A/N: My next goal is to make all my books the same length, but it isn't going to happen this time. At least the chapters are about the same. Anyway, this is the last part of book two. Book three will start soon, and will contain (I hope) the Virgil/Hotstreak/Richie I promised. Or at least get a good deal closer to it.
A/N#2: I despise the title of this chapter. It in no way covers even half of what's here. I just can't think of anything else. If anyone has a suggestion, I'd love to hear it. Thank you!
Warning: swearing
Book II
Chapter One: Assault
Chapter Two: Discovery
Chapter Three: Home
Chapter Three: Home
Zachary poured the coffee. His wife, Natalie, fried the eggs and buttered the toast. Brother Eustace, self-appointed pastor of the Meeting Hall, had given over his robes for a perfectly normal polo shirt and khaki slacks. He sat on one side of the kitchen table and gazed at his sheep, Sean Foley. He had appeared at sunrise, wanting to catch Sean before he did anything stupid.
"I fear for you, my brother," he had said when he'd first sat down. "Let me help you through this. It is easy to let anger control you, but anger is the Devil's tool. Please let me help you."
The kitchen, kept clean by volunteers from among the wives of the KKK men, fairly sparkled in the early-morning sunlight. The day, mild and roofed over with a blue sky, seemed full of promise.
Sean seemed calmer; perhaps it was the coffee or perhaps the simple presence of his family. "I want to do what's right," Sean kept saying. "But I'm so afraid for Richie."
Eustace wasn't eating, even though he'd been served first. This was too important to allow for interruptions. "Let us pray for guidance, Sean." He reached out and took his sheep's hands across the table. "God, Judge and Avenger, hold off your judgment of Sean's boy, Richard. Sean has ever been faithful to you. Please return that devotion with a favor. Do not punish Richard yet. We will convert him, God. I promise we will. This I swear in the name of your son, Jesus. Amen."
He still held Sean's hands. "Trust me, Sean. We will find your son and we will help him. It will not be today, and it may not be next week, but it will happen."
"I'm afraid God will take his revenge on my son before we can intervene."
"He will not, Sean. I dreamed last night that God and I were walking in a garden and he said to me, 'Good and faithful servant, I will give you this last chance to help Richard. If it fails, the boy must die, but I have confidence in you. You will succeed, Servant. Do not doubt.' That's what he said to me, Sean. And I believe him. Don't you?"
Sean nodded. "Yes, of course." He smiled and sipped his coffee. "I am still worried, of course; no parent can keep from that, but I will follow your lead. More important to me than immediate action is the safe return of my son to the right side."
Eustace released his sheep's hands and took up his fork. "Come, then, Sean. Join me in breakfast and we will discuss strategy afterwards."
Sean nodded, bowed his head briefly, and then took up his fork and began to eat.
oOo
Rubberband Man stared at the blasted place in the wall and worried. He had no clues, no witnesses that could say where Static and Gear had been taken, or even which direction they had been heading when they vanished.
Not far away, a siren shrieked. They're taking full advantage of this, Rubberband Man thought. The Meta Breed- especially Ebon- is going to do all they can until Static and Gear come back. I should capture as many as I can before they unite and attack the city en masse. Gazing at the wall, though, he couldn't help wondering if he should be trying to find Dakota's two other heroes.
It's funny how much Static and I fought at first. Sighing, the superhero admitted that nothing was very funny right then.
"Rubberband Man, I'm glad I found you."
He turned, thinking, I must be dreaming. That voice sounds familiar, but it's a famous voice and- He gawped at Green Lantern. Beside the green-clad superhero stood The Flash, who was grinning at him.
"Will you help us keep things under control here in Dakota until Batman and J'onn find Static and Gear?" GL asked.
Rubberband Man blinked. "Batman and The Martian Manhunter are looking for them?" Suddenly he felt enormously relieved. "Sure I'll help."
A soft vibration traveled through him, and Adam pulled out his cell phone. He smiled apologetically at the superheroes, then pushed 'talk.' "Hello?"
She cleared her throat. "Adam, it's Sharon. Have you found anything?"
"Not yet, but Batman and the Martian Manhunter are looking for Static and Gear, too, so I'm sure they'll be okay." Why does she sound so tense? Maybe it's just this trouble with Dakota's heroes, but… "Boo, what's wrong?"
She spoke after a moment, and now he heard the tears she was holding back. "Virgil and Richie are gone. They disappeared last night and haven't come back yet."
Adam felt sick. With Dakota the way it was now… With Static and Gear gone… "Call the police. I'll start looking for Virgil and Richie."
Green Lantern took the phone, leaving Rubberband Man staring at him. "Ms. Hawkins, my name is Green Lantern. I saw the boys. They were walking by the park this morning, testing some sort of walkie-talkies. I sent them with The Flash back to Richie's foster parents, not knowing if you were home and wanting to get them out of Dakota. The KKK may take this opportunity to seek after Richie." He waited for that to sink in. Sharon was trying to speak, but the sounds she was able to make were hardly words. Green Lantern went on, "I suggest you leave Dakota as well. Don't go to Richie's foster parents- if you're being watched, you could be followed. Go to a hotel outside Dakota. The Justice League will be in touch once everything's back under control."
"But, but how did you know who they were?"
"Gear sent us a full description of the trial, concerned that Superman or another with legal experience might be needed. Gear's and Static's concerns are our concerns as well. Now, go quickly. A Justice League member will be stopping at your house in less than an hour. You must be gone by then. Understood?"
"Ye… Yes. We'll go. How will you find us?"
"Don't worry about that. Just make sure you get out while there's still time."
"Okay."
Green Lantern ended the call and tossed the phone to The Flash. "Rubberband Man and I are going to start out. Make the call and join up east of here. Just follow the sirens."
The Flash nodded. "Will do, GL." But when Green Lantern turned his back, Flash stuck his tongue out. Then he caught Rubberband Man's eye and grinned.
"Come on," GL said. "Let's go down to business."
oOo
Bernadette combed her hair out without really looking at the mirror. Neither she nor John had to be at work until nine, but they hadn't gotten back to sleep. She listened to John taking a shower and thought that the splash of running water was the loneliest sound in the world. She hoped it wasn't raining where Richie and Virgil were. Terrible visions kept trying to invade her mind, to convince her that Richie was dead or dying, that Virgil was lost. White-robed figures floated through these visions, and in every one Richie and Virgil had been discovered in their superhero costumes. They were set upon not only by the white-robed men but by meta humans as well.
Bernadette had never heard Richie scream, but her mind kept trying to create the sound. When the phone rang in the bedroom, she jumped and let out a tiny shriek. Chiding herself, she ran to answer it, praying it would Richie on the other end, saying that he and Virgil were fine, that there had only been a little confusion and that he, Richie, was coming home. She scooped up the phone on the third ring. "Corbett's residence, Bernadette speaking."
"Mrs. Corbett, my name's Flash. Richie and Virgil are in good hands with the Justice League."
I don't care who you are. Just tell me our Richie is all right. "You found them? Did the metahumans hurt them?"
Flash cleared his throat. "Why would they be attacked by meta humans?"
He doesn't know that I know. Under other circumstances, Bernadette would have been amused. "Because they're Static and Gear." She could feel tension creeping into her shoulders. "Are they all right?"
"Actually… I'm not sure where they are, ma'am. Batman and J'onn are looking for them while Green Lantern, Rubberband Man and I keep the metahuman destruction to a minimum. I'm sorry- I had no idea you knew their secret."
She sighed, disappointed and worried all over again. "Virgil explained everything. Thank you for calling me, Flash. I'm assuming you want us to continue with our normal lives, not give any clue that we know the disappearances of Static and Gear are connected to Virgil and Richie."
"Yes, ma'am." He sounded embarrassed. "Since you know all this, I can ask you to keep up a little story GL started. Ms. Hawkins, Virgil's sister, called Rubberband Man and asked if he'd look for Virgil and Richie since they were missing this morning. GL told her they've been taken into protective custody by the Justice League at the request of Static and Gear because there's been increased KKK activity in Dakota."
"Has there been?" What has Richie's father done?
"Not yet, but GL thought it best to move the Hawkins out of Dakota. They're going to stay at a hotel outside the city. Here's why you need to know this, though: the Justice League supposedly sent Virgil and Richie back to your house because they thought it was the safest place. "
Now the tension was making its way up to her neck and down her back and arms. "So if Robert or Sharon calls, I'm to say they're here." Bernadette nodded. "I can do that."
"Thank you. I have to go and-"
"Wait, please. Will you call me as soon as you find Richie and Virgil?"
"That's a promise."
She closed her eyes and sighed once more. "Thank you."
"Try not to worry. We'll rescue them quicker than you can say flash flood."
She could hear the smile in his voice and it helped. A little. "Good-bye."
"Bye now." He hung up.
Bernadette stared at the receiver for a moment or two, then set it down. Her hands were shaking.
The shower was shut off. Knowing that staring at the phone would only make the time go by more slowly, Bernadette went back into the bathroom to explain things to her husband.
oOo
Awareness was seeping into his mind like ground water. At first, Backpack didn't notice the change. He hadn't shut down fully, as he'd thought; somehow he'd been granted a little more power. But he hadn't tried to repair any of his systems. Most of them seemed too far beyond his reach. And those that he thought he might be able to do something about were blocked by the damage to other parts.
The first change Backpack felt was a tremor that passed through him. It had come from outside his system, more resembling a small earthquake than a shudder. Almost too surprised to trust his impressed, Backpack nevertheless followed the impulse.
He was on something soft. He couldn't have given the surface a texture, temperature or even degree of softness, but it was not as hard as the concrete had been.
Something moved him a little and Backpack thought, Those are hands. Who is here to damage me? A thing, hard like the concrete, touched his outermost circuits. It scraped about, shifting things (Backpack couldn't tell what, exactly) and removing others. I cannot be sure, but if I had to guess I would say there is a confident hand moving a tool inside me. Perhaps I was found by the Justice League.
The tool kept moving, and suddenly several of Backpack's external sensors flickered to life. He could feel the air- still and perhaps a degree or two below room temperature- on his back, touching his sensor-eye. And the surface below him was most likely a bed or padded table. Backpack couldn't hear, but an instant later a rudimentary portion of his sight, little more than the infrared portion of the spectrum, showed him the world directly in front of him.
There was a concrete wall, and Backpack took in the blobby mass of heat that stood near it. It is a metahuman, but it isn't Richie. Or Virgil.
Movement drew his attention to the lower right hand corner of his limited field of vision. At once, he recognized the infrared patterns and he tried to speak. Richie! Richie, are you well? Richie, where are we and what-?
The tool working inside him- Why didn't I recognize Richie's competent touch? - stopped. Then started. Backpack's vision increased to include half the visible spectrum. Then the hand stopped again. Richie sat back, and Backpack could see most of his face now. He looks… hopeful. But why did he stop?
The metahuman by the wall moved.
Richie, who is that? The two patterns blended together as the unknown metahuman touched Richie. Backpack channeled renewed power from his touch-sensors to his vision and was rewarded by a sharper, more detailed image. The unknown metahuman was Ebon.
Richie! Richie, look out! Can't you feel him touching you? Richie!
Ebon moved Richie. Now Richie's face was closer to Backpack's sensory eye. The robot stared at the terrified expression on his Richie's face. A moment later, Ebon moved abruptly and Richie's mouth opened in a silent scream.
No, it is not silent. Backpack wanted to jump at Ebon, wanted to kill him. I cannot hear Richie screaming, but he is. He is being raped.
Unable to look away, unable to offer any comfort, Backpack witnessed the rape from beginning to end. He focused on Richie's face, still hidden behind his helmet-disguise, hoping Richie would see or somehow sense the love that was being directed at him. And now Backpack could use a few of his touch-sensors again. He didn't understand this, but didn't question it. Richie was sweating and shivering; his chest was pressed up against the bed and his face was very close to Backpack. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He drew in ragged breaths that made the air around Backpack tremble with sympathy even as the bed shuddered with the power of Ebon's thrusts.
As Ebon drove forward harder, Richie squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. Tears still escaped from under his eyelids, but now they were slower, as if Richie was getting used to the pain.
When we were trapped and under Brainiac's control, Brainiac raped Richie twice. The second time was like this: savage, hoping to injure, encouraging of tension and the pain that comes from being tense during sexual intercourse. During that attack, Richie passed out. What is keeping him conscious this time?
A diagnostic light blinked in Backpack's mind. He almost ignored it- he needed to at least try to be there for Richie- but the damage report reached him anyway. And one item made him divide his attention. Self-regeneration in progress. Power levels rising, was what that little bit said.
Richie built a system I have never needed to sue. And I overlooked it as a bit of programming I didn't need in my "consciousness," like humans not thinking about their heartbeats unless something goes wrong. Thank you, Richie. We will escape yet.
Turning his full attention to Richie, he was just in time to see Ebon push in twice more, then shudder so hard that Backpack was moved a little. His sensor-eye slid down, falling off his injured back, where it had been perched precariously onto the softness of the bed. He was now at eye-level with Richie.
Richie opened his eyes as Ebon pulled out. Richie smiled and winked. Then he closed his eyes and collapsed, perhaps unconscious, perhaps only pretending.
Backpack concentrated on the upper right hand corner of his vision this time as Ebon stood up and backed away. He seemed to be talking. Backpack couldn't see his mouth moving, but the air currents were moving a little. I am feeling very fine air movements now; good. I wonder what he is saying.
Ebon stalked over to Richie and picked him up. As he laid Richie on the bed beside Backpack, he was still speaking. Backpack, straining, turned his sensor-eye half an inch, enough to watch Ebon put a sheet over Richie.
This bastard makes no sense to me. He rapes Richie and then he shows kindness and understanding, wanting to protect Richie from shame.
The white light above changed to red and Ebon's head snapped up. A moment later, he was gone, having phased through the wall.
The red light was pulsing now and Backpack detected the quivers in the air that indicated sound. Is it an alarm? He found he didn't care at the moment; all he wanted was to repair himself so he could help Richie. At least Ebon's gone.
Richie didn't stir for a moment, then he sat up, his fingers brushing one of Backpack's arms. The blonde struggled out of bed and resumed his kneeling position on the floor. He picked up a screwdriver. His eyes haunted, sweat streaking down his skin, he set to work once more. His jaw was set and the tool he held was moved confidently.
Richie, I do not understand how you can move after that, but I can make the repairs myself and- Backpack stopped. Why do I bother? He can't hear me.
Richie's lips moved; Backpack tried very hard to read them.
"… strong, BP," Then Richie smiled.
Does he want me to be strong, or is he telling me that he is strong?
The diagnostic informed Backpack he was approximately five minutes away from reestablishing his sense of hearing. I will concentrate on that, he decided.
oOo
Virgil hated the wetness of the sewers. Water made him nervous when he was in costume, but more than that he hated the sound of water sluicing around his feet. It made him think of an Are You Afraid of the Dark? episode that had something to do with things- tiny, biting things- living just under the surface, just waiting to bite you and turn you into one of them. Virgil shivered, feeling the skin on his chest, where his costume had been torn, prickle.
"Need some heat, Sparky?" Hotstreak muttered in his ear. He didn't light his fist, though; he knew what was coming.
Kiss my ass. Virgil concentrated on the form of Batman moving just ahead of him and didn't answer. There isn't time. We can't be discovered this close to Ebon's hideout.
The voice in his mind was a welcome distraction. We are close. I can sense ten minds within, J'onn told him.
Can you feel Richie?
Yes. He seems all right; hope still lives in him.
Virgil felt the Martian withdraw. When he was sure he was alone in his mind, or at least as sure as he could be, Virgil thought, Yeah, except Rich would be hopeful if we were standing with our backs to a brick wall and a speeding semi was headed our way.
Still, at least Richie was conscious. That was something.
Batman held up his hand and the others stopped. Turning to Virgil and Hotstreak, the Dark Knight whispered, "There's an alarm system. I can bypass it, but there are too many here. You two go to the entrance closest to Ebon's separate room. You have two minutes. Then I set off the alarm and J'onn and I cause a distraction. Questions?"
Virgil shook his head.
Hotstreak did the same, deciding this probably wasn't the best time to mouth off. If nothing else, I might get caught with these three. Then I couldn't go far enough to keep Ebon from hunting me down.
Not that I'm scared of Ebon.
"Then get going." Batman turned back to the door.
Hotstreak spun on his heel at once and jogged away. Virgil followed close behind.
Hotstreak stopped one tunnel over and pointed at a small, half-concealed door. "You'll come out right by the buzzer I told you about. The wall will be on your right."
"I'll have to blow it open." Virgil was frowning.
"Ebon's bed isn't right near the wall. If he has F-"
Virgil glared and one of his hands filled with energy like a dipper coming up from a well.
"Gear tied to it, you'll be all right."
Virgil touched the folded clothes- some that wouldn't give Richie's identity away if he somehow had managed to retain his mask- that were concealed under his coat. Here goes everything.
The alarm went off.
Virgil waited a second, to make sure everyone had a chance to hear it, then pushed the door open. Everything in the hideout was washed with a red, pulsing light. Calm flooded Virgil, shutting out fear, worry and anger.
Static was about to slip inside when Ebon's telltale vortex appeared on the wall to his right. Static crouched down and peeked through the tiny crack between the door and the wall. Ebon appeared and soared into the next room.
Static slipped into the room and slapped the bomb Batman had given him onto the wall. He shielded himself with his powers as the wall blew inwards.
oOo
The pain wasn't bad; he ached, and it was too cold in the small, stone room for his liking, but, all things considered, Richie thought he'd gotten off easy. I shouldn't have talked Virgil into letting me go it alone. Look what a mess I've made. See? This is what happens every time I express my own needs to my friends.
He gritted his teeth harder and forced himself to think only about the circuits in front of him, to not even think of them as part of his friend. And he had to block out the siren. The conduit he was working on was pretty well charred, but Richie thought he might be able to find a way around it. This'll mean using that infernal Brainiac schematic, but I don't care. I need to hear Backpack. I need to know he's all right. I can tell he's conscious, but… I just need to hear his voice.
The familiar, loathsome silky-slime feeling was forming in the back of his mind. BP?
Richie! Richie, you are using the other connection. Does it not hurt you?
I wouldn't want to keep this up for long, but I can handle it for a few minutes. Do what you can to keep the visions to a minimum. Then, after a moment, You're okay, BP?
Yes, Richie. Are you?
I'll make it. I've talked to Virg. He and some others are coming. They'll be here soon.
I will ask you how you connected with him later. This connection will not allow me to glean your knowledge without causing you discomfort.
Richie smiled, turning his next words into a gentle tease. Don't I know it.
An alarm went off in Backpack's mind. Richie, I detect an explosive.
The wall to Richie's left blew inward. Richie threw himself over Backpack, covering the robot with his own body as he shielded his head with his arms.
The wall had muffled most of the sounds from its other side, but now Richie heard people screaming and threatening and running. He looked up as another sound reached his ears: the staccato, welcome crackling of static electricity.
The dust from the shattered bricks was pushed away and Static zoomed into the room, surrounded by the purple-white energy Richie had heard.
Grinning, Richie jumped up, forgetting he was naked, forgetting where he was and what had happened to him, only seeing Static coming for him.
Static set down in front of Richie and reached out, drawing Richie against him. But there was no time for rejoicing yet, and he knew it. "Put this shirt and pants on and we'll fly out of here." As Richie stepped back, now blushing as he shrugged into the shirt, Static saw Backpack. "Is he all right?"
"He will be." Richie leaned against the wall and slipped into the pants. He noticed they were a bit long and smiled. They were Virgil's pants. Moving to the other side of the room, he grabbed his belt and strapped it on. He didn't bother with his torn costume, but picked up his skates and fixed them to his belt. BP, can you hold on to me?
Yes, Richie, I think so.
"NO!"
A hurricane whipped through the tiny room, lifting Richie off his feet and shoving Static to one side.
"You're mine." Slipstream formed a tornado around Richie, lifting him off the floor. Then he stopped, spotting Static. Grinning, he dumped his consolation prize and reached for what he really wanted.
Two Zap Caps hit him in the back, exploding with a combination of water and electricity. Slipstream screamed and collapsed as the two elements mixed, nearly electrocuting him.
Gear snarled, "And may you have joy of it, ye blarney bastard." An instant later, he had lifted Backpack into his arms, helping the robot to gain purchase on his chest and the front of his shoulders. You'll be safer in front of me, he thought, his fury still making his blood boil.
Richie, you may have-
He's not dead. And if he is, I really don't care right now.
Gear looked at Static. "Let's get out of here."
Static stepped onto his waiting disk, his eyes returning to the unconscious Slipstream again and again. But when Gear climbed onto the saucer behind him and wrapped his arms around him, Static made himself forget. Lifting off the floor, he headed into the rest of the hideout.
J'onn and Batman had run through most of the Meta Breed like a farmer's scythe through a field of wheat. Injured and groaning Bang Babies were strewn everywhere. Even as Static and Gear appeared, Batman knocked Ebon out.
Gear saw Hotstreak lingering on the edge of things, almost hidden by a door. He was about to warn Static, but the look on Hotstreak's face- shock, almost concern- stopped him. He doesn't want us. He just wants to stay out of this.
Confused but accepting what he saw, Gear turned his eyes to Batman and J'onn. Static was hovering a foot or so off the ground, looking at them, too.
"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Batman asked, meeting Gear's gaze.
Batman's eyes were cool, collected. Gear felt some of his rage dissipating. "No," he said, then took in a breath. "I'm all right. Backpack might need some attention, though."
"Go with J'onn. I'm going to take this filth to the authorities."
Gear nodded.
Static squeezed Gear's hands where they rested just above his waist. "Looks like we're not needed. Time to go, bro."
"Amen to that. I'm sick of this place. Ebon smells." He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the shattered wall as Static rose into the air. "There's another one in there. He was hit pretty hard. He'll probably need a real doctor. Check him first, okay? Just to make sure he's not dead."
"The one who calls himself Slipstream is unconscious only," J'onn said.
Gear nodded again, letting the last vestige of anger go.
oOo
Sean wanted the news, his eyes lighting with hope. Without looking away from the scene where some woman (a mixed breed, by her look) was talking to Rubberband Man, he said, "We could find Richie now. Static and Gear are missing. Dakota's going mad. If we go now, make someone tell us where my son's been hidden- maybe make Hawkins tell us-"
"We can't, Sean."
Sean turned towards his pastor, his eyes flashing. "This is the best time! Without Static and Gear, and while the rest of those superheroes are busy running around Dakota, there isn't be a better time."
"There isn't a worse time." The man sighed. "Sean, any disappearances will be jumped on like a filthy dog being attacked by fleas. Think for a minute. Static and Gear are friends with the Justice League, right? If they weren't, the Justice League wouldn't be here. Don't you think Static and Gear would share all their cases with the Justice League? Ten to one those other superheroes have someone watching your son night and day until Static and Gear are found. You told me Static didn't seem overly worried about your son but the way Gear stepped into the trial, uninvited, argues that he, at least, is taking a firm stand. Maybe his parents tried to convince him of the rightness of racial purity and he's fighting against the truth. Whatever it its, we can't afford to look for Richie now. Let everything blow over, wait and see if Static and Gear are found, then we can proceed."
Sean groaned and closed his eyes. "All right, all right. But I won't wait too long. Richie's being brainwashed. The more crap he's exposed to, the longer it will take for us to deprogram him."
"I understand your concerns, Sean. Pray about it. I will pray, also, and God will answer us. He always does."
Later, after the others had left, Sean tried to pray, but he kept thinking of his son's admission of love for his n--- friend. As he pictured the two of them standing side by side, the black boy touching Richie where no decent boy should be touched by another of his sex, Sean realized he couldn't wait for the rest of his group to help him.
Richie needs me now. All I have to do is find him. I'll deprogram him myself. Sean went up to his son's room and turned on the computer. I don't know much about the Internet, but there has to be a way to find my son before it's too late.
oOo
Crouching in the shadows, Hotstreak knew he was taking a risk hanging around. But a part of him wanted to watch Ebon get his ass whupped. I don't want to see them catch, Talon, but there's nothing I can do about that.
He pushed his guilt away.
As Batman and the green alien mowed through Ebon's crew, Hotstreak grinned. Talon wasn't there. She might be flying somewhere or stealing something; Hotstreak didn't care. She wasn't there.
Slipstream was there; so were Ferret, Shiv, Kangor, Replikon, Replay, Hyde and Aquamaria. Carmen wasn't, and that bothered Hotstreak, but he decided not to worry. He'll be caught soon; Carmen's an idiot.
And why do I care if he's caught, anyway? Now that Ebon and most of the others will be in jail, Carmen's hardly a threat to Gear. Even Gear can fight Carmen without problems. Hell, even Foley with no gadgets could probably escape Carmen.
Slipstream flew by Hotstreak, and the red head almost went after him, thinking, He might be able to stop Static, or at least grab Gear again. But no sooner had Hotstreak decided that he would have to do something then he heard Gear shout, "And may you have joy of it, ye blarney bastard." Slipstream didn't answer; he must have been hit by something.
Damn, I've never heard Foley sound like that. He's like a rabid dog; he reminds me of… me when I'm pissed. Not just casually angry, but really pissed.
Hotstreak snorted. Static probably thinks I spend most of my life mad at the world. He doesn't know I'm just venting or playing around. How could he know I've only really lost it three or four times in my whole life?
Each of those times stood out clearly in Hotstreak's mind. He decided to leave the fight and go somewhere to think. And maybe I can find Talon and tell her to lay low until all this blows over. Besides, I can't be caught here. Batman might just decide to haul my ass in on the principle of the thing.
He knew Batman wouldn't turn him in. At least not today.
He glanced up to make sure no one was watching him, and spotted Gear riding behind Static, his arms around his boyfriend's waist. Gear turned his head, and Hotstreak stared in open-mouthed shock at the fury in his eyes. Then Gear blinked and the anger was gone, replaced by exhaustion and a need that made Hotstreak's chest feel tight.
Gear looked away and the red headed teen backed out of the room quickly, closing the door. He began to jog down the corridor. Shit. What was that all about?
Hotstreak put on a burst of speed, concentrating only on his breathing and the drumming rhythm of his feet on the stone floor. As he sprinted away from what he'd just seen, his mind began to settle down, channeling energy into his arms and legs, not allowing him to think. He took the foul sewer air in like food, not caring that it stank, only wanting it to fuel him, to strengthen him.
To carry him away from Gear's eyes.
Spotting a flight of stairs, Hotstreak took them two at a time, climbing from the sewer level up through two upper levels of the subway before he reached the sun. He had only met a few people on the stairs because most people took the escalators down. Many of the early-morning commuters were staring at him, but Hotstreak didn't care. None of them tried to stop him or yelled at him. All he wanted was to be left alone to run. And that's what the citizens did.
Do they recognize me as Hotstreak? Do they know I could roast them alive, especially because Static and Gear are "missing?" He laughed breathlessly and raced out into the sunlight, turning left and never slowing. At the first street corner, he ran with the light, traffic speeding by on his left. At the next, he missed the light but sprinted across anyway, not listening as people honked and swore at him.
He covered a dozen blocks in this way before he deemed it safe to stop. Breathing like a bellows, his mouth open and his chest heaving, Hotstreak ducked into a small park and hid himself among some trees. Here he threw himself on the ground, put his arms over his face, and lay perfectly still, listening to his slowing breath and his pounding heart.
Damn it, why did he have to look at me? I didn't even get to see what Static looked like because of fucking Foley and his fucking eyes. I wanted to see if he was completely pissed and ready to electrocute Ebon. Now I'll never know what was going through his mind.
Fucking Foley.
Hotstreak groaned and sat up, his eyes open but unseeing. And here I thought he would be a sobbed puddle of pain and self-loathing. He looked more like a vengeful god. Not as much of a god as Static, he amended at once, but maybe a demi-god, a half-god who can still be dangerous and who doesn't mind showing the world how pissed he is.
Hotstreak rubbed at his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks. He hated stubble. I'll have to steal a razor. No; the Justice League's watching over Dakota. Maybe if I can find Talon she'll have something I can use. Even a knife will do. He sighed and stood up. But it's morning; everyone will see me. Why'd I come up top anyway? I could have stayed underground and gotten around. But no, I had to run away. And worse, I had to run away without knowing where I was running to.
That had happened once before, when he was nine. I'd been out of the hospital for two months, finally able to move around again without feeling like I was going to pass out. And what was the first thing I did? I got on that trail by the elementary school and started running, thinking I would just run the trail. But it wasn't long enough; I'd been cooped up for too long and really needed to stretch my legs. So at the end of the trail I went out on the highway, staying on the left shoulder, and ran for almost a mile. By the time I stopped, I was so tired I thought I would just lay down right there and sleep.
I couldn't, though, so I started back. Hotstreak shook his head, pounding his fist into the grass. I was a coward. The traffic was coming fast, so I didn't want to have to cross the road so I would be walking against it. So I started back, walking on the right shoulder now with the traffic coming up behind me.
He shivered. The car clipped me. If it had done any more than that, I wouldn't be here. I was thrown twenty feet into the trees on my right and just lay there. I don't really remember how long I was there, but this dog… This black dog with a deep bark and soft ears found me and barked and whined until someone came and rescued me.
I spent six more days in the hospital. I thought I was going to go mad. I didn't, though, mostly because of Aunt Sue. He smiled as he always did when he thought o his dear, health-food conscious aunt. She was his mother's sister and as unlike his mother as it was possible to be and still be human.
"Mom got so sick of me so easily," he muttered. "I reminded her of her brothers and her father and her husband. I was moody and crazy-wild and a fighter." He closed his eyes. "She packed me off to Aunt Sue's as often as she could, like I was a piece of clothing she didn't want but had to wear every once in a while. The rest of the time, that ugly sweater or whatever I was to her had to stay out of her sight."
A good deal of his frustration evaporated as he thought of his aunt. I called her Aunt Susie until I was fourteen. Then I called her Aunt Sue until I was sent to juvie. Then I wasn't allowed to stay with her anymore. So I ran away. And the Big Bang happened.
We used to bake cookies together. When I was recovering from that first, two-year hospital stay, we baked bread and made cookies for her friends- I got to eat some, but Aunt Sue would only eat half a one every week and consider it her treat. We read stories and she made me learn my times tables. Every time I started to get restless, she would do the same thing. First, we'd walk around the lake- a mile and a half- twice. Then, back home, she'd ask me to help her with some chores like painting the fence, mowing the lawn with that ancient push-mower of hers or clean the gutters. That probably seems like slave labor, but I loved it because she didn't just assign the chores; she did them with me. She did everything with me. When I had to memorize the times tables, she had me quiz her on wild plants and their medicinal uses. By the time I'd memorized up to the twelve times table, she'd memorized fifty plants and what they were good for.
He felt the familiar sting of tears in his eyes even though he hadn't cried in over six years. But I wouldn't let myself think about this, either. God, I was such a bad kid. I don't know why she ever put up with me. When I was fifteen, I was arrested for helping some of my friends- my gang- steal a bunch of electronic junk. They wanted to sell the stuff so they could get the drugs they wanted. I didn't want the drugs; I just wanted the friends. Aunt Sue knew her friendship and love wasn't enough, but she couldn't find any teens for me to hang out with. So I went to Dakota Union High and found my own "friends." Executioners is what they were; they killed or destroyed with poison and lies and laughter and punches in the arm.
He wiped the tears away and groaned again, fisting his hand in the grass, pulling some of it up. And when I came back from juvie, the social worker discovered that I hadn't been living with my mom, so I was sent back to my "real" house. He snorted. My real home was with Aunt Sue, but nobody would believe me. And she didn't have the money to get me back in the courts. She tried to talk my mom into letting me stay with her anyway, hoping my mom wouldn't care that I wasn't there, but Mom had fallen on hard times and asked me to stay to help out with the kids. Her boyfriend's kids and my brothers and sisters that I'd never met.
I hated it there. Everything smelled of cigarettes (Aunt Sue didn't smoke, of course) and piss and cat shit. I was there for two weeks before I left. The night I ran away, I went to the docks to back up my crew. And the rest, as some dead white moron said, is history. He laughed. Not that I'm pitying myself; I haven't done too badly with my powers. But sometimes I just wish I could go back and just see Aunt Sue, even if she couldn't see me. But I'll never go back. If anyone wants to follow me, they'd see her. I want her to stay as far away from all the shit I'm in as possible.
No one would probably follow me.
But I won't take that chance. I owe it to her to be careful.
Hotstreak stood, making sure that all his tears were gone. I've got to find Talon before the Justice League catches her. And if I'm caught, too bad. He grinned. Besides, I wouldn't mind playing hide and seek with the Justice League. If I can manage to avoid them all day while continuing to wander through the city, I'll have something to brag to Talon about when I find her.
oOo
Superman strode into the infirmary, a chart in his hands. He smiled at Richie, who was sitting on the edge of an examination table, idly kicking his feet. The Man of Steel stopped beside the table, resting a hand on Richie's shoulder. "The blood tests came back negative. You're clean, Richie."
The blonde released a breath. "I guess Ebon hasn't made it with many people then, or he just hasn't slept with anyone with a sexually-transmitted disease." He fiddled with the extra pair of glasses Flash taken from his home in the suburbs of Dakota. They weren't his favorite, having frames that were far too thick, but they were far better than nothing at all. His other pair, the one he wore most of the time, was back in Ebon's hideout, most likely cracked when Ebon had thrown his pants.
Not to seem ungrateful, but… "Can I go now?"
"In a minute. Batman will be bringing Backpack here as soon as he's repaired. I want to ask you a few questions first."
Richie chewed his lip. Fearing the worst and guessing that Superman would ask him to talk about being raped, he said, "I don't promise to answer all of them." His answer was rude and presumptuous, but Richie was past being polite. When I talked to Batman during that first nightmare, I was willing to talk. But I'm different now.
"Fair enough. I'm not your interrogator, Richie." Superman folded his arms. "First, does Ebon know your secret identity?"
"He didn't get a chance to remove my helmet, but Slipstream knows who I am and so does Hotstreak. Not that Hotstreak has told anyone. He's known for weeks." He sighed. "I need to tell Virgil about that, even though he's probably figured it out by now. I didn't mean to keep it from him; there was just so much else going on." He sighed again. "I'm sorry; I'm rambling. Next question?"
"Do you want to live in the Watchtower?"
Casual as you please, no muss, no fuss, no fanfare. Richie's eyes were so wide hw was sure he looked like one of the huge-eyed fish that lived in the darker parts of the ocean. He blinked, trying to get them back to normal size, and cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" Oh, real polite, Richie. Try that again, would you? "Uh, I don't mean to sound stupid, but what did you say?"
"I asked if you want to live here in the Watchtower with the Justice League. Not all of us live up here all the time, but there would always be somebody here. We can make you comfortable and supply you with a means to finish your high school education."
"I… Would I be a member of the Justice League?"
"More like a junior member. You and Static are that already, though. You would just live here instead of on Earth."
Richie's head was spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, centered himself, then looked at Superman again. "But why would you let me live here? I had to beg to be allowed up here the first time!"
"Things have changed. For one, we know we can trust you now. For another, we can trust your robot." He squeezed Richie's shoulder. "You have been under tremendous strain, more than most teenagers could survive. We've decided that you should have a place you can call your own without having to worry about watching your back. If two of your enemies know who you are, it will be less than safe for you in Dakota, or even outside it."
"Hotstreak isn't exactly our enemy." Richie blinked, surprised at his own words. "At least, he didn't tell anyone I was Gear and I don't think he would blab about Virg being Static, either. He doesn't owe Ebon anything and all he wants to do is annoy Static, I think."
"He wants to fight Static, one on one," Superman answered. "He confessed as much, both to Virgil and to Batman and J'onn. Not to kill him, but just to show who's stronger." He raised an eyebrow at Richie. "Does that make sense to you? Do you think he was telling the truth?"
"Yeah, I do," Richie said at once. "Hotstreak's a jerk sometimes, but he doesn't have any drams of taking over the world. He doesn't even want to lead the Meta Breed. He'll leave that to Ebon. Hotstreak might steal a car so he can go for a joy ride, but nothing more."
Superman was nodding, his expression thoughtful. "So he's more of an annoyance than an enemy. Do you think he would ever give your secret identity to anyone?"
"Not unless he thought he could get a lot out of it. And I mean a lot, not just a favor from Ebon or a little money. Hotstreak can play his advantages." Richie smiled thinly. "He'd make a good poker player if he could keep his temper."
"But he still might play his hand if he thought he would gain something big?" Superman asked.
Richie nodded. Suddenly, he felt tired. "Yeah. He would." Without asking if Superman was done (knowing full well that he wasn't) Richie repositioned himself on the examining table, pillowing his head on his arm. "I'm grateful for your offer, but I can't think anymore right now. Is it okay if I sleep?"
Superman frowned. "Richie, we're worried about you. That's the other reason we want you to stay up here. J'onn heard you telling Backpack that you didn't care if Slipstream was dead or not. Why did you throw two Zap Caps at the same time, anyway? Especially two that would cause such a disastrous reaction when combined?"
"J'onn was in my head?" He groaned and sat up again. "Look, I just grabbed what came to my hand first because Slipstream was going to hurt V. I had to protect Virgil. I couldn't let him get raped. Virg is innocent and I want him to stay that way. So if you're asking if I was trying to kill Slipstream, the answer is no. And if you're worried that I told Backpack I didn't care, keep in mind that I was scared. I/d just been raped by Ebon and I didn't want anyone to hurt my lover like that. I asked Batman to check on Slipstream didn't I? Haven't you ever, even for the briefest moment, wished that one of your enemies was dead? Didn't you ever wish that on Brainiac, at least? I mean, he destroyed your entire planet! Haven't you ever been angry enough to wish him dead?"
"Richie… Richie, Brainiac is dead."
"Oh, sure, just like the three other times you thought that."
Superman stared at him. "How do you know how many times I've fought him?"
"You should never let a supergenius near your computers." Richie slid off the table and folded his arms, glaring up at Superman. "Don't look so shocked. I didn't mean to hack in here- I was trying to contact the League so I could find Batman, but I accidentally opened a restricted file about you. I read two lines of it and then got rid of it, because I don't want to know how much you've suffered because of Brainiac. That isn't something I should know. I'm not your friend; I'm an ally who doesn't know anything about your personal pain. Curiosity conquered me for fifteen seconds, that's all."
He sighed and dropped his arms. Looking at the floor, he whispered, "I'm sorry I yelled. It's just… Well, I won't believe Brainiac is dead until I see his body for myself. And maybe not even then, because he's so powerful and regenerative."
Shaking his head, Richie continued, "And this isn't even what you wanted to know. You want to know if I'll live up here. Right?"
"Richie, we don't have to talk about this. I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's not your fault." Richie waved his hand. "And I'm sorry I'm such a jerk." He closed his eyes again, and this time kept them closed. "I can't stay here. I'd love to, but I can't. I can't leave Virg on Earth and I don't want to leave my family: the Hawkins, Bernadette and John. I'm never felt as good as I do when I'm with V and his family or with my foster parents. I'm where everyone trusts me and loves me and doesn't hurt me. I can't leave." He met Superman's troubled gaze. "Even if it's safer, I can't. Please understand. I'm grateful for your offer, and there's a part of me that would love o live here, but I'm not ready to be away from everyone I know and love." He added after a moment of silence, "If you tell me I have to live up here for my own good, I won't run away. I'll do as you ask. But only after I can plead my case in front of the rest of the League. I won't come quietly, in other words."
"Richie, we wouldn't force you to stay here. That isn't our way." Superman put both hands on Richie's shoulders. "We want what is best for you, Richie." He smiled a little. "And I hope we'll be friends one day instead of just allies."
Richie blushed. "I'm sorry about that. I tend to run at the mouth."
"If you didn't you wouldn't be Richie." Superman dropped his hands but continued to smile. "Just remember that the offer to live up here is always open."
"I will."
The door to the infirmary opened and a familiar clanking sound drew Richie's attention. He turned, his face lighting up. "BP!" He sprinted across the room, tripped on the cuffs of the too-long pants he wore and started to fall.
Batman caught him, thinking, This is becoming a habit.
Blushing again, Richie mumbled his thanks as he dropped to one knee before the robot. "Are you okay, buddy?"
"I am quite well, Richie." Everyone could hear the laughter in Backpack's voice. "I can see you are well, though still faking your clumsiness."
Richie hugged Backpack to him, closing his eyes against the threat of tears. "I can't help it; it's fun to make you laugh."
"You are quite amusing without having to perform, Richie."
"Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."
Batman walked over to Superman as the banter continued. "What did he say?" he whispered, his lips barely moving.
"He doesn't want to live up here. He said he can't leave Virgil or the rest of his family." Superman shook his head. "He's far from healed, Bruce, but he's on his way. He might even heal completely if he's allowed to be around people that love him."
"But?"
"But he's not out of danger. Slipstream knows who he is and so does Hotstreak."
"Hotstreak knows who Virgil is as well."
Superman watched Richie stand up, Backpack still in his arms. "Then they're both in danger. We'll have to watch out for them."
"I already am."
oOo
"So we'll be home tomorrow morning and I'll call my Pops from there," Virgil explained.
Bernadette sighed. "I'm just glad you're all right. Did this Ebon person hurt Richie?"
Well, except for raping him… "No. Richie's fine. Batman and the rest of the League are giving us a place to sleep tonight and tomorrow we'll come home."
"Why can't you come tonight?"
She really wants to see Rich, which was a sentiment Virgil could completely understand and respect."It's like a debriefing. We're going to report what happened to the League and then discuss it." The lie was easy and Virgil only felt slightly guilty. I mean, I'm protecting her from knowing that Richie was violated.
"Can we talk to Richie?" asked John.
They must be on two different phones. "Um, I'm not sure if he's done working on Backpack yet." Or getting his blood tested for STDs. Virgil's skin crawled. "I could have him call you when he's done, if it's not too late and he's not too tired."
The door to the small, well-furnished bedroom opened and Virgil turned, his eyes widening when he saw the sunny, relaxed expression on Richie's face.
"Uh, hold on. He just walked in." Virgil covered the mouthpiece. "Do you want to talk to your foster parents?"
Richie's eyes sparkled. "Sure."
Surprised, thinking that Richie would probably just want to be left a lone (well, alone with me) Virgil handed over the receiver. Then he retreated to the bed and sat down, watching Richie settle into a chair. Backpack, who had been walking at Richie's heel, lay down at Richie's feet like a devoted dog.
I'm not mad at Richie. Or Bernadette and John. Or Backpack. I just… He sighed. I just want something to be mad at. And since Ebon's in jail, I need something to channel my anger into.
"We were lucky Batman and J'onn showed up when they did," Richie was saying. "But everything's okay now… No, I'm okay. Tired and…" He listened, then said softly, "Ebon raped me."
Virgil's jaw dropped.
"I didn't get anything from him," Richie continued. "But it wasn't the first time. I've been through this before and… Yeah, I know. That's why I told you. I don't want to lie to you. " A short silence, then, "Virg knows. We've just kept to ourselves for so long that it's habit. Don't be mad at him… It's okay… We'll talk when I get home. Yeah. Mr. H and Sharon will probably drop by, too, once the J League gives them the all clear."
Virgil glanced at Backpack as Richie continued to talk, noticing that the robot looked like new. It was almost impossible to believe that he'd looked like scrap metal twelve hours ago.
Backpack, seeming to sense Virgil looking at him, lifted his sensor eye. Then he stood and moved towards Virgil. The teen hesitated, then stood and led Backpack into the next room. The door closed behind them. He sat on the couch, and Backpack hopped up beside him.
"He wants to see you so badly but feels as though explaining things is his duty," Backpack said without preamble. He took in Virgil's startled expression and added, "He loves them and feels safe with them. If he is going to have to live with them, then I'm happy for him. And of course I will be watching them at all times to make sure they don't hurt him."
Virgil put his chin in his hand. "I guess I'm like you; I don't trust somebody else to love and take care of Richie the way I think he needs to be. I want to think his foster parents are wonderful and amazing, but the world isn't like that. I'm so afraid they'll turn on Richie."
"If they do, we will be ready to take care of Richie."
"I know." Virgil sat up straight. "I wanted to save you, you know. I saw you in the alley and tried to get to you."
"I am glad Ebon took me. I was able to help Richie." Backpack seemed to be staring at the floor. "I saw him rape Richie. He-"
"Did Richie fight him?"
"No. He understood that if he fought Ebon would hurt him even more. I could not protect him."
Oh. Virgil reached out, feeling silly but pushing past it. He put his hand on Backpack's arm. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to know that he's hurting and know that I can't help him."
"I could not even read his thoughts!" Backpack was shuddering under Virgil's hand. "I wanted to at least help him through it, tell him it would be over soon. But I couldn't talk to him certainly couldn't help him." He looked up at Virgil. "I love him. And if it wasn't completely against Richie's wishes, I would find Ebon and kill him."
Virgil felt every trace of silliness and uncertainty disappear. "Me, too, Backpack. Tell you what: if Richie ever changes his mind and wants us to exact revenge for him, you can have Ebon's right side and I'll take his left."
"One eye each?" Backpack asked and Virgil could have sworn the robot was smiling.
"Yeah, and one ball."
The door to the bedroom opened and Richie came out, looking tired but still as if everything in the world had been made right. He spotted Virgil and Backpack sitting side by side on the couch, Virgil still with his hand on Backpack's arm, and he grinned until it seemed his face would split. He started towards them, though more slowly, not wanting to trip again.
Virgil and Backpack met him halfway and Richie buried his face in Virgil's chest while Backpack crawled up Richie's legs and settled himself on the blonde's back.
"I love you guys," Richie said, his voice muffled.
"We love you, too, Rich," Virgil answered.
"You are everything to us."
Richie reached up and touched Backpack's arm. "Can we go to sleep now?" He closed his eyes and inhaled Virgil's scent, moaning when Virgil sucked on his ear.
"Anything you say, Rich."
Two minuets later, stripped to their boxers (Richie found a pair folded in a drawer, ready for him) Virgil spooned himself behind Richie, embracing him from behind. Richie held one of Virgil's hands in his own and wrapped his other arm around Backpack, who had snuggled up to his chest.
I should be uncomfortable, Richie thought, yawning. BP isn't the softest person in the world and maybe I should be tense with someone lying behind me. He smiled, his lips barely curving up at the corners. But they're just what I need. Sleep came to take him and Richie went willingly, confident and comforted in the arms of his protectors.
A/N#3: Does anybody else miss Virgil's diary entries? I know I do. As soon as he writes one down, I'll copy it over to the story. Virgil just hasn't had much time for writing lately. Must make it hard on poor Fiyero to gather all this information.
leev: Of course, everybody can share Richie. He needs all the support he can get. And I was hoping he'd get out, too, but Ebon isn't as patient as he was pretending to be.
On a totally unrelated note, I was thinking about your story "A Camping We Will Go" and wanted to point something out. In the season two episode "Brother-Sister Act", Virgil is able to fly around as Static by putting up his hood. His coat must be rain-proof. He was wearing his goggles, too. Just a thought so he can go out in the rain- and please please update soon! I don't love Keith, but I want to see if he lives and I'm nearly frantic with worry about Richie.
Tristripe: I'm glad Hotstreak finally talked and explained a little about his past. About Richie's talk with God: I've only heard God's voice once: he said "No" once to me, though I can't remember what the question was. As for the satic feeling, I've never felt God's presence like that, but I figured He would want to connect to Richie in a way that Richie was comfortable with.
Rheanen: Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad we got all he confusion worked out.
anacsadder: Oh, Ebon will get much eviler (I think) just not in this book. But Book Three is still ahead, so there's still hope (or something to be worried about, in Richie's case)…
MsManga: Thank you for the praise. I'm glad you're continuing to enjoy this. And I guess it is dark, but I'm still hoping for a happy ending.
Moonjava: This chapter was a little less emotionally draining, but that's mostly due to Hotstreak's unexpected soliloquy. I hope he sends me more of those!