A/N: Thanks to everybody who has reviewed! I really appreciate it.
House
Call
Chapter
Three: Burnout
By:
VincentM
"Hell."
The smell of burnt things made Richie's nose twitch as he gingerly picked his way through the rubble around him. Whips of smoke rose into the air as a few hot spots still smoldered. The couch, so painstakingly dragged down several city blocks, without the use of powers, by the two of them the previous summer, was blackened and covered in ash, sharp metal springs poking up through the ruined fabric. The mini-fridge, the coffee table, their spare TV and PlayStation, the police radio, everything they carefully collected over the past two years or so was gone. Melted plastic and metal gave off acrid scents, their toxic smoke still hanging in the air, and Richie was grateful his helmet blocked off most of it. He didn't think he could stomach it otherwise.
They put the fire out fairly easily, thanks to Virgil tapping into an underground water main and dragging it to the surface. The gas station itself, with its thick concrete walls, held onto its structure, the overall building itself sound, if a little singed. However, those thick concrete walls acted like an oven, superheating the building and destroying everything inside. Nothing was salvageable.
Amazing how, in the space of no less than ten minutes, everything they worked so hard for went up in a puff of smoke, so easily, so quick.
Richie leaned down and picked up the charred remains of his new laptop, holding it gingerly between two gloved fingers. He sighed at it, sighed at the way the plastic had melted together, forever sealing it shut. With a grunt, he threw it aside. None of Richie's other computers or scientific equipment survived. Even the blackboard he scribbled his thoughts on had collapsed into several pieces, resembling nothing more than used up firewood.
"How could this happen?"
Richie looked up. Virgil was standing in the center of the room, looking at a complete loss, consumed by a sense of shock Richie himself echoed. The destruction was devastating in its totality.
Standing up, not having any words of comfort to offer his friend in his own pit of loss, Richie brushed his hands off on his legs. It didn't make them any cleaner, as every bit of him seemed to be covered in the oily ash, but it was something to do. Unable to cope with his own feelings, Richie pushed them aside, letting the very large, analytical part of his mind take over.
His eyes scanned the gas station, taking in the burn pattern, getting an intrinsic feeling for where the fire started and how it spread. He sniffed the air, trying to categorize the scents as best he could. Not missing a single detail, committing it to perfect memory, he let his brain go over all of it, trying to sort through it like a puzzle. It only took him a few minutes to come to a conclusion.
"Arson," he said with a definitive nod. "The fire was set intentionally. Looks like it started over in my lab area. The work's too good to be done by an amateur - I'd say we're looking at a professional."
Virgil stared at him with deadened eyes. "Why?"
"I don't know," Richie said honestly, "but I have a feeling. I'll know more as soon as I find Backpack."
Virgil blinked a few times, staring around the rubble. "Is it under here somewhere? Do we need to dig?"
"No, it got out." Richie had felt the little robot leaving the gas station to preserve itself as he and Virgil were on route. By the end, the connection between Richie and his robot was almost spastic, its internal components heated and unable to function. He didn't know if Backpack had been permanently damaged or simply shut itself off to cool down. "I'll be able to find it as soon as it reboots, assuming the person who set the fire didn't steal it."
Virgil shuddered, kicking apart a smoldering pile. "Be good if they did steal it, so we could find out who did this," he muttered, glaring at the damage, clearly offended. "You don't think it had something to do with the Watchtower, do you?"
"Maybe," Richie said with a shrug, not planning on making any definitive statements until he uncovered more evidence. Someone associated with the Justice League, a renegade Bang Baby angry with them, or just some yahoo with too much time on their hands - anything was possible.
"Well, if it did, we are totally sending the Justice League a bill for the repairs," Virgil said, cracking a weak smile. "I hope they got insurance, man, because we're taking them to the cleaners."
The joke wasn't very good, but it did manage to bust up some of the tension. Richie grinned back at Virgil, folding three fingers to his palm and putting his thumb by his ear with his pinkie by his mouth, mimicking a phone. "Hello, State Farm? We'd like to make a claim."
Snorting a tiny laugh, Virgil shook his head, stepping over a few burned things to examine what used to be their television. "We don't have any way to contact them, now, do we?"
"Just my computer at my house," Richie said, "but since nobody's home at the Watchtower, that's not going to help. I guess we could hop a bus to Metropolis and jump off a building yelling, 'Help, Superman, help!' That might get their attention."
"Man, they need a hotline." Virgil sighed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "It doesn't matter. We've never called them to help us before and we're not really members of their team. We can take care of this on our own, like we always do."
Richie nodded. "Lone wolves, fighting a harsh, solo battle against the Bang Baby menace and all that entails," he said loftily. Then, he gasped and slapped his hand on the back of his neck, wincing. "Ow."
"What?" Virgil said, hurrying up to him with concern. "Something get burned?"
"No." Richie gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "It's Backpack. It's trying to restart, but it's having some trouble. Damn, that hurts!"
"I told you not to integrate those leftover bits and pieces from Brainiac." Virgil came up behind Richie, putting his hands on his shoulders and using his thumbs to massage the hot, angry patch of skin on the back of Richie's neck.
Richie sighed, relaxing as Virgil rubbed the pain away. "It seemed a waste not to use them. It's not like the implants are going anywhere. Besides, it's the only way to hook up with Backpack on such an exact level. Without it, this whole place would have burned to the ground."
"I still don't think it's a good idea," Virgil grumbled.
"Yeah, yeah." Richie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sort out the randomized pieces of broken code Backpack threw in his direction. It didn't make a lot of sense - the robot was clearly damaged, but not damaged enough not to try to seek out its creator as Richie programmed it to do in situations where it got lost. After a few moments, it became clear it couldn't come to him, so Richie tried accessing its sensors, both visual and otherwise. Eventually, the robot complied and Richie got the sense of darkness and a familiar chemical composition.
"The tire yard," he said at last. "It hid itself somewhere in the tire yard. It can't move, though. I think it's too damaged to coordinate the movement of the legs, either that or it's just stuck."
"And I'm guessing with it acting up the way it is, it would not be a good idea for me to just try to grab it with my powers." Virgil stepped back and grabbed Richie's arm, leading him out of the gas station to the tire yard adjacent to it. "The last thing I want to do is create a feedback loop that'll fry your brain."
"You know, I'd really prefer it if you didn't do that," Richie told him.
"So, we do it the old fashioned way."
The two of them stood, staring at the piles and piles of tires stacked up around them. Backpack could be simply hiding behind one of those piles, or, more likely, Richie thought, hidden inside. Doing it the old fashioned way, as Virgil said, was going to take a long, long time.
"Well, I didn't want to sleep tonight anyway," Richie said, rolling his shoulders a few times.
"Yeah, me neither." Cracking his knuckles, Virgil hopped up on the first pile of tires, looking down into it. "Here, Backpack. Come here, you stupid hunk of junk. Static's got a nice outlet back at his house for you to plug into."
Richie smiled at his friend, chuckling under his breath as he climbed up on a different pile.
The early morning sunlight had just started to peak over the horizon when Virgil and Richie got back to the Hawkins' residence. They'd chucked off their costumes and Virgil, declaring that he smelled like a potato kept too long in the oven, went to take a shower. Richie had moved several things off of Virgil's desk, putting Backpack on top.
One of its many legs waved sadly at him, incredibly damaged. The heat in the gas station had melted its external casing some before it escaped, the robot covered in a thin film of slick ash. It's electronic eye barely functioned, cracked from the high temperatures. Resting his hand on top of it, Richie could feel tiny vibrations as its whisper-soft fan tried its hardest to cool off the still too hot internal components.
It wasn't a total loss, but it was damn close. Richie looked sadly at the robot, feeling as though someone had hurt his child. It amounted to the same thing - Backpack was such an extension of himself, such an integral part of his being, it might as well be his kid.
Still, the tiny bit of data it was throwing into Richie's mind told him parts of it still worked okay. The hard drive seemed to be intact. While he'd have to rebuild the shell, he thought he could salvage the heart of the machine, if he had his tools, which he didn't, since they'd melted to his workstation.
Turning the robot over on its back, Richie held down the button to manually shut it off. While he knew it was irrational, the stray bits of code and processing, so disorganized and confused, made Richie feel like the machine was suffering greatly. It couldn't suffer, of course, since it had no way to feel pain or even a consciousness, but that didn't change the impression of agony. It made him sick to his stomach.
The robot finally shut down, Richie grabbed the screwdriver Virgil kept in his desk drawer, trying to crack the robot open like an egg. The seams had fused together a bit and he couldn't get the leverage needed to pop it open, not with a simple screwdriver. As much as Richie and Virgil liked to declare they didn't need help, Richie honestly didn't know how he was going to do this. It took him over a year to gather the components and tools necessary to create his inventions, most of them found through sheer luck while dumpster diving behind the industrial complexes around town. Aside from his data about the Watchtower on the machine, clues to who destroyed their headquarters no doubt also existed inside the ruined robot. He needed to be able to access it, but he couldn't, not with what little tools they still possessed.
Dropping the screwdriver back on the desk, Richie collapsed in Virgil's chair, rubbing his hand across his forehead. No, he couldn't do this alone, not without any resources at his disposal. It simply wasn't feasible.
"Help, Superman, help," Richie muttered under his breath, feeling a pang of hopelessness and loss for the first time.
The door to Virgil's room suddenly swung open. Richie turned around and saw Adam's head coming in through the door before the rest of his body. His nose was wrinkled and he had a distasteful expression on his face.
"Damn, what did you two burn up here?" he asked, then his eyes fell on Backpack and went wide. "Woah."
Too tired to mess with it anymore, Richie gave Adam a level look. "I'm Gear."
"Yeah, I know. What do you think I am, stupid?" Adam walked into the room, frowning down at the robot. "What the hell happened?"
"Someone set fire to the gas station," Richie told him.
Adam's jaw fell open in shock. "What? Why?"
"We don't know." Richie tapped Backpack with his fist. "It probably does, but I can't access it right now with it so damaged. If I could get it open, I could probably save the hard drive, but all my tools are gone. It's not like I can hop on the web and order new ones, not with my ten bucks a week allowance."
"Yeah, guess not." Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it up and throwing Richie his platinum American Express card. "Think that'll cut it?"
Richie stared down at the card, holding it gingerly between two fingers. Looking back up at Adam, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again, and the funny squeaking noise did nothing for his rep', but there was nothing for it.
"I just signed a contract worth, well, a lot," Adam told him, reaching down a ruffling Richie's hair. "I don't think you'll burn me out. 'Sides, it's the least I can do for you and Virgil helping me out back in the day."
"Adam." Richie swallowed heavily, not quite over his surprise. "Thank you."
"Don't get all mushy on me, man. It's embarrassing," Adam replied, looking uncomfortable. "Just don't go to town and, hey, if you can get Virgil to stop dissing on Sharon's cooking for a month, we'll call it even."
"What?" Maybe it was the pretty shininess of the platinum card in his hands, but Richie didn't feel like his brain was quite up to snuff at the moment.
"When Virgil's disses Sharon, I hear about it," Adam said, sighing. "Loudly and often. It makes her more unhappy that she lets on. When she's unhappy, I'm unhappy. So, get him to lay off, will you?"
Richie nodded distractedly. "Don't worry, man. I'll keep him occupied."
"I'll bet," Adam said in a sotto voice.
"Hmm?" Richie wasn't really listening. Instead, he was thinking about all the things he could buy with Adam's card - not over the top, of course, like he asked, but just things he needed to replace in his lab. These days, the thought of getting his hands on a good, used inductively coupled plasma optical emission spectrometer was almost more exciting than buying a new gaming console. "What was that?"
"Never mind," Adam replied, smirking. "I'm going to go wake up Sharon."
"Have fun." Richie gave Adam a knowing smile as he left the room, then thought of something. "Hey, does Sharon know?" he asked, tapping Backpack. "You know, about us?"
"Of course she does," Adam said with an easy shrug. "She's not stupid either."
Richie frowned. "Why hasn't she said anything?"
"She's waiting for Virgil to come clean first." Adam shook his head at the silliness of it all. "She thinks he ought to tell her and when he does, man, is he gonna get an earful. Right now, we got us a pool going, so if you wanna get Virgil to confess, aim for around mid-June, okay? I got a lot riding on it."
"Man, you two are crazy," Richie said with a laugh, then thought about his green spandex uniform currently hidden under Virgil's bed. "Though, I guess I shouldn't be talking."
"I wouldn't," Adam said, then waved and left the room.
Shaking his head, Richie booted up Virgil's computer, waiting patiently while the Window's logo spun around on the screen. It took far too long for Richie's patience, but at last, the computer decided it was ready for Richie to enter Virgil's password. Opening up the web browser, Richie quickly typed in the address for one of his favorite scientific equipment sites and started browsing with giddy happiness.
Virgil walked in a few minutes later, throwing his towel on the bed. "I just saw Adam going into Sharon's room," he said, coming over to sit by Richie. "I think I'm scarred for life." He glanced at the computer monitor and the pages Richie was currently browsing, snorting. "Trying to make yourself depressed, man?"
"Nope," Richie said, waving the credit card in Virgil's face. "We got the means and the greens, my man. I'll have my lab up and running as fast as they can ship this stuff to me."
Virgil snatched the credit card out of his hand, looking down at it as if he couldn't believe it was real. "Why did he give this to you?"
"I told him about the gas station and he figures this'll make us all squared away as far as past good deeds go," Richie told him, adding a few things from the first website to his shopping cart and moving on to the next category.
"So, he knows?"
"Well, yeah." Richie frowned as he read their shipping policies. It was going to take a couple days to get everything he needed - maybe as much as a week. Then there remained the question of where he was going to store it. Quite a bit of it was big in size and Virgil's room was cluttered enough. After the incident with the chemicals that should have been stable but weren't, Richie wasn't going to even contemplate using his parents' garage.
"How come nobody tells me these things?"
Richie pulled his focus away from the screen to give Virgil a level look. "It's not a matter of telling you so much as you not picking up on it, bro. No offense."
"Great." Virgil threw his hands in the air, standing up. "Next you're gonna tell me that Sharon's known for ages and just decided not to say anything."
Choosing not to answer that, Richie turned back to the computer, picking up the credit card Virgil dropped and entering the numbers swiftly into appropriate fields on the page. "Man, this is so exciting," Richie said as he clicked the confirmation button, his order zooming away into cyberspace. "In a week or so, everything I'll need to redo the lab will be waiting for me at that UPS Store box we got. I can't wait."
"I'm glad one of us is having a good day." Virgil walked over to his closet, grabbing a shirt and dragging it on. "Why do I get the feeling I'll be the one mucking out the gas station while you're in happy la-la land with all your new toys saving the world?"
"Because you're psychic?" Richie suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows, laughing when Virgil gave him the bird. "Don't worry, bro. I won't leave you hanging. I mean, I do have a week before all this stuff gets here."
"Yeah, but I got a feeling it's gonna take longer than a week." Virgil sighed. "When we find out who did this, man, are they gonna pay." He started moving toward his door. "I think Pops is in the kitchen. I'm gonna go see if he has any suggestions on what we should do."
"Grab me something to eat while you're down there, will you?" Richie asked, turning back to the computer.
"Sure."
Richie heard Virgil leave the room and he sighed, some of his good mood fading. Virgil was clearly very upset about the gas station, understandably. Richie was upset, too. He didn't like it when Virgil was unhappy, though, since he was usually the optimistic one of the group. If he felt down in the dumps, it didn't bode well for either of them.
"We'll figure it out and everything will go back to normal," he promised the air, patting Backpack's powerless shell with his hand.
One of the nicer things about Mr. Hawkins learning about their secret identities meant that the gas station, for all intensive purposes, was in their name. Well, more accurately, it was in Mr. Hawkins' name. He didn't like the idea of them, 'squatting', as he put it. So, a second mortgage later, along with a promise from Richie and Virgil that they would pay him back, the gas station became the property of the Freeman Community Center. He told the board of directors it was mostly a property purchase for future expansion one day and that 'acquiring the abandoned gas station would help serve the community in the long run'. He didn't lie, exactly. Static and Gear could be considered a force designed to help serve the community in the long run, when it came right down to it.
They hadn't been as careful as they were now about hiding the gas station as their base of operations. Shenise managed to find it just by following them one day. Young and stupid, maybe arrogant, they didn't think that anyone would want to find it, that anyone cared. They should have known better, but they didn't.
Now, though, they were much more careful. Bored on a lazy Sunday back the previous winter, Richie did a little excavating under the gas station. He found, to his surprise, a natural cave structure in the bedrock attached to an abandoned sewer main. For some reason, it tickled Virgil silly when he told him about it, made him start ranting about the future and something Richie was going to build for him, once they won the lottery.
With the underground access, Richie and Virgil could come and go from the gas station as they pleased, with no one the wiser. A tiny hacking expedition later and the abandoned sewer main was stricken from all public records. No, other than the occasional homeless person trying to break in, no problems came up since.
But, Richie thought with some consternation, maybe their earlier carelessness led to the destruction of their own Headquarters, someone finding out in those early days and waiting until just now to act on it.
Finished with his online shopping spree, Richie did a quick check of his e-mail. Groaning, he set about deleting about fifty pieces of spam, then paused. Nestled between a letter from an Arabian Prince asking for his assistance to retrieve a small fortune and an advertisement for discount drugs from Canada was a message with an unusual from address - The Daily Planet. Frowning, he double-clicked it.
"... some shovels in the garage, and do you think the building safe? I don't want you boys to get crushed if it collapses around your heads."
Richie pushed open the door to the kitchen, seeing Mr. Hawkins and Virgil sitting around the table, breakfast things spread out in front of them. Virgil was poking his oatmeal with a spoon, stirring in the ridiculous amount of sugar he'd poured into it, his free hand on his chin and his expression tight and drawn. He'd opened his mouth to reply to his father's question, but changed his mind when he spotted Richie coming in.
"Hey, man, your oatmeal's got three seconds on it in the microwave," he said, gesturing to it with his head, "and tell Pops the gas station isn't going to collapse."
"No, the structure of the building is still sound, Mr. H," Richie said, going to retrieve his oatmeal as the microwave beeped at him. He took out the hot bowl, juggling it between his fingers as he carried it over to the table. "I checked as soon as we put the fire out. I wouldn't even think of going in there if I thought it was dangerous."
Robert nodded. "That's good enough for me," he said, standing up to go get the orange juice from the refrigerator. He patted Virgil's slumped shoulder as he passed. "I was just telling Virgil there some stuff in the garage you boys can use to start cleaning up the place. Any idea who was responsible? Are you two in any danger?"
"No and I hope not." Richie dug his spoon into his oatmeal and took a bite, preferring it plain. He nodded his thanks at Mr. Hawkins when he passed him a glass of orange juice. "I guess time will tell."
"I don't like hearing that," Robert admonished. "This is getting too dangerous."
"It's always dangerous, Pops," Virgil countered, stabbing his oatmeal with his spoon, which didn't hurt it so much as make it slop over the side of his bowl. "It's all part of being superheroes."
"We'll be fine, Mr. H," Richie promised him. "We're not alone. In fact, I just got an e-mail from a friend of ours in Metropolis."
"You what?" Virgil looked up at Richie in surprise and, maybe, guarded hope. "What did he say?"
"Well, mostly, I think he was asking about my progress on that little project I'm working on. I think." Richie grinned, remembering the e-mail, disguised as an inquiry about some story he was supposedly writing, trying to hide what he was really asking, since The Daily Planet e-mail was probably monitored to some extent to prevent abuse. "He was trying to be subtle, but I don't think he does subtle very well. Mostly, it was just confusing, but I'm pretty sure that's what he was asking about."
"Did you e-mail him back?"
"Yeah," Richie said with a nod. "I told him that I'd hit a snag that our friend with the green thumb might want to know about, if he knew where to find him. Hopefully, he'll get it."
Richie didn't have incredibly high hopes about that. Superman was more of a, 'hit first, ask questions later' type of person, usually as subtle as a brick in the face. How he managed to hide his secret identity so long was something of a mystery. It took Richie only about ten minutes to piece it together one afternoon. Lois Lane must be incredibly stupid or, as Richie thought more likely, was pulling a Sharon - waiting for Superman to come clean to her before calling him on it.
"That's good, I guess," Virgil said, not looking quite as happy as he did a few seconds ago. "I hate to ask for help, man. I mean, they already think we're stupid kids who don't know what we're doing."
"There's no shame in asking for help when it's needed," Robert told his son sincerely, sounding relieved. He probably didn't think they knew what they were doing, either. "They asked Richie for help because they needed it. Fair's fair, son."
"Yeah, I know," Virgil said with a sigh. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."
Richie pushed his empty oatmeal bowl away, standing up. "Well, I think I'm going to go take a shower and then maybe we can see about setting up a temporary base of operations. I have a couple ideas."
"How about a nap?" Robert suggested carefully. "You two look like you're about to fall over."
"No sleep for the wicked, Mr. H," Richie told him cheerfully. Actually, he didn't feel that tired yet, running on pure adrenaline. By that afternoon, though, he'd probably collapse. "There's time to sleep later."
"If you say so," Robert said, but he sounded skeptical.
"What do you think?"
Virgil was frowning, rubbing his chin. "Do you really want me to answer that honestly?"
"Okay, it's not the Taj Mahal, but you felt the same way about the gas station when you first saw it."
The empty warehouse near the docks wasn't nearly as nice as the gas station when they first made it their headquarters, but given the general disrepair of the place originally, that wasn't saying much for the building Richie had dragged Virgil to see. The entire block was more or less an empty wasteland - even the gangs, homeless, and drug addicts gave the place a wide breadth. The place possessed an eerie quality to it, large slats of concrete lying flat against the ground where buildings once stood, as though the very structures they once supported were lifted up and carried away.
Technically, that was somewhat true. While not lifted up and carried, per se, those buildings had been converted to digital energy and absorbed by Brainiac a little over a year ago. Richie knew the area well, tagging along as Brainiac's host as it tried to figure out the best place for its base of operations. The building from which Brainiac's giant ship burst into the sky was visible even from where Richie and Virgil were standing, a pile of dusty rubble nobody claimed or bothered cleaning up.
"This place gives me the creeps," Virgil said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I almost lost... Doesn't it bother you, too?"
"Not really," Richie lied through his teeth, hefting the heavy duffel bag over his arm. Yes, this whole part of town gave him the heebie-jeebies, bringing to the surface memories Richie would rather remain buried. He tended to make excuses to avoid it during their patrol, not that they ever needed to come over here, since nobody else did. "It'll be a good spot to set up a temporary HQ until we get the gas station back in order. I need to put all that scientific equipment I ordered somewhere."
"Well, if you wanna be all logical about it." Virgil grumbled something under his breath, then took a few quick steps forward, pushing open the door to the warehouse and going inside.
Richie followed, wiping the sweat from his brow. The only bad part about setting up here, he thought, was the heat. These old metal buildings tended to turn into ovens in the summer sun. He suspected he could get the air conditioning working again and there was a generator on the roof, if Virgil could be persuaded to juice it up.
Quite a bit of stuff remained in the warehouse. Long tables, chairs, conveyor belts, raw materials, bits of papers, even a pair of glasses littered the place, almost like ghostly remnants of the activity that once transpired there. It looked like the owners were in a rush to leave town. After the collapse of the manufacturing industry about a decade ago, Richie didn't doubt that was true. A great number of corporations, plants, and tech jobs ran away so fast, he could almost imagine he could still see the clouds of dust on the roads out of the city. Shortly after that economic collapse, the gang riot helped to make things even worse.
Several financial forecasters and others in the industry long since declared Dakota a dying city. The fishing around the docks started to go bad after the Big Bang, because for some reason, there just wasn't much of a market for six-eyed fish. The Bang Babies roaming the streets made the large companies and chain stores wary to set up shop. Even those that survived the depression and the gang riot ten years ago were starting to pack up and leave, Bang Baby insurance at an all time high, the city simply not profitable enough anymore. Jobs atrophied away, even as the number entering the workforce increased, the crime rate rising as a result, the whole city getting an almost Gotham-like feeling of despair settling around it.
It kind of made Richie's heart hurt to know, with chilling certainty, that he'd probably be stuck in this rotting town for the rest of his life.
"Ugh." Virgil turned back to Richie, wrinkling his nose. "Bro, what is that smell?"
"This used to be a smelting plant," Richie explained, trying to pretend the smell didn't bother him. Walking over to a long table, Richie opened up his duffel bag and drew out Backpack, placing the deactivated and slightly melted robot on the surface. "Some sulfates were used in production. That odor tends to kinda linger, but open a few windows, add some curtains and a few throw rugs, and it'll be just like home."
"A home that smells like rotten eggs," Virgil replied, kicking at a pile of scrap metal the previous owners left behind, "or a home where my sister cooks."
"Oh, yeah," Richie said, snapping his fingers. "Adam said you gotta lay off Sharon's cooking for at least a month in repayment for all the money he loaned us."
Virgil turned and gave Richie a level look. "My day keeps getting better and better," he said, blowing out a slow sigh between his lips. "Well, I guess it's better than nothing."
"That's the sprit." Richie slapped Virgil on the back enthusiastically. "Once we get some of this junk out of here, it'll be great."
Virgil frowned. "I'm going to be stuck cleaning up this place, too, aren't I."
It wasn't a question so much as a statement, so Richie decided not to reply, instead going over to examine one of the conveyor belts.
The ice cream dripped down his fingers, melting faster than Richie could possibly eat it. He gave it a valiant try, though, taking a big bite off the top of the cone. Unfortunately, the results proved disastrous.
"Ow, brain freeze!" he yelled, slapping his hand to his head.
Virgil, who sensibly bought his in cup form, chuckled at his misfortune. "And you're the super genius?"
"That's what it says on my resume," Richie replied with a sheepish smile, massaging his forehead.
After a couple of hours of poking around the new Abandoned Warehouse of Solitude, as Virgil dubbed it, both of them decided they'd had enough of the heat and the sulfur smell. A call for ice cream was risen by Richie, seconded by Virgil, and they made record time heading back in the direction of downtown. Other than sticky fingers and an aching head, Richie thought it was the best decision they'd made all day.
The city streets were predictably crowded for mid-day, shoppers, people on their lunch breaks, and teenagers out of school and lacking anything better to do filling the sidewalks and dodging cars as they tried to dash across busy intersections. After all, in downtown Dakota, a red light was interpreted as more of a suggestion than anything else. The hustle and bustle, along with the occasional shove here and there, would make it difficult for the someone not used to city living to get around, but Richie and Virgil were experts, navigating through the crowd with an innate sense of how to move that came only with a relative lifetime spent walking these very streets.
"Wanna hit the comic shop?" Virgil practically had to shout the question, as the two of them were temporarily separated in the crowd.
"Why not?" Richie said when they found their way side by side again, popping what remained of his ice cream cone into his mouth, finishing it off with a satisfying crunch. "It's not like I can do anything for our friends up north without my stuff."
Virgil nodded, tossing his empty cup into a trashcan on the street. "I hear the one on 5th's got a display for the new Omega Man story line starting up next month. It's supposed to be cool."
"Is that the one by Peter..."
Richie trailed off as a loud 'boom' echoed down the street, the people around them letting out shouts and hitting the ground out of reflexes well bred of living in Dakota. Scanning the horizon, he saw a plume of smoke rising into the sky about two streets over. On the wind, he could smell things burning as well as hear an extremely telling laugh.
"Oh, give me a break," Virgil groaned, rolling his eyes. "I just turned him over to the authorities yesterday morning! No way he already managed to escape!"
"Sounds like it, though," Richie said with a frown, squinting through the smoke flowing past them. "If nothing else, I guess we can always rely on Francis to break out of prison."
"I swear, if that idiot spent half as much energy on cracking a book now and then, he'd have a Ph.D. by now."
The two of them ducked into a nearby ally, Richie standing guard at the entrance while Virgil shucked off his civilian clothes. Tying his mask around his face, he gave his clothes to Richie, who folded them up and hid them under his arm. Virgil tossed out his saucer, electrifying it with a careless wave of his hand.
"Guess I'm flying solo this time," Virgil said, and he didn't sound very happy about it.
"You'll do fine," Richie said optimistically. "Without my things, I'm nothing more than a guy too smart for his own good with ice cream on his fingers. Besides, you've done it before."
"Yeah, but I'm not used to it anymore." He sighed, grudgingly hopping up on his disc. "You at least gonna be on the ground?"
Richie nodded. "Sure," he said, holding up his Shock Vox. "I still got your back, man. Just like old times."
Virgil looked grim. "Just don't forget to watch your own back while you're down there. I have trouble seeing it from up above."
"No problem. Now, get going before we lose half of downtown."
Waiting until Virgil disappeared high over the top of the building, Richie dashed to the front of the ally, looking left and right to make sure no one had seen them together. He didn't have much to worry about. Most of the citizens of Dakota knew by now that when Static was moving one way, they should move in the other.
Richie slipped into the crowd unnoticed, pushing through in the opposite direction of the throng. Clinging tight to the walls of the buildings, so as not to get pushed into the street, Richie continued moving toward the smoke and ash, occasionally reaching up to scrub at his watering eyes. On a whim, he tied Virgil's t-shirt around his face like a mask, mostly with the intention to keep from inhaling the smoke, but also as an effort to keep his identity somewhat hidden. Ebon came too close to figuring out their friendship that one winter day. He didn't want it to happen again.
It had been awhile since he'd served justice in this capacity. Ever since the inception of Gear, Richie didn't spend much time on the ground. He never felt more useful than when up by Static's side, fighting together against the Bang Babies and other villains that threatened them. But, he never devalued his efforts prior to Gear, never regretted what he did as Static's partner even before he started wearing green spandex under his clothes.
For all his body could absorb ridiculous amount of electricity, nothing changed the fact that, with all that bright light arching through the air, coupled with the distractions of whoever or whatever he was fighting at the time, Virgil had some trouble seeing what he was doing. Add in the problem with having to fight in three-dimensions and his best friend tended to put himself unintentionally at risk more often than not, leaving himself exposed to attack in such a way that only years of hardened experience could correct, assuming he lived that long. Recognizing this almost instantly, either from years of playing video games or his gradual emergence as Gear, Richie found an easy niche to fit into while Virgil got to dress up in the costume and get all the glory.
He watched Virgil's back. Hiding in the shadows of the alley or trees before Gear, Richie stayed out of sight, watching the battle unfold, Shock Vox clutched tightly in hand. From an observer's viewpoint, with little risk of danger, he was able to warn Virgil about impending attacks on his unprotected sides, guide him where to go when Ebon blinded him or Hotstreak filled the air with smoke.
Even with Gear, Richie still essentially did just that for Virgil. His used non-lethal distance weapons, was usually able to stay out of the thick of battle and coordinate their movements to make their fighting technique as flawless as if they'd been doing it as long as Superman. Maybe the media and the Justice League didn't understand his contribution, but Virgil did, and that was all that mattered to Richie. He could tell, in fact, as he set himself up behind a dumpster and watched Virgil confront Hotstreak in a pre-battle war of words, that Virgil certainly understood his part in their team and sincerely missed his presence. He looked a little off-balance.
"It's cool, man," Richie whispered in the Shock Vox as Hotstreak finished saying some unflattering about Virgil's mother. "Check it - he's tired. Probably wasted all his energy trying to break out of lockdown and didn't have the sense to rest up a bit before creating havoc. That means he's gonna be sloppy. Just keep your cool, bro, and don't let him get to you."
From the distance, Richie could see Virgil touch his ear. "Did you hear what he just said about my mother?" he asked with disgust.
"Yeah, but he doesn't even know your mom, obviously," Richie told him with a tiny smile. "He's just pulling trash out of his ass. Let it go and keep focused. This shouldn't take long."
Virgil snorted. "Yeah, says you."
Before Richie could reply, though, Francis must have decided he'd had enough of the trash talking and threw a fireball straight at Virgil's head. Virgil dodged that easy, as Richie knew he would. For as fast as Francis no doubt seemed to be going in a lay person's eyes, Richie could tell Virgil was starting to realize just how slow his adversary was reacting compared to usual.
"Billboard on your right," Richie warned and Virgil turned sharply so he wouldn't run into it. A few things were burning in the general vicinity. If Virgil's eyes were half as itchy and watery as Richie's were at the moment, he knew his friend was essentially flying blind. "Building behind you, about five feet. Goes up several stories. He's coming up on your left."
Richie kept up the commentary, purely observational, with no suggestions as to how Virgil should react. Virgil knew what to do and Richie yelling at him to do stuff would only throw him off. He just needed Richie's eyes, even with their nearly legally blind without the glasses status.
It didn't take long. After about ten minutes of trading volleys, insults, and empty cars, the battle ended with Francis knocked out but otherwise unhurt. Virgil had already set about cleaning up the mess from the fight, putting out fires, righting things upturned in the ruckus, even moving some litter to a nearby dumpster. The cops on the scene were waving and giving their thanks, even as the Bang Baby Containment Unit loaded Francis up on a stretcher for the second time in as many days.
"Try to hold on to him this time, okay, guys?" Virgil called to the BBCU, masking his profound irritation with humor that fooled everyone except for Richie. He soared up into the sky, heading west, then, remembering, he stopped. This time, Virgil's voice came through Richie's Shock Vox. "Uh, man? Where should I be going?"
"Umm..." Richie scanned the streets. No good. Now that the fight had ended, the gawkers had arrived, standing on tiptoes in an attempt to see anything unusual. For the citizens of Dakota, a fight between Static and a Bang Baby was more exciting than Major League Baseball, once it was over and the danger gone. "I guess head over to the new place. It'll take me awhile to get over there on foot, so I suppose you'll have to find someway to amuse yourself until I can get you your clothes. Maybe try to find the source of that sulfur smell?"
"I knew it!" Virgil declared over their connection, but he was flying east toward the docks anyway. "I knew I would be stuck cleaning! The old place, the new place - What am I, a maid? Buy me a black and white dress and a feather duster and we'll call it a day."
"Bro, you don't have the legs to pull that off," Richie said, snorting in amusement and pulling Virgil's shirt off from around his face. "Trust me on that."
"Yeah, yeah." Virgil sighed. "Okay, bro, I'll see you at the new place. Thanks for the assist back there. Couldn't do it without you."
"Ah, it's nothing, man," Richie replied, unable to help smiling a little. "See you in a few."
Jabbing his thumb on the button along the side of the Shock Vox, Richie slipped it back in his pocket and started walking down the street toward the warehouse district, allowing himself to revel in a bit of pride. It might not seem like much, standing out of the way and warning Virgil about landmarks he was about to smash into, but it made a difference. It was nice to be recognized for something not necessarily super genius related.
With the fight over, downtown returned to business as usual. Richie stopped at a vendor and bought a couple of hot dogs, decking one of them out the way he knew Virgil liked it. Fighting always drained him and made him hungry. They didn't have their mini-fridge or their snacks anymore. He'd probably be rolling on the floor in hunger by the time Richie got there, or at the very least, whining about it.
Taking a bit of his own hot dog, he thought about what he could do with the warehouse. The HQ was temporary, no doubt about that - it was too far from his and Virgil's house, too far from downtown to be really effective. Still, they needed to make it workable until they could finish cleaning up the gas station. Plus, those raw materials left behind might come in useful.
GEAR!
"OW!" Richie yelped, nearly dropping his hot dog as a the mental call of his name screamed through his mind. The mental voice sounded panicked and scared. He wondered, as he winced, if emotions were hard to hide while using telepathy. Scrunching up his eyes, he thought as hard as he could, Yes, J'onn. I'm here. You don't have to yell, man. Where are you?
I am at your headquarters. What happened?
Long story, Richie thought grimly, then quickly sent away a picture of the warehouse district and the location of their new place. That's where we're setting up for the time being. I'm on my way now. Static is probably already there.
Then I will see you shortly.
The mental connection between himself and the Martian broke and Richie groaned, rubbing his head. "That was totally not cool," he muttered to himself, picking up the pace.
"... so then we get over there and the whole place is going up in smoke. Man, talk about a ruined evening."
Richie pushed open the door to the warehouse, seeing Virgil standing in the middle of the room, his power arching out around him as he held several long metal tables up in the air, shaking them to get the dust of and reorganizing them in a neater fashion. J'onn J'onzz, Superman, as well as the Green Lantern stood around him, watching as he casually moved the extremely heavy furniture around them room without any apparent effort. Richie rolled his eyes a tiny bit, knowing Virgil was showing off, but happy to let him have at it.
"Hey," he called, closing the door behind him. "I got you a hotdog, bro."
"Great! I'm starving!" Virgil dropped the tables with a clang, practically running up to Richie and grabbing the hot dog out of his hand. He grinned down at it. "Just like I like it, man, thanks," he said, then proceeded to eat it in about four bites.
"Static was just informing us of your unfortunate trouble," J'onn said, looking over at Richie.
"You boys have any idea who was responsible?" asked Green Lantern.
Richie vaguely wondered why John Stewart had tagged along. Then, he realized, when he told Superman to contact, 'our friend with the green thumb', he probably wasn't specific enough, so he know doubt grabbed anybody green and a friend in the Justice League just to be safe. Hiding a laugh with a well-timed cough, Richie tossed Virgil his clothes, walking up to the group. They all looked a little worried.
"Not a clue," Richie said flippantly, trying to keep things upbeat. It wouldn't do to get all depressed and hopeless about the situation, wouldn't be helpful to think dark thoughts and allow angst to overcome them. Sure, there was the possibly they were in danger, but what else was new? They'd deal with things as they came and, sooner or later, everything would be back to normal. Walking over to the long table, Richie tugged away a dirty tarp he'd found earlier that morning, revealing the damaged Backpack to the Justice League members present. "I'm sure it knows, but as you can see, I won't be able to get anything off of it for a good long while. We ordered some replacement equipment, but I probably won't see if for at least a week."
Green Lantern walked over to the robot, picking it up and turning it over in his hands, examining it. "Looks like it got fried. That fire must have burned hot. You're sure it wasn't an accident?"
"Positive," Richie said with a nod. "It was too neat. Besides, I found evidence of an accelerant that I know wasn't with my other chemicals."
"Why go to all that trouble?" Superman asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "If they wanted information about the Watchtower, they could have just stolen your computers and left the place alone."
"You're assuming that's what they wanted," Virgil intoned. He'd jumped up on one of the tables and was sitting on his hands, waving his feet back and forth lazily. "We do have enemies of our own, man."
"Anyway, all of my computers, or what was left of them, were still there," Richie added, taking Backpack back from Lantern and setting it back down gingerly. "It wouldn't have done anybody any good to steal them - I have them so encrypted, they'd never figure it out. Also, I have them set up so if somebody does try to bust into my encryption, I'll know about it. I have a security system in place and I know for a fact it wasn't breached."
"How can you be positive?" J'onn asked, looking down at Backpack. "Without your robot acting as a go between, how would you know that nobody had attempted to access your files?"
Richie opened his mouth, then closed it, sharing a look with Virgil. Did the Justice League really need to know all their secrets? They might react badly if they found out the truth. Virgil shrugged at him and Richie knew as well as he did that they weren't going to get away with keeping the information to themselves this time. The darkening expression on Green Lantern's face told them that much.
"Might as well come clean, bro," Virgil told him with a half-shrug.
Sighing, Richie turned to look at all three of them. "Don't freak out," he said by way of preamble, holding up his hands. "I sorta... incorporated Brainiac's implants into all of my hardware. While it's more a more rudimentary connection in my computers as compared to Backpack, I'd still know right away if somebody tried to mess with anything, Backpack or no. I'm hardwired into my own systems."
"What?" Lantern practically yelled. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Brainiac nearly destroyed the world, not to mention you!"
"Believe me, I remember," Richie replied shortly, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes. "Brainiac's gone, man. It seemed stupid not to use what it left behind."
"It's stupid to use them at all," Superman said, and he seemed downright offended. Considering that Brainiac was responsible for the destruction of his home world, Richie couldn't blame him, but at the same time, he didn't feel like it was Superman's choice to make. "You should have told us that you still could access those implants."
Superman's eyes narrowed and Richie got the distinct impression he was being x-rayed. He didn't like that. At all.
"Cut it out!" Richie cried out, grabbing a piece of piping off the ground and throwing it straight at Superman's head, knowing it wouldn't hurt him. "Man, you cannot x-ray people without asking! It's rude!"
Superman shook his head, rubbing the spot where the pipe smacked into him, probably not out of pain, but out of reflex. "You don't have any clue as to what Brainiac's capable of!"
"The hell I don't!" Richie started to yell, but J'onn stepped between them, a calming presence in the rising storm.
"Enough," he said simply, his voice quiet, yet somehow strong enough to convince everyone to comply. He turned to Richie, his eyes unreadable. "Gear, I trust that you know what you are doing, so we will speak no more of this. The important thing is to discover who is responsible not only for the problems with the Watchtower, but more pressing, who is responsible for the destruction of your headquarters."
Shooting one final glare at Superman, Richie walked back over to Backpack, tapping it with his fist. "Like I said, J'onn, there's nothing I can do about it until I get my tools, and there's a waiting period, even with UPS." He threw the tarp over the robot, hiding it from view.
"There are other places where you can make use of the equipment you need," J'onn replied, looking thoughtful.
Jumping to conclusions was something of a problem for Richie, even before his exposure to the Bang Baby mutating agent. However, since his intelligence started growing by leaps and bounds, his conclusions tended to be accurate more often than not. Looking up at J'onn, then glancing over at Virgil, Richie shook his head.
"I can't do that," he told the Martian. "I'm needed here. Besides, my mom is cool, but my dad is not. I haven't been home in almost three days and while she won't care, I'm sure my dad's gonna have something to say about it."
"Time may not be on our side," J'onn said, understanding that Richie knew what he was referring to. "The sooner we can discover the truth, the sooner we can take steps to rectify the situation."
"I'm sorry, but I missed something," Virgil said, jumping off the table. "Would someone like to clarify for the non-super geniuses and non-telepaths in the room?"
Richie looked over at Virgil, his expression grim. "J'onn wants me to go to Gotham to use Batman's stuff to try to fix Backpack."
"Oh." Virgil scratched his cheek. "Well, I guess that makes sense."
"It's not safe for you to go out fighting on your own," Richie reminded him. "It could take me a couple of days to get Backpack working again. You know how tough some of our friends here in town have gotten since that failed cure those scientists put out in the environment."
"I can stay in town and help out," Lantern offered. "It's not like I have anything better to do."
Richie didn't say that Dakota might not be happy having the Green Lantern around, especially after last time. True, that hadn't actually been Green Lantern, but no matter how much the paper tried to clarify that, doubts still lingered in the minds of the citizens. Still, it was probably the best they could hope for and he felt better knowing Virgil had someone on his side to help out.
"But what about my dad?" Richie asked, giving Virgil a knowing look.
"He'll probably flip out no matter what you do, man," Virgil said sympathetically, but not without a tinge of anger in his voice. "I'll see if Pops can help out with damage control. Maybe we can tell him we're going on a fishing trip or something. J'onn's right. The sooner you get Backpack fixed, the sooner we can resume business as usual, bro."
"Okay," Richie said, but he couldn't help feeling doubt. "If my dad explodes and grounds me for life, though, I'm blaming all of y'all."
"It's settled then," J'onn said.
He didn't seem surprised at Richie's last statement, but he couldn't help but notice the curious looks being cast at him by Green Lantern and Superman. J'onn knew, of course, about Richie's problems with his father after that fateful little trip he took through his mind to check for remnants of Brainiac, but Richie didn't think it was really anybody else's business. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of pissed off superheroes leaping to his defense like he was a helpless kid. Richie had it tough dealing with his father, sure, but a lot of kids had it a lot worse. At least he didn't hit him.
"Fine." Richie picked up the duffel bag from that morning, shoving Backpack inside. "Let me swing by my house and then I'll see about how I'm going to get to Gotham."
"Superman can fly you there," J'onn stated blandly.
Richie balked. "What? No! The dude just x-rayed some very personal parts of me without permission. I'm not going to hang around his neck like Lois Lane while he flies me up the coast."
J'onn gave him a look that booked no room for argument. Groaning, Richie shouldered his duffel bag, glaring at Superman, who glared right back. Yeah, this was going to be a fun trip.
"Whatever." Richie kicked moodily at the ground, adjusting the duffel bag so it didn't cut into his neck. "Meet me in my 'hood. I'll be behind the pizza place on tenth street. Static can tell you how to get there."
"Good," J'onn said with a nod and Richie realized he kinda hated him at the moment.
As he started to leave, Virgil fell into step by his side, and they left the warehouse behind, taking a few moments of privacy from the rest of the Justice League before Richie left. Virgil was quiet in a way that meant he was thinking very hard about something. Richie had a pretty good idea of what that something was.
"You be careful up there," Virgil told him as the paused about ten feet away from the warehouse. "Gotham's a pit, man."
"Believe me, I know." Richie sighed, squinting up into the sunlight. "Thanks for covering for me, bro. I know it ain't gonna be easy. My dad is seriously gonna be pissed."
"He'll get over it."
Virgil thrust out his fist and Richie met it easily, doing a quick version of their handshake. At the end, instead of pulling away, Virgil grabbed his hand and tugged him forward, catching him up in manly hug that involved him slapping his back twice. Richie snorted a laugh at the silliness of it all.
"It'll only be a for a few days, bro," he promised, stepping back.
Virgil shrugged. "I know, but I also know that whenever we get separated, you have a tendency to get kidnapped and stuff. Don't make me fly all the way up to Gotham to save your pasty ass."
"I think it'll be cool," Richie said with a roll of his eyes. "I'll be surrounded by the world's finest - Batman glaring at me on one side, Superman glaring at me on the other."
Some of Virgil's good humor faded. "He shouldn't have said that," he said, his expression darkening. "You know, about you not knowing what Brainiac is capable of. That wasn't right, man."
"He doesn't know," Richie said patiently.
That was true. Nobody knew, aside from Virgil and now J'onn, that Richie possessed all of Brainiac's memories, that he knew the intimate details of every genocide the rogue program committed. Richie hadn't even intended to let Virgil in on the fact, not wanting his friend to worry or start feeling all guilty again for his part in not noticing Richie's body and mind had been hijacked for three weeks. However, a dozen times waking up screaming in Virgil's bed pretty much forced Richie to come clean about everything he did in fact remember.
"Yeah, well, then he should keep his mouth shut about stuff he doesn't understand," Virgil told him, his tone clipped. "If he gives you any trouble on the flight there and back, let me know. I'll electrify his cape so badly, it'll be tangled around his legs for weeks."
Richie laughed at the mental image that produced. It felt good to laugh. Stepping forward, he grabbed Virgil in a hug not quite as manly.
"Thanks, man," he said, grinning. "What would I do without you?"
"Go insane and build doomsday devices to take over the world?" Virgil said, stepping out of the hug and raising his eyebrows.
"Probably." Richie turned away with a sigh, giving one final wave to Virgil. "See you in a few days, man. Stay safe."
"Ditto, bro."
Leaving the warehouse district behind, Richie walked toward his home, his mind consumed with thoughts. Well, more thoughts than usual, anyway. Running his fingers through his hair, Richie sighed.
"I miss life not being complicated," he said to no one at all, picking up the pace to a half-jog.
To be continued...
A/N: Will Virgil actually ruin Superman's cape with more static than is allowed by law? Will Richie's father really explode and how gross will that be? Will Alfred make Richie tuna fish sandwiches and offer fatherly advice? How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Answers to all these questions and less in the next chapter of "House Call"! Stay tuned and thanks for reading!