Title: The Best Laid Plans

Author: Silverkitsune

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Static Shock and Superman are the property of the WB and all other associated networks and creators. The characters of Tracy, Derrick, and Carlos however do belong to me. The drug Lethe is also my own creation.

Authors Note: Much appreciation and thanks to all of you who are enjoying this fic enough to review.

Part 9

Virgil flew for five hours, his powers and stamina feeding off the adrenalin rush that pumped through his veins with every heart beat. It made him feel lightheaded, and weightless. Like at any moment he could step off the board and float lazily to the ground. Urgency lurked behind it, clinging to the edges and chanting hurry, hurry, hurry.

At first he followed the highways, running numbers and junctions through his head trying to remember exactly where Rt. 355 became Rt. 55 and whether or not he was supposed to get off on 59 or 33 - or was it 64? When the roads became nothing more then unfamiliar rivers of gray cement he gave up on maps and memory. Instead he headed west, flying straight into the setting sun trusting his natural sense of direction. The irony was not lost on him. Wasn't flying off into the sunset something you did after you'd saved the day?

By the time Virgil got to Metropolis the sun was gone, but his rush still lingered. It was good, because he was going to need it.

Metropolis was a big city, much bigger than Dakota. Its skyscrapers were darker, its stop lights brighter, its shadows longer in the night. Occasionally a pale yellow light would shine out through one of the oblong windows, some poor businessman working late, creating the large gaping mouth of a nocturnal sentinel waiting to devour him.  There were dozens of people on the streets too, but they kept their noses pointed at the pavement, they never noticed the quick flash of light above their heads. 

In spite of the cities size, Virgil knew where he was going. Knew what he needed to find. In all honesty, even if you weren't looking for it, the huge globe that marked the Daily Planet was hard to miss.

He avoided the windows and landed on the roof. A light breeze ran through his hair, making the rest of his body shiver. He'd been sweating, and now that he wasn't moving he felt cold. Leaning over the side of the roof he kept a loose grip on the folded board in his hand.

If you wanted to get Superman's attention there were really only two available options. Option One involved screaming for 'help' as loud as physically possible.  Simple yes, but for the normal run-of –the-mill civilian effective at least eight times out of ten. Option Two was harder, it required a lot more muscle, but it was 100% effective. Virgil didn't much like Option Two, it involved a lot of the very things he fought to prevent as Static, but he didn't have time to play damsel in distress, and he wasn't going to chance being unheard.

He gave himself another minute, taking the time to herd his stray thoughts back into his mind. Pushing away the few lingering feelings of doubt, he took a deep breath, flipped open the board and dropped over the roof's edge.

It was almost seven o'clock, but the Daily Planet was still alive and buzzing. Reporters clacked away at computers in rushes to finish final stories, copy-editors bent over hard copies of already finished pages grumbling softly about the stupidity of their co-workers, and bored temps in wrinkled khakis wandered aimlessly around the office looking for any sort of small job to perform. 

Virgil watched it all, peering in through the large glass windows that circled the building. He glossed over each face, looking for the one he would need. If she wasn't here, he was going to have to fall back on Option One.

As his eyes jumped from face to face, Virgil began to rope in his electricity. Tugging it out of every cell in his body, he pushed it out of his toes and legs, up through is torso, past his shoulders and down his arms until it was all compressed into the palms of his hands.

He finally spotted her as she walked across the room nose buried in the heart of a large manila folder. She took a seat at one of the desks closest to the window. A lanky, red haired temp, not much older than Virgil, took a seat at the edge of her desk, a camera swinging lazily from a strap around his neck. When she lifted her dark head to acknowledge him Virgil struck.

Electricity hated to be locked up. It loved to move, and wiggle. It was jumpy and quick and possessed a short unforgiving temper. When compressed into a small space it would beat wildly against the walls of its prison until released. It had not appreciated being smothered in Virgil's clenched fists.

He released the electricity in his left hand first. There was a brilliant flash of white light as it shot through his body washing over his arms, legs, stomach, and head until he was as bright as a firefly. The flash of it blinded him, and when he could once again see clearly he had the attention of the entire Daily Planet. Grinning cheekily, Virgil waved at the gawking reporters.

The electricity in his right hand, feeling that its sibling had been released thrashed violently against Virgil's palm in an attempt to escape. Drawing back his arm, Virgil wound up like a baseball pitcher and threw the power straight into the nearest streetlight.

It lit up like burning star, brilliant and beautiful, before exploding. Showers of glass rained down onto the pavement. Virgil yanked hard on the electricity and sent it hopscotching into the next light, and then the next. He maneuvered it across the street then back, creating a spider web of treacherous light. Pandemonium broke out as pedestrians raced to get off the streets, but amidst the surge Virgil could spot two individuals running onto them. Lois Lane was not hard to spot, and the red haired temp form her desk was right behind her, camera lens pointed at Virgil as he snapped picture after picture.

Virgil circled the crowd once then dove down through one of the holes in his electric web. There was a rush of heat when he swept in past the mass of shouting bodies, then a blur of movement as her reached for Lois Lane. He only had one clear view of her and then a flash of red obscured his vision. He grabbed blindly. There was an angry cry that was devoured by the wind. Holding tightly to the arms of his passenger Vigil sailed into the darkness, the glow of the electricity fading behind him.

The old swoop and grab, he thought bitterly. Works every time.

He didn't go far, only a few city blocks before landing on the roof of one of the taller skyscrapers. The moment the board hit the flat surface, his unwilling passenger elbowed him in the side, shoving Virgil off the board.  He tumbled onto the roof in an ungraceful heap.

"Ow! Hey!" he yelped scrambling to his feet. Getting a good look at his passenger for the first time, he froze.

The lanky, red haired temp, the photographer who had been close at the heels of Lois Lane, glared back at him.

Virgil felt the little energy he had left drain out of his body, congregating into a puddle around his feet.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned in frustration.

The red haired temp took a step back, lifting his camera into the air ready to take a swing if necessary. His eyes went around Virgil where the door to the stairway must have been.

"Don't look so panicked. I'm not going to hurt you," Virgil said tiredly.

Not lowering his camera, and still eyeing Virgil suspiciously he nodded. "Good to know. Who are you?"

"I'm Static," Virgil said.

"As in cling?"

"As in shock."

"Oh," the temp replied. He nervously ran his hand through his hair. "Never heard of you."

"Of course you haven't," Virgil said dryly. "Who are you, a temp at the Planet?"

The teenager had the nerve to look insulted. "I'm a photographer."

Virgil nodded. He desperately wanted to sit down. Using that much energy in one take had drained him, and he doubted that he had enough power left to even charge up the board. He'd messed up Option Two, the only full proof plan he'd had and now he was stuck on the top of a roof, with the wrong hostage, sans his powers.  He had the sudden urge to cry in frustration at the whole thing.  The moment the thought entered his head his pride jerked awake, an insulted and angry white fire.

15 year old superheroes do not cry! It hissed.

"You were trying to kidnap Lois weren't you?" The photographer asked suddenly.

"Kidnap is such an ugly word," Virgil said uneasily. "It was more like- well- I just needed to borrow her for a minute. It was for a good cause."

The photographer looked doubtful.

"Ok, yeah fine I was trying to kidnap her," Virgil snapped. "How did you guess?"
He shrugged. "Everyone always goes for Lois. That's why I pushed her out of the way when you dove."

"It's because she's Option Two," Virgil said glumly.

"What?"

"Never mind," Virgil said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe I though you were Lois Lane."

The photographer's eyebrows shot up. "You though I was Lois?"

"I didn't look I just grabbed," Virgil defended.

"I am not shaped like a girl," The photographer responded. "You didn't notice the lack of breasts?"

"I had you from under the arms, everyone feels the same when you grab them under the arms," Virgil said.

"That's not true."

Gritting his teeth, Virgil fought to keep his temper in check. "I was in a hurry, and the swoop and grab is very complicated. I have to sift my center of gravity when I reach, when I grab and then again when I take off to make sure that I don't dump the both of us onto the street. I have to hold onto you while I fly, and people aren't exactly light-weights. Then I have to doge about 100 different buildings, streetlights, traffic lights, and fire escapes while I escape. So excuse me for being just a little bit preoccupied." He sighed. "This is my first kidnapping can you give me a break."

The photographer didn't respond, but he slowly lowered his camera.

"Sorry," the other teenager finally said cautiously. "But since I'm not Lois, what are you going to do with me?"

Virgil snorted. "Nothing, you can go right now if you want. It's not like you're Option Three. Not like I can automatically get Superman's attention by grabbing you."

The subject of Virgil's rant appeared so quickly that he wondered if he'd been there the whole time. Arms crossed over his chest, he floated between the two boys, blocking the other teenager from Virgil's sight.

"Actually," Superman said looking annoyed. "You can."

Virgil froze.

"Jimmy?" the Man of Steel asked without turning.

"I'm fine," the now named photographer responded.

"Good."

For a minute Virgil could neither move nor speak.

"Who are you," Superman finally asked.

"S-static Shock," Virgil said feeling like a fool. "I'm a superhero too."

The response was a raised eyebrow.

"I need help," he rushed. "My friend is hurt, and I need to get him to Metropolis. I'm sorry about the lights and kidnapping your boy over there, but I didn't know how else to find you. I'll clean up whatever you want, I'll fix whatever you need me to fix, I just- I didn't know what else to do. Please, this isn't a joke or a trap, if it's any consolation I know Batman. I swear. I just need help."

The older superhero nodded once, his expression thoughtful. Still keeping one eye on Virgil, he turned towards Jimmy.

 "Jimmy," he said. "Can you make it back to the Planet from here?"

"Sure," Jimmy said. "It's only a few blocks."

"Good. Go show Lois that you're in one piece."

"Got ya," he said making his way towards the door.

Virgil stopped him as he walked past. "Um, sorry about the mix-up."

Jimmy shrugged. "That's ok. This sort of thing happens more often than you'd think."

Grinning at Virgil's confused expression; the photographer readjusted the strap of his camera and walked away.