icy and Virgil saw Adam cringe. Someone was sleeping on the couch tonight. Then Virgil rewound that sentence in his head and a shudder that had nothing to do with the disgusting muck he was sitting in ran through him. Some things you just didn't think about.

"Sharon, I know how crazy this sounds but this isn't Static. I mean, he is but he's not really. Look, I was up at the old dump with Leah and—"

"Adam are you trying to get me killed?" Virgil demanded. "Look…I'm Static—Virgil Hawkins." Sharon flinched at the name, an expression of pain flitting across her hard features. Her one good eye narrowed dangerously. "But I'm not your Static. I'm from another dimension…and man, that sounds even crazier out loud…but it's true."

"It is true, baby. I saw it with my own eyes. There were two of them. This kid is from another world…one that's nothing like this hellhole, apparently."

"You really expect me to buy that?" Sharon scoffed. There was something in her eyes, though, that was wavering.

"It's the truth," Adam insisted. "He saved Leah's life…he took out Onyx and Talon. And…I saw it. There were two of them. The other Static…our Static…he got away with this one's partner. This kid took almost a full blast from Deimos and still wanted to go after them. Baby, he's nothin' like our Static."

"You really believe this," Sharon said softly.

"I don't believe, I know." Adam shot an uneasy glance at Virgil. "His…his partner…it was Richie. I heard his voice Sharon, I saw him at the junkyard."

Sharon started, nearly dropping the gun. "W-what? Are you sure?" she gasped. A low murmur raced through the group behind her, and even Hotstreak and Aqua Maria turned to look at Virgil with new consideration. Adam nodded grimly.

"I'm sure."

"Then…then, that kid that was with Static earlier…that was Richie?" Virgil well and truly did not like the way they kept saying Richie's name. Sharon sighed heavily, and then handed her shotgun to Adam. Without a word, she stalked forward, jumping down into the muck with Virgil. She stopped in front of him and roughly grabbed one arm. Virgil held still while she shoved his sleeve up, apparently looking for the tattoos Adam had said this world's him had. Her eyes widened when she didn't find them. Quick as a flash, she reached up and shoved his mask up, revealing his face.

He stared back at her, trying desperately to convince her with his eyes that he was not the man she knew. "Sharon…please. I'm not him. I could never be like him." She recoiled as though he had struck at her. Then she turned quickly to Adam, who shrugged and nodded.

"Up to you, Boss," Hotstreak said quietly, tossing a fireball from hand to hand. Sharon backed away slowly, placing her hands on her hips.

"You try anything funny—"

"I know, I know, horrible, painful death," Virgil interrupted quickly. He smiled tentatively. Sharon did not return it.

"Damn straight. And I'm not letting you get a charge up."

"Sharon, if you let me use some soap I'll sit in the water for as long as you want." Something thick and slimy dripped off of his shoulder to plop into the filthy water. Virgil sighed. "Uh, just not…this water?"

"Maria?" Sharon barked.

"Got it covered, Boss," Aqua Maria replied. Her expression suggested that she was not especially uninterested in the idea of hammering him again.

"Great," Virgil muttered wryly.


Virgil Hawkins, Static, public enemy number one in Dakota City four years running (not that there were any cops left to do anything about it these days) stalked down the hallway of the office building he'd claimed as his headquarters. Up until two years ago, it had been a thriving research and development firm, churning out the latest in high tech computer advancements. Now, it was his base of operations. There had been a wealth of equipment left over when the previous inhabitants had…vacated, and Static had seen tremendous potential in the things left behind. Unfortunately, he knew he didn't have the skills to fully utilize it.

Until now.

Static chuckled to himself at the thought of all the interesting gadgetry that the young man he had just left had had on him. Most of it was incomprehensible to him, but it didn't take a genius to realize that it had been weaponry…most of it designed to take down meta-humans. A positive thrill ran through him at the thought of getting to see what some of it could do against regular humans. It looked as though the answers to all his problems had been dumped in his lap…and in a package he had never expected to see again. It was almost enough to make him think someone up there liked him.

Yeah, right.

"Static."

He pulled up short and turned around to find one of his more useful underlings coming towards him from the other end of the hall. "D-man," he greeted, leaning back against one of the walls and waiting for the other to catch him up. Deimos looked as though he had just arrived back at base…he hadn't even taken off his coat, yet. "How's tricks?" Static's eyes narrowed as he took in the expression on the other man's pale face.

"Problems?"

"Possibly." Deimos caught up to him and they began walking down the corridor towards the elevator.

"What kind of problems?"

"The kind where I had to spend two hours digging Talon and Onyx out of a pile of construction junk."

"Huh. I was wonderin' where you guys were. Casualties?" Static's tone did not particularly suggest he cared one way or the other. It was something everyone who worked for him was aware of—in a fight you were on your own. If you could drag yourself (or someone was willing to help you drag yourself) back to base, you were taken care of…but nobody expected backup.

"Nothing major. Talon was a little banged up, but she's still in action…and you know Onyx," Deimos reported dutifully. That was all Static cared about—who could fight and who couldn't.

"What about Bigfoot?"

"Kangorr cut out after Talon got taken down." Again, Static pulled up short, turning to face Deimos in the hall.

"He what?" There was an edge to Static's voice that all his subordinates had come to fear. Deimos shrugged.

"Haven't seen him since the junkyard," he murmured. Static shook his head, an all-too-familiar grin on his face.

"Oh, he'll be back, mon," Static muttered in a fair approximation of Kangorr's accent. The look in his eyes promised nothing but ill. Deimos sincerely hoped he kept the blood off of the carpet this time…it was a bitch to get out.

"How's your guest?" There was a light of genuine curiosity in Deimos's dark eyes. It wasn't every day one met someone from an alternate dimension. An altogether new expression settled on Static's face, one Deimos hadn't seen in almost two years.

"It's really him…I can't believe it. Talon was actually right, about all of it."

"Statistically speaking, it was bound to happen sooner or later," Deimos said implacably. Static snorted in quiet laughter.

"True, that. Still blows my mind, though. Only took him five minutes to pop the best lock we had. Richie was keeping secrets from me," Static sing-songed, the expression deepening into something unpleasant. "Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. And really…I think this'll work out just fine."

"He's going to help you?" Deimos couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. From what he had seen of the Static that had run off with Rubberband Man…he wouldn't think the teen's partner would be particularly sympathetic to the kind of "help" Static wanted.

"Turned me down flat. Said I must've fried my brain if I thought he'd do anything for me."

"Uh-huh. You don't seem very upset."

Static grinned again and despite himself, Deimos took a step back. "Oh, he's going to help me. He just needs some….convincing."


Richie sat on the floor for nearly ten minutes after Static had left him, just staring blankly at the bank of windows in front of him. Plans, possibilities, odds, and considerations were flashing through his head, but it all took a back seat to one central thought: this Static was insane. He was as bad as Ebon or Hotstreak had ever been. Something told Richie he might even be worse. It made no sense to Richie. How could Virgil…Virgil who had all but an engraved carte-blanche invitation to join the Justice League when he got out of college; Virgil, who was widely acknowledged as the greatest hero Dakota had ever known; Virgil, who was the strongest, steadiest, most rock-solidly good person that Richie had ever met…turn into that?

More importantly, what kind of problems did someone like that want him to help squash?

Richie snorted. As if he really needed to answer that. All he needed to do was look at Static to know that any assistance he wanted from Richie was assistance Richie was not willing to give. He'd meant what he said…he wasn't helping this Static with a single thing; no matter what. He rubbed his left wrist, feeling the dull ache that hadn't entirely faded away. No matter what.

Finally, he looked up from his contemplation of empty space and decided that as long as he was a prisoner here, he might as well be a comfortable prisoner. He pulled himself back to his feet and shuffled towards the door Static had indicated. It did indeed slide open to reveal a half bath, such as the busy corporate executive might have installed in an office for those late nights. There was a toilet, sink, mirror, and a small shower cubicle. A tiny shelf had been installed over the toilet, whereon rested a stack of towels and washcloths. Hotel-sized soap and shampoo, as well as a tooth brush and paste, had been left on the sink and, strangely, a fresh change of clothes was folded up on the closed toilet lid. Wow…he could be a very comfortable prisoner.

Richie picked up the jeans and plain white t-shirt, noting with surprise that they looked as though they would be a pretty good fit. There were even fresh socks and underwear, which earned a raised eyebrow. Interesting. Well, his mother always had warned him to wear clean underwear in case he got hit by a bus. Why anyone would be concerned with the state of his boxers when he had just been hit by a bus had always been a little beyond him, but still…

And now he was just babbling to himself. With a slight shake of his head, he brought himself out of his rambling thoughts. He pulled the towels off of the shelf and draped the clothes there instead, tossing the towels to rest on the toilet seat. First things first. He grabbed the toothbrush and squeezed a copious amount of paste onto the bristles. Morning breath, chocolate, and sewer water was not a pleasant combination.

In the enclosed space, the Eau De Sewage that had permeated his uniform was becoming more and more apparent. By the time he spit and rinsed his mouth his eyes were practically watering. Even so, he kept his head under the faucet for a few moments, gulping down the icy water. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.

Finally, he shucked off his uniform, grimacing when portions of the shirt stuck to his skin. He didn't want to know what had crusted on the fabric. He slid the bathroom door partially open and kicked the soiled clothing out, desperate to remove the smell. It helped some, but not as much as he would have liked. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, perched his glasses on the side of the sink, made sure the soaps were in easy reach, and then slid into the blessed warmth.

Cleanliness really was next to godliness. Richie sighed as the hot water hit his skin, and the steam reached up to wrap around him like a blanket. For a long moment, he simply leaned his forehead against comparatively cool tile and let the water beat down on the back of his head. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that he was in the little cubicle he'd set up at the gas station for nights when patrol ran too long or got too dirty. He could pretend that all of this had been a horrible dream, and as soon as he got out of the shower he could go into the main part of the station and he and Virgil would laugh about it.

Yeah, and that and a quarter would buy him a cup of coffee. Well, not really, but the sentiment was there. This was not a situation he would be able to pretend away. All right…he had to decide on a plan of action. What were his advantages here?

He thought of the speed with which Static had struck him, the pain of having his arm nearly twisted in two. He thought of the view outside the window of his "room"—several stories up and obviously in the heart of Static's territory. He felt the absence of Backpack's presence almost as surely as one would feel the absence of a limb. He had been stripped of his weapons, separated from his partner, and surrounded by the enemy. Obviously, he had no physical advantage here.

Richie smiled grimly as he methodically soaped his hair and body, getting rid of the last of the sewer grime. That left him with his biggest advantage of all…the only one he ever had, really.

"I'm still smarter than you," he muttered out loud. There was no one here who could match Gear for wits. They would slip up. They had to…and he'd be waiting. He ducked his head under the stream of water again, allowing it to sluice over him a few moments more. Then, reluctantly, he cut the water off and stepped out of the shower.

When he exited the bathroom, dressed in the clothes that had been provided and still toweling his hair dry, he realized he was no longer alone. A covered tray that smelled tantalizingly like eggs and bacon had been set up on the metal night stand, the bed had been righted, and his dirty uniform had vanished.

A young man with dyed-blue hair and a leather trench coat was standing in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest and a forbidding expression on his face. Richie pulled up short and the two stared at each other for several seconds.

Richie recognized the man…had seen him in the junkyard. Unbidden, an image of the strange, ghostly animal rose in his mind. He remembered the terror that had swept through him at meeting the dog's gaze—the fear and the horror and the feeling that nothing would ever be safe or good or warm again. He quailed at the thought of feeling such fear again, his heart stuttering in his chest. So this was Static's opening move.

All right, then. Let the game begin. He would watch, he would wait, and he wasn't going to help them.

No matter what.


Virgil was never going to complain about…anything…ever again. He was tired, he was filthy, he was hungrier than he could ever remember being in his life, and he was huddled in a very cold, very damp cell after being frog-marched, blind folded, through the Dakota sewer system by a trigger happy aqueous bang baby while Sharon-from-the-Hood and her band of Murderous Men followed, weapons drawn and aimed at the back of his head. To top it all off, his best friend and partner had been kidnapped by a psycho version of him and each second he spent playing these games with Sharon and her group were seconds the other Static could be doing who-knew-what to Richie. Suffice it to say, Virgil was miserable.

The cell itself had probably once been a maintenance alcove. Virgil thought he cold feel the remains of a callbox on the wall above his head, but it was dead, the wires devoid of any electricity. The entrance had been boarded up and though Virgil couldn't tell what was holding the door together, he couldn't find a trace of metal anywhere. Clever. The place was small and totally pitch dark. And had he mentioned wet?

He knew Aqua Maria had been posted outside his door, for periodically a fresh wave of water swept in under the door to slosh around the floor and up onto him. He was chilled to the bone as his clothes had stopped being any insulation almost an hour ago. Much more of this and hypothermia might become a serious concern. Thank goodness it was summer time.

He raised his head from where it was resting on his bent knees at the sound of the door opening. He squinted as the cell was suddenly flooded with light, tensing until the blur standing in front of him resolved itself into Adam. He caught a glimpse of Aqua Maria standing behind Adam, hands on her hips and looking none too pleased. She did not try to stop Adam from entering, though. The door was slammed behind him, plunging the small room into darkness again, until there was a soft click and a flame sprung to life from a lighter in Adam's hand.

"Huh. So that's what they mean when they say 'you look like a drowned rat.' Dreads and sewage don't mix," Adam observed as he sat down beside Virgil. Virgil shrugged and leaned his head back down on his knees.

"I'm having trouble remembering my own name right now, so let's just pretend I said something brave and witty, okay?"

"No snappy quip handy?"

"Don't tell. They'll kick me out of the superhero club."

"Your secret's safe with me," Adam said solemnly.

"So what's the sitch?"

"I think I've managed to convince Sharon to at least keep an open mind. She doesn't trust you as far as she can throw you, but—"

"Can't say I blame her," Virgil muttered bitterly. "I wouldn't trust me, either."

"I trust you." Adam's voice was earnest. Virgil didn't know what to say to that. In light of what he had seen in the junkyard, for this Adam to offer any version of Static his trust was something tremendous.

"So, can I at least get a couple of arm floaties in here?"

"They're going to let you out."

"Really? What's the catch?"

"Obviously, we can't keep dousing you forever…well, I think we can't keep dousing you forever, and Sharon's willing to listen to me for now. You'll be confined to one area of the base, armed guard twenty-four seven. I'll stay with you as much as I can, but I might have to leave. Virgil, listen to me…do not do anything stupid. These people will be looking for the slightest excuse to shoot you dead. They'll fire first and ask questions later. No electrical displays, no smartass comments…if I'm not with you your best bet is to just find a quiet corner to sit in and don't move until I get back. Got it?"

"Got it," Virgil gulped. Adam nodded grimly.

"All right…let's get you cleaned up and I'll see if I can scare us up some food." At the mention of food, Virgil's stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that half a chocolate bar was nowhere near enough to replace the energy he had expended in the battle in the junkyard. Adam chuckled a bit, and Virgil was fervently glad it was still too dark for the other man to see his blush. All right, food first, then clean, then find some way to recharge his powers. Adam had said he would help Virgil rescue Richie…but Virgil wasn't going to count on anything here. He had to be ready at a moment's notice—and despite his promise to Adam, despite the fact that the alternate version of his friend had proven to be kind so far, he was not going to pass up a chance to find Richie, should one present itself.

Adam rose and offered a hand up to Virgil, which he took automatically. The door was opened again at Adam's knock and Aqua Maria stepped back to let them pass. As Virgil moved forward though, he found his way blocked by the female bang baby. She stabbed one watery finger into his chest, getting right up in his face.

"You try anything, and I will drown you, esse. Got it?" she hissed. Virgil nodded as meekly as he could, struggling to look harmless. It was looking more and more like he would be on his own to rescue Richie, no matter what Adam promised.

They walked through another length of tunnel, though Virgil noticed this one was gradually growing wider and taller. There were water and electrical pipes running across the ceiling, and Virgil could see bundles of newer looking cables crisscrossing those. From time to time he would see a flash or green or red light in the ceiling, and the further they got into the tunnels, the more obvious it became that they had been heavily modified. Some of the design looked vaguely familiar. As he tried to puzzle it out, Virgil voiced a question that had been burning in the back of his mind since Adam had gotten him out of the cell.

"Why do you trust me?"

"What?" Adam turned to him, stopping in the middle of the tunnel.

"Why do you trust me?" Virgil repeated. "It can't just be because of what I did for Leah. How do you know I'm not as bad as your Static?" It was perhaps not the smartest thing he could do to question the trust he had earned, but he felt he had to know. Adam sighed heavily, and his gaze turned inward and far away.

"It's Richie. I know you can't be as bad as our Static because your world's Richie obviously trusts you."

"Adam—"

"Richie, our Richie, was our Virgil's best friend, too. He was really the only good influence Virgil ever let near himself after they got to high school. After the Bang, though…after Virgil ditched his family and became Static…Richie came down on our side. He and Sharon got pretty close—I guess they took some comfort in each other. When Sharon formed our group—after Static took over Dakota, Richie stayed with us. He's the one who did all this." Here, Adam gestured around to the various improvements that had been made in the tunnels. That was where Virgil had seen it before—it looked like the kind of projects that his Richie was forever working on.

"So—Richie's a bang baby, here, too?"

"Yeah," Adam replied quietly. "Static never found out…we made sure he never found out what Richie could do. There's not a man, woman, or child down here that doesn't owe Richie their life in some way. After a while…I think he became another little brother to Sharon…and to me. I trust you because your Richie still trusts you…still cares about you. I could tell by the way he talked to you. If Richie—any Richie—thinks you're okay, that's good enough for me."

There was something in his eyes.

Virgil stared hard at him, something icy cold suddenly unfurling in his stomach.

"Adam—Adam, where is your world's Richie?"

Adam closed his eyes and turned away, but not before Virgil saw the moisture suddenly gather in them. The ice-thing grew claws and ripped into him, crawling up towards his heart.

"Adam, where is he?" Virgil demanded. He didn't want to know. He could tell by Adam's expression he didn't want to know. He had to know.

"Our Richie….our Richie's dead, Virgil. Almost two years now. He's dead."

A strange calm suddenly enveloped Virgil, though the ice-thing was still tearing at him from the inside…and he found that he knew. He knew without having to ask, and yet the words still forced themselves from his throat.

"How?"

Adam turned back to him, and the darkness in the other man's gaze sent the ice-thing screaming through Virgil, ripping at him with its horrible, chilling claws.

"Static killed him."