Much thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed the prologue to this fic; I appreciate your comments more than you know. Yes, that was a prologue, don't look at me like that.
Aaaanyway. Yes, I realize that this chapter is in past tense and the prologue was in present tense. All the chapters after this one will be in past tense as well. There was a reason for the prologue being in present tense, trust me, and it'll be obvious later. I'm not going to randomly switch tenses on you poor readers, I promise.
As always, comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome.
Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock, I don't own Justice League, and I don't own Star Wars. You can't even get my soul if you sue me; I sold it years ago in exchange for a box of Misty Mints.
Chapter
001: The Wolf Who Cries
"Which
is worse? The wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who
does not?" — Leo Tolstoy
————ONE YEAR EARLIER————
Even for Dakota, this was weird.
"Gear, man, please tell me that you too are seeing a bad AT-ST rip-off."
"I'm seeing it, bro. Except it's a bit smaller, and chickenwalkers don't have hands."
"That's why I said a bad rip-off." Indeed, there was what looked a lot like a chickenwalker with hands trundling down Locke Street, merrily crushing parked cars beneath its feet as it went.
Well. Not that much smaller than a chickenwalker. Gear and Static both dropped into a dive, intending to stop the robot before it hurt actual people instead of just insurance rates.
Both Shock Boxes crackled, and Batman's voice emanated from them.
"Gear."
Shocked enough that he stopped in mid-air, Gear narrowly avoided getting KO'd by the robot's sudden swipe. "Here." Ever since Gear and Static had both politely declined the offer to ally themselves with the Justice Lords, relations between Dakota's duo and the Lords had been rather cool.
Actually, Richie had declined for both of them. Virgil had just about killed him later, when he found out, but Richie had just shaken his head and said "Trust me, V," and he'd been firm, but somehow almost pleading, so what else could Virgil do?
Of course, Virgil had still refused to talk to him for a few days, but they'd gotten over it, as with everything else. But now Batman was calling – had actually used their frequency – and was asking for Gear only, it seemed. Why?
"Good. Gear, I need you to get down to the following co-ordinates"—Batman rattled them off, and Richie input them into Backpack, the machine beeping once—"and go inside the warehouse there. There isn't enough time for one of the Justice Lords to get down there, but we've located a bomb in one of the crates. You'll be able to get there in enough time to dismantle it, or at the very least, warn the people in there—there are four Bang Babies in the warehouse."
"Hey, Gear is not going into a building with a bomb!" Virgil protested immediately, dodging back from the robot and keeping himself too high for it to reach. "Can't you just send them a telegram or something?"
"The more time you waste arguing, the less time Gear has to dismantle it."
"Gear's not going!" Virgil snapped, shocked by his own tone, but what the hell was wrong with Batman, wanting to send his partner into such a dangerous situation? "Besides, we're a little bit busy right now."
"I think this is Gear's decision, not yours." Batman's own tone was sharp and cold.
"Gear—" Virgil began immediately, looking at his partner, but to his horror, Gear shook his head, a strange expression on his face.
"It's fine, Static. There are four lives at stake, and we're heroes, right?" He gestured to the robot. "You can handle that thing. Just zap it a few times and join me once you're done."
Virgil floated right up to his partner, making sure neither of their Shock Boxes were outputting, then softly pleaded, "Richie, don't do this."
"You would," Richie said simply, and he didn't argue any further because he knew he'd won.
"Yeah, but—" Virgil sighed, raking a hand through his hair, and wincing as another car was stomped. "I'll be right on your tail, man, as fast as I can. I promise. Call me when you get there."
"'Course." They knocked their fists together, like always, and Richie drifted away a bit so that when he jetted, Static wouldn't get a face full of rocket boot.
"Warehouses. Shit always happens in warehouses," Gear grumbled, but somehow it seemed forced, and Virgil had noticed that Richie had been swearing more lately, something he usually only did when extremely stressed. Virgil wanted to press him on it, but Gear had already started to leave, and time was of the essence.
"Good luck, Static."
"You too, man." Virgil saluted him, and Richie returned it, then jetted away. Virgil watched until his partner was barely a speck in the sky, then turned back to the robot, both hands glowing and crackling.
"Okay, Mr. Copyright Infringement, let's see if you're built as tough as the real thing."
Powering up a rather large blast, though it was nowhere near nova-proportions, Virgil hurled it at the robot dead-on, and it nailed the thing perfectly.
Unfortunately, the robot seemed to have been built with Static in mind.
The robot absorbed it, and one of its hands snapped up with abnormal speed, its arm extending and snatching Virgil with fingers big enough to curl around his chest all the way down to his feet. Although Virgil had been able to keep his arms free, they were of little use as the robot drew him close and slowly began to drain his electricity.
Well, this was going to be a bit of a problem.
———
Finding the building was not a problem, and neither was entering it. It was your typical dilapidated warehouse, and Gear had just enough time to wonder why people just randomly abandoned these things before a sonic screech hit him and he slammed head-over-heels into the ground.
Ow.
He also barely had time to stand up before Backpack, in one of the few times it took its own initiative, fired up his jet skates and sent him flying straight up and out of the way of Kangorr's ground-shaking stomps. Backpack beeped at him again, and he narrowly escaped being turned into barbecue by Hotstreak.
"Hey, time out!" he yelled desperately, holding up his hands in the universal 'Peace!' gesture. "Time ou—" Shuriken whipped past his head from behind and exploded upon impact with the wall. "HEY! TIME OUT!" He threw a zap trap in Shiv's general direction, then zigzagged in mid-air to avoid one of Talon's dive attacks.
"There is a bomb in here, and I need to find it and shut it down!" He dodged to the side, but one of Kangorr's boots clipped him on the arm, sending him into a sharp spiral.
Well, this was going to be a bit of a problem.
———
There was a 'Push to Deactivate' button. Virgil could not believe it. The freaking robot actually had a big red button, right in the centre of its 'face' labelled 'Push to Deactivate', and when it had drawn him close it had actually put him almost within reach of the stupid thing. Virgil seriously doubted that the button would do anything useful (and might, in fact, do something decidedly mean to him if he did push it) but hey, it was either that or let the thing drain him of all his electricity, which wouldn't actually kill him, and then crush him or something, which probably would.
Virgil growled in frustration, stretching desperately for the button. His fingers trembled violently as his strength was sapped, and he knew he didn't have much longer until he was as weak as a kitten. Jesus, that button was only there to be a cruel joke, he was sure of it. It was probably going to shoot spikes at him or something and he was going to be impaled through the skull and leave a horrible corpse behind, which was so not fair because it wasn't too often that good-looking guys like him came along, and why couldn't he reach the freaking button—
Out of nowhere, something small and round and white flew past and smashed into the button with considerable force. To Virgil's eternal surprise, the machine immediately powered down, and the awful draining of Static's electricity ceased, although Virgil was still quite firmly in its grip. It took about a minute of wriggling and quiet cursing for him to squirm free. As it was, he nearly fell the ten feet to the ground, calling his disc to him at the last second; it took a lot more effort than usual to do so.
Looking around for the thing that had saved him, it came as something of a shock to find a regular, everyday baseball sitting innocently beneath the hulking robot. Virgil picked it up, then turned, and it came as even more of a surprise to see a girl with short red hair and a baseball mitt staring at him, half-excited and half-nervous. He floated her way, hopping to the ground a few feet in front of her. Well, Gear hadn't called to say he'd gotten to the building yet...
"Hell of a throw," he said, impressed, and tossed the ball back to her. She grinned widely as she caught it, her face slightly flushed.
"Thanks. I've been playing baseball since... forever, pretty much."
"Yeah... Um, you know, I'm real grateful and all, but you really shouldn't have—" he paused as she gave him a Look that reminded him fiercely of his sister. "Uh. You know. Try to keep away from giant robots and all that."
"Will do, hero." She looked about his age. He was just about to offer her a ride home or back to her baseball diamond or wherever when Gear's voice suddenly crackled over the Shock Box, angry and nervous.
"For god's sake, I don't have time for this! What part of 'bomb in the building' aren't you idiots understanding?"
Virgil barely had time to toss off at least another thank you before he was forcing his disc to rocket back into the sky, and the hell with his current weakness.
His partner was in danger.
———
Gear's calm was rapidly eroding. He'd spent the last two minutes dodging fireballs, stompings, lots of sharp glowing exploding things, talons, and sonic screeches, and quite frankly he was getting a bit pissed off.
He also needed some serious back-up. Pressing the button on the Shock Box and hoping Static had his receivers on 'high', he yelled,
"For god's sake, I don't have time for this! What part of 'bomb in the building' aren't you idiots understanding?"
Talon, the only vaguely intelligent one of the bunch in Richie's opinion, hesitated. "Yo, Hotstreak!" she called down, just as the man let off another gout of flames in Richie's general direction. "Cool it!"
To Richie's surprise and gratification, Hotstreak appeared to be willing to listen to her, and backed off—at least temporarily. Kangorr and Shiv were less inclined to do so, but they weren't big problems. And they had crappy aim.
Hotstreak hadn't shut down his flames, though. "Ten seconds, poindexter."
All in favour of coming up with a new insult, say 'aye', Richie thought wryly. What he said was, "There is a bomb in this building capable of reducing everyone in here—except maybe Hotstreak—to bones and ashes. I know where it is and I know how to shut it down, so if you just let me at the damned thing, I don't give a shit what you do after that." His voice had risen to a frustrated shout on the last bit, and in his head a clock was ticking. How long did he have?
Hotstreak stared at him for a second, considering, then glanced at Talon. Without looking, he sent a scorching wave of flame in Kangorr and Shiv's direction, forcing them to back off.
"Thank you," Richie muttered sarcastically, landing warily beside one of the larger crates. The unique signal Batman had described was coming from here. He sensed Talon and Hotstreak just behind him, but didn't bother turning, instead pulling out what looked like a teacher's laser pointer and proceeding to slice the top off of the crate.
"Okay, that thing is cool," he heard Hotstreak concede behind him, sounding amused for once. Of course – he had no fear of explosions. Richie would have loved to inform him that the shockwave might cause him some pain, but now was not the best time to incite the pyromaniac's temper.
Inside the crate, sure enough, a bomb was ticking away. A very large bomb.
Richie sucked in a breath, then sliced off one side of the crate and plopped himself down in front of it, noting immediately that it wasn't just your run-of-the-mill dynamite-and-a-timer bomb. This was sophisticated; it had a freaking keypad, and Richie hated smart villains. This would require hacking.
And judging by the timer, another thing it would require was more time that he had.
"Get out of here," he said shortly, not bothering to look behind him at the four other Bang Babies. He wasn't even sure if Kangorr and Shiv could hear him; they were loitering around the other end of the warehouse, glaring but apparently not willing to challenge Hotstreak and Talon.
The timer ticked on, mocking him. Three minutes.
Richie's fingers flew feverishly over the keypad, and Backpack detached itself from him, jacking itself into the computer and sending data streams to Gear's helmet. "If this blows, we all blow. Leave. Now."
Hotstreak snorted. "I think I'll hang around to watch the light show, thanks. Talon can leave."
Talon, for her part, hesitated. "You gotta leave too, y'know." Richie was surprised to realize that she was talking to him.
"Too powerful. Could kill bystanders." Proper grammar and complete sentences were not the highest thing on his priority list at the moment. Whoever programmed this thing was good, and that pissed him off and terrified him at the same time, because while the program wasn't near enough to keep Gear out for long... it might just be enough to keep him out long enough.
Talon flapped into the air, her decision obvious. "See ya, Hotstreak." With a slight wave, she left through a broken window just as a green sphere enveloped the warehouse. Talon whirled just outside the green, startled but free. Clearly realizing who had created the shield, she flew out of the area faster than she'd ever flown before, but wisely stayed low to keep out of sight.
"What the fuck, mon!" came Kangorr's startled yell. Gear ignored him, his level of panic increasing as the program refused to give. He felt like screaming in frustration as the timer continued to count down. He had a minute and twelve seconds.
"Goddamn Lord," Hotstreak snarled behind him; the level of hatred in the pyrokinetic's voice was unexpected. "They turnin' on their own now? Thought they were all about having fucking faith in each other."
"Gear?"
Static's voice was frantic over the Shock Box, but Richie didn't have time to answer it. No time, no time, good Jesus thirty seconds and still no closer—!
"Gear, man, answer me!"
Backpack used one of its 'feet' to press the side of the Shock Box, and Richie promptly yelled, "Shut up a minute!"
Twenty...
Wait. Wait. Is that...?
Fifteen...
He had it, he had to have it, he was so close—
Ten...
Come on, come on... YES! Richie pumped a triumphant fist in the air as the timer flashed repeatedly on seven. Lucky number seven. Richie stood; the bomb was the Lords' responsibility now, and he just wanted to get out of this building.
He raised the Shock Box to his mouth, laughing a little in relief. "Bomb successfully dismantled, Static."
"Never doubted you for a second, bro. Now get the hell out of there."
Richie frowned. Virgil had sounded... antsy. He was about to ask why when he realized that the green shield was not being dropped.
"Something's not right," he said quietly, almost to himself, but Hotstreak tensed behind him. Richie turned to look at him, and he saw that although Hotstreak was glaring at him, it didn't feel like it was actually Gear whom Hotstreak was pissed off at.
Suddenly, things were starting to fall into place in the worst possible way.
"Backpack," he said, and his mouth was utterly dry, "scan for anything out of the ordinary. Anything."
Backpack made a whirring noise, and then a beeping noise, and then a truly terrifying panicky beeping noise that sounded the same as the first one to anyone but Richie.
"Oh, shit."
———
Virgil reached the building at almost the same time as Green Lantern. For some reason, the Lord gave him a double-take, but he recovered quickly. Lantern gave him a quick wave, explaining, "I finished my mission earlier than expected. I figured the best thing to do was get down here to help."
Virgil nodded, then tensed up as green light spilled from Lantern's ring, enveloping the building in a pale green dome.
Unaware how that was possibly going to help but willing to trust his hero, Virgil raised the Shock Box to his mouth, intending to ask for a status report from his partner. He knew that Richie and the other four had come to a truce, but not much more.
"Gear?" Virgil believed waiting five seconds for an answer to be adequate time, considering his best friend was currently trapped in a bomb-rigged building.
Five seconds passed with no answer, so he tried again.
"Gear, man, answer me!"
This time, the answer was immediate, panicky, and more than a little bit nerve-wracking: "Shut up a minute!"
Okay, Virgil told himself frantically. It wasn't as though he could pierce Green Lantern's shield in his condition anyway. He's okay. He's snapped at me like that before when I've interrupted one of his non-fatal experiments. He's fine. No panicking.
Why the hell did Lantern close them in?
As if in response to his thoughts, the shield glowed brighter and seemed to thicken.
"What are you doing?" Virgil asked hesitantly. He crouched on the disc and curled his fingers around the edges, his eyes flicking to Green Lantern for the barest moment before returning to the green dome that enclosed the building.
"Containing the explosion," Green Lantern said calmly, glancing at Virgil to gauge his reaction. "Just in case."
"If you can contain the explosion," Virgil said slowly, ignoring the insane ohmygodohmygodohmygodrichieno his brain was doing, "then why did you let Gear go in to try and dismantle it?"
"Gear will be fine, Static. Besides, we can't just let the four other Bang Babies in there die." The way Green Lantern said it, the implication was that he was concerned for the safety of the other kids, but Virgil's skin crawled. Something was very wrong, he could feel it. He itched to rush down there and burst in, rip Gear out of the building, and the hell with Green Lantern's shields and the other Bang Babies.
Just then, his Shock Box crackled.
"Bomb successfully dismantled, Static." Gear's voice was full of the cheer that only supreme relief could bring, as well as tiredness from so much tension. Virgil couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at the sound of his partner's voice, although something still felt... off. He immediately lifted the Shock Box to his mouth to respond.
"Never doubted you for a second, bro. Now get the hell out of there." Somehow, a faint note of urgency had entered his voice near the end. He lowered the Shock Box, turning to Green Lantern.
"You heard Gear; bomb's gone. You can lower the shield now."
Green Lantern didn't move, and neither did the shield. Virgil stared at him for a moment, confused and anxious.
"Come on, man. You don't want the other Bang Babies in there to turn on Gear, do you?"
"Of course not." The shield flickered for a moment, but quickly solidified again. "Just give me a moment."
Virgil frowned. "You've never needed 'a moment' before."
Gear's voice suddenly exploded from the Shock Box, scared and terse.
"Static, get the hell away from here!"
Green Lantern jerked in surprise. Virgil ignored him, terror for his partner's safety spiking through him. His disc dipped, shooting toward the shield almost on instinct, not bothering to worry about how he was possibly going to get through it in his current state of weakness. Maybe Green Lantern would have had 'a moment' by then.
"What—"
"Can Lantern hear me?"
"No. What the hell—"
"Don't trust the Justice Lords!" Gear's voice was an angry snarl that nearly smothered the fear still underlining his tone. "Don't trust them. Just run! And... and it's not your fault; never your fault."
"Gear—!"
"Bye, bro." Terrifyingly soft and gentle, almost apologetic, then...
The warehouse exploded. Virgil thought he might have screamed, but he couldn't be sure, because his entire body just seized up. If Green Lantern hadn't caught him and his disc in another green sphere, he would have gone tumbling from the sky, his charge and his focus long since vanished.
Suddenly, he was on his feet again, pounding his fists against translucent curves that wouldn't give, not even when he threw charge after charge at them, emotions overriding weakness. Green Lantern caught up with him, his face betraying nothing.
"Let me out!"
"Static, I realize you're in shock—"
"That's what everyone says when someone dies!" Virgil screamed at him, his hands crackling and glowing, slamming again and again into the green. "Don't say that!"
"Static!" The bubble encasing him was shaken, and Virgil tripped, landing on his rump and trembling hard. "Static," Green Lantern continued calmly, "there's nothing you can do." The dome containing the collapsing, smouldering building shimmered and vanished, bright green retreating into the ring.
So fast. Like he could have done it anytime.
"Don't trust the Justice Lords! Just run!"
"You knew," Virgil said softly, glaring up at his one-time hero through the translucent green. "You knew. That's why you didn't drop the—you let him die!"
"You're in shock, Static," Green Lantern repeated, but there was something cold and dark in his voice: a deadly warning. "You need to calm down. I know what it's like to lose a best friend, believe me. But this isn't the time to fall apart."
"Just run!"
Oh, god, Richie...
"Sorry," Virgil whispered, bowing his head so that Green Lantern wouldn't see the hatred in his eyes. He grabbed the hatred, twisted it around him like a shield so he wouldn't have to feel the pain. "I just... sorry." He couldn't fight back, not while he had so little of his charge, not while Green Lantern already had him in his grip.
Green Lantern's face softened unexpectedly. "I'm sorry too, Static. If there had been any other option, any other way, I would have taken it. But there was no way I could save him."
The sincerity in his voice was sickening, because Virgil knew he really was sorry. Sorry that Richie had been too smart, too damn smart for them to handle. Too much of a threat, and too good to join them, that they'd had no choice. They'd had to take him down before he took them down.
And you knew it. You fucking knew it, Richie.
Through it all, through all the agony and hatred and crushing sorrow, he suddenly felt fiercely proud as realization hit him: they'd had to kill Richie because they were afraid of him; afraid of what he could do. The whole damn former League had been scared of his boy.
And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to honour Richie's legacy.
"J'onn can help you through this, Static. I'll take you to the Watchtower."
"No," Virgil said immediately, and despite his resolve, his voice still shook. "I just... I want to go home." He didn't want to get within a thousand miles of J'onn if he could help it; he was one of the Lords, and a telepath. Bad combination when one was percolating vengeful thoughts. And even if he hadn't been... Virgil still wanted to go home. Home to his father, to his sister, to the picture of his mother.
She'd take good care of Richie for him, he knew it.
Mom...
He clenched his teeth together, balling his hands into fists. Crying through his mask would be extremely uncomfortable, but he just... he couldn't...
A part of the building crumpled inward, and so did something inside him. It just seemed to hit him, suddenly, and he yanked the mask off his face and threw it to the... floor... beside him. He didn't care anymore.
"Richie." The name slipped out of him like a plea and he squeezed his eyes shut. They were so fucking scared of you, bro. The Lords were scared of you. All the power in the world, but they knew you could take them down.
A faint sob escaped him, a few tears slipping free, but he clenched every muscle in his body and swore to himself that he wouldn't really cry until he got home. Until he could scream and rage and swear revenge out loud, because if he started crying now, he wouldn't be able to stop. He wouldn't be able to not attack Green Lantern, and he knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't win.
You'd want me to be smart, bro... You were the smart one. Even back before the Bang, no matter how school-smart Virgil was, Richie had been the common sense. The logic. But I can play it smart, too. Not as smart as you, not even close, but I can play it smart enough, for you. I'm gonna need your help, Rich. You and mom now. I need you both.
It hurts. God, it hurts so much.
———
If there's another fucking bomb, why the fuck wouldn't they tell the poindexter?
Hotstreak only had one answer for that, and it came from a hard-learned lesson: you have no friends, and the only person you can trust is yourself.
The Lords had planned this to take down Gear. But why? Pathetic little nerd-boy with bad catch-phrases, hanging in Static's shadow, only good for getting kidnapped or distracting Static's enemies long enough for the real deal to zap 'em. Why the hell hadn't they tried to take down Static instead?
Gear had dismantled one of the most sophisticated bombs Hotstreak had ever seen in under three minutes. He built all kinds of crazy shit that managed to subdue the power of fire. Damn poindexter was smart. Useless, yeah, but smart.
Smart enough to scare the Lords? No-fucking-way, Hotstreak wasn't going to believe that. But smart enough to free Maria, and the rest of the Bang Babies?
Hotstreak was willing to take that chance.
He tackled Gear to the floor, slamming the kid down on his back, sending his radio-thing flying and managing to cover most of his body with Hotstreak's much larger bulk. Gear screamed when they hit the floor—fucking wimp—and the warehouse exploded around them, just as forcefully as Gear had predicted.
The roar of flames and a shockwave slammed into them, and while Hotstreak could do little about the 'wave and the debris that was sure to fall, he could keep the heat at bay.
Within seconds, it was over. Hotstreak immediately rolled off of the geek, not wanting to touch him any longer than necessary. There was no sign of Shiv or Kangorr; not that Hotstreak gave two shits about them. The building groaned ominously, and all Hotstreak wanted was to get the hell out of here now that the Lord's shield was gone.
Gear made an interesting whimpering noise, and Hotstreak was just about to snap at him when it dawned on him that the whimper was more pained than anything else, and the kid's gloved hands were clenched into fists.
"You wanna live, you'd better get the hell up before this thing falls on you. I ain't waiting."
The machine spider-thing suddenly moved, crawling toward Gear. It was stained more or less completely black from the flames and slightly warped in some areas, but frankly, Hotstreak was shocked to see that it was still operational.
Gear, clearly with incredible effort, rolled himself onto his side with a short, sharp exclamation of pain and then forced himself into a sitting position. It was then that Hotstreak saw what had caused the scream, and then the whimpers: Gear had landed on some twisted, sharp metal that was on the floor, and then, with Hotstreak's weight and momentum adding to the force of his fall, had been dragged over it.
Whoops, Hotstreak thought sarcastically, ignoring the faint twinge of guilt. That was a nasty wound, from mid-back to tailbone, and it looked like it was bleeding pretty badly. Not deep, though. Just ripped off a lot of skin.
Suddenly Gear let out a string of expletives that left Hotstreak impressed in spite of himself, and then the nerd near-snarled and lurched to his feet, off-balance and stumbling, but standing. Hotstreak grabbed his arm, then shoved his shoulder toward the back of the warehouse to get him moving.
"Why?" Gear ground out. He was limping, favouring his right side; Hotstreak was very glad that he hadn't been the one to hit the metal. That creepy robot thing trailed Gear like a faithful dog.
"'Cause the fucking Lords are just a really tough gang, and gangs don't go to near this much trouble to take out someone they ain't scared of or can't cause no harm," Hotstreak snapped. "I hate you, okay? I do. But for some reason, a wimp like you is a problem to them, and I hate them more'n I hate you. I'm not a good person, but I'm better than they are, and they ain't finding out that you're not charcoal from me." Gear opened his mouth, and Hotstreak stuck his finger in the kid's face. "Don't even fucking try to thank me, 'cause I didn't do it for you. Don't fucking let them catch you, and if you tell anyone that I saved your scrawny, wimpy little poindexter ass, I will toast you. Got it?"
"Can you utter one sentence that doesn't have the word 'fuck' in it?"
Hotstreak smirked; they understood each other, at least. Gear glanced out the doorway; with no one in sight, he went outside. Hotstreak followed.
"Now get the fucking fuck out of here, you fucking wimp, 'cause I'm fucking going to stay to fucking fight."
"O-fucking-kay, you lunatic." A part of the building crumpled inward, but it was the side opposite them. The robot's legs stretched, crawling up Gear's front instead of his back. It was slightly creepy, as if the robot could actually tell Gear was injured and was smart enough to not cause him any more pain.
The geek limped away, staying as far out of the light as possible, and Hotstreak turned his gaze to the sky; there was the Lord, but not looking their way. Hotstreak was jolted to see Static in the bubble. The Lord had caught him?
Nah. Most likely Static had collapsed from the shock or something stupid like that, 'cause he wasn't fighting back.
"Hey, asshole!" Gear called suddenly. Hotstreak turned to look at him. "Thanks!"
Hotstreak flipped him off, and Gear vanished into the shadows with almost as much skill as Ebon.
The pyrokinetic, on the other hand, took to the sky. He knew he couldn't win, but he wouldn't be able to run much longer, either.
They took Maria. The least he could do was give at least one fucking Lord a farewell scorching before they froze him like Maria, or took him down for good.
———
It didn't take Lantern but a minute to defeat Hotstreak. A quick shot with a tranquilizer dart, and then a casual toss of one of Batman's capsules at Hotstreak, the small tube exploding and encasing the Bang Baby in a complete coating of ice nearly a foot thick. He'd set the Bang Baby on the ground and called Wonder Woman to come pick him up, explaining quietly that Static needed his attention at the moment, as the young superhero hadn't even seemed to notice his arch-rival's attack or defeat.
Green Lantern felt a bit ill. What he'd done had been necessary, but that didn't change the fact that it was an awful thing – killing a sixteen-year-old kid; right in front of said kid's best friend, no less.
Static wasn't supposed to be here, he thought wryly, as if that excused anything. The robot, built by Batman from the mostly finished model of one of Luthor's older machines, should have drained Static into unconsciousness, then simply powered down. The button had been a precaution; it wouldn't have worked at all before Static's energy level dropped below a certain point. No harm would have come to him, either way.
None of the Lords were stupid. They'd known that Gear had declined the offer of alliances without Static's consent or knowledge – and via J'onn, they knew that Gear was extremely wary of them, and didn't trust them to so much as breathe without an ulterior motive. J'onn hadn't probed any further than surface emotions; those were clear enough without adding distinctive thoughts to the mix.
Not to mention that the Bang cure released over the city of Dakota was mysteriously having no effect... simply dissipating into the air as though something was destroying it while it was airborne. Without a cure to stop them, the Bang Babies were causing problems for Dakota, per usual – but now were also starting to cause problems for the Justice Lords. Batman had run tests; someone had invented a cure-for-the-cure that was, at the present moment, impossible to overcome.
"Three guesses who made it," Hawkgirl had said, "and the last two don't count."
The Lords had plans for the world, and though they'd only just started to implement them, it was clear that with these new measures, this would become a better world. It was even clearer that Gear would not agree, and the Lords simply couldn't take the chance that Static would side with his partner instead of them. If Gear put his brain and all his resources against them, they would be in serious trouble: Gear could very well become another Lex Luthor. But smarter; so much smarter, capable of so much more, and Luthor had never had a bodyguard capable of the things Static was, or one that had the kind of loyalty to him that Static and Gear had to each other.
The most frightening part of it all was that they were still little more than children. If the Lords couldn't afford to let Gear pit himself against them now, how much higher would the price of letting him grow up be?
The answer was simple, terrible, and utterly ruthless. None of them had liked the solution, but they'd all agreed that it was necessary, although Batman and Hawkgirl had taken quite awhile to convince.
Seeing Static just... collapse like that had shaken Lantern; he'd known it would happen, but it really brought home the reality of what they'd done. He couldn't take it back, but it was still painful to see such a spirited kid choking back tears.
The moment Static had accused him of Gear's murder had been a surprisingly frightening moment. One thing the Lords had agreed on immediately was that they wanted Static on their side: he was going to grow up to be a hell of a powerhouse. When Static had snarled out that accusation, Lantern had been certain he'd seen a flicker of that future power in Static's eyes, and it had been... certainly cause for caution.
Thankfully, it had only been caused by deep grief. Lantern had immediately sympathized; he'd felt like he'd never heal, like nothing could ever fill the void after Wally had...
Gear's death had been a necessary evil. The last evil in this world, once the Justice Lords had their way. Static would be the last person to ever have to suffer the agonizing pain of having their best friend brutally ripped away, and that pain would bind him to the Lords' cause.
Green Lantern was certain: it would be a better world.