A/N: Hi everybody. I'm so sorry it took me so long with this one. But I had to do mounds of research on this episode, so it took a lot longer to write. I didn't just want dialogue, but expression, gestures, all those sorts of things. The next chapter shouldn't take so long.
A/N2: A reviewer wrote to me and asked if I was ever going to finish this thing. I will. I can't imagine dropping this. Please believe that "The Miracle of Three" will have an end someday. I'm hoping to end it before Christmas, but I don't know yet.
A/N3: I've been told that we aren't supposed to actually address specific reviewers in the chapter. I'm going to find out if that's true. But for those of you who left an email address or a signed review, I'll get back to you that way.
Chapter Six: October: On Alva's Island
Chapter Six: October: On Alva's Island
Richie came awake much as he had in Ebon's hidden room: with a sense of being where he shouldn't be. First, he listened, hoping he was alone. The soft breathing of someone nearby told him he wouldn't have a chance to figure out his surroundings in peace. The moment he opened his eyes, he would have to engage with whoever was sitting close to him. Probably one of the guards from the flying things. He heard the buzzing of the lights and wondered what they were. And eh felt the rumble of a motor under him somewhere. We've been captured and we're being flown away. Assuming of course that he wasn't still alone in his mind. BP? Can you hear me?
There was no answer, confirming what Richie had already suspected. He was alone, even if BP was still on his back. Maybe he's even awake and we just can't communicate. I'll have to depend on him to rebuild the connection. I need to know where I am and who's with me.
The first thing Richie saw was a dark purple that reminded him of plums. He let his eyes travel upwards without moving his head. Rubberband Man was sitting at his side. Richie took note of the chain that bound them together, then glanced up at the lights. Yes, those were the things blocking his connection to Backpack and probably preventing Rubberband Man from morphing into something skinny that could slip out of the wrist-cuffs. Well, at least I'm here with someone I can trust.
Rubberband Man turned his head and jumped a little when he realized Gear was watching him.
Sitting up slowly, testing his body's limits, Gear smiled a little. "Fancy meeting you here. Did you have a pleasant run-in with the nice monster-men too?"
RB Man nodded. "You head okay?"
"Yeah. I'm not even dizzy." Gear stood and RB Man followed him to the window. "We're heading east," Richie noted. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"About seven hours. I guess they hit you harder than they hit me."
Gear didn't answer that. "All communications were jammed."
"So Static doesn't know you're out of Dakota?"
"He thinks I'm on my way to Gotham." Gear frowned and studied the sky. "He won't start worrying until late tonight when I don't call him." He met RB Man's eyes and a silent message passed between them: A lot could happen before then.
"Any idea who our kidnappers are?" Gear asked, turning his eyes back to the window even though there wasn't anything to see but ocean.
"Besides rejects from Return of the Jedi? No."
"Their employer is rich and on the cutting edge of neurotechnology. My link to Backpack has been cut. Whoever our enemy is, I think we can rule out low-tech security." He turned to RB Man and his smile was grim. "But that doesn't mean low-tech solutions won't work all the better because they aren't expected. We should be prepared to move the moment they open the doors. Maybe the damping-lights will be deactivated. Even if they aren't, we can run."
RB Man nodded, wondering if Gear realized he'd taken over their plans of escape. Probably not, he decided, studying Gear's fierce expression. Just because he's Static's partner doesn't mean he doesn't know how to take charge of things.
As if Gear sensed RB Man's thoughts (and the older superhero wouldn't have doubted it, given Gear's extraordinary talents) he said, "I'm sorry; you've been a superhero longer than me. Do you have any ideas?" He turned to RB Man and met his gaze. His gaze was suddenly unsure, almost lost. "What would you do?"
"I'd follow your plan and try to get away as soon as possible," RB Man answered, grateful that Gear was acknowledging him. It's not like I need his approval, but… It'll be better if we start out as full partners from the beginning.
Gear's smile was broader now. "We'll make it."
That was when a noxious gas began to fill the small cell. When it cleared, both superheroes lay, unconscious, on the floor. Gear had managed to draw them both down to the floor so they wouldn't be injured when they passed out, but that was all he could think to do. There was no way to get out.
oOo
Hotstreak opened his eyes and found himself staring at a blank, metal wall. He heard the humming of the lights above him and thought they sounded like a bunch of angry bugs. He felt the bracelet around his wrist- Hotstreak knew all about handcuffs- and realized he was in some type of cell. Turning his head, Hotstreak was stunned to realize that he was chained to Static. He remembered how he'd been jabbed by something, how he'd lost consciousness, but he'd assumed they'd been after him. Why had they captured Static, too?
Guess they're not police officers after all. Hotstreak looked out the window Static was standing in front of, but all he could see from his place on the floor was a blue sky. Seeing that gave him a jolt, and for a moment, he couldn't' figure out why. Then he realized. We were fighting at night. If it's morning, we're either on the other side of the world, or we've been out- at leas I've been out- all night. Rising smoothly to his feet, Hotstreak said the first thing that came to his mind: "You got ten seconds to get this thing off of me or your goose is cooked."
Using the connecting chain for the leverage it was, Hotstreak spun Static around and tightened an arm around the younger teen's neck. For a moment, the two of them were close enough to kiss.
"Hold on, Smoky. I'm not the one who put you here." Static was trying to push away from him.
And, frightened by the opportunity and sudden urge, Hotstreak let him go. Disguising his unease with a malevolent grin (at least it felt malevolent to Hotstreak), the red-head answered, "Not my problem." He held up his hands and tried to ignite. He couldn't. That had only ever happened when he was soaked to the skin, so… "Hey! No flames!"
Static had taken a step or two back, extending the chain as far as it would go. Hotstreak took a step closer on the pretext of saving his wrist from being bruised. He watched the superhero try to use his powers. After a few sputters, the electrical charge gave out. "Something must be neutralizing our powers." He glanced up and nodded to himself. "And I'm guessin it's those funky lights."
Hotstreak, too, glanced up, and thought, Well, at least that buzzing isn't just because they bought cheep lights. It's actually doing something. Not that I want it to do anything. He felt the engines rumbling under his feet and decided he was stuck with Sparky for a little while, at least.
"They're some kind of power dampers," Static went on. Then he met Hotstreak's gaze and said, "We need a plan."
We? You and me? Hotstreak mentally shook himself as he tried to stem the flooding tide of fool-grinning happiness that flooded him when Static included him in the plan. Logically, he understood why Static said we: the two of them were chained together. Still, Hotstreak couldn't help but think that maybe Static was giving him the benefit of the doubt and including him in the planning process.
Whether I deserve it or not, and I'm sure I don't, Virgil's giving me a chance to prove myself. Or at least that's what it sounds like. Keeping the excitement from his face wasn't easy, but Hotstreak was determined, at least for the moment, that Virgil wouldn't see anything except the resentment and doubt he expected to see. Let's see what kind of move he makes when I don't' open up right away and smile at him.
Apparently no move was the answer. Static turned to the window and gazed out. He tugged a little on the chain and Hotstreak came reluctantly. He looked over Static's shoulder and saw the island. Why is it they had to take us to the middle of nowhere? He ground his teeth and swore that whoever had brought them here was going to have some hard questions to answer.
Five minutes later, Hotstreak learned what "we need a plan" really meant.
The plane or hovercraft or whatever the fool thing was had landed, and a truck, equipped with the same funky lights, surely, was parked nearby. Hotstreak took one look at that truck and knew what had to be done. "When they move us to the truck, we're have a chance to escape."
"Forget it," Static said at once. "I'm sure they grabbed me by mistake."
Cocky asshole, Hotstreak thought. "Dream on, Sparky. It seems pretty clear they want us both." The urge to take Static's hand was so strong Hotstreak had to ball his own hand into a fist to keep from giving in. A moment later, the temptation had passed, and Hotstreak was desperately glad. He and Static walked to the force field and looked at the guards. They were armed with some sort of pitchforks that probably did more than move hay.
"Look, I'm Static. I was trying to catch this guy when you grabbed me.
Hotstreak frowned. Big tough superhero gotta load off on me. Maybe there was nothing to that "we need a plan" bit. He refused to admit that he was hurt by Static's show of self-preservation. I guess I know what he's going to go since I didn't agree with his stupid plan.
Static continued, "He was the one stealing the car. I was just-"
The guard jabbed his pitchfork at Static. It let loose an electrical charge that shouldn't have affected Static- but did.
"Keep quiet," one of the guards said, his voice echoy behind the mask.
What, do we have a disease or something? Hotstreak's frown deepened into a scowl. You gotta wear masks because you're afraid of us or something?
Then Static's cry of surprised pain startled Hotstreak back to reality. Now how did they know that would work? The read-head wondered, partially to squash his concern for the teen beside him.
"Look, I'm trying to be nice-" Static began, holding out a hand.
The contact between the pitchfork and Static's chest was longer this time and Static did more than cry out; he collapsed at Hotstreak's feet with a soft moan, yanking Hotstreak forward.
Apparently, the guard took Hotstreak's movement as a threat, because he aimed the pitchfork at the second Bang Baby. "I-I didn't say nuthin," Hotstreak told them, holding up his hands.
He dropped to one knee, touching Static's shoulder to get his attention. "Are you with me or not?"
Static was still conscious. He'd just had the wind knocked out of him. "I'm with you," he whispered. Hotstreak saw the small but powerful charge in Static's fist and realized that the buzzing lights had been shut off.
Sweet! That means I have flames, too!
"Get up. Let's move," snapped the man behind the robot-mask. He was still jabbing the pitchfork in their direction, but that no longer mattered. No mere human had ever been a match for Hotstreak.
The two Bang Babies didn't glance at each other, but they were both thinking the same thing, their eyes gleaming at the guard. You're going first. As one, they hit him and the others beside him.
Then Static turned away and started attacking other reinforcements.
Hotstreak yanked Static back towards him, ruining the hero's aim. But he didn't see the pitchfork thing getting too close to him.
"Hey!" Static cried, angry.
Nope, never even saw it. Hotstreak smirked, then heard the sound of many troops coming. How many robot-masked buffoons are on this stupid island? "Huh?" Real swift, Pyro. "I've got em." Better.
But now Static had jerked his arm. The wall behind the guards exploded.
Did he do that in revenge or what? "You made me miss!"
Static stepped between the guards and Hotstreak and knocked the troops out with one well-placed blast.
I could have done that and had a lot more fun, Hotstreak thought. Then the electrical blast, or the fringe of it, traveled, and Hotstreak found himself on the floor, his head ringing. Without thinking, he shot a small burst of flame at Static, who blocked it.
Turning his head, Static noted that the guards were starting to get up. He held out a hand to Hotstreak. "Get up."
Hotstreak grasped the offered hand, lamenting briefly- oh how sappy can I get!- that Static was wearing gloves. "Thanks. Now get out of my way." With his left hand, he shot flames at the first guard. "One!" His right followed. "Two!" Then both hands, just because he felt like it. "Three! Man, I'm smokin!"
Static led him forward and glanced into the cockpit of the ship. The wall he'd made Hotstreak hit was that one between the cargo area and the brain of the ship, Hotstreak realized. Shaking his head, Static said, "Great. Now we have to walk out of here."
"What do you mean 'we'?" Hotstreak demanded, anxious to be away from Static before he finally gave into one of the impulses that kept tapping at his brain. He knelt by one of the downed guards and looked at it. "Bet this'll unlock us." But, a moment later, "Stupid thing's busted."
Static looked at the electronic key. "It's melted. You fried it when you fried that guy."
Oh yeah, like your idea of blasting the guards with electricity- and me, too, don't forget- was so much better? 'We'll see," he snapped at the annoying superhero and tried to burn through the binding chain. "The stuff some kind of stupid sumthinerother."
Static was grinning. "Can I quote you on that, Professor?"
Hotstreak scowled at him. Always with the jokes, Virgil. I should have figured out who you were a long time ago. You and Static say the same stupid kids of things. He tried to burn through the metal, but stopped when Static exclaimed, "Ow!"
Tugging at the chain, grimacing, Hotstreak said, "Nothing!" He continued to yank at it nevertheless, just to have a way to let off some steam.
"The locking system's electrical. Maybe I can short it."
A charge traveled up the chain and zapped Hotstreak's hands.
"Well, that's not working either," Static said, laughter bubbling under his voice.
Hotstreak grabbed Static's shirt and glared at him as he brought their faces very close together. 'You think that's funny?" His free hand filled with fire.
"Well, yeah." Static's hand glowed with electricity.
And we're back to where we started when I stole the car and-
The roof of the truck exploded and the two Bang Babies were thrown to the floor. A droid, small, quick, and deadly, stared down at them and prepared to fire again. Hotstreak had a thought this blast wouldn't just knock them out, but might put them out for good. Struggling to his feet, noticing Static doing the same at his side, Hotstreak opened his mouth and was startled to hear the words come out of Static's mouth at the same time. "This way!"
But they were going in two different directions. They rebounded into each other and fell again.
The droid fired at them, but the blast blew them out of the truck. As they hit, Hotstreak wondered how much power was in one of those blasts. He decided he didn't want to know. Lying on his back with Static beside him, trying to get his breath back, Hotstreak watched three or four more droids coming, along with a few soldiers on tiny flying ships that reminded the red-head of the swoops in a Star Wars book he'd read as a kid. Grey, narrow and controlled by handlebars, they could have been those swoops he'd loved so much. Whoever designed all this stuff read those books like a maniac or watched Return of the Jedi one too many times.
Scrambling to his feet, Hotstreak glanced at Static to make sure he was ready to run, then the two dashed for the corner of the building. If they could reach it, maybe they'd find a place to hide. At least they'd have a moment where they were separated from the guards.
As they ran, Hotstreak found himself thinking, And as hard as Static would find it to believe, I did read. Quite a lot, actually. What else was there to do in the hospital? You could only watch so much T.V. and play so much Connect-four.
Then Hotstreak saw the tall crate, and he yanked Static behind it. The two of them didn't have a chance to see what was around them; all they could do was make themselves as little as possible and hope the guards or droids didn't have heat-sensors. Considering everything else I've seen, I wouldn't be surprised, Hotstreak thought as he listening to the approaching engines. He held his breath, more pumped up on adrenaline than he could remember being in some time. Maybe not since I became a Bang Baby, because it became too easy when I could just blast everything. Now I'm like I was; running from the cops and hoping I've picked a good enough hiding spot.
Hotstreak decided he might well trade his powers for the chance to live life on the edge of danger again. I live on the edge of society, but that doesn't mean I'm in danger. All I am is dangerous. He grinned as the sound of the engine faded. Except now. Yeah, maybe I'll just give it all up.
The two of them rose and looked around. "See any guards?" Static whispered.
Hotstreak shook his head. Good thing, too. We're sitting ducks right here. He was planning to continue running, maybe get to the huge forest that surrounded the small, civilized part of the island, but Static had turned the building, peering in the large window there. Sighing, Hotstreak glanced in. His jaw dropped, but he closed his mouth almost at once.
Static's surprise must have been complete, because he spoke his thoughts out loud. "Rubberband Man…. Talon… Gear!"
At once, the muscles of Static's neck tightened and he reached up to touch the glass, as if he could reach Gear that way.
Hotstreak considered the inside of the room. All three subjects were strapped to inclined tables. None of them seemed to be badly injured- though Talon looked exhausted- but they were unconscious. The red-head looked at Static and realized that, at least for the moment, the superhero wouldn't be able to think about anything but his precious partner.
That was when a guard spotted them and Hotstreak found himself having to drag Static away from the window.
I'm worried about Richie, too, you know, but you don't see me losing my wits because of it, do you? To pull Static back to reality- to try, anyway- Hotstreak warned "Here they come!" as he made a shield of flame to protect them from the blaster fire.
Static took out his flying disk, but his movements were clumsy and slow. "They're got Rubberband Man, Talon and Gear," he said, as if he couldn't believe it.
Or more like he can't think of anything else. "Well, they're not getting me." Hotstreak sheathed his body in flames and started to fly away. Running just wouldn't do the trick today.
"Hey! Wait!"
Fat chance, Sparky. We'll end up on those tables if we don't run now.
Static followed, but too reluctantly, as if he couldn't bear to leave Gear behind, even in the face of certain death.
"You're starting to be a real drag, you know that?" Virgil's best weapon's always been his mouth. If I can get him to engage it…
"If you don't like me, you're gonna hate those guys." But it was as if the retort came from another planet. Static was still dazed. And yet, far away as he was, Static had enough presence of mind to hit one of the nearest swoops with a burst of electricity. The craft fell out of the sky and the guard jumped off.
Still, Static wasn't all there, and that's what Hotstreak needed. "You're slowing me down!" he tried again.
And, miracle of miracles, that got through. "Who's leading who, flame-for-brains?" Static shot back. He began to fly faster.
Then two blasts struck them. One burned across Hotstreak's shoulder and the other caught Static in the leg. They fell out of the sky, crashing through trees and finally coming to rest at the base of a huge, spreading tropical variety Hotstreak couldn't name.
As one, they stood.
"The trees will give us some cover," Static said, looking up at the sky. For the moment, their fall hadn't been tracked. But they would be pursued soon enough.
Hotstreak rubbed at his shoulder. Damn, that hurt like a-
"How's your shoulder?"
Hotstreak looked away, embarrassed. He held up a negligent hand. "Fine. How's your stupid leg?"
"Fine." When Static answered, Hotstreak could hear the amusement in his voice. And even if it was at his expense, Hotstreak was glad to hear it. That meant Static was dealing with a full deck again. "We better get a move on."
They began to push their way through the trees and Static pointed at something metallic showing through a gap in the trees. "Hey, it's the jet scooter I shot down."
So, that's what you call those things. Hotstreak suddenly felt very foolish that he had called the graceful, grey crafts "swoops." Well, just so long as Static never has to find out, I'm fine with it. Approaching the scooter, Hotstreak frowned down at his reflection in the craft's shiny side. "It's busted."
Static touched the scooter's side. "It'll do." As the power was absorbed by the small craft, Static added, "Get on."
A minute later, they were flying under the canopy of the trees, still hoping stealth could help them. Static was in the driver's seat, and Hotstreak wasn't exactly sure how the superhero had gotten there, except that he figured Static probably knew more about "jet scooters"- swoops to me- then Hotstreak did.
A tree exploded just behind them and several small circular devices- the probes Hotstreak had noticed earlier- were chasing them.
"What the heck are those things?" Static exclaimed as he tried to make the scooter do a complicated twist-dive that almost sent them crashing into a tree.
Hotstreak left a trail of fire behind them, hoping some of the droids would run right into it and kill themselves. But the droids were smarter than that; they avoided the trap easily.
Static asked, "Wearin your seatbelt?"
Hotstreak had been half-turned around, wanting to see if he'd gotten any of their pursuers. He shouted in surprise when Static made the swoop dived suddenly and turn to the right. One of the droids connected with a tree and exploded. The others still followed.
But something was wrong with the way Static was flying, and the red-head thought it was more than just the stunts the younger teen was pulling. Hotstreak had always possessed an impeccable sense of direction, and- "You're going the wrong way!"
"No I'm not," Static shouted back over the wind. "We have to go back and save Gear and the others."
Hotstreak kindled his left fist, holding a fireball next to Static's face. The hero didn't know Hotstreak would never burn him, and that was just as well. "If you want me to turn down the heat, you know what to do."
"Hey, we're on an island, remember? We're surround by water!"
"What's your point?" Hotstreak stole a glance back. They were being followed by three droids now instead of four- But it'll only take one to finish us.
"You've got fire powers. I've got electric powers. You really want to try flying over miles and miles of ocean?"
Okay, good point. But that doesn't mean I'll tell you as much.
"Okay," Static said. "We sneak back to the base, save the others and steal a hovercraft."
Hotstreak could practically feel the droids singeing his neck with the blasts they were firing. "Have it your way." He yanked Static off the scooter the moment before the lead droid made their stolen vehicle explode. They fell, but weren't hurt, and Hotstreak said, pointing, "Look. That's the lead droid." He knew it was the lead one- or guessed it was- because it was slightly bigger than the others. Shooting a fireball upwards, he caught the droid from below and it flew off course, heading towards the nearest beach. "That'll keep em busy." He started back the way they'd come.
"Now you're usin your head," Static said as Hotstreak pulled a large branch back so they could pass.
"Not really. I just like to blow stuff up." Hotstreak let go of the branch and it smacked Static in the face.
Ten or so minutes later, Static peeked around the last tree on the edge of the clearing where the base stood. He and Hotstreak moved to crouch behind the final line of bushes. "On the count a three," Static whispered.
Fuck that. I'm not waiting. A clear and certain knowledge that Richie was in danger had been steadily growing in Hotstreak's mind until it burst open like a poisonous flower. "Three!" He darted across the open ground between the bushes and the side of the building, yanking Static after him.
A moment later they were pressed against the side of the building. "Let's check inside. On the count of three," Static said again. As one, they said, "Three!"
Hotstreak was the one to push the door open, but Static was the one to lead the way in. Everything inside was gleaming metal, like the swoop, and Hotstreak felt his stomach turn over beneath his ribs. Now why am I being such a chicken? There's nothing scary here. It's just a metal room!
Static moved against a wall, pressing himself to it to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Hotstreak followed. After a quick glance around a corner, Static darted around it and the two of them crouched down.
To their right, in the main room, a door opened and a plump woman, dressed in the whites of a nurse, exited. She was studying a small screen of some sort as she walked along, never even glancing at them, but Hotstreak felt as if she was staring right at him, or at least the things on the screen before her were about him.
Out loud, his stomach and throat clenching as if to keep him from speaking, Hotstreak said, "This is a hospital." He shrank back against the wall. "I don't do hospitals." Yeah, he'd done it to see Richie. But that had been hard. This was worse somehow. Because the people here could actually hurt him, actually force him to stay here.
The nurse disappeared through another door. Static stood. "Come on. The coast is clear." He pulled at the chain, then looked back to Hotstreak when the red-head didn't (couldn't) move. "Three?"
Hotstreak stared at nothing as he imagined the needles coming towards him again, the I.V.s, the prodding from doctors and of course the nurses, both good and bad, that came to take care of him. He didn't shiver, but that was only because he was afraid if he shivered the needles would have to be put in again.
Gradually, though, he became aware of the eyes on him and as the world of his memories faded a little, he said, "When I was a kid, I was in a hospital for two years." He squeezed his eyes shut against the very thought of being trapped in the same building with a nurse. I sound so pathetic. But he couldn't help it, and so Hotstreak accepted it. "I don't do hospitals."
"If you don't help me now," Static began, kneeling beside him, "this time it will be a lot longer than two years."
Hotstreak looked at Static, surprised that the teen wasn't yelling at him or trying to yank him to his feet.
In other words, the superhero's eyes said, we could be here until we die.
"Okay," Hotstreak answered, resolving that he would face his fear, at least for now. I can always go back to hating and dreading hospitals later.
Voices echoed from the direction the nurse had disappeared. "We're still searching the crash site. No sign of em yet," said a voice over a guard's radio.
Hotstreak and Static pressed themselves against the wall around the corner and watched the guards wheel an unconscious Talon through the hallway.
Hotstreak's stomach twisted beneath his ribs when he saw her. There was no glass between them now, nothing to trick his eyes. Talon looked more than exhausted; she looked beaten. The red-head's lip came up in an unconscious snarl and he vowed to rescue her.
"We can do what you say. Of course. It is dangerous, but it may work." The man's voice held a heavy accent, but Hotstreak wasn't sure where the man was from. All the Bang Baby understood was that the man, by the authority and prissiness in his voice, was a doctor.
"I don't pay you to do things that may work. I want results. Clear?"
"Alva," Static whispered.
And here I expected you to notice the prissy doc is pushing Gear towards what looks like certain death, Hotstreak thought even as his own pulse raced and he looked after Gear with something bordering on horror. I know who that doctor reminds me of. Back in second grade, Aunt Sue and I visited the Holocaust museum in D.C. This doctor's like the German Nazis.
"What you're suggesting… It could be the end of our three specimens."
"They're disposable. Just find a cure for my son."
As the living statue of Edwin Alva, Jr. rolled past, Hotstreak scowled. Sure, it fits. Kill three just to save one person. Yup, he's a Nazi who somehow managed to stay pretty young sixty years later.
oOo
The connection had been reforged between Backpack and Richie the moment the damping lights had been shut off. But the renewed connection didn't do Backpack any good when Richie was unconscious. Yes, the robot could have escaped, but that would not only leave Richie defenseless, but the guards might punish Richie, thinking that he had ordered Backpack to leave.
They know much about neurotechnology, but I doubt anyone understands how deeply Richie and I are connected.
A wave of confusion swept over Backpack and for the first time he regretted the connection he had to Richie. The teen had been pumped full of drugs that kept him just under the thin veil of sleep, awake enough to scream, but not near enough to consciousness to fight. Every time Richie started to shake off the effects of the drugs, more would be pumped into his system through the I.V. Backpack's only hope was that the introversive drip would be disconnected at some point and he would have a chance to help Richie regain his senses.
I could block the connection, but I won't. Not after being separated from Richie fro so long. Almost ten hours passed before I could sense him again. Besides, occasionally Richie hears me in his mind and relaxes a little. It isn't much, but I'd rather offer as much reassurance as I can instead of not being able to give anything.
A sensor drew Backpack's attention and he was surprised to find that a familiar bio-signature was nearby. Virgil is nearby. He hasn't been captured, but he's here. I should have remembered that eh wouldn't let anything happen to Richie. I'll be ready to help when he makes his move. And hopefully the I.V. will be gone.
Abruptly, another sensor flashed at him, and Backpack was shocked to realize that Richie, in his dazed way, was struggling to build the connection between himself and Virgil. He also senses that Virgil is near.
The connection had been toyed with, worked on, but was nowhere near complete.
But how can Richie have the strength or presence of mind to even attempt the link? Backpack wondered.
Easy, answered a far-off, cold voice in his mind. It's not Richie.
Gear? You were rejoined with Richie. It isn't safe for you to break away from him.
I'm only half-separated and I'll go back when Richie wakes up. But he needs me. I've blocked off part of his mind from the drugs.
How can I be sure you'll go back?
Easy. If I wasn't going to, I wouldn't try to get Virgil's attention, would I?
You might, if you saw no other way out.\, Backpack answered, leery of Richie's alter ego in the extreme.
Gear sighed. Look, you're distracting me. I need to reach Virgil. After that, feel free to make me rejoin with Richie if you think it's necessary. I'll go quietly. But you can't deny Richie needs me right now. So are you going to help with the connection or are you just going to stay out of my way?
I'll help, but only so I can keep an eye on you.
oOo
"A transfer of these energies will cure him. These Bang Babies are filled with the same power that froze my son."
Static took in the large room, noting the circular tank where Alva, Jr., would probably be placed. He also saw the three chairs- more like chairs than tables now- where Gear and the others would be chained down to await the "transfer", whatever that meant.
What are you going to do to my Richie, you son of a bitch? Static's rage threatened to boil over like an untended pot. It was like this when Ebon took Richie and when Brainiac captured him. I swear, someday I'll just loose my temper and kill whoever happens to be hurting Richie at that moment.
"We hope," the doctor answered Alva. "But if we lose these three…" He held out a hand, compelling Alva to listen to him.
"More are already on the way." Alva stepped into the glass elevator and was carried up to his office.
Don't want to stay for the lightshow? Static thought. You're one of those men too squeamish to kill and cook his own meat, but you still love the smell of a barbeque, don't you? He sneered, but then his eyes fell on Gear again and determination to save his boyfriend overrode his anger, at least for the moment.
"Yes," the doctor said, all business now. "As you say." He stalked off towards the main computer console while the guards lifted Gear, Talon and Rubberband Man into the chairs and locked them in.
"Hear that? We gotta save em."
"Oh yeah? What have they done for me lately?"
Static was too preoccupied to care much about Hotstreak's attitude. "How about what I can do for you?"
"Huh?"
"Like maybe get us free. Look. A key." He was watching the nurse lock Talon into her chair.
Hotstreak's eyes narrowed. "Okay. We play it your way. What's the plan?"
Static began to move forward, keeping an eye on the guards, who were watching the three "specimens." "We stay very, very quiet." He led Hotstreak across the room and crouched with him behind a bank of computers.
The nurse was standing beside Gear. She glanced at the doctor, who had stepped away from his instruments for the moment. "All subjects borderline conscious. Energy levels stable."
"Good," the doctor said.
"Today," Hotstreak growled in Static's ear.
"Hold on," Static said, only half-listening. Gear was chained down now and the doctor was looking at the readings in front of him. Static sent a small hand of electricity across the room, snagging the nurse's key and bringing it back. "You see? Patience is a virtue." He unhooked the two of them.
Hotstreak raised his hands in triumph. "All right!"
The nurse whirled around. "It's them!"
"Nice work, Hot Head!" Static shouted. A moment later, he was hit in the chest and he fell back. The world started to swim away.
No! Gear! Gear!
Everything was fading.
oOo
Hotstreak hit the nearest guard with a flame-blast and started to run. He called over his shoulder, knowing Static was out cold, "Hasta la vista, Sparky!" Blaster fire rained around him, but Hotstreak protected himself with a fire-shield until the door had been punched open by the guards' own shots. Then he ran out. Above him, an alarm blared and the world was bathed in red warning lights.
No guards followed him. They knew better. Besides, now they had four specimens.
I have to go back. Richie and Virgil need me. But he knew he would do no such thing. Not only was he outnumbered there, but the nurse was there and so were the machines. No, I'm not going back.
Ignoring his guilt, Hotstreak decided he'd stuck out his neck enough for one day. Richie'll be fine. Static'll wake up and…
And by the time Static wakes up, Richie will be dead. I just know it.
What can I do? I can't go back to help. It's too dangerous. There's no reason I should get captured trying to save them.
True, but what if you could help them without any risk to yourself? Hotstreak stopped running. What was it Ebon said all the time? 'Hostages aren't just for show, you know.' Yeah, that's it. He was reminding us how much help a captured hostage could be. Who do I know around here that would make a good hostage?
Immediately, he thought of Alva, Jr., but he'll be well-guarded. So… who else? He didn't even want to think about touching the nurse. That went double for the doctor. And the guards weren't valued, surely, at least not enough for Hotstreak's purposes.
That leaves Alva himself. If I grabbed him, everyone else would drop like terrified weaklings at a bank robbery. He smiled. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Now I just have to find Alva.
Hotstreak had been wandering rather aimlessly while he thought. Now, as he came back to himself, he spotted the stairway. Grinning, he started for the door. Here I come, Alva, ready or not. You'll understand it isn't right to capture innocent Bang Babies. You'll think I'm mad about my capture. You won't get it that I'm protecting Talon and the two superheroes I love above everything else.
oOo
He wasn't unconscious yet. Not all the way, at least. Static found himself in a strangely similar state to Gear, though the veil between him and wakefulness was much thinner. Voices floated to Static and even though he couldn't react to them, he still filed them away.
Someone moved him a little, lifting his head for a moment before setting him back down. Even that little bit of movement made Static distantly nauseous and he groaned. "He'll be out for a while," the nurse said.
Other voices came and went, but these were so faint that Static couldn't focus on them. The veil was thickening, pushing him further down. No… I have to… stay awake…. for Richie…
Dimly, a moan of pain echoed in Static's mind and he pushed through the veil for a moment. Across the room, three screens were mounted on the wall above the chairs where Gear and the others were confined. All three screens were lit up, and Static realized the energy transfer had begun. Gear's face was twisted in pain.
The veil started to gather around him. Reaching out, fighting it, Static whispered, "No…" The veil won the struggle and Static collapsed again.
More voices. Then the moan in his mind became a scream, an agonized cry that reached his ears as well, yanking him upwards and giving him the strength to turn over. This time, Static didn't waste his energy looking at Gear; he spotted a power conduit nearby and reached out for it, knowing it would recharge him.
But a white high heel kicked his hand away and Static, groaning, fell back beneath the veil, though not quite so far. he moved his foot an inch to the right and felt the energy seeping into his body.
In his mind, Gear continued to scream.
The electricity did more than recharge him; Static felt his aches and nausea disappear. He jumped to his feet, startling the nurse who was standing guard over him. So, it had been her high heel that had kicked his hand away. Static threw her onto a rolling bed and sent her flying across the room. He saw the doctor turn away from the console, but didn't pay attention to him. Guards were coming for him, and Static, his fists glowing, dispatched one after the other. You hurt Richie, he thought as he flung guard after guard around the room. You hurt my Richie!
Out of the corner of his eye, Static watched the doctor run for cover, leaving the console unguarded. Static hit the switches that controlled the power transfer, flicking them off. The scream in his mind faded, then disappeared.
Other guards were coming for him, but Static shot at them across the room, flinging them against walls and tables as he ran for the row of three chairs. As he sprinted towards Gear, he saw the nurse shrink away from him with a low moan of fear.
Well, lady, you should be afraid.
"Gear!" Static touched his unconscious partner's shoulder, then tried to work the controls of the chair. Oh fuck it. He used his powers to manipulate the controls. As the chair gave up its victim, Static leaned close to Gear. Placing one hand on his lover's shoulder and the other on the white helmet, Static shook Gear gently. "Wake up! Can you hear me?" If he doesn't wake up, I'll kill them. I swear.
Gear blinked, looking slightly dazed. "Hey…" He turned his head and met Static's eyes.
The hero grinned.
"What brings you here?" Gear asked, struggling to focus his mind. With one hand, he reached up and touched Backpack. He still looked confused, but as if he was rallying his wits quickly.
"I heard there was gonna be free ice cream," Static answered, so relived that he allowed himself to grin like a fool, a thing he usually tried not to do while in costume. He thought it detracted from his ability to intimidate. Turning away from Gear, giving him a moment to collect himself, Static picked up the nurse, who was still hovering nearby, and carried her over to where Talon and Rubberband Man were still chained. He ignored her squawk of protest. Setting her down, he commanded, "Unlock those two. And make sure they're okay."
Gear was struggling to sit up, and Static turned back to him, his eyes once again full of concern.
Alva's voice echoed over the PA system. The coward-doctor probably called him, Static thought, and he decided he might put the man in his own machines just to teach him a lesson.
"All units to main laboratory. Surround west perimeter. Full remote deployment. Repeat: all units to main laboratory."
Static had helped Gear to his feet. Gear was leaning against him, but not with his full weight. Apparently he was getting strength, as well as his mind, back. "I don't suppose those troops are coming to help us," Gear muttered.
Static glanced at Talon and RB Man as the other two Bang Babies joined them. "Are you guys ready to fight?"
Groaning softly, Talon answered, "Yeah, I guess so."
RB Man stretched a little. "Give me a sec. I'll bounce back."
A moment later, the room filled with guards.
"Guess what?" Static asked. "Your second's up."
oOo
The instant Richie came awake, three things happened. His connection to Backpack became fully functional, flooding him with his robot's feelings of relief. He became aware, for the first time, of Virgil's emotions in his mind. (The link works! He thought. The link works!) Someone was shaking him and talking to him, trying to pull him into consciousness faster.
Richie never so much as sensed Gear's brief separation and independent movement, and it was just as well. Gear had reforged their complete connection, fusing himself seamlessly back into Richie's consciousness even before the blonde started to regain his wits.
Richie opened his eyes and gazed up at Virgil, so glad to see him that he almost wept. Instead, he asked, "Hey. What brings you here?" He wanted to hear a smart remark to his stupid question, and wasn't disappointed.
Static's worry retreated a little and his anger vanished completely. "I heard there was gonna be free ice cream."
Richie smiled. I love you, Virg. He began to gather his strength in haste. I need to get up. We have to get out of here. BP? Are you all right?
Yes, Richie. I was not damaged. The damping lights only separated us. Are you strong enough to stand?
I think I will be in a minute.
oOo
Hotstreak bounced the flame on his hand as he held Alva's arm. "You're going to take me to that elevator, and you're going to tell all those idiots downstairs to lay off Talon and the others. If you don't, I'll roast you, then see to it your son is smashed into a thousand pieces."
If he had been Static, his bluff wouldn't have been believed. But men feared fire, and they feared the unstable teenagers that controlled amazing powers in Dakota. Alva nodded, accepting his orders.
Hotstreak grinned unpleasantly. "Good man. Let's go." Alva led the way down the hallway and to the elevator. Hotstreak hoped he was in time to save the others. He couldn't' hear what was happening from here, but he'd heard Alva give the alarm. That had to mean Static was causing problems. But is Static fighting to protect Gear or is he attacking in revenge? His chest tightened. Is Richie dead?
Alva began speaking almost before the elevator had cleared the second floor. "All troops stand down. I repeat: all troops, drop your weapons."
The guards paused; Hotstreak had moved behind Alva and he knew they didn't understand what was going on. The red head stepped around the billionaire. "You heard the man." He made the flame in his hand a little bigger for good measure. His spirits were up at once. Static stood nearby with Talon and Rubberband Man. Gear had his back to the elevator; he was gazing intently at the console where the doctor had been.
The guards dropped their weapons, staring at their boss.
Static looked less than glad to see him. "I thought you were out of here," he said, his voice tinged with fury.
"What?" Hotstreak asked, just enjoying the fact that he could talk to Virgil and that Richie was only a short distance away, very much alive. "And fly a hovercraft myself?" He smiled, impressed that he'd remembered the right word. Then he caught the way Alva was watching him apprehensively and bounced the flame in his hand just to watch the man squirm. "Sports cars are my thing."
"Static, you should see this," Gear called, barely looking around. "It's Alva's son. We're losing him."
"Is there any way to save him?" Static asked the doctor, who had miraculously reappeared.
"I don't know. There isn't enough power."
Static asked, directing his question more to his partner than to the doctor, "What if I feed the machine? What if I give it my all?"
Gear had been glaring at the doctor, but now he looked at Static, his eyes earnest. "Are you sure you want to risk it? It could drain you for good."
Hotstreak let go of Alva so he could take a step closer to Virgil and Richie. You can't be serious! Look what he just did to you! He almost killed Richie and now you're going in there? Are you insane
Before he could articulate any of this, Static nodded to himself. "Let's do it."
Less than a minute later, Static was in one of the deadly chairs, his eyes closed. Gear stood beside the doctor, pretending to look at the readings, but probably keeping an even closer eye on the doctor. His face was set like stone as he worked on a console nearby. What he could be doing, Hotstreak didn't know, but a look of confusion crossed his features almost at once.
The doctor flipped the switch.
At once, power ran out of Static, making the teen cry out in agony. The power was fed to the tank where Alva's son stood, and the tank began to glow.
Static was writhing, groaning. Hotstreak stared at him for a moment, then took a step back. Virgil, it's too much! Can't you see it's going to kill you? He turned to Richie, glaring at him. Do something! He's going to die! Do something1
"We still need more!" the doctor shouted as he stared at the diagram of Alva's son on the screen before him.
"Please," Alva begged. "It's his only chance."
Like anyone would listen to you, Hotstreak thought. But when he saw Static convulse, he said, "Fire me up. If he can take it, so can I." And maybe I can take a little of the pain away from him.
An instant later, Hotstreak found himself wondering if he'd made the first mistake of his life.
oOo
Richie poured over the data. Something seemed so glaringly off that he felt physically sick with the idea of it. What am I not seeing? He went over the readings again, hating himself for missing it. Static's cries of pain made him want to leave off what he was doing, kill the power and just let Alva, Jr. die.
But I can't. V said we'd try it, so here we are.
Then he saw it, and the shock at his own mistake made Richie almost laugh. Off to his left, the doctor (A doctor's first promise is to first do no harm. What a joke this loser made of the Hippocratic Oath) said, his voice strangely calm, "It's not working."
Richie ordered as he dashed to the console, "Get out of the way." He shoved the doctor back and began to work feverishly at the controls. Idiot moron idiot incompetent ass.., Why couldn't he see he had the equation for power transfer backwards?
"Stop!" the doctor cried, sounding offended. "You don't know what you're doing!"
Richie rerouted the changed links. Without even slowing in his typing, he said, "Hey, I'm a genius." He glanced to his right and watched Alva's son in his tank of fluid. Five, four, three-
The first alarm went off and Richie allowed himself a tiny smile. Two… one…
The water drained out of the tank and Edwin Alva, Jr., put his hands over his eyes. More importantly, at least to Richie, the power transfer stopped.
"Whad I tell ya?" Richie asked the shocked, white-coated man beside him. The doctor was gaping at him.
The tank receded at a touch from the boy's father, and the two embraced.
BP, can you tailor me a quick virus that will record all the formulas here, transfer them to your hard drive, then erase everything on these machines?
Of course, Richie. Do you wish me to send a virus- a destructive one- to every machine on this island?
Richie's smile was cold. Yes, please, but save us a hovercraft. Let Alva and his people find another way off the island. He paused, then added, Thanks for dealing with all the weird drugs they kept putting into me. That must have been hard. I could feel how they affected you.
I am well, Richie. I am only glad you are safe.
Alva, Sr., turned to Static and Hotstreak, who were making their way towards the others. "I guess I owe you my gratitude," the billionaire offered.
Static glared at him and Richie frowned, thinking of how he'd like to set a virus loose in every single one of Alva's machines back in Dakota. One thing distracted him from his anger; Alva seemed so relieved to have his son back. I guess even half-devils have hearts.
"It's didn't do it for you, Alva," Static answered. "I did it because it was right."
Then, shocking everyone, Hotstreak said, "Yeah. You should try it sometime."
Richie almost laughed at the shocked look his lover shot the red headed Bang Baby. But he didn't want Alva to think he was getting off that easily. Are all the viruses set, BP?
Yes.
Thanks, buddy. Richie relaxed a little more. Maybe now this can all be over.