Finished this chapter sooner than expected. XD

Chapter 10

Gasket set the last of his beakers onto the drying rack and grabbed a towel to dry off his hands. He had help that could do the menial tasks of cleaning out his tools, but it relaxed him. There was something nice and calming about rinsing out the filth he made day in and day out with clean water and soap.

Deadlock kicking open the door to the lab with his foot, his arms full of a twitching teenager, was the opposite of this.

"What the hell?" Gasket asked, taking in Deadlock's furious expression and the rolled back eyes of the kid in his arms. A kid with red hair and flames painted on his jeans. Gasket cursed. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Accidentally overdosed on a Neural Booster, a little over half of my vial in the thigh," Deadlock grunted, dumping Hot Rod into the nearest chair that had a back. He kept the kid from falling over, but his eyes were still rolled back into his head and his heart was beating hard enough that Deadlock could almost hear it through his ribs. Hot Rod's gasping breaths pleaded desperately for more and more oxygen as the booster pumped his systems. Deadlock shouted, "Help him now, yell later."

"Right," Gasket said, throwing the towel on the sink edge and headed straight for the supply cabinet on the far wall. He threw open the main door and yanked open an inner drawer. "How long since he took it?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take," Deadlock said. He kept Hot Rod sitting up by the shoulder, and wiped off the stream of drool from his gaping mouth with the bottom of his shirt. Deadlock growled, scratching the back of his head hard. "Drove here as fast as I could."

"Okay, so at least a third's already worked through," Gasket said. He grabbed a smaller vial with a green liquid and shoved into an applicator gun. "He's not dead yet, so you better be thankful he has a good make up for this stuff. He'd been dead ten minutes ago if it reacted badly."

Gasket slid over to the kid's side, unbuttoning his red and orange shirt. He pulled it off the kid's shoulder, jamming the applicator under his neck and into the artery.

Deadlock grabbed the kid when Hot Rod's entire body seized up from the shot, the boy gulping down a large intake of air. His eyes rolled back down, bringing those bright blue eyes back into view. After a few seconds, they focused, bringing Hot Rod out of the mind haze and into awareness. Hot Rod clutched at Deadlock's shirt, breathing heavily and eyes wildly searching the room for some sort of grounding from his head trip.

"You're lucky it wasn't thirty minutes or his heart might have popped," Gasket said, tossing the gun on the side table with his other equipment. He pulled open a small drawer and grabbed a pen light. Gasket gently took the teenager's chin with the edge of his fingers "Alright, kiddo, look this way for me."

Hot Rod turned his head with Gasket's help, still breathing heavily but not as bad. Gasket flicked the light on and pointed it in his eyes watching for the pupil to contract and follow the light. Happy with that, Gasket put the light in his pocket and checked the kid's pulse.

"Is he going to be okay or what?" Deadlock asked, biting the edge of his thumb as Gasket continued checking various vitals. Hot Rod continued looking around the room, but there wasn't as much awareness as Deadlock first assumed. He still looked dazed. "It doesn't look like the lights are on yet."

"He'll be fine," Gasket said. He straightened up and rolled his shoulder. "I counteracted the Neutral Booster with another drug to calm his symptoms down. He's no longer in threat of burning out, but your little friend here's still high as a kite. With as much as you gave him, he'll be like this for another two hours."

"I didn't give him anything, it was an accident," Deadlock muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's not too bad, though."

"What the hell were you thinking!?" Gasket said, smacking Deadlock in the arm. The Cleaner jumped, and rubbed the spot where Gasket had whacked him. That had hurt! He didn't think Gasket could hit that hard. Deadlock yelped when Gasket hit him again, on the back of the head this time. "Just because you're stupid enough to ignore all our good advice to stay away from the police chief's son, doesn't mean you also have to be stupid enough to put him anywhere near a Neural Booster!"

Deadlock winced as Hot Rod clung to his arm, still half aware of the world, on the one side, and Gasket continued whacking him on the other while yelling.

Well, he did say Gasket could yell at him later and Hot Rod wasn't dying.

Could be worse.

Springer kicked open the door to his house, running his hand through his hair and growling. He threw his coat on the couch and counted to ten as he stalked through the empty room. The phone on the side table tempted him to call Arcee and ask for advice, but she was out of town visiting her nephew Rattrap.

She already had a trouble kid to deal with.

He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. He popped the cap off on the counter and took a sip slamming the door closed. Springer collapsed on his couch, listening to the empty house. He never thought he'd miss his parents after they moved out, but now he was desperate for any sort of company to distract him.

Springer had lost sight of Hot Rod.

He'd trailed the white and red racer Hot Rod had gotten in for quite some time, but couldn't figure out where they where headed. Somewhere around the forth turn, he had lost them and Springer's SUV hadn't been able to keep up. Springer drove around for another thirty minutes, but never did find them again.

He had no other choice but to go home.

Part of Springer was tempted to call Kup and get permission to officially go after Hot Rod. He'd recognized that one guy from the alley way. What had his name been? Dead-something? Deadlack? No, Deadlock. Springer sipped his beer. Hot Rod was hanging out with that Deadlock guy.

That would be enough.

But Springer also had no idea what they were doing. He let his lip rest on the neck of the beer bottle. Could Springer get Hot Rod out of trouble before there was legal trouble? That was the key.

Not to mention what his Father or Uncle Magnus would do if they found out Hot Rod was getting involved with that sort of stuff.

Is that why Hot Rod lied earlier about the dealer in his school? Was it Deadlock? Springer tapped the side of the beer bottle. No, he'd seen Deadlock hanging around with Turmoil's crew. Whoever was at Hot Rod's school was dealing in Speed Boosters and over-the-counter stuff. Turmoil and his lot were moving much heavier drugs.

Which worried Springer all the more.

"Just what have you gotten yourself into, Hot Rod?" Springer said. He leaned back on the couch and made plans to talk to Hot Rod first thing in the morning.

Whether he wanted to or not.

"I hope you didn't plan on sleeping," Gasket said, checking Hot Rod's eyes again. The pupils contracted and followed the light as they should. Gasket checked the pulse. A little slow, but he'd hit the kid with a rather strong downer to get rid of that upper he'd drowned in earlier. It was fine, but should be watched. Gasket frowned. "Because I think we should keep him over night."

Hot Rod giggled, drunk on the aftereffects of the counter drug. He made a grab for the flashlight, but Deadlock's nice friend held it out of reach. Hot Rod grunted, reaching up for it. "Pretty!"

"Yes, the light is very pretty," Gasket said, shoving it in his back pocket. "He shouldn't still be this high after two hours."

"So something's wrong? Why aren't you more worried?" Deadlock asked, throwing his hands up. "Do we need to do anything else?"

"Yeah, let it work out of his system," Gasket snorted. He ruffled Hot Rod's hair, and shoved the kid over at Deadlock. The kid grabbed Deadlock's waist and hugged him, nuzzling like a kitten. "He's not in danger, he's just high. You really want to drop him off at his parent's place like that?"

"No," Deadlock swallowed, trying very hard not to think about how affectionate Hot Rod got when he was high. His fingers twitched. "But he'll be okay before his curfew, so why can't I take him home?"

"Because when I said he's going to be fine, I don't know for sure," Gasket sighed, sitting down on a stool. He tapped his fingers on the counter and shook his head. "Look, one way or another he overdosed on Neural Boosters for twenty minutes and we have no idea what kind of an effect that'll have until his system has completely flushed it all out. I personally, would feel much better having him under observation until the morning."

"I suppose you're right," Deadlock said. Hot Rod started plucking at his jacket edge, tugging on the leather.

Gasket made the stuff and knew those drugs inside and out better than anyone. If he thought Deadlock should watch Hot Rod over night, he should probably listen.

"At least you'll have plenty of time to figure out why he went missing overnight," Gasket said. He stood up from the chair and threw his towel back on the sink. "And with that, I'm going to sleep. Wake me up if you think anything is wrong."

Deadlock pouted, but nodded. Gasket had already done enough to help and he was sort of old. He needed sleep. Hot Rod turned and reached for a pair of pliers on the table near Gasket's glass beakers and Deadlock pushed it out of the way. He looked around the room and winced at the amount of chemicals, glass, metal stands, and other utensils were stationed around the room.

Probably not the best place for curious, child-like hands.

"Okay, time for a change in location." Deadlock reached down and fixed Hot Rod's shirt before hauling the kid up by the arm. He slipped his hand around Hot Rod's waist and helped the kid stumble over to the side door. "Come on, Hot Rod. Let's go to my room where you can't grab anything that'll hurt you."

"What's in your room?" Hot Rod asked, hugging Deadlock's waist again. He grinned into the shirt. "I've got a bunch of second place ribbons in mine!"

"Nothing that impressive," Deadlock said, his own breathing picking up. He opened the back door to his closet of a bedroom and leaned on the door frame. He licked his teeth and bit the side of his lip hard enough to make it bleed. "Just a bed."

Maybe Hot Rod was safer in the lab, Deadlock considered. Hot Rod let go of him and stumbled past to fall face first onto Deadlock's mattress. He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling with a drunken chuckle.

Deadlock closed the door with a whistle.

Too late now.