Author: Summer Starr
Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock. Or Justice League. Or Batman. Or Superman. Or, hell, anyone else you might recognize.
Warnings: Slash (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash), Alternate Universe, Cross Over (with many DC superheroes)
Author's Note: Originally, I had intended for this to be a one-shot. However, my beta AND my editor were both, "This is really good… for a first chapter." Yeah. So, this is obviously going to be chaptered. And with a plot! If some of the Breed seem OOC, then it's my fault because I don't have as good a handle on them as I'd like.
Ratings: M
Title: Like A Dream
Like A Dream
Part Two
The day was alive with hundreds of people moving around, trying to live their meaningless lives, like ants on the street. If it hadn't have been for the chemical explosion, the Big Bang, she would have been down there with them.
Trying to exist in a world where her biggest problem was her Mexican accent and what fool boy was trying to get into her bed. Trying to exist in a world where no one ever looked up unless they were praying. Trying to exist in a world where... where she could have gone home at night. Trying to exist in a world where...
Where she didn't have to be what she was, where she at least had the chance to pretend she was... something else. Something normal.
She wasn't normal, though. Now... Now, she was something else. Not more than human, like the others swore, but she wasn't positive she was less than human either. She was... something else. Different.
She was definitely different.
Orange and bronze feathers rustled as she shivered, but it wasn't because of the soft breeze drifting over her. No, it was more due to the internal chill she got whenever she thought about what had happened. She had relinquished her original name of Teresa in favor of her new name, Talon. She didn't feel right being called by her human name. She hadn't gone home since the transformation, either. Her parents... They wouldn't have understood. And this way, it saved them some pain.
In the end, she had discovered a new family. Of sorts.
The Breed.
She couldn't say she loved the rest of them, but some of them were nice. Some of them. Some of them weren't so nice. Some of them were downright creepy.
She sighed as she tapped her headpiece, willing it to project the signal to begin. It was getting later in the day, and she didn't want to be stuck on this perch for too much longer. Not that she minded the breeze, but she was getting bored. And when she was bored, she began to think. And when she began to think, she began to regret things. And she didn't want to have to deal with that. At any time. So, it was best to keep busy.
Today was supposed to be a busy day. A very busy day.
It was market day.
The day when Ebon selected someone from Dakota, always a meta-human, always a Bang Baby, to showcase to the outsiders interested in... new talent. It was Talon's job to record the events, and then Shiv was to edit the film so that it would highlight their star in the best possible light. After that, they would broadcast the end result to bidders who could be anyone from military across the seas to well-known crooks like the Joker. Only Ebon knew all the details, but more often than not, he would tell the others.
In a way, it was a lot like Ebon was the new Marketer, selecting people to become Chosen to the underworld, Dark Disciples. Instead of being chosen by Superman, or Batman, or any of those other self-proclaimed heroes, they were going to be chosen by someone a bit more realistic.
Besides, it wasn't like any of the Bang Babies had a chance to be selected by a Defender. Defenders preferred humans, or at least human-looking Chosen. And the people in charge of selecting potential chosen were extremely picky, even with the all-too-human-looking people. Fact of the matter was, only a handful of people from Dakota had even been selected as a servant to one of the Defenders, and only them because they went out of the city to apply.
The last one had been someone her age, some geek kid she barely remembered. Just some nobody who got high grades. But he was human, and he was smart, and as desperate as everyone else to get out of Dakota. He was willing to do anything... or anyone, it seemed, to get away from this pit, this black hole on the face of the planet. She just wondered how long it would be before he was back.
If he returned. A lot of those selected to be chosen never returned. If they were picked by a Defender or not, they never returned. Because of this, most people weren't too sure if being selected as a potential Chosen was a good thing or a bad thing. But for some, like those in Dakota, it was a way out, and therefore, it was a good thing.
Being Chosen.
It wasn't like any of the Bang Babies would ever -be- Defenders themselves. Maybe it was because they were just too frightening. Or because most of them went mad. Who knew?
Which brought Talon back to the job at hand.
A lot of those that the outsiders selected from among them, those that they picked, that became Dark Disciples, were never heard from again, either. Some made it onto the news; some made it into the limelight. But others... others just disappeared.
"Yo, are you sure you want to do this?" she hissed, hoping the wind didn't steal her words away from the microphone as it pressed against her jaw line.
"Are you kidding me?" came the softly mocking response. Even though Hotstreak was somewhere down below, where she couldn't quite see him just yet, she was more than able to see his smirk, just by listening to his voice. "This is my chance to get out of Dakota and into the Big Time!"
Talon sighed as she shook her head. "If you're sure, then get on with it. I haven't got all day!"
"Not yet," came the quiet reply. "There's still time. I want there to be a lot of people around. It'll give me more chance to show off. Besides, last time I checked, it wasn't like you had a hot date tonight."
"Don't go there, Francis," she growled, low and dangerous. She knew he hated it when people called him by his real name. He hated his real name. Talon, on the other hand, wished her real name still fit her. Hotstreak was able to pass as human, if he wanted to, and for that reason alone, she was jealous of him. Envious, but jealous too.
"Right, right," he replied. "Sorry."
"Just get on with it," she snapped, bringing up the digital camera.
Over the rush of wind of yet another breeze, she was able to hear him snickering, "Heh. As you wish!"
Then, below her at street level, the world exploded into flames.
Talon worried her lip as she peered through the unflinching eye of the camera. This was not her first time filming a friend who was hoping to get away from Dakota. Not the first time she was filming someone who carried such potential for life and death. But somehow, she had always imagined Hotstreak would stay in Dakota.
Fire, as an element, was one that mankind used, though every child was taught at an early age that it was dangerous. Talon knew that, just like every other gift in life, there was a flip side. As friendly as a Christmas fire could be, crackling in the fireplace, it was just as happy to rage throughout a person's home devouring everything, and sometimes everyone, in its path. Used properly, fire could provide energy, warmth, and it could be used to cook. Used with malice... well...
She wasn't sure, but she believed she had heard or read somewhere that ancient people once treated fire as a god.
She toggled the focus, zooming in on Francis's face. Sometimes she liked to watch him, just like a small candle flame or a merry little campfire. He could be so... pretty at times. 'Like a moth to a flame, girl. Bad business.' When he released the rage within, though, letting his power just -go-, some of his rougher edges seemed to melt away. His smile was so much brighter, so much more genuine. And his body moved easier, as if all the tension and anger he felt towards the world had been purified in his own flames, burned away.
He enjoyed his power. It was easy to see, and she made sure the unforgiving lens of the camera captured that innocent joy he had as he destroyed the world around him.
She checked the time, knowing that they were on a timetable. Soon, all too soon, the only Defender who routinely came to Dakota would be showing up. And then there would be the expected fight between him and whatever meta-human was on the rampage. Though, she had to admit, Hotstreak went out of his way to fight him. No one else, really, just him. Francis would ignore cops, and the Freak Patrol, and everyone else, including Ebon's orders sometimes. Talon had to wonder about Hotstreak, because sometimes he went out just -looking- to pick a fight with this one... person.
Talon and the others from the Breed knew their genesis. They knew they came from the dock explosion, from all those chemicals. That mixture had bombarded them, changing them, and then had rode the air currents to change others of Dakota. Not as bad as them, as they had been right there at the heart of the storm, but very few people remained unaffected.
But no one knew where Static Shock was from. He just... showed up one night with his eyes cracking electric fire and his power dancing around him in bright sparks.
Power...
She had a moment to think of some of the others that she had taped. She had watched them as they performed their little dance with whatever power they had. Sometimes they remained unaware of their power until pushed to their limits, and it was because of this that some of their lot went as slaves rather than as Dark Disciples. Still... she hadn't thought that she would ever be looking through the lens down at Hotstreak.
He was high up on the food chain in Ebon's gang. He was powerful here. But once he left, he was going to be a small match in a big, big house.
That's why she was staying. She was a freak anywhere, but at least in Dakota it wasn't -as- abnormal to have feathers. Besides, if she left, she really would be a small, small bird with far too much sky around her.
And with that much sky, it's a long, long way down to fall.
Not that she wanted to live in a cage or anything.
As if on cue, a new figure entered the scene.
Talon hissed softly at the expected and still unwanted interruption. She panned the camera, trying to get as much of the explosive battle on tape as she could. The camera's eye never flinched as the temperature on the street below her rose to a fever pitch, the area seeming to waver before her as the heat caused illusions.
She began to bite her lower lip as she unconsciously began to focus on the only Defender who was almost exclusive to Dakota.
Static Shock.
Talon zoomed in on the young Defender.
There seemed to be no end to Static Shock's arsenal of gifts. His power could be used as a shield; it could be used as a weapon; it could be used as a ride; it could be used to pick stuff up off the ground and tossed at your or away from you as if it was a piece of balled up paper.
"Talon," came a muffled, hissing curse. The feathered female jerked in place, but the movement thankfully didn't translate to the camera.
"Yeah, hot shot?" she shot back, panning the camera out when she realized who she had been focused on. She blushed under the bronze feathers.
"Time to go. I've had enough of this punk and his lame-ass lines."
"Your wish," she muttered, flipping off the camera. She was slightly embarrassed that she had gotten so much of Static on film, but she knew she had enough of Francis, with what she caught today and from some of their older reels. Without looking, she reached down to her wrist to change the frequency of her microphone. "Hey, Ebon?"
"Yes," came the smooth reply. Even over all the miles, and through all the walls that separated them, Talon could still hear the strength and danger in his voice, as if he was standing right next to her.
"Hotstreak needs help getting his rear out of the fire."
"Right." And the transmission was over.
It was time to go home. Or at least, it was time to return to the lair.
-o0o-
Richie woke up alone. It was the first thing he noticed and the last thing he expected. When he realized that the past few weeks of 'training' -hadn't- been a dream, that he really was a new Chosen, he had expected to wake up with Virgil. Especially considering the other teen had promised an explanation. Richie pulled on his glasses as he got up from the giant bed and shuffled out of the room.
His eyes were immediately bombarded with the hideous sight of the disaster known as the living room. The blond shook his head and immediately began to clean it. He knew that Virgil didn't mind the mess, but he did. He didn't like not knowing where things were.
It didn't take him long to sort out the videos, the CDs, the who-knew-how-old food, and the dirty laundry. There were other odds and ends and things that Richie figured he'd need a lab to figure out what they were. When the sorting was done, the new Chosen proceeded to organize things, such as putting the movies on the shelves, arranged alphabetically, and then music in their selected area, also arranged alphabetically.
The laundry went into one big pile in the bathroom. The other things, the things that Richie had no clue what they had started life out as, went into another pile, only this one was closer to the door so that he could ask.
And then he was done.
"Well, that didn't take long," the young male told himself. He walked around the living room one more time, making sure things were picked up and in order, and then went to take a shower. He still had only the small skirt that they had given him when he first arrived, so he had to wear it again. Not that he minded or anything, but it did get a bit drafty. He eyed a pair of Virgil's sweat pants, but decided against it. He'd go with what he had, and he'd wait for the darker male to come home before he'd ask to borrow some clothes.
While he was in the shower, he realized that he was hungry. Rather, his stomach let out a loud growl, demanding to be fed. He grinned as he turned off the water. Quickly drying off, he wrapped his skirt back around his waist then padded into the kitchen with water still dripping from his disheveled hair and droplets glistening off of his shoulders.
He ransacked the shelves and the refrigerator, trying to find something edible. He came back with a couple of cans of tuna fish, some crackers, some expired milk, and some cereal. "You gotta be kidding me! What, did he inherit Sharon's cooking skills?"
His stomach wasn't going to let him settle for not eating. Frowning, Richie looked around, as if hoping that a meal, or Virgil, would somehow magically appear. He actually preferred the idea of Virgil showing up, because that way he could have some company as well as figure out where the food was -really- kept.
Unfortunately, neither occurred.
"Well... I can either wait here, or go out in search of food," the blond told himself as he moved to stand in front of the door. "I don't remember being told that I have to stay here, but... I don't remember anyone saying that I could walk around, either."
There was also the fact that he didn't remember seeing any other Chosen walking around without their Defender. In the end, though, it was his stomach that made the decision for him. Richie took a deep breath and stepped towards the door.
He had a momentary concern that the door wouldn't open for him unless Virgil was with him, but the fear was barely there before it was brushed away with the opening doors.
As soon as the doors shut behind him, Richie realized he had made a mistake.
He bit his lower lip as he looked in both directions. He had no idea where he was going, and couldn't recall the path he and Static Shock had made when he had first arrived. That, and it seemed that down the curved hallway, the ceiling, the floor, and the doors that lined the walls were all a stainless steel color. With a shrug he turned down one way and prayed for the best.
It didn't take long before Richie became completely, utterly lost. He tried turning back to go the other way, but he wasn't even able to find his and Virgil's apartment. He began to panic, and to sweat.
"Can I help you?"
The blond Chosen nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, not even aware of anyone else in the hallway. He turned as he tried to bite back his pulse. "Hi!"
Richie stood face to face with one of the Defenders. In fact, it was Robin. Trying to be polite, and trying to stay out of trouble, he did a quick bow. The masked Defender merely raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stare at him. "I asked if I could help you."
"Um, actually," Richie began, running one hand quickly through his unkempt blond hair. He wanted to say no, he didn't need help. But he didn't get the chance as his stomach let out another loud, ferocious growl.
He wasn't sure, but he thought that he saw Robin's lips quirk with a slight grin. "You're lost."
"Ah, um, well..."
"Static didn't show you to the food hall, did he?" The Gotham City dweller shook his head, already knowing the answer. He turned around without waiting for an answer and made a 'follow me' motion with his hand.
The newest Chosen automatically followed him. He really didn't see any alternative, really. It felt strange calling him "sir" when he knew that they were about the same age. However, he knew he needed to remain polite. "Thank you, sir."
"My name is Robin," he grinned, as if he didn't already know. "Call me by my name."
"Okay," Richie smiled, though he was behind and to the side of his escort, so he didn't see. "So, you know Static Shock well?"
"Well enough," he replied.
Most would have taken his tone to mean that the conversation was over, but Richie needed more information and wasn't going to be deterred from finding out as much as he could. "So-"
"Save your questions for him. I am not going to gossip about him, especially to his Chosen. None of the others will either, or at least, no one that you would -want- to listen to, will. You can ask for information about your new home, about your new position, or rather status, and you can ask about things to occupy your time while you're here to keep you out of trouble and out of the rest of the Defenders' way," Robin informed him dryly.
"Yes, sir." Blonde eyebrows rose as he looked at the back of the Defender's head. After a few more moments of silent travel, going down a flight of stairs, Richie tried to talk to him, not about Static or anyone else, but just to him. "So... do -you- have a Chosen?"
"No."
"Do you want one?"
Robin stopped walking and slowly turned around to look at him. Dark eyes blinked at him as Robin looked him over from head to foot and back up. "Are you propositioning me?"
"What!" Richie yelped, taking a step back. "No!"
"Good. Because we could both get in trouble if you were. From now on, keep questions like that to yourself. Or at least phrase them differently." He nodded slowly and turned back around. However, he looked back over his shoulder at him one more time before continuing on.
"Okay," Richie acquiesced, following him again. "But, um, you didn't answer my question."
"I choose not to take a Chosen," he stated. "I don't need one."
"Oh," replied the blond, nodding his head. As far as Richie knew, though, Virgil didn't need one, either. Other than for someone to pick up after him, because the world knew that Virgil Hawkins could win disaster fund relief for the area known as his room. "Okay."
Soon enough, they made it to the food hall. It was very much like a high school cafeteria. Only a bit cleaner. And nicer. With several areas from which to get food and plenty of room to sit down and eat. Granted, there were a lot of people there, both Defenders and Chosen, and the ranks seemed to be mixed very well.
There was a table of entirely female Chosen, about seven in total, all murmuring to each other while occasionally looking around to see who might be listening in to their conversation. They wore the same outfit, which seemed to be the standard fare for female Chosen. He also noticed a few other male Chosen walking around and sitting down. And while some wore outfits similar to his, some wore real clothes.
'I want clothes. I don't want to be wearing this skirt; it makes me feel naked. I want real clothes,' Richie mentally whined. 'I wonder what it would take to convince Virgil to get me some real clothes. Maybe I could just steal his...'
There was also the table where a few of the more junior Defenders sat, laughing with each other. Richie arched an eyebrow as he noticed Cyborg toss a roll at his smaller, green companion. Laughter of the team, small and young.
Beast Boy...
He noticed that the other two at that table, Raven and Starfire, were either making it a point to ignore the tossed roll, and consequent food fight, or they were just so used to it that they didn't even notice it. Starfire, her hair shining bright ruby, was talking very fast and excitedly to Raven, who was merely nodding her head and eating. From what Richie could remember, Raven was quite mad, and not in the 'I'm Angry' kind of way. On the other hand, Starfire, for all intents and purposes, was a complete and utter ditz, so how they got along, the blond human had no idea.
Green Arrow had himself surrounded by a large group of Chosen, both male and female, and only some of them seemed to be interested in what the archer was saying. A blond female in a short blue-jean mini-skirt, whom Richie was almost positive was Supergirl, walked up behind the blond Defender, walking past him to take a seat elsewhere, and as she did, she smacked him on the rear. The rest of the table laughed at his shocked reaction.
There were other tables of Defenders, talking and laughing and remembering 'war stories' together. There were a few tables with a mixture of Defenders and Chosen. There were also a few tables of just Chosen.
"Whoa…"
However, the most impressive thing in the room was the far wall. The wall was set to mimic space through an open window; well, it was either a mimicry or they were -in- space and how likely was that? Truthfully, it was always a possibility, but Richie wasn't certain of how probable. After all, having a space station was very expensive. It was also open for an attack from the few aliens that wanted to come to earth for whatever reasons that they had. That, and Richie couldn't remember getting on a rocket to get there. So, it was probably just an illusion. Still, it was a very -good- illusion.
There were a few smaller tables just in front of the image and far enough away from the rest of the tables to have the illusion of privacy. Sitting furthest from the mayhem that was the general eating area were Green Lantern and the Flash, and they were the only ones sitting at any of those tables. There were plates stacked up on the table, but from what Richie could see, only Flash was eating. Green Lantern seemed to be drinking coffee. However, he barely paid the duo any attention, his eyes going back to the screen where the stars were moving, turning away so that a new image could fill the screen.
Earth.
It was Earth.
"Oh, wow..." There really were no other words that Richie could think of at that moment. It was just too impressive for words, just so... beautiful.
"When you want to return to your and Static's room, it's down the hallway to the fourth corridor, take a left, and then down to the stairs where you will go up a flight. You'll go right, down that corridor until you reach the sixth intersection. There, you'll take another right. And it will be the seventh door on your left," Robin informed him, completely unimpressed by the view. As if he didn't trust the blond Chosen, he sighed and added, "Or you could get someone to escort you back."
"I think I've got it," Richie tried to reassure him.
"All right," acknowledged Robin. He looked him over one more time before turning away. "Good luck." And then he was gone.
Richie tried to focus on the food hall. It was time to eat. And hopefully, he could make at least one friend while he was there. However, his eyes seemed to stray back to the image of Earth spinning slowly in the mock-window.
-o0o-
"It seems our little Turtle Dove got distracted today," Ebon said after he flipped the stop button on the DVD player. He, Shiv, Talon, Hotstreak, Aquamaria, Carmen Dillo, Kangor, Onyx, and Puff sat around a room dimly lit room, watching the video. The air carried the slight stench of mildew and dampness, a scent that they were never quite able to eradicate in their underground lair, much like a certain Defender. They were seated in an abandoned subway car, which was set up like a boardroom, with him sitting at its head and the others gathered around him. When the show was over, almost all eyes turned to Ebon. Only Hotstreak was watching Talon, and his lower lip was set in a pout of annoyance. "But that's understandable. He was in rare form today. Very... impatient."
"Yeah," Shiv snickered. "Hotstreak ain't the only hothead."
Talon grinned slightly at Shiv's joking, but didn't laugh as she caught the accusation in Francis's eyes. "We already have tons of stock footage of Hotstreak fighting. But we only capture him losing-"
"Oh, gee, thanks!" the red-haired youth snarled as small ball of flame formed in his hand. "And I don't -always- lose."
"Not always," Puff agreed. She was in charge of a branch of Ebon's gang, that of finding potential meta-humans and bringing them into the organization, if only to sell them a month later. Some of them thought of The Breed as a gang, while others thought of it as a new family. But to her, it was merely business. She had no real love for any of the other members of the gang, except maybe Onyx, but she tolerated them. Before Hotstreak thought he had an ally in this argument, though, the petite meta-hunter clarified. "Just most of the time."
Preventing the argument from turning into a full out fight, complete with powers, Ebon cut in, his voice as precise as one of Shiv's blades. "Do we have enough stock footage of Hotstreak fighting to make a decent production?"
"Yes," Talon promised.
"No problem," Shiv grinned, answering at the same time as his female accomplice. "We have tons of film with Hotstreak fighting, either rescuing one of the other meta-humans, getting one of them into trouble, getting them angry, or just testing the video equipment to see how close we could get while still being safe to film him. No worries."
"Good," Ebon nodded. "Then get to work on it."
"Yes, sir!" Shiv laughed as he left the room, making sure to take the disc from the player before he exited.
"Puff, have you found any prospects for the Market for next month?" the shadowy figure asked.
"Well, there are two, but I don't know how willing they'd be," the young woman replied, leaning forward and ready to do business. This was what she enjoyed, what she did best. Sure, finding the next target was fun and was often entertaining, but many times it was boring and the rest of her gang only came across a potential 'Dark Disciple' by accident. "One is a young female, brown hair, green eyes, and skin like metal. Doesn't want to be a Bang-Baby."
Talon snorted at this and rolled her eyes. 'As if anyone really -wants- to be a freak.'
"The other is a bit older, male, and..."
"And?"
Puff sighed, and a small cloud of harmless, or at least mostly harmless, green smoke appeared. She shuffled some papers in front of her before she looked over at the leader of The Breed. Her blood was pumping, and it was all she could do to remain in a solid state. "We did some digging on this one, trying to find out what we could use against him. Seems that there's one sure fire way to get to him, other than his profession. He's a musician, a rapper to be more precise."
"What's the other way?"
"Family."
Talon shook her head, looking quickly at Ebon. No. No, that wasn't good. That wasn't a good option. No one needed to bring in anyone's family. With wide eyes, she couldn't stop from blurting out, "Does his family know... you know, that he's a...?"
"Not yet," Puff replied, grinning smugly, "but his only family is about to."
Talon ruffled her feathers, looking back to Ebon, and then back at Puff. She was about to say that they didn't out other meta-humans, that they only took those that were away from their families, that they only placed those that were already 'lost' to the real world with those who'd want them, but Puff was staring intently at Ebon, and no one else was paying the golden bird any attention either.
"It's YOUR brother, Ebon."
If their leader felt anything by this revelation, the shadows that formed his body didn't reveal anything. Talon settled back down in her seat and waited for the fall out of this discovery. The silence didn't last long, though. "How did you know I had a brother?"
To the shock of those not in her closest confidence, Puff smiled, seemingly oblivious to the deadly threat in their leader's voice. "I have my sources."
Whether or not Ebon accepted the explanation, no one was really sure. However, he did ask, "What are his powers?"
"He's basically built out of rubber now, able to stretch and to bounce."
There was another prolonged silence as everyone waited for Ebon to say something, anything, that would clue them in on what he was thinking. Finally, Ebon leaned back. "See what the female wants out of life. If we can use her, get her. If we can't, forget about her. There are others. There are always others. As for my brother... Watch him. Find out all that you can."
"Got it," Puff nodded.
Ebon waived his hand, dismissing her and the rest of her party. As they were getting up to leave, he turned back to Talon. "How much footage do you have of our local battery?"
"Static Shock?" Talon asked, but even as she asked, she was making a mental calculation. "He's on just about every tape we have."
"I want you to slice another production for me. Nothing but him. I want to see how he fights, how he moves, what he uses and what he avoids. Every second of footage of him you've got, I want." The Breed's leader's voice was exceptionally quiet, and the few remaining in the room were at instant attention. Something was up. They knew it. Ebon's mind worked in mysterious ways, and until he told them what was going on, none of them would know anything more than something was in the works.
And since it involved an enemy, they knew that it was going to be big. Probably bloody, too, but definitely big.
"You got it, Ebon," Talon nodded, getting up. "I'm on it."
"Good," he murmured, even as he began to dissipate into the darkness of his chair. "Very good."
-o0o-
Virgil growled to himself as he made one more round over the streets of Dakota. Usually, he loved this, flying along on electromagnetic currents, feeling the wind through his hair and the admiration of the people on the streets below him. But today, he just felt annoyed. Not only had he been called out of bed when he was comfortable and warm and, for once, -with- someone, but he had been called out of bed for Hotstreak. And the fire freak had gotten away!
But, of course, Hotstreak took the time to melt his shoes first. Of course. Because that was what -always- happened when they got into a fight. Hotstreak would throw fireball after fireball, trying to burn down the city around them, only to end up pissing off Virgil and melting his shoes.
They were new shoes!
Granted, he stopped buying expensive shoes after the first two pair ended up like his current cheap ones, but that was beside the point. He wanted his shoes to last, oh, say, longer than a week.
It'd be nice.
The young Defender sighed to himself and ran a hand through his thick dreadlocks. He was more than annoyed. He was angry, and he knew he needed to calm down. With his emotions as turbulent as they were, getting transported back home would be... unpleasant.
"And while I wouldn't mind my name being said all over the world, I don't want my atoms like that," he muttered aloud to himself. Something about his powers messed with the transportation beam. He had never liked using it, even on the best of days. He had woken up with nightmares because of the blasted thing, screaming in terror at feeling his molecules fall apart around him, and not being able to reform, as they were too happy dancing across the sky like heat lightning during summer.
What really had Virgil so upset had very little to do with his toasted shoes and the idea of being lost in the transition from Dakota to the Fortress, and more to do with the blond that had slept in his bed with him last night. The young male rubbed his jaw, wincing at the bruise there that wasn't acquired during his tussle with Hotstreak.
Richie had hit him! Hard, too!
Of course, in hindsight, he had deserved it. But that didn't make the bruise any less aggravating. There was also the fact that it had been really nice to see the blond again. He hadn't been able to speak with anyone he had known before... before he became a Defender. It was part of the Rules, with a capitol R.
No one was allowed to know who he was, or where he was from, except his Chosen. It was too dangerous. He, just like everyone else, wasn't allowed to talk with his former family, wasn't allowed to reference them, wasn't allowed to have pictures of them, or attend weddings or funerals. It might clue someone in on who he was. Granted, he was bending those rules by making Dakota his territory, but it wasn't like some of the others didn't pick locations.
Superman had Metropolis, a high-class city with high-class crimes. Gotham City, a city that Vigil was eternally grateful wasn't his to patrol, which had the same dark, broody attitude that Batman did. Flash, when he wasn't gallivanting across the galaxies with Green Lantern, was the guardian for Central City.
Him? He had Dakota.
He had his old neighborhood, where he first learned to ride a bike and to avoid traffic. He had the mall where he used to shop for clothes, music, and movies. He had his old church, where some Sundays he still went and hung out, just outside the window and listened to the reverend's sermon. He had his old high school where he flew by to watch his old classmates between classes, and where he sometimes thought about just going down and just -talking- with one of them. He had the cemetery, where his mom was buried, and apparently so was he.
Which was just depressing.
Sighing again, Virgil acknowledged that it was time to return to the Fortress. He flew his shield to a nearby rooftop and landed, sliding the shield over his back. The thing wasn't light and made him grunt as it slapped against his back. He wrinkled his nose as he looked down at his shoes; melted shoes felt awkward to walk on. The fact that the roof had gravel on it didn't help. He pressed his hand to just above his ear, where a small transmitter was. "Hey, anyone there?"
There was a moment of silence before a startling clear voice replied, "Robin, here."
"I need a lift, man."
Without responding, Virgil felt his entire body tingling, making him more nervous and agitated than usual. It was as if his power had a sudden spike, and it was all he could do to contain it. When he first arrived, it had been by cargo ship, as they were -all- too afraid of what might happen trying to transport him through the transit unit. But that had been years ago, and since then, not only had his powers stabilized but the transport unit had undergone a few modifications. The first few times he had attempted to use the transport system, he had freaked out, and it had nearly killed him. Now, he merely shut his eyes, bit his tongue, and tried not to think about how his already overly energized molecules were reacting to the transport beam that the Fortress was using because if he did he was either going to scream or get sick.
After a few moments of tense waiting, where the absence of sound was replaced by the low hum that was the Fortress Transport Center, Virgil opened one dark brown eye. Robin was standing behind the podium area where the controls to the transport were, the picture of total relaxation and boredom. Virgil released a tense breath, letting it slide out through barely parted lips.
Robin waited patiently for the other teenager to regain his composure. Those that worked the transport knew that some of the Defenders had a real problem with the technology. Like Captain Atom, who was afraid that he would somehow damage the machine or it would damage him.
When it seemed that the dark skinned teen was steady again, he asked, "Patrolling this early?"
"Not if I can help it. It was an alarm," Virgil replied, moving on shaking legs, and unsteady feet, to the outer rim of the transport circle. Not that he didn't trust the machine or anything, but accidents were known to happen. He tried to tell himself that the unsteadiness of his feet was due to the melted conditions of his shoes. 'Do I even have any extra shoes? Maybe under the couch...'
Robin nodded. He was well aware of some of Static Shock's enemies, especially the repeat offenders. It seemed that some of Dakota's problem children were making it out of the urban jungle and into other cities, including his base of operations: Gotham. Seeing how gingerly Virgil was stepping, his eyes traveled down to the other male's shoes, and he smirked. "Hotstreak, I take it."
"Yeah," Static sighed, shaking his head.
Robin nodded and adjusted the controls of the transportation unit. Just as Virgil made it over to the exit, Robin's casual, oh-by-the-way voice reached his ears. "You might want to stop by the cafeteria first."
"No way, man. I smell like I rolled around in liquid asphalt," Virgil said as he crinkled his nose. He paused a moment, tilting his head to the side as he though. He turned back to grin slightly at the seemingly younger Defender. "Which, actually, isn't that far off from the truth."
Robin merely shrugged. "Richie's in the cafeteria."
"Say -what-?" Now Virgil's attention was completely on the other male. As far as he knew, Richie had no idea how, and no need, to go to the food-hall.
"Cafeteria. Richie." It was all Robin could do not to smirk. "He's there."
"How did he—? I mean, what's he—? Why—?"
"I assume he was hungry."
"There's food in my room. I think," Virgil thought aloud. "In the fridge or... wait. Maybe in the—no. I was pretty sure I left something in there."
"Apparently not."
"So how did he get to the cafeteria?"
For once, Robin stood to his full height and took his time to look Static up and down, as if challenging him. He was tempted to do something very Batman-esque, and not reply, but the utter confusion in Static's face made him take pity. After all, they had been friends for a good few years already, and he had carried this game on long enough. Grinning mischievously, he replied, "He was lost. I escorted him."
"Aw, man," Static groused, turning back towards the door. He was such an idiot at times. He should have made -sure- he had food in stock before he left the night before. Or at least made sure before he left this morning, instead of going to the cafeteria to get a quick breakfast. "Well, guess changing will have to wait."
"And Static?" Robin called out, just as the doors to the hallway were opening up
"Yeah?"
"You really do smell horrible." The young Defender crinkled his nose and nodded his head, confirming what Static had already said.
"Thanks." Virgil rolled his eyes he stepped through the automated doors. He turned to the left and proceeded to the cafeteria. His stomach took the opportunity to make its thoughts on the situation known. Apparently, a couple of Pop Tarts weren't enough food for a full battle and three rounds through the city.
He made his way to the cafeteria, grateful that he didn't have to walk too far—as it was mostly a matter of catching a lift from one floor to another—and feeling the discomfort from his melted shoes growing with each step he took. His irritation with Hotstreak grew with each step as well.
He passed a few people in the hallway, but none paid him much attention, too used to seeing him—or at least too used to seeing costumed heroes walking around—to care too much about one more. Normally, that would have made him feel good, like he wasn't so different. Today, it just made him wonder what would faze those of the Fortress.
Global catastrophes? They were an everyday occurrence. Alien invasions? They were almost routine. Armageddon? The four horsemen seemed to be on just about every super-villain's speed dial.
'Maybe seeing Batman singing. That might shock a few people...' Virgil thought about it, trying to imagine the scene, and failed miserably.
He didn't want to think about what kind of trouble Richie might have gotten into while he made his way to the food-hall. Still, he knew someone could try to make a move on the blond, or try to make friends with him, or try to brush him off as inconsequential. Not that any of the other Defenders were mean, cruel, or vicious, but they each had their own personality quirks. All those fears were for nothing though, as the doors to the cafeteria opened. His dark eyes immediately fell onto the newest of the Chosen, sitting by himself, simply watching the view.
Virgil had to admit, the view was truly amazing. He had been captivated by it when he first got to the Fortress, opting to be here in the food-hall for hours, rather than his lonely room. He had made friends here, with the Teen Titans, and a few of the other Defenders. Some of the Defenders would always be more like his heroes rather than his friend, like Green Lantern and Batman, but some were his friends. Like Flash. But then, Flash was just about everyone's friend, except maybe Batman's. It wasn't Flash's fault, though. It was just really difficult to be the Night Terror's friend.
He debated whether or not to grab some food before he walked over to sit with Richie, but his feet were moving before his brain was. He found himself sitting next to the blond before he had thought of something appropriate to say to his friend and just blurted out, "Hotstreak melted my shoes."
"Hey! V—erm, Static." Richie nearly fell out of his chair as he jumped. He caught himself both physically, and verbally, before he peeked under the table, his eyebrows rising. "Oh, wow, that... is pretty bad."
"Yeah. Doesn't feel too good either." He tried to joke about it, but just looking at the mess had him pouting slightly. Turning a bit to the side, Virgil pulled off his ruined shoes and set them in the chair next to him.
"Ooh. Static. Did you know your shoes are all melted, man?"
"Kinda escaped my notice, Flash." He grinned slightly as the red clad speedster came and sat at the table with him and Richie.
"Yeah, you should check into getting some new ones. I'm always having to get new shoes. Mine tend to... wear out... fast," Flash said as he took one of the shoes in hand and began to inspect it. He ran his gloved fingers over the soles, trying to think of what might have caused it to melt in such a way, as his shoes had never melted like that. Granted, they had melted clean off his feet, but they had never seemed to just... puddle around the soles.
"I can imagine," Virgil nodded, looking over to Richie's wide eyes.
"Yeah, there's like some experiment Wayne Enterprises is working on to make a... rubber that won't... you know... wear down so fast. For me. Because... Yeah." Flash's rambling began to trail off as Green Lantern came and sat down, and if the red-suited speed freak had wanted to say anything else, the message got lost on the highways and byways that made up Flash's mind.
Virgil wasn't a hundred percent sure that there wasn't a double meaning to what Flash just said, after all, the speedster was very into shoes and for a good reason, but Virgil was a self-admitted teenager, and sometimes, his mind wandered into the gutter. In the ensuing silence, he wasn't all that sure how to ask if there was a hidden meaning to the words. So, the silence stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time afterward, as Richie wasn't saying anything either. Though, Static wasn't sure if that was because Richie didn't know what to say, didn't want to say anything, or wasn't sure if him talking was okay. Some of the Chosen came to the Fortress with some very strange ideas about what went on. He'd have to ask Richie about—
"What is that smell?" Green Lantern asked as he sniffed the air with a look of revulsion on his face, effectively breaking into Virgil's thoughts.
The younger Defender sighed and hung his head. "That would be me."
"Ick," Flash said as he made a face. "Careful with that. You could make even me lose my appetite. And that? Is really, really difficult."
"I suppose that smell also has something to do with your shoes. How did that happen, Static?" inquired Green Lantern, leaning forward to listen.
"Hotstreak."
Flash grinned. "Good story?"
"Long story."
"Just give us the short and skinny."
"Well, it started with an alarm going off kind of early this morning..."
"No, no," interrupted Flash. "I said 'short and skinny,' not 'blow-by-blow'. So, you know, like... Short. Skinny. You know."
Virgil raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at Richie and grinned. He turned back to the older two Defenders and informed them, "Alarm. Went to Dakota. Hotstreak was on a rampage. We fought. Shoes got melted. He escaped. That's pretty much it."
"Okay." Flash turned to Green Lantern. Gesturing to the electric youth, he grinned, "See? He knows what 'short and skinny' means. You could learn a lot from him. You know, making things concise and-and, you know, not long, drawn-out explanations that make me think you're trying to belittle my intelligence even though you're actually trying to instill some important lesson that's really just going over my head because I can't sit there and listen to every single word coming out of anyone's mouth with Batman-like attention to detail because, like, -nobody- has an attention span like his."
"Can't belittle something that isn't there," Green Lantern deadpanned.
"Hey! That's not nice," Flash pouted then noticed GL's signature 'I'm kidding' smirk. "Oh, I see. Jerking my chain. Look, I was just saying that short and to-the-point is nice."
"You know I like taking my time with things that are… important," the former marine replied smoothly, and there was a note to his voice of which the three at the table were very much aware, but Virgil and Richie weren't entirely sure what it was.
Flash looked at him a moment and then smiled. "Hmm. Well, catch you kids later!"
Richie and Virgil watched as the two older heroes left their table and then proceeded to the door. As they neared the automated doors the twin panels slid apart, and the duo stood to the side to allow Superman to enter the room. Most of the noise from the food-hall quieted down, as all eyes turned to regard the leader of the Defenders.
Superman was a great man and strong enough to hold the hope of the world on his shoulders. There wasn't a leader of any organization or nation that didn't listen to the dark-haired Kryptonian's words. The people in the food hall were well aware of his heightened senses, and once he nodded his head to them, some picked up their conversations again.
Trying to appear at least remotely cool, Virgil nonchalantly turned back to Richie and said, "So, hey! I see you found your way to the cafeteria."
"Yeah, I found you have some really weird ideas about what food is and had to find the food-hall before I starved."
"Sorry about that," Virgil winced, and the action was clearly broadcasted, even though he wore his mask. "About not having anything. I thought I had some food in the fridge or at least the cabinets."
"Cans of tuna fish by themselves?" Richie grinned, softly laughing at his friend's discomfiture. "Those don't count."
"Yes, they do! They're... They're food," Static tried, jokingly arguing with his Chosen. It felt good to be there with him, someone who knew him for him. It... It wasn't the same, joking with Robin or Flash. He missed it.
Being normal. Being... human.
Richie rolled his eyes, unaware of Virgil's thoughts. "Mm-hmmm."
"Well, they -are-," Virgil mock-groused. He grinned, though, before he asked, "Should we get more for there, or would you rather come down here?"
"This place isn't so bad, but... It would be nice to have the kitchen in your room fully stocked," Richie replied carefully, thinking of how embarrassing it would be to have to come here in the middle of the night for a midnight snack. Or about arriving when all they really wanted to do was stay in bed... But the likelihood of that happening? He wasn't counting on it. So, it was better to focus on the practical. "How exactly would we go about doing that, by the way?"
"Well, there's this computer thing, and you place orders on it, and the stuff is delivered. I think. I dunno. I haven't actually used it much. Or at all," answered Static, trying to remember the instructions he had been given when he first arrived. But he hadn't wanted to eat in his room. He didn't want to be alone with himself, or his powers, or his new status. He had wanted to be out, with others, trying to figure out where he fit in.
"Well, I'd be happy to take care of that. For us," the blond suggested as he looked down at what remained on his plate, fighting the blush that wanted to streak across his face like the Flash's crimson blur.
"That'd be great, Richie! I could ask Batman to show you how to use it." Virgil thought about that a moment, and then amended his statement. "Or maybe Robin..."
"No, no, that's okay. I'm sure I could... figure it out myself?" interjected Richie. He had seen enough of Robin for one day, and he really didn't want Virgil to find out that he had accidentally made a pass at him. Really. He -so- didn't want that. "I'm still pretty good with computers."
"That's cool," Virgil said as he brushed one of his dreadlocks out of his eyes. He looked around and then back at Richie. He then noticed the plate in front of his Chosen was almost completely clean. "Say, are you almost done?"
"Pretty much," the bespectacled male nodded.
"How about a movie in our room? And you can figure out how to order us stuff while I shower because... I reek."
"I noticed." Richie wrinkled his nose. He stood up, leaving his tray behind for one of the only slightly humanoid robots to come pick up. "Shall we go, then?"
Virgil nodded, grabbed his shoes, and swept his arm out, motioning for Richie to lead the way out. Once outside the cafeteria, though, Virgil took the lead, passing through the maze of corridors and hallways as if it was a simple math problem.
By the time they arrived back at their room, Richie was thoroughly lost and knew it would take either being led or getting a map to figure out how to get back to the food-hall. 'Just as well I'm going to figure out how to order in. No way am I figuring out the specs on this place any time soon.' He watched as Virgil tore off his mask and looked around the now clean room.
"Whoa, you've been busy!" Virgil turned to grin at his friend. His grin widened when he saw Richie's light blush and awkward shrug.
"I like being organized," replied the blond, dismissing the praise.
Virgil thought about teasing his friend some more but then began thinking about his own predicament. "Hey, you didn't happen to come across another pair of shoes, did you?"
"Yeah, there were two under the couch."
"Yeah!"
"Yeah." Richie adjusted his glasses before taking them off and bringing them down to his skirt to wipe clean. "But they weren't a pair. One shoe from two different pairs."
"Aw." Virgil's head dropped for a moment, and several of his dreadlocks fell forward into his face. "Well, I guess I'll have to ask for a new pair."
"Yeah?" Richie perked up.
"Yeah," Virgil pouted. "I seem to be spending most of the money I get a week on new shoes. Maybe I should talk to someone from Wayne Ent. about what Flash was talking about."
"You mean... you have to pay for things here?"
"Well, yeah," Virgil nodded. "I'm, like, sorta on an allowance."
Blue eyes blinked twice before Richie was able to sputter out, "But you're a Defender!"
"Yeah, well... I'm still on an allowance."
"So... I guess I'd be a little out of line in asking to get some clothes."
Virgil heard the sound of disappointment in Richie's voice and winced. He smacked his head for the second time that day and realized for the first time that having a Chosen was about like having a pet. And his Pops had never let him have a dog, much less anything as exotic as another person. "Aw, man, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that!"
"Hey, not to worry," Richie grinned. "I'll just steal -your- clothes."
Virgil smiled. "Hey, as long as they're clean... Speaking of which, I really need to shower."
Richie nodded his head, still smirking. Before he went to the bathroom, Virgil pointed out the panel set against the door that was where orders were supposed to be placed for food and basic supplies. Things like that didn't cost anything, as they were paid for by Wayne Enterprises, which was what funded all of the Fortress's needs. And then he went to the shower, praying that he would be able to get the smell of tar and asphalt and char off.
-oOo-
In the time it took Virgil to take his shower, scrubbing all the dirt and grime and sweat off, Richie had managed to figure out how the console worked and had ordered dinner plus some snacks. After Virgil ate, and Richie had placed an order for another pair of shoes for him, they sat down to watch movies.
They were on their third movie so far and hadn't been interrupted yet, which, for Virgil, was a miracle.
Richie was sitting on one end of the couch with Virgil's feet in his lap. Virgil, for his part, was lying down, his head propped up the armrest. They were both looking at the television, but neither was really paying that much attention to it.
If either of them had had their bare feet on the floor, they would have felt it hum with the energy it was taking to use the transport system, not two floors down. No one lived on the floors immediately surrounding the transport center due to the power it used and because some thought that living near it was hazardous.
However, as far as Virgil was concerned, there were other things, much closer to him, that were just as hazardous to his sanity.
Virgil glanced down at the other end of the sofa, where Richie was playing with his feet. With the way Richie's hands had fallen, both thumbs were pressed over his ankles, and the blond was absently rubbing them. It almost tickled, but mostly, it felt good.
Virgil looked down his body, grateful that his baggy clothes hid some of his body's reaction to the attention. He wasn't too sure how Richie would respond. Fact of the matter was, he didn't know a lot about his Chosen, such as what his preferred food was, what kind of music he listened to, or anything of that nature. As he thought about it, he began to wonder if they had anything in common anymore or not.
As the movie played on, Virgil began to figure out what he was going to do, mainly with himself. If he didn't stop what Richie was doing soon, he was going to be in some serious pain. With a capital E.
Richie jumped as Virgil pulled his feet out of his lap and moved to stand up.
"You want something to drink?" asked Virgil, and was very proud of the fact that his voice remained as cheerfully neutral as ever.
"Nah. I've still got some of my root beer," the blond replied as he shook his still half full can.
Virgil nodded as he walked into the kitchen. He busied himself with fixing a glass of cola as he tried to calm the soft buzz of excitement that was pulsing through his system. He managed to calm down easily enough and return to the living room.
Where he found Richie had taken his seat. Or rather, his Chosen was lying down on the sofa, and his feet were now resting on Virgil's side of the sofa. Virgil raised an eyebrow at the switch in positions but gladly set his glass down and moved Richie's feet so that he could sit.
He thought to return the favor of the foot massage, but his found that his Chosen wasn't about to let that happen.
Richie yelped like a small child when Virgil ran his fingers softly from the heel of one of Richie's feet to the toes. Virgil looked at the blond quickly, even as the foot in his hand tried to jerk back.
"Virgil! Don't do that, man!"
Dark eyes blinked in surprise, and then a small, devious smile formed across full lips. "What's the matter? Ticklish?"
"No!"
The denial would have been more believable if it hadn't come out as a cross between a shriek and a squeak, and if Richie wouldn't have blushed while he said it.
If there was any doubt that the transformation into a Defender had excised the demons that drove the others of Dakota insane, they vanished with the positively evil laugh that erupted from the electric Defender.
And then the war began.
Virgil had fought many opponents with some interesting powers, but somehow, not even Aquamaria had the ability to squirm out of his grasp like Richie could. And then the blond would glare at him and return the attack.
Somehow they managed to stay on the sofa, which was a miracle to say the least. However, the struggling was a mixed blessing because while it was fun, and a lot more entertaining to him than a movie that he had seen several hundred times, the friction between his body and Richie's was making him hotter than one of Hotstreak's attacks.
Using one of the moves he'd learned since becoming a Defender, Virgil managed to pin Richie's arms across his chest. The blond Chosen was laying on his back, with the dark skinned Defender leaning over him. They stared into each other's eyes, both of them flushed from the exercise, and from something neither of them were willing to say to the other, and between them, all that could be heard was their rapid breathing.
Until an explosion and a scream from the television caught both of their attention.
They watched, or rather, they looked at the television for a few moments before Virgil looked back at the pale figure below him.
Richie turned to look at him and then down their bodies so that he could look at his still captured hands. "Hey, V, you going to let me up any time soon?"
"And let you attack me again? I don't think so," Virgil replied with a smile. He slid behind Richie, one hand still holding on tightly to both of Richie's. He didn't need to be looking at Richie's face to know that the blond was rolling his eyes. However, his Chosen still moved so that he was able to spoon him from behind. They continued to shift in little ways until they were both comfortable, and able to see the television screen.
Richie could feel Virgil's hot breath over his ear as they lay together, and he did his best to suppress the goose bumps that threatened to break out all over his body. They were both shirtless and could feel the heat from the other's body. Granted, Virgil was wearing pants and Richie wasn't; in fact, he was still in nothing but the small white wraparound, and he figured that if they continued to lie like they were, it was going to be more of a belt than a skirt. But their bodies seemed to find ways to mold against each other, molding together so that they were both comfortable and both still completely on the sofa. It felt good to lie like they were, to simply enjoy the other's company.
Virgil closed his eyes and felt how tired he was by the heat behind his eyelids. He sighed softly, adjusting one more time so that he was more or less holding onto Richie instead of restraining him. Granted, he wasn't deluding himself into believing that it was any kind of alternative to what he really wanted, which involved a bed, dim lights, and lots and lots of time, but the contentment he felt was like an oven mitt, protecting him from the heat of his own thoughts. He had a sudden impulse, like a flash fire, and before he could get up the reasons not to do it, he found himself licking his lips and consequently running his tongue over the edge of Richie's ear.
While they might have both been looking in the direction of the television, neither one paid any attention to the movie. As close as they were, it would have taken a deaf person not to hear the sudden alteration in Richie's breathing. Virgil moved again, running his closed lips in an almost absentminded caress over the pale, bare skin of Richie's neck. He didn't do more than that, just held his Chosen, just enjoyed the feel of him.
It wasn't enough to last him, but it was enough for the moment.