Heyas,

Well...I certainly didn't expect to be doing this. But, my dear Cyph had me join that 100 drabble fandom thingy with all the prompts and I'll admit, it might be fun. While I was wondering what to write for 50 drabbles, Cypher suggested I not only use the characters from Static Shock, but the versions of them I have in Glass. There's a whole world to play with, after all. And hey, I really felt bad for killing the alternate Richie in Glass...this way, he gets to come back to life and I get to make that life a living hell, too! Yay!

What? Why are you all looking at me like that?

Disclaimer: I in no way proclaim to have anything to do with Static Shock or any related trademarks. I'm just playing with the toys. Please don't sue.

He tightened the bolt a few more centimeters, twisting until he heard the metal creak against metal. Satisfied that the fixture would hold, he reached up to brush the sweat off of his forehead, huffing impatiently when his damp blond bangs fell into his eyes. Stowing the wrench in the tool belt slung around his waist, he grabbed one of the smaller pipes running over his head and swung himself off the large water line he was straddling.

He let himself dangle in the air for a few seconds and then dropped, landing with catlike grace on the mostly dry floor of the tunnel below him. Straightening, he looked up to survey the newly mounted security camera, satisfying himself that it was well-camouflaged in the maze of pipes that ran along the tunnel roof. It was a job well done.

As had been the alarm grid he'd installed in one of the secondary tunnels that led to their main power generators. As had been the new defense robots he'd set to patrolling the outer-most entrances to their base. As had been the repairs to the gas line to their communal showers, ensuring the hot water might actually last long enough for everybody.

Richie Foley glanced down at his hands, and was vaguely surprised to find them filthy, the knuckles of his left scraped raw and bleeding. He frowned as he tried to remember when that had happened, coming up blank. As if noticing the minor injury had been the trigger it was waiting for, his body suddenly piped up with a hundred other complaints. The muscles of his back and arms ached fiercely. His stomach was rumbling angrily, reminding him that he hadn't even bothered to eat breakfast and it was now—he glanced at his watch—two hours past dinner time. His head was pounding with a residual of the effort of straining his eyes for so long working on delicate equipment in the gloomy tunnels.

He should really do something about the lighting. It was too dangerous to install florescent tubes…too obvious. But surely he could rig up something portable. It was too dark in the tunnels. They needed light. Automatically, he began rooting around in the pouches hanging from his belt, looking for a pencil and pad of paper. Batteries were in short supply, so flashlights were impractical…maybe he could modify one to run off an alternate power source? The aches and complaints and hurts faded away as he began walking back in the direction of the base, blotted out by the race of ideas and plans.

He was still scribbling notes to himself when he exited the small side tunnel into the underground base he had called home for the past three months. He was still scribbling to himself as he trudged towards the isolated area that housed his and Tech's 'labs.'

"Richie!" He would have gone right on scribbling had the voice that called to him not had such an edge of fearful relief to it. "Richie!"

He half turned, brow furrowing in confusion, to find Sharon sprinting towards him from the direction of the mess hall. The young woman's jacket was hanging open, flapping wildly behind her as she ran, revealing the pistols strapped to each leg, as well as the now-familiar bulk of a bullet proof vest. Sharon was always armed…they all were…but she was loaded for bear at the moment. Had something happened? At last, Sharon skidded to a halt in front of him, and the two stood in the deserted thoroughfare, Richie blinking owlishly at his leader and friend.

"Sharon…what—"

"Where the hell have you been? We've had everyone out looking for you! God, Richie, are you all right?" Sharon grabbed him by the shoulders, checking him for apparent injury, nearly shaking him in her distress. Rarely had Richie ever seen her so visibly upset.

"I—I didn't…I had things to do…I had to fix—" Richie finally trailed off, miserably. His head suddenly hurt more.

"Richie," Sharon's voice gentled suddenly, and she reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, "where did you go? When we couldn't find you after Vir—Static and Talon left…I thought--" This time, it was Sharon who stuttered to a halt, unable to finish the thought. At her words, though, Richie physically recoiled, jerking away from her touch as though it had burned him.

"I have things to do," he said suddenly. Was that a tremor in his voice? "The tunnels…they're too dark. I can't see to work. Maybe it's fine for Tech, but I don't want to go blind!" He laughed, the sound of it harsh and grating, and slightly hysterical.

"Richie," Sharon began, but he cut her off.

"I fixed the gas line. We should have hot water for good now. There was a hole in one of the mains, but I welded it shut. And the new surveillance robots work great. I need to build more of them."

"Richie—"

"The servos aren't as smooth as I want them to be. I think I need to look at the design." He scrabbled at the tool belt, searching through the pockets and pouches almost frantically. "I have them here. I need to look at them…I need to fix it. It's got to be fixed!"

"Richie!" Sharon grabbed him by the shoulders again and this time she did shake him. "Richie for God's sake, you've been gone for eight hours! You just disappeared after the attack! We thought something had happened to you. We thought Static had gotten you! We've been looking all over for you, God damn it! Do you even remember?" Sharon was shouting at him, now, the words echoing off the small shacks around them. Beneath the heat of her words, though, was an edge of real fear.

And finally…Richie did remember.

He remembered practically begging Adam to take him with the scavenging party that was going up top that morning. He had been so careful the past few months…they all had been so careful to keep his presence among Sharon's people a secret. But he couldn't stand it anymore…the dank tunnels; the gloomy, artificial light; the close quarters. He had just wanted to be outside for a few minutes. He remembered Adam finally giving in, allowing him to accompany them…and the near-giddy joy he had felt at really being in the sun for the first time in months. He hadn't even minded Sharon's insistence that he go armed, accepting the now dreadfully familiar weight of a handgun with a philosophical shrug.

He remembered flitting in an out of the abandoned buildings with the party, searching for usable pieces of scrap or food…anything that could make their lives a little easier…a little less bleak. He'd been excited to find a couple of clock radios in an old electronics store they had long thought picked clean.

He remembered walking back towards the entrance to their sewer base, happy with what they had managed to find, and a little more relaxed now that the mission was done and there had been no major trouble. They had all been laughing quietly and joking with each other. Maybe that had been their mistake. Surely the past six months had taught all of them never to let their guard down. But they had.

They hadn't even had any warning. One moment they had been heading for the sewer entrance that would take them back to their base, and the next Adam had been barreling into him, shoving him towards the mouth of the nearest alley. Richie had fetched up hard against the brick wall, scraping his knuckles roughly against it. Adam had only time to growl at him to stay put and stay hidden before a terribly familiar sonic shriek had echoed through the air.

Talon had swooped out of the sky, seemingly from nowhere, with a burst of sound that had shattered the pavement the scavenging party had been standing on only seconds before.

Seconds later, Virgil had appeared.

Diving down to hover above the broken street, a halo of blue light surrounding him, Virgil had appeared with all the wrath of an angry god. Richie had stood frozen; half huddled against the alley wall, as the air was rent by the sharp report of gunfire, Talon's earsplitting shrieks, and the sizzling bang of electric bolts.

And over it all, Virgil had laughed. He'd laughed and laughed as he attacked Adam and the others, the maniacal sound of it sending chills up Richie's spine. He'd laughed as though he was having the time of his life, taking sheer delight in the destruction he was creating. The fight had been fast and furious…and Virgil never stopped laughing.

It had only taken Adam moments to call a retreat. He and Richie had been the only metahumans in the group, and all of them had known it was only a matter of time before Static got bored with dodging their weapons and simply yanked them out of their hands with a burst of electromagnetic energy. Somehow, Adam and their comrades had managed to group together, slowly draw the attack towards the alley…and then they had run.

He remembered running like hell, Adam's grip on his elbow almost bruising as the older man half-dragged him along. They had run as fast as they could down the alley, spilling out into the next street and practically diving as one for the nearest manhole cover. Adam had practically shoved Richie down the hole first, the others following even as yet another of Talon's screams boiled out of the same alley they had just exited.

Even in the relative safety of the sewers, they hadn't stopped running. They'd taken the tunnels almost at random, desperate to put as much distance between them and their attackers should Talon and Virgil decide to follow them. They had gone nearly two miles before they slowed down.

He remembered the five of them huddling in a small, dark, side tunnel, gasping for breath and trying to listen for sounds of pursuit, trying to judge how long it would be before it was safe to return to base. And he remembered the horrible sound of Virgil's laughter still filling his ears, drowning out everything else. He hadn't been able to take it.

He'd simply…walked away.

While Adam was cautiously checking the larger, main tunnel; while the others were trying to get their wind back…Richie had walked away, down farther into the darkness. And he hadn't stopped. He remembered just wanting to block the sound from his mind, desperately searching for something that would drown out the insane laughter still echoing in his ears, something that would erase the memory of his best friend raining down deadly power on Adam and the others. He just wanted it to go away.

So he'd made it go away.

He'd shoved his hands into his tool belt, fished out the first thing that came to hand…and he'd just let the tools take over. He had wandered through the tunnels around their base, looking for anything that would spark the fire of invention; the need to fix and build that had become as much a part of him as the color of his hair, losing himself in the only part of his world that made sense to him anymore.

"Richie?" There was not even the pretense of anger in Sharon's voice now…just the worry, just the fear. He blinked dazedly at her, pulling himself out of the tangled maze of his thoughts, out of the insulation his power had provided him...and shuddered. His whole body shook, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He didn't want to remember all these things. He didn't want it to be real.

"He…he wanted to kill us all." But it was. It was real. "He was laughing about it." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded dead. Devoid of emotion. But how could that be, when he was trembling so hard inside he thought he might shatter? He heard Sharon suck in a shuddering breath. "I didn't think…he didn't see me. I didn't think he would really—" he stopped, unable to continue.

Sharon didn't speak, didn't try to say anything. She simply pulled him into her arms.

He stood stiffly for a brief moment, and then melted into the offered embrace, the offered comfort. He clutched at her, trying to ignore the burning sting in his eyes, and failing miserably. He wanted to go back to the numbness his work had provided him; he wanted to forget what had happened that day. He wanted to go back to the perfect, ordered sense of his inventions, his tools, and his machines. He wanted to let them drown out the laughter, the vision of Virgil hovering above the street…attacking them.

"He wanted to kill us all," he whispered again. Sharon's arms tightened around him fractionally, and he laid his head on her shoulder, burying his face in the fabric of her jacket.

Nothing made sense anymore.