Chapter 8: Conquest

A/N: guess who's back…back again…Luna's back…tell a friend…

Yes, she lives!...Barely….I hate rainy days—too damn depressing. Anywho, I've got at least two or three more chapters of this bad boy (no reference to Hotness :3), so bear with me here. I even thought of writing a sequel for this, if I ever get around to it…but I'm done my rambling, so on with the show!

Disclaimer: honestly, if I owned this, Richie would be mine. But that's not happening. I claim to own nothing but the plot and the characters Pixie, Serendipity and Cold Case. So please don't sue—I'm a college student…I'm po'.

Warnings: eh, a little swearing.


Dakota, Hawkins Residence, 7:30 pm.

Robert Hawkins was used to not having too many people over for dinner on weekday nights. Occasionally, he'd see Trina once her shift was over, and Adam and Sharon always visited on weekends. Adam had opened up his own record company downtown and Sharon worked as a social worker in the same district as the Freeman Community Center. Though lately, Sharon had been busier than usual…

Imagine the supreme joy he felt when he received the call three months ago from an excited Sharon, proclaiming that she was already a month pregnant. A grandchild! He smiled fondly as he sat in his living room and thought about it. He wondered whether or not it would be a boy or a girl, but either way as long as the baby was happy and healthy, gender didn't matter. He surmised that a boy would look just like his father Adam, and a girl would look just like Sharon.

Robert was proud of the turn-around Adam had made. He had miraculously overcome his dyslexia and started his own business, which by now was healthy competition for Arista and Virgin records; and recently he had signed a couple new rappers that were tearing up the charts. Adam had become family even before he had proposed to Sharon after four years of dating. He and Virgil had gotten along famously after a rocky start. Now the two of them were like brothers.

Speaking of which…I haven't heard from Virgil in a while, he thought. He heard a knock at his door and he answered, expecting to see Trina but instead found his one and only son standing on his doorstep.

"Virgil!" he exclaimed happily. "I was just thinking about you. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, you don't mind?" he asked his father. Robert gave him a look which Virgil took to mean that the question was superfluous. "Of course you can stay," Robert said as he closed the door behind them. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I've been really busy with the League," his son said, sitting at the kitchen table. He draped his arm over his chair as was his habit and he sat back. But Robert saw that there was something bothering him. Call it parents' intuition, but he knew something was amiss.

"I'm having pasta," he said. "Marinara sauce alright?"

"That's awesome—thanks, Pops."

They settled down to dinner in silence. For Robert, it was too silent. Normally, his son was chatty, always talking to him about recent adventures, monsters he had to fight, robots and mad scientists, those stories never got old—though a few of them made him squirm with discomfort at the thought of his son getting so close to death. But he didn't want to think about that right now.

"So, how's Richie?" he tried to start a conversation. He was determined to figure out what was bothering him before the night was through.

"Good, he just finished updating Backpack—works much faster than before."

"Is that possible?"

Virgil shrugged. "Beats me—he's the genius; he's Sherlock, I'm just Watson."

"You know that's not true."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at science—though being a lawyer pays better, I think."

Robert pointed his fork at him. "And I know I raised you well enough to know that you're no crook lawyer."

"Absolutely—I'd never let you down like that." In college, Virgil had gone for a degree in criminal law, a minor in political science. With that new-found knowledge he had worked at a firm for a few years, then split to start his own private law firm—though most of his time was spent out of the office nowadays. His official title was a 'Human Rights Attorney'. He had a hard time keeping his secretary from knowing the real reason for his many 'business trips'.

"I know, son, I know; and I know I've said this before," he reached out and took his son's hand in his own, "I'm proud of you. I'm very proud of everything you've accomplished."

Virgil smiled genuinely. "Thanks, dad—you know, you say it all the time, and it never gets old."

"Speaking of old…" he gave his son 'the look'. "Any new stories that are guaranteed to give me more gray hairs?"

Virgil laughed—the first time in a while. "None yet. I've been put on the case of the Dakota Destroyer…"

"Good Lord…" Robert gasped. He didn't like this at all.

"Tell me about it—this guy's harder to find than Jimmy Hoffa." Robert smiled and chuckled. Leave it to Virgil to come up with a crack like that. "But I think we're getting close."

"Good—I don't want to think about what would happen if he was allowed to keep doing what he's doing."

"Pops, believe me, we are doing all we can. We have a positive ID; all I need to do is find him and bring him in myself."

Robert shuddered at the notion. Even though his son was a man now, he couldn't help but feel overprotective. Not every father could boast that their child was a superhero. But the idea of Virgil having to handle such a dangerous criminal was…especially unsettling.

"What's on your mind, Virgil?" he finally got to the point. Tired as he was, he was in no mood to beat around the bush tonight.

Virgil took a deep breath before beginning. Robert mentally braced himself. Get ready for the storm…

"In order to find the Destroyer, we needed to get Hotstreak to help. Problem is, Hotstreak has always had a crush on me, Virgil, but now he's starting to like Static, and now he's getting together with Richie-slash-Gear, and both of them went out to get the killer tonight, so I consider that a date, wouldn't you? But when I went out last night to answer a call, I ran into Ebon…er, Ivan, Adam's older brother. He faked his own death to get out of jail, and now he's living in the old subway station where there are lots of younger bang babies—a new generation—and I've been sworn never to tell anyone about where they are because if the authorities knew about it, they'd incarcerate everyone and generally just fuck the whole thing up. And through all this, I know I'm seriously fucked because I love Richie, but now I love Hotstreak as well."

He watched his father's reaction warily. Robert just blinked a few times, surprised that his son was able to say all that in one breath, but also from the obvious mental and emotional overload. No wonder he looks so worn out…

"And…" he ventured carefully. He stopped himself and shook his head. "Alright, let's try this one thing at a time. First of all, Richie and Hotstreak…"

"His real name is Francis—Francis Stone."

"Stone? Francis Jacob Stone, by any chance?"

Virgil gave his father a surprised look. He himself had carefully looked over Francis' records, and had known the redhead's middle name for quite some time. "How did you…?"

"That's not important right now," he waved it off. Better save that little piece of information for later. "So you love Richie, but you also love Francis…"

"And they already love each other. I overheard Richie telling him that if he were willing, he could enter our relationship—you know, instead of two, three. Oh, and Francis knows Gear's secret identity."

"Does he know yours?" he asked, worried. He relaxed when Virgil shook his head. "Not yet, I don't think. So, you get the basic gist of my first problem?"

"Unfortunately. So…you love both of them, and it seems that they already love each other, and they both love you—so what's holding you back?"

"I dunno—I guess what other people would think…"

"Are you afraid of what I would think?"

"Slightly—I mean, you were the first one I came to when I said me and Rich…" he coughed in his hand awkwardly. "But yeah—look, dad, I know it can't be easy knowing your one and only son is gay, and I thought that…telling you I was involved with more than one person…"

"As long as Richie is alright with it—and Francis for that matter—I see no reason for you to not try it. Do you trust him?"

"He trusts me—with his life. I learned that the hard way—long story."

"The night is still young," he pointed out. Virgil nodded in assent. "True, but…I need advice about the Ebon thing…"

"Ah yes, do tell." He sat patiently as his son explained the situation in finer detail, including the discovery of Lorelei's body and poor Pixie's reaction. When he finished, Robert just shook his head sadly. "I almost feel sorry for him—that's too much pressure for one man. And as for…Pixie, was it? A real shame."

"So what should I do?"

"If I'm right, then everything will work out on its own. You did the right thing by telling me…"

"And you won't tell anyone?"

"Just let the Kids know that they have a safe place to go to."

"Here?" he asked skeptically. "This house?"

"It was getting too quiet anyway," he grinned. "Next time you see them, tell them there is a safe house for them. As for Serendipity, I think she gave you significant advice."

"Yeah, she's…I don't know how to explain her. She's…"

"A seer and healer—I for one think it's good that Ivan fell in with her. From what you've already told me, I think he's already turned around thanks to her. She seems like an angel."

You have no idea, Virgil thought. Robert gathered their dishes and placed them in the sink. Virgil stood, "I'll do dishes tonight."

"You sure?"

"You cooked; I think it's only fair."

"Alright, then, are you up for coffee?"

Virgil nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely—I have a feeling that I'll need it. So how's Trina?" he asked as he rolled up his sleeves and turned on the faucet. Robert looked over his shoulder from the coffee maker across the room. As far as he knew, Trina was still in the dark as to Virgil's other life. "She's doing well—she was asking about you, too."

"What'd you tell her?"

"I just told her that you were in Metropolis for a conference. She bought it."

"That's good," he said, focusing on the dishes. Robert watched him for a moment. Virgil was never so focused on chores…

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Virgil nodded without looking at him. "I'll be fine now. Thanks for talking to me—it helps to have someone else to go to—you know, someone who gets me."

"You have Richie, Batman, and the Green Lantern," Robert pointed out. "But…I suppose no one knows you like your old man, eh?"

"Exactly! Speaking of old men," he turned around and sported an energized grin, "I heard that I'm going to be an uncle soon?"

"You heard right—Adam and Sharon are so excited."

"Have they settled on any names yet?"

"They were thinking of James Elijah for a boy, and maybe Lillian Rose if it's a girl."

"I bet Sharon's looking forward to being a mom," he said, leaning back against the counter. "I guess it's a shame that I might never know what it's like to be a father…"

"It'll happen—you could always adopt. I know plenty of kids looking for a good home…"

They heard a loud beeping noise. Virgil smiled sheepishly and took the shock box out of his pocket. "Richie updated these too—now they've got text messaging."

"Is there anything he can't do?"

Virgil read the message and his expression went from ghostly pale but hardened into a grimace of hate. Robert was shocked by his son's reaction, and as Virgil shoved the shock box back into his pocket, he said distractedly, "I'm going to have to change here—Gear needs me."

"What happened?" his father asked anxiously. After all, Richie was family… Virgil paused as he climbed the stairs and said, though he dreaded saying the words: "He and Francis were captured by The Destroyer."


Abandoned Subway Station, 8:05 pm

Ivan was more than surprised to be awakened from an uneasy sleep by Akira. The young Asian teen rushed into Ivan's quarters and shook the man awake. "Ivan! Static's here! He says he needs you!"

"Tell him I'll be right out." Ivan stared at his reflection in a piece of broken mirror just off to his left. His bed was little more than an old futon and a variety of blankets. He watched the young teen go and his thoughts drifted back to the past.

In a way, Akira Kurama reminded him so much of Hotstreak it wasn't even funny. Both were impulsive, prone to violence, had less-than-perfect upbringings, but that was where the similarities stopped. Akira's abilities were the manipulation and creation of ice and water. Around here, they called him 'Cold Case'.

Christina "Pixie" Baker's powers had made themselves known as soon as her fairy-like wings appeared. Her parents, ultra-conservative to the point of being fascist, were horrified that their youngest had become a 'freak', and they threw her out of the house. They might have kept her if she had sprouted angel wings instead, but that was different story. On the streets, she ran into trouble, but thankfully also ran into Serendipity, who brought her into her own home.

Serendipity had always had her ability of precognition—Ivan was used to it by now. He knew she had a habit of using her powers to track other bang babies and bring them to the relative safety of the Underground. So far, they had amassed over fifty of what they called the Neo-Breed—mostly misguided teens and a few preteens and children that had been affected over time.

What secrets Ivan was hiding were only known by Serendipity and himself. As he shrugged on his jacket—it was cold down there after all—he reflected back on how his relationship with the woman had started. He had been in prison, and he had started to have dreams involving a strange fortune-teller. He later found out that he had a telepathic link to her. How he did, he didn't know. But he became more perceptive as time went on. He swore he could even feel vibes, and sense auras—all thanks to Natasha.

He also knew he had some sort of connection to Hotstreak, and whether or not Red actually knew about it was anyone's guess. Ivan tried not to think too much about it.

He pushed away the moth-eaten curtain that served as his room divider and found Static standing next to Cold Case and Pixie. As soon as he saw him, the hero bounded forward, "Ivan I need your help."

"Help in what?"

"Gear and Hotstreak went ahead after Miles—and they got captured."

"No doubt thanks to Hotstreak," he snorted. "Always knew Red wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"It's not like that anymore!" Static said earnestly. "He's a thinker now—a schemer. He's not one to make idle mistakes anymore." I hope, he added silently. Ivan gave him a skeptical look.

"If you say so, Hero. But I don't see how I can help."

"I'm going after Fisher—and I might need back-up. Besides," he got in close and whispered, "Batman knows that you're not in your grave—he knows you're still alive. And he's close to finding you and the Kids."

Ivan looked panicked and his face had paled. "W-well what do you expect me to do?"

Static handed him a piece of paper. "That's the address of a safe-house that the Kids can go to. I know the guy who lives there—he'll guard the secret with his life."

Ivan looked over the address. "Isn't this the Hawkins residence?"

"Yeah—hurry, get everyone there as fast as you can. Mr. Hawkins has plenty of room."

"You…" Ivan was taken aback. "You'd do this for us?"

"I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. You don't have much time. Listen, if you help me bring this guy in, it'll clear your name and you might even be exonerated."

The look of gratification on Ivan's face was answer enough for the hero. Ivan turned to Cold Case and Pixie. "You kids coming too?"

"Yes," Pixie said determinedly. "I'm not missing this."

"I'm coming too," Cold Case said. "I might be able to help."

"And I already have an idea of where he is," Ivan said. "Tell Serendipity what's going on, I'll be ready to go in a minute." With that, Ivan retreated back to his mini-lair, and Static heard him rummaging around. I wonder what he's digging for?

When Ivan emerged, he handed Static something wrapped in a dirty rag. "Hold on to that until we get there. I got transportation; you just need to trust me."

"No problem." Static felt the object in his hand and he felt a chill pass over him, much like the night at the docks so many years ago… He unwrapped the object and he felt his heart jump into his throat. It was a gun—and a silencer. Ivan was obviously hell-bent on taking someone out tonight.

Pixie gasped and she set her little jaw. Placing her tiny doll-like hands over the weapon, a strange pinkish light shone from her palms. Her hands clenched into fists and the gun was instantly destroyed, crushed, falling into tiny bits, the bullets hitting the floor harmlessly. Cold Case drew a sharp breath, and before he could reprimand her for making such a careless move, she fixed him a cold look—colder than liquid nitrogen.

"I want to be the one to take out that son of a bitch—no one else will have the privilege. Got it?" she snapped at him in an uncharacteristic frigid tone.

Static was shocked by the force behind her words. She looked so small, but there was a lot of power in this girl's hands. She gazed up at him, her blue eyes holding nothing but reverence. "I know your policy on guns. And I totally agree. We won't need them anyway." She stepped back and held her arms out and closed her eyes. Her entire body was enveloped with the rosy light, and her clothes changed from the t-shirt and jeans to a rose-colored long-sleeve shirt and forest green skirt and green medieval-like boots. Now she looked like the picture of a pixie.

Cold Case showed off his power by forming ice on his fingertips. "No matter what, we're with you on this, Static," he said, his tone as coldly determined as Pixie's had been. Static only nodded in assent and focused his gaze on the subway car where Serendipity was standing in the window. Her hand was upon the glass and she looked forlorn. He heard her voice in his head: Day's darkest hour is just before the dawn…

He thought about for a minute then it occurred to him—Day's Darkest Hour!


Abandoned Warehouse #8, City Docks, 10:30 pm

The quartet stood outside the tall chain-link fence surrounding the abandoned property. The four of them stood tall, determined. Static, however,was internally struggling—this was his fault. If he hadn't made such a mess of things, this would never have happened. If he had been honest with Richie and Francis from the get-go, they might not have gone without him.

But that was in the past. What was done was done, and he couldn't change it. If only Time Zone hadn't gone back to completely erase herself from the big bang—if she hadn't stopped herself from going, her power would have been a great use right about now.

Ivan led them to a gate, heavily padlocked. He sent a glance to Cold Case, and the teen stepped forward, reaching his hand out and taking the large lock in his hand. The Asian teen, like Pixie, had a costume of his own—light blue faded jeans, and a white hooded jacket. Not a first choice in colors that Static would have chosen for sneaking around at night, but it served its purpose. The lock turned to crystallized ice in seconds, and the chain connected to it followed soon after. Cold Case stepped back, and let Pixie in closer. The familiar pink light shone in her hands, and in an instant, the lock and chain shattered, hitting the pavement with a soft tinkling like tiny bells.

Ivan pushed the gate open, carrying a crowbar over his shoulder. He swaggered around, and caught sight of the multiple streetlights and lamps illuminating the docks around them. Wordlessly, he motioned his intentions to Static who happily complied. The hero raised his hand towards the closest lamp and waited.

Electricity started flowing into his body as he sucked the power from the lamps. The result was a blackout all down the block. Cold Case snorted and whispered, "The locals won't be too happy about that."

"They'll live," Pixie said.

"No they won't," he countered, indicating the blackout, "'The Daily Show' is on tonight—there'll be hell to pay if they miss it."

Ivan chuckled and Static smiled slightly. This kid was starting to sound like him a little bit. Scary thought…

They darted across the small darkened parking lot to the warehouse and paused outside the small side-door. This time, the door was not locked. It was even open a crack. Static and Ivan shared a look in the darkness. This didn't bode well. Apparently the two teens silently agreed with them.

Pixie leaned her head back and stared up at the darkened windowsthree stories above her. "I'm gonna see if there's anyone in there."

"No, wait…" Ivan tried stopping her. She flitted away on her fairy wings straight into the air and paused just below the windows. Sending a careful look back down below her, she found the three males watching her, apprehension evident on their faces.

The short blonde chanced a quick peek over the ledge into the warehouse, then flew down a couple feet out of sight of the windows. Mustering her courage, she got a little bolder and allowed herself a full look inside. Once she was satisfied, she flew back down to meet them.

"I thought I saw someone in there. I don't know if they saw me."

"You think it was Fisher?" Cold Case asked. Pixie only shrugged. "I didn't get a good enough look."

"I don't like this," Ivan admitted, his instincts kicking in. He had lived on the streets long enough to know when something smelled fishy. "An empty warehouse, looks like no one's home, the door's unlocked and open just so anyone can walk right through…it's a trap—has to be."

Static stepped forward. "Let me go in first."

Ivan just gave him a strange look. It seemed to say 'have you lost your mind?' Static only reasoned, "Look, I've got better reflexes than the rest of you. When I'm threatened, what do you think is my first response?"

"Shock the hell outta the attacker," Cold Case answered with a wicked grin. "I'm all for it."

"And besides," Pixie added. "Maybe it'll be Miles—if he gets shocked, we can take him into custody…"

"I still say it's risky," Ivan argued, rubbing the back of his neck in anxiety.

"So is standing out here all night—Ivan, we don't have much of a choice here."

"I beg to differ," a sinister voice said. Before he could react, Static felt something collide with the back of his head. As he blacked out, he heard Pixie's muffled scream and Ivan calling out for him. Then all went black.


A/N: Gah, I know, horrible place to leave off. I honestly thought I'd be more inspired to write during spring break, but it's been cloudy, cold and rainy for the past four days, and I haven't felt like doing much of anything other than sleeping. I can't wait till summer! I'll try and get chapter 9 out as soon as possible (I wouldn't hold my breath though) Have a Happy Easter everybody!