Author: Summer Starr
Disclaimer: I don't own DC, WB, or the like. That means Static Shock, JL, Teen Titans, Batman, Superman, or any other villains or heroes that you might notice.
Warnings: Slash (Virgil/Richie, GL/Flash, others), Alternate Universe, Cross Over (pay attention, and you'll spot other DC heroes)
Author's Note: If some characters seem OOC, then it's my fault because I don't have as good a handle on them as I'd like. For those of you who are AMV inclined, I threw in some ideas for ya. Maybe it might inspire you. If not, that's cool too.
Ratings: M
Title: Like A Dream
Like A Dream
Part Three
The room was a total mess. If chaos was an art form, then the inhabitants were master craftsmen. Trashcans had balls of paper falling on the floor around them. Scratched CD-R's and CD-RW's were scattered on every available shelf, including the floor. Empty soda cans stood tall as well as crunched on the floor. Days old food littered the ground around the work areas. There was a stench to the air that had nothing to do with the mildew and rot that permeated the rest of their dank lair.
There were several computers, some of which were just husks of their former selves, but there were some that were completely functional, completely usable machines. Stacked very nicely along two desks were monitors, and each monitor faced the opposing desk. Spread out between the consoles were various VCRs, DVD players, CD players, and a few X-boxes as well. All in all, if that area had just a few more wires and electronics, it would quite possibly pass as a portion of a Borg Cube from Star Trek.
How anyone could work in the area was a mystery to those that didn't. But what many failed to realize was the computer consoles—the keyboards and mouse areas in particular—were amazingly clean. Almost to the level of manic.
The most adamant source of pollution in the area, though, was actually noise.
There were four large speakers set against one wall that looked as if they had been stolen from an outside concert. If it had been above ground in a normal house, every building within a mile's radius could have felt the pulsing beat when the base was pushed to its highest level. However, they were so far below ground that no one was subjected to the punishment dealt by the massive level of decibels.
Presently, however, the music being played wasn't nearly as obscene as some of the other tracks played. Instead, the room was filled with only the tuneless hum of machines and the shuffling of various papers and CD cases.
Shiv was sitting at his desk, scrolling through his computer's music files. "What about 'Oh Fortuna' from 'Carmina Burama'?"
"That'd be a good fight scene." Talon nodded as she shuffled through a few lists. For every auction, they created several music videos, highlighting their merchandise. Sometimes they went instrumental, sometimes hard rock, sometimes Blues. It really depended upon the Bang Baby with which they were dealing. Some were more difficult to choose for than others, and Hotstreak was one of the more challenging ones. "But I'm more in favor of something a little less classical and more classic, like Ozzy."
"Ozzy!" Hotstreak looked askance at the feathered female. "You think I'm like Ozzy? C'mon! Why not something fun? Like 'Sabotage' by Beastie Boys. Or 'Party Up' by DMX?"
"Or 'Pretty Fly for a White Guy' by Offspring!" Talon mimicked the pyro's enthusiasm so closely that both Shiv and Hotstreak turned to her.
"Hey, I didn't know you were part parrot," snickered Shiv. A CD case flew through the air, and if it wasn't for the fact that he was expecting it, it would have hit him square in the face. "Hey, I got the perfect one for you, Talon. 'Engel' by Rammstein."
"Thanks," she said, rolling her eyes, "but we aren't talking about me. We're trying to deal with Mr. Macho. Oh, what about 'Macho Man' by The Village People?"
"How about you getting serious?" huffed Hotstreak. He crossed his arms over his chest and flopped down in one of the two armchairs in the room, one leg thrown over the armrest. "What about 'Flirting with Disaster' by..."
"Don't know that song." Shiv shook his head. "And I'm not downloading it."
"Why not?"
"Don't you know?" Shiv replied, looking over his shoulder at the hotheaded teen. "Piracy is bad."
Hotstreak looked at him, considered frying him, and then just shook his head and moved on. There really was no point in trying to figure out those that worshiped crazy people, just like it was a wasted effort trying to figure out crazy people themselves. "What about 'Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me, Kill me' by U2?"
"'Kashmir' by Led Zeppelin?"
"'Guilty' by Gravity Kills?"
"'Sunday Bloody Sunday' by U2?"
"'Give it Away' by Red Hot Chili Peppers?"
"I've got it!" Shiv twirled in his seat for a moment before coming to a sudden stop so that he could laugh at the other two. "'More Human than Human' by White Zombie!"
"Hey! I like it! That works!" Hotstreak laughed standing up and flexing his fiery powers by forming two spheres of flames, one for each hand.
"Dude!" Shiv exclaimed, sounding remarkably like a female victim from any one of his favorite horror movies. "Watch the fires, man! Not near my babies!"
"Tscha," the redhead smirked, allowing the large spheres of pure flame in his hand to simmer away. "Seems like Talon isn't the only mother hen in here."
Talon stuck her tongue out at him as she sat on the floor, trying to remember the words to the chosen song. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Ebon formed himself in the room. "Ebon!"
"Hey. 'Sup?"
"Hey, Ebon," Shiv grinned manically. "We just figured out what song we're going to use for Hotstreak's music vid. I tell ya, using music videos to see stuff is the perfect idea. MTV had a great scam going, back in the day."
"Right," the shadow figure replied dryly. He turned to regard Talon, who was slowly picking up the disc cases and papers from the floor. Not that she was actually organizing them in any order, but she was getting them up off the floor. They were still good discs, after all. "By the way, Talon, I wanted to thank you for all the effort you put into making that disc for me. They were very... enlightening."
"No problem." The only DVDs she had cut recently had been... the one of all the Static footage. It had been over a week since she had started the slow process of cutting and splicing together every second of footage that they had, but she had done it.
Ebon leaned back against a wall leisurely as he looked at the stacks of papers and CDs and DVDs around the room. "Do you have a copy of all the DVDs that you cut for me?"
"Huh?" She stumbled, turning quickly to regard the taller male. Of course she made back-ups, just in case. People weren't the only things lost in these dark passageways, after all. "Oh, yeah, sure. Why?"
"Because I have a new project for you."
Talon put her stacks of cases and papers on a nearby table, one that was already overcrowded with papers and other assortments of... things. As was his habit, once he found an idea, Shiv had abandoned the real world and had invested all of his skills into his new project. He had produced headphones from who only knew where and was listening the Hotstreak's new theme song on repeat.
"Sure thing, Señor," she grinned. "Whatcha want?"
"I want you... to make a music video for me for another auction."
"Yeah?"
"One for Static Shock."
Hotstreak was suddenly paying very close attention to the dialogue between the other two members of the gang. He was always interested in anything that allowed him to beat up on Static. There really was no reason for the level of animosity that he felt towards the other teen, but he felt it all the same. In fact, the only other person he could ever remember feeling such disgust and contempt towards was a punk from way back in the day named Virgil Hawkins.
Talon blinked in surprise at The Breed's leader. "You're going to put Static up?"
"Yep," Ebon nodded. "I've figured out how to do it. Which is why I asked you for all the old footage."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I have a meeting set up for tonight in regards to his capture, but I want to make sure that we have all that we need before we catch him. Because once we get him, I want to make damn sure he ain't around here for any length of time," replied Ebon. "He's one piece of cargo that we need to keep moving through the system."
"I'm on it, Ebon." Talon nodded then turned to Hotstreak and caught his eye. If they caught Static before the next auction, his debut would be delayed for another month. But, that would also mean the electric Defender would be out of their hair and causing someone else's life some misery.
Life was looking up.
-o0o-
Sometimes, Richie seriously questioned his his luck.
He had gotten lost, which was beginning to feel like a habit, and one he would dearly love to break. Looking around, he hoped for some miracle sign that would allow him to find his way back to either the food-hall or to the room he shared with Virgil.
Unfortunately, no miracles were forthcoming.
No one walked down the corridor. No voices could be heard through passageways. Nothing and no one showed up out of nowhere to guide him in the right direction. Richie had frowned, knowing that, having been there over a week, he should have figured out how to make it between his and Virgil's room and the food-hall. He was moderately intelligent, afterall! However, it seemed that he would need even more time. So, being the man he was... He had gone over to the nearest door to knock and ask for directions. Strangely, the door slid open, allowing Richie entrance. That only happened when it was a 'general access' kind of room or his and Virgil's room.
And he entered.
Richie's eyes went wide as he looked around. This wasn't his and Virgil's room. He was beginning to suspect that he wasn't even on the same -level- as his and Virgil's room. But the room he found himself in...
He had no idea where he was. It could have been someone's storage room, someone's workroom, or just a general dumpsite. There was just so much... -stuff- lying around! Sheets of metal were stacked against one wall. Wires were bundled up like balls of yarn set aside for some old crone to come by later to pick up. The air was musty, though there was familiar smell of oil and... coolants. So many sights to see in one little room, and Richie was almost overcome with the base -need- to investigate it all. However, something else caught his eyes almost immediately.
There was a workbench with some tools against one wall, and a half-finished project sitting on top of it.
The blond adjusted his glasses gingerly and walked over to the bench. On it laid a diagram of several computers, and a basic schematic for a suit woven around the computer parts. However, there were also very rough notes for an AI program sketched out along the borders. Just looking at the scribbles was enough to make Richie's head hurt. Not because it was too technical, but...
It was all -wrong-!
The notes made absolutely no sense. Dark eyebrows drew together as Richie sat down, barely noticing the dust he dislodged as he moved. He could see from where the designer of the program was coming and how it was supposed to be woven into the suit, but going with the basic schematics and the design of the human body and human body movements...
"Well, if the person the suit was designed for wasn't human, then that would solve a lot of its inherent problems, and considering who and what some of the Defenders are, it isn't too far out of the question. But, still!" Richie muttered to himself. "This is just... insane!"
He let the notes fall back to the desk, and watched as the pieces of paper fell. When the loose leafs were settled, he turned back to look at the room.
'Wouldn't it be fun to be able to hang out here, while V's away?' he thought to himself. The room itself was almost like a mad scientist's laboratory, with chemicals labeled in a glass cabinet and test tubes cleaned and stored on shelves not too far away from the desk. The blond could even spot a covered microscope tucked away in a shadowed corner.
Turning away from the raw material, Richie went further into the room, and eventually came to a more sterile, more 'Star Trek' type room. There was even a computer the size of a big screen television set into the wall, with touch pad type controls. Richie smirked as he walked over to it. He looked around and noticed a chair sitting over by another console. After a quick investigation, the Chosen stole the chair and placed it in front of the larger monitor.
And then he sat down.
And then he forgot about the rest of the world.
The next thing Richie knew, someone was grabbing the back of his chair and whirling him around.
"Hey!" the young Chosen exclaimed, his hands flying out as he tried to keep himself balanced. His first, knee-jerk mental reaction was that whoever this person was could have warned him. His second thought was that the abrupt nature wasn't needed. Then, he thought that maybe it was Virgil trying to make him yelp. Again.
But then, all thought ceased as Richie came face to chest with the person who interrupted him.
"Ohmygod!" Richie squeaked. And then blushed, because he squeaked.
Batman's eyes narrowed as he growled softly, "Not. Quite."
The blond Chosen's mouth opened a few times, but nothing other than a few unintelligible, strangled sounds made it past his lips. Batman knew all of his statistics, all his basic information: where he was from, his full name, his grade point average, his favorite classes, favorite movies, favorite books, and even what he said during his initial interview to become a Chosen. Not that Richard "Richie" Foley was any different than most of the others or any more suspicious. It was just Batman's job to know things. Richard, as Batman made himself think of him in the formal rather than the familiar, was still wearing the Chosen sarong, which almost demanded people to enjoy the view of a lot of exposed flesh. Even as frightened as he obviously was, Richard was a very fetching prize, if only for a short time.
A buzz on the Fortress Intercom distracted Batman from his silent musings. "Batman."
Batman turned away from watching his laboratory intruder and pressed two fingers against the intercom. "Batman, here. What is it, J'onn?"
"Superman is curious to know if you are going to remain in the Fortress tonight."
There was a slight breeze nearby, which caused Batman to turn around just in time to see a pale blur speeding out of his shop. With the way that he was running, Batman knew that the blond didn't know where he was going, much like a scared animal. With an inaudible sigh, Batman turned back to the intercom. "Yes, I'll be here. But I'm going to be busy."
"I will inform him," J'onn said before he allowed Batman to cut the transmission.
The Night Terror turned back to the main computer. His frown slowly turned into a curious scowl as he sat down in front of the monitor, trying to decipher what his guest had been up to.
-o0o-
Ebon stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light carefully, keeping his eyes open. He knew he was in the right place, not because he was -always- in the right place, but just looking around he knew that she was somewhere close at hand.
Everywhere around him, green things were visible. Vines hanging down. Potted plants standing tall. Some things flowered. Some things didn't. If Ebon didn't know any better, he would have sworn he was Alice, shrunk down to size, and trying to find her way through the garden. He wasn't some stupid little white chick, though, and he wasn't in an enchanted garden.
However, he still needed to find a talking flower. Of sorts.
As if sensing his thoughts, some of the greenery began to shift, as if it was more animal than plant. There was a rustle of leaves, causing Ebon to turn in suspicion and surprise. He half-expected to see a giant caterpillar smoking pot on a big 'shroom. Vines and leaves moved away from the path, allowing a white-pebbled pathway of the rooftop garden to make itself known. The man of shadows kept his paranoia around him like a second skin, as he walked down the indicated road. One never knew what to expect when one came to Gotham. Men in bat suits were the least of his concerns.
Fortunately, Ebon didn't have to go far. A curtain of flowering vines swept aside to reveal the person he came to see.
Some artists have tried to capture Nature's beauty in paintings, sculptures, and scripts. However, he doubted any of them had ever seen the woman that was reclining very seductively in front of him. Her hair was as red as some of the flowers that surrounded her. Her skin held a slightly greenish tint to it, but considering all that Ebon had seen, a slightly greenish tint was nothing to concern him. And there was a lot of skin to see, as she seemed to be almost completely nude. In fact, she only wore a gossamer dress that was split up the side so that Ebon could take time in appreciating the expanse of leg on display. Looking at her, from toes to hair back down to legs, he did take notice that she was also wearing a slight smile.
It was easy to see the beauty in the image in front of him, but Ebon never allowed the knowledge that this woman was incredibly, monstrously Dangerous. With a capital D. "Hey, there, Miss Ivy."
"Hello, Ebon," she replied in a soft, seductive voice. "How are you? Would you care to take a seat?"
Beside him, vines suddenly began to twist around themselves, rustling and fighting until a chair slowly formed. He blinked once, as he thought about refusing her hospitality, but then sat down and leaned against the tall back formed by more vines. If push came to shove, he could use his powers to slip out of any restraints she could come up with. "I'm good, and you?"
"Oh, I'm doing very well," came her response. She leaned up, which caused her dress to gape for a moment, flashing more of her pale green flesh. She swung her legs forward so that she was seated facing Ebon, and then she leaned forward with a bare hand. When she was just in front of him, she splayed her hand wide, and an apple dropped from somewhere high up. "Can I offer you some refreshments?"
Ebon looked at the proffered apple, and his mind rushed back to an old Bible story. The one about Adam and Eve. About the woman who got everyone kicked out of Eden. There was also the story of Snow White, who was offered a poisoned apple from some old queen. Again, he was not some stupid white chick. Of course, the lady in front of him couldn't be classified as that either. "Thank you, Miss Ivy, but no. One, I know you don't like men. Two, I know you like to poison people. So, thank you, but no."
"Hmm." She shrugged her delicate shoulders and leaned back onto her lounge chair, keeping her bright green eyes on him as she bit into the red fruit. After a moment, when she had swallowed the bite, she asked, "Well, if you are not here for pleasure, I take it that you are here on business?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ebon relaxed. Even though he knew he was in a place where nothing was really safe, not the water, not the air, and most definitely not the earth, he was quite sure that he was able to handle the situation. "I'm here to bargain with you."
"Oh?" she responded with a slight smirk. "And tell me, what makes you think that you have anything I want?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to reply with a tart remark, but he held it back. He was a businessman, after all. He could hold his tongue. "There are no guarantees, in business or in life, but there is always the possibility of profit."
Poison Ivy raised an eyebrow at that. "Too true."
"What would you say if I offered you first dibs on the next seven Dark Disciples?" Ebon posed, leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. "And for you, I'll let you make me an offer, a yes or no deal. And if you like one of them, then you get them."
"I could offer a very low sum. You would still be willing?" Her sharp teeth sank into her apple again.
"Ma'am, I am a man of my word."
Both of the redhead's eyebrows rose at that. As many times as she had heard -that- particular line, she was amazed that he even tried to feed it to her. But then, she had tried to give him the apple as well. "Ebon, do you realize what you just said? Do you seriously think I am a fool?"
"No, ma'am, I think you are an extremely dangerous lady. Which is why I refused your apple. I ain't a fool either. I figure it was poisoned."
"Hm." Poison Ivy's lips curved ever so slightly as she relaxed in her chair. "You were right, the apple was poisonous. To you. At any rate, this is a very generous offer. What's the catch?"
"I need your help," stated Ebon easily, though it rankled at his insides to admit such a thing. "I have a slight... pest control problem."
"Pest control?"
"Yes," the man of shadows affirmed. "Dakota has a slight... lightning bug problem."
For a moment, the reference was lost on Poison Ivy. But then she understood. She understood very well. "And what, Ebon, do you think I can do to help you?"
The dark male almost smiled. Almost. "His powers only work on things that have metal in them or carry a current. Wood doesn't carry a current. You also have several poisons, several tranquilizers, at your disposal."
"So, for the weapons that you need to bring him down, you will allow me... preferential treatment when it comes to selecting from the next seven of your lot?" she inquired, wanting clarification and to know if Ebon was serious.
"Ma'am, if I thought he'd be of any use to you, and if I had him right now, I'd offer you Static himself. But..."
"But right now, all you have is a plan," she supplied, nodding her head, "and not the man."
"Right."
There was a moment of silence as Poison Ivy closed her eyes, as if she was about to fall asleep. A slow, sly grin spread across her face, beautiful to behold. She leaned back down on her chair, even as the plant life around them began to rustle and move.
An hour later, Ebon was able to leave with a small vial of poison and several long, wooden darts.