AN: I am not dead yet! No clue which fic will be updated next, considering all are at such critical chapters. (Those are the ones were I get stuck). Know that I haven't forgotten them at least. Let me know what you think, if in fact, there is anyone still out there...

Sharon walked into the kitchen to see Virgil and Francis huddled over the table in a way that, for some reason, evoked a vision of bunnies plotting. They were whispering in these agitated voices and she couldn't quite decide if it was just teenagers or if she should be worried. As soon as they realized she was there, the room dropped into silence and their eyes bored into her.

"Well, hello to you too. Way to make a girl feel welcome in her own kitchen." She frowned at them, irritated, and strode over to the pantry.

"Hi Sharon," Virgil said evenly. "We'll just go elsewhere since you need the kitchen so much." He stood abruptly—awkwardly—pushing his chair back from the table and heading out the door.

Francis stood too, moving to follow Virgil. "Nice to see you again Sharon. You know how it is—things to do, places to blow up." He grinned at her and she found herself wondering how much he was joking.

"You're joking, right Francis?" But he was already through the door and following Virgil out the front door. "Hey Francis! I'm talking to you!"

"Quit calling me that! I hate it." Frowning at her, he shut the door in her face and ran off to catch up to her brother.

"Ugh, I hate those two!"

~*BREAK*~

"Hey Virg—?"

The teenager in question was perched on a table, brow furrowed and tongue running along his lower lip in concentration. He was watching an array of pencils, screws, hammers and other sundry bits of scrap from around the cluttered gas station float and organize in the air. They seemed to be organized in a strange battle formation—screws and pencils versus everything else from bolts to broken hunks of erasers—and earnestly engaged in the total destruction of its opposite side. Pieces were knocked aside and zinged into battle, pencils behaved like baseball bats and flung allied screws into the dastardly opposing force.

"Uh, V?" Richie stared at the strange sight for another moment or two, astonishment washing through his face. "V, what are you doing?"

Virgil jerked suddenly and swerved to face the chalky pale blond hovering behind with a little gasp of surprise. All the pieces of scrap swung with Virgil's movements, flung awkwardly into the room. "Richie! Man, don't sneak up on me like that!" Raising a hand up, he rubbed the back of his head a bit sheepishly.

"Concentrating so hard on the War of Useless Junk that you totally missed my entrance?" Richie shook his head sadly. "Dude, I totally could have taken you out and you'd never have noticed. What a sad showing for the great Static Shock."

"Shut up, Richie, I was practicing." His eyes lit up a bit with excitement. "I'm working on my more fine-tuned control of electrical fields with tiny objects. And I figured hey, why not make it fun too? Pretty cool, right?"

"Yeah, V, cool. Cool if you like playing with junk. Why not have an epic battle with more dignified soldiers?"

Virgil just shrugged. "Well, these were just lying around. Thought it'd be easier. So, what's up?"

Richie froze for a second—almost a deer in the headlights look—before relaxing and glancing around the gas station. "Oh nothing, just thought I'd see what was up in the Abandoned Gas Station of Solitude. You know, fight crime and all the superhero glory." He grinned at Virgil, but it was almost a forced look.

Virgil let out a sigh and seemed to deflate. "You're still worried about that girl, aren't you?"

Richie hunched in on himself and seemed to shrink away. "Well…maybe."

Virgil sank into the nearest and least destroyed chair. "Yeah, it still bothers me too. But what else could we have done?"

Richie plunked into the chair opposite Virgil. "We could have watched a little longer. Looked him up in the system. Found out he had no record."

Virgil waved his hands at him. "How could we have known to do that, Rich?" He sighed again. "Don't get me wrong, I wish we had, but we thought it was just a simple snag and grab."

"Yeah, Virg. I know." But his eyes belied his words.

~*BREAK*~

Whiteout was watching her again. She was out with her boyfriend again, strolling through the mall and gazing longingly through windows. He could almost see the spittle accumulating at the corners of her mouth. Her body language suggested she was throwing hints at her singing sensation turned superhero date that she wanted him to buy her something in particular, but, like many men, he seemed determined to dismiss her excessive exclamations and conspicuous staring as actual rational behavior. Of course, given her personality, he supposed this wasn't entirely out of context.

They hadn't been there all that long before a group of three teenage girls recognized the boyfriend. The ringleader strode up to him, giggling madly, and asked for an autograph. Her long brown hair shook in waves as she bobbed her head, mouth moving furiously. He supposed she was gushing more than was appropriate, based on the increasingly darkening complexion of Sharon.

Whiteout jerked his head to the side, cracking his neck in impatience. He was ready for the surveillance part of the plan to end, but this was the most fragile aspect of it and he desperately needed the patience. It was a delicate boundary.

Bouncing beeps and rings filled the air as his phone rang. The sound was so common these days that none of the other stragglers even bothered to pay him any mind. Deciding there was nothing further to glean for the day (given the chorus of groupies and incipient temper tantrum), he turned and walked off down the sidewalk. He slipped the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Yes?"

"You were right, sir. The test results are conclusive."

He wasn't sure if it was the heat pounding on his head and shoulders, but he suspected it was excitement sparking through him. "Conclusive." He breathed the word as an answer to prayer and his own unspoken genius. "Good, good. Tell me, were they indicative?"

"We're not certain. We're making progress on reading the genetic patterns and structures, but we need more test subjects for comparison and controls."

Whiteout nodded, already knowing that particular aspect. "But you do have ideas, right? I know we haven't perfected this aspect yet, but there has been progress, yes?"

"Oh yes, sir. We definitely have some ideas."

"Good. As soon as we narrow it down, we'll be ready."

"Yes sir."

"I'm coming down to the lab now. I should be there soon." And with that, Whiteout flipped the phone shut. Now several blocks from the mall, he closed the final gap between it and his car.

Anticipation burned low inside him, banked but spreading steadily through his limbs.

~*BREAK*~

Virgil, as had become the norm for him, went straight to the Abandoned Gas Station of Solitude directly after school. Crime was on the rise in Dakota, but that just made him all the more determined to match that rise with justice. Looking surreptitiously at the wide streets rather liberally scattered with glass bottles and abandoned wrappers, he slipped into the hideout. Almost immediately, the scent of ash and smoke penetrated his nostrils.

"Hotstreak, I thought you were going to stop skipping classes?" His voice was mildly accusing, but it nearly always was lately.

The punk turned supervillain turned... well, something anyway, was standing in the center of what used to be the main area of the store. A table converted to a desk housed the computer Richie had rigged for monitoring crime and 'justice research', as he called it. Shelves decorated the walls covered and cluttered with various bits of junk, partially completed gadgets and several remaining inventions. Neither Virgil nor Hotstreak had bothered to touch them since the team had been reduced from three to two.

Hotstreak glanced over at Virgil while fire sparked and glowed in his palms. "Hey, what makes you think I skipped? Maybe I just got here before you." He fueled the flames until they swelled, rising, from his hands. The two balls touched gently in the air, melding slowly until the flickering ball was the size of a balloon and gradually expanding further still. Ever so slowly, the ball began to flatten and stretch, ribboning out in opposite directions.

"Because. You never get here before me, remember? My school is closer."

Hotstreak might have turned over a new leaf, but the city wasn't quite ready to trust him yet. He had a special school and more specialized teachers. And an all too frequently used sprinkler system. Virgil was surprised he hadn't been expelled yet.

"Eh, shut up Static. Classes are a waste and you know it. Besides—" abruptly the mass of flames shrank to nothing and went out with a foggy hiss and steam of smoke. Hotstreak waved his hands through it as it slowly started to dissipate. "You and I both know that we've got more important things to do."

Virgil's face had screwed up for a second, features twisting to something that might have been anger before simply dissolving. "Yeah. Yeah, we do." He slumped awkwardly into a beat-up chair near the desk, exhaustion etched in his rigid frame.

Hotstreak's muscles tightened and his face stretched taut. Then the moment passed and he forced his expression into a more relaxed and vaguely mocking one. "C'mon Static. Don't give me that look, or I won't tell you what I found out."

Virgil's face whipped up so fast, a distinct series of cracks could be heard echoing from Virgil's spinal column. The anger was back in his eyes and his pupils looked dilated to black. The lights seemed to flicker oddly for a moment, but it passed so quickly, he might have imagined it. Virgil reached a hand up and started rubbing at his neck in clear irritation. "Stupid..." he muttered. "So, what'd you find out then?"

It was hard to keep the bitter eagerness out of his tone, but the best part about hanging out with Hotstreak was that he didn't have to. The proof was the nearly matching gleam crinkling Hotstreak's eyes.

"Okay, so I did skip class." Hotstreak shrugged past the admission and hurriedly kept talking. Virgil frowned slightly but didn't interrupt. "Remember how we talked about how Whiteout must be someone with a grudge against you? I know we've gone over your past few cases and takedowns over and over lately. I mean, all the bad guys hate you, but this is just too personal. And, well, you know the one we keep coming back to." His face shifted, lips twisting down as if he might apologize, but he didn't.

Virgil nodded unwillingly. He shifted awkwardly in the chair, slumping slightly and listening. He didn't know where this was going, but he hoped there was something new at the end of it.

"So I skipped class and decided to look into it again. I went down to the cemetery where she was buried. Static, it's him. It's him!"

Virgil stood up abruptly, electricity pulsing around him. His clothes were hovering in the air, hair standing on end.

"Some the guys working there were talking. The coffin's empty, Static! Virgil, he took her body and he took—" With a suddenness that was almost deafening, Hotstreak shut up. The excited tension in him froze as he waited to see how Virgil would react.

Virgil barely noticed, his mind already racing with the implications. "They were sure? But what does it mean...?" Not waiting for Hotstreak's response, he started pacing, clothes still floating and jacket fanned out in the air.

"No idea."

"I'd think it would be over, that he finished what he started, only why take his body? Why is hers also missing? What is he doing?"

"I don't know, Static. Solving mysteries isn't my thing, you know that. I just got lucky today."

A wry laugh choked out of his throat before dying off. "Yeah, I know that's true. Speaking of which, this is awesome to know for sure, but quit skipping class." He fixed a piercing glare at Hotstreak, who shrugged and turned away.

"Yeah, yeah..." He stared at the floor.

"You promised Hotstreak. School may not seem all that important, but trust me, you'll appreciate it in five years when you're trying to figure out what to do next."

"Aw, shut it Static. Who knew you'd be such a sap? Fine, I'll go to class tomorrow."

"In the meantime, let's sneak out after dark. I'm thinking we should start checking out his old haunts. See if goes back to visit his old job or home, etc."

Hotstreak grinned—a feral presentation. "That's more like it. Let's terrorize this town."

Virgil shook his head—but matched the expression. "Meet you at my place after dinner?"

"Yeah."

They clasped hands in affirmation, each hand overshadowed by flame and energy.