...Hello...?
Title: Church Creeper
Author: atara_estella
Summary: Static discovers the suspect of a series of break-ins in a wedding chapel.
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Warnings: None that I can think of, at the moment.
Word Count: 1,116
Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or related characters/themes/items/places.
Distribution: Go for it, but let me know, please.
Author’s Notes: I'm not sure if anyone still visits this place, but I thought I'd post this here just in case.
Static yawned and dropped three feet lower in the air. He jerked back into alertness before crashing into the ground. He dropped to the grass, folded his disc, and leaned against the nearest wall while putting the disk away. Eight in the morning was far too early to be patrolling on a Sunday. Hell, as far as his sister knew, he was never even awake at eight on a Sunday unless she or Pops decided to wake him up and drag him to church.
Of course, that happened less and less now that he lived on his own. Sharon still dropped by every now and then, but Pops let his son make his own choices. Then again, Pops was one of the few people who knew the truth. Sharon didn’t have any idea that her baby brother masqueraded as a superhero almost as often as he was simply Virgil.
He planned on telling her at some point. Honestly, he did. It just never seemed like quite the right time or place. It wasn’t like with Pops. He hadn’t planned that. Virgil really didn’t want to tell her that way, anyway. He just... had no idea what to do about the entire situation. He had to tell her eventually. Soon, he had promised Pops. Soon.
Static ran one sleepy, irritated hand through his dreads. He shoved himself into a standing position. --When had he sat down?-- He shook his head and sighed. He had too much on his mind between college, paying for his and Richie’s apartment, and patrolling. His eyes cast around for something else to focus on when he noticed it.
There was a shadow in one of the windows.
He glanced around him once more before taking a closer peek at the window. It looked like the inside of a church, and the shadow was slumped in one of the pews. Static knew he had to check it out even if it ended up just being someone praying. There had been a series of robberies of churches recently, and Static had almost caught the culprit on his last patrol.
They had actually been around this spot when the perpetrator had slipped through his fingers. Literally, in this case. The thief was a metahuman that could change his molecular makeup, though not without cost. The way Gear figured it, the thief had to injure himself in order to change. Last Static had seen, the culprit had been missing one of his hands. With any luck, the injury would still be there.
Static crept around the building to check for possible escape routes, wondering why he suddenly felt like he was the criminal. Once he made his way slowly back to the entrance he noticed the sign above the doorway.
“Wedding Chapel”
After reading the sign, Static wondered if there was much point in checking. He figured he might as well, just to make sure the person was okay. He was starting to become worried about the person in the pew. They hadn’t moved at all.
Static walked up the short stairway to the entrance and quietly pushed open the door. He stepped inside and realized that the slumped figure was definitely masculine. Static crept up to the man, but paused when he noticed the man’s hand.
The man’s left hand was covered in bandages, but that didn’t stop blood from seeping through steadily.
Static took an involuntary step back before he could stop himself. This had to be the thief, but what was he doing here of all places. Too late for stealth now, the culprit looked up at him when he stepped forward once again.
"I bet you're wondering," the man's voice was hoarse and broken sounding, "why I've done what I have."
Static was suddenly aware of how old the man seemed. His hair was gray and patchy. His clothes were worn and threadbare. His entire body seemed to shake as though gravity were simply too much for his muscles to bear. "Well... yeah. Of course I have," Static spoke quietly, matching the other's tone and volume.
The man turned to face Static more directly. He seemed to measure the teenager up before drawing upon his voice once more. “We mutants, we metahumans,” the old man spat the word with disgust, “are tainted beings. We were never meant to be this way. Our abilities are little more than curses dressed up as blessings so that the world will accept them. I suppose you wouldn’t see them that way, though.” The man gazed intently at Static. It was unnerving. “These so-called powers, they’re sins. Evil, ungodly, wretched things. They’re ‘gifts’ from demons. No! From the Devil himself!” The man stood at this point and started to walk toward the aisle. Static backed away out of instinct.
“Whoa, man. Calm down,” Static put his hands up placatingly, “surely it’s not as bad as all that.”
The old man stopped in his tracks and slumped, “If only you knew,” he muttered. Shaking himself, “But you want to know why I’ve been doing this. The truth? I’ve been trying to rid myself of this damned ability in the only way I know how. Holy water is the only thing I know short of a priest that can get rid of demons. That’s all I want, really, to be rid of this. To be normal. I guess that’ll never happen though. Not now.
“Go ahead, Static. Zap me. Arrest me. Do whatever it is you do with criminals when you catch them. I’m not going anywhere now,” the man raised his butchered hand. “I can’t afford anything else like that.”
Static approached the man carefully, still wary of attack. “Just come with me. I’ll get Gear to meet us somewhere. We have a store of the cure they used on the people exposed to the Bang Gas. It might help. We could--”
“Help? There is no help for people like us. I’ve done terrible things with this power. I imagine you’ve done some, too. Just take me to the police station. I don’t deserve anything better.”
“If that’s really what you want...” The man nodded firmly, so Static led him quietly to the nearest police station and dropped him off there.
Later that day, Virgil and Richie saw on the local news station that Reginald Pierce, 57, had turned himself in as “the Church Creeper.” When questioned, Pierce simply said that he could only break into churches because he wasn’t “pure enough to go in the normal way, and no priest would even want to help someone like me.” Virgil wondered quietly to himself if Static should’ve been
Author: atara_estella
Summary: Static discovers the suspect of a series of break-ins in a wedding chapel.
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Warnings: None that I can think of, at the moment.
Word Count: 1,116
Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or related characters/themes/items/places.
Distribution: Go for it, but let me know, please.
Author’s Notes: I'm not sure if anyone still visits this place, but I thought I'd post this here just in case.
Static yawned and dropped three feet lower in the air. He jerked back into alertness before crashing into the ground. He dropped to the grass, folded his disc, and leaned against the nearest wall while putting the disk away. Eight in the morning was far too early to be patrolling on a Sunday. Hell, as far as his sister knew, he was never even awake at eight on a Sunday unless she or Pops decided to wake him up and drag him to church.
Of course, that happened less and less now that he lived on his own. Sharon still dropped by every now and then, but Pops let his son make his own choices. Then again, Pops was one of the few people who knew the truth. Sharon didn’t have any idea that her baby brother masqueraded as a superhero almost as often as he was simply Virgil.
He planned on telling her at some point. Honestly, he did. It just never seemed like quite the right time or place. It wasn’t like with Pops. He hadn’t planned that. Virgil really didn’t want to tell her that way, anyway. He just... had no idea what to do about the entire situation. He had to tell her eventually. Soon, he had promised Pops. Soon.
Static ran one sleepy, irritated hand through his dreads. He shoved himself into a standing position. --When had he sat down?-- He shook his head and sighed. He had too much on his mind between college, paying for his and Richie’s apartment, and patrolling. His eyes cast around for something else to focus on when he noticed it.
There was a shadow in one of the windows.
He glanced around him once more before taking a closer peek at the window. It looked like the inside of a church, and the shadow was slumped in one of the pews. Static knew he had to check it out even if it ended up just being someone praying. There had been a series of robberies of churches recently, and Static had almost caught the culprit on his last patrol.
They had actually been around this spot when the perpetrator had slipped through his fingers. Literally, in this case. The thief was a metahuman that could change his molecular makeup, though not without cost. The way Gear figured it, the thief had to injure himself in order to change. Last Static had seen, the culprit had been missing one of his hands. With any luck, the injury would still be there.
Static crept around the building to check for possible escape routes, wondering why he suddenly felt like he was the criminal. Once he made his way slowly back to the entrance he noticed the sign above the doorway.
“Wedding Chapel”
After reading the sign, Static wondered if there was much point in checking. He figured he might as well, just to make sure the person was okay. He was starting to become worried about the person in the pew. They hadn’t moved at all.
Static walked up the short stairway to the entrance and quietly pushed open the door. He stepped inside and realized that the slumped figure was definitely masculine. Static crept up to the man, but paused when he noticed the man’s hand.
The man’s left hand was covered in bandages, but that didn’t stop blood from seeping through steadily.
Static took an involuntary step back before he could stop himself. This had to be the thief, but what was he doing here of all places. Too late for stealth now, the culprit looked up at him when he stepped forward once again.
"I bet you're wondering," the man's voice was hoarse and broken sounding, "why I've done what I have."
Static was suddenly aware of how old the man seemed. His hair was gray and patchy. His clothes were worn and threadbare. His entire body seemed to shake as though gravity were simply too much for his muscles to bear. "Well... yeah. Of course I have," Static spoke quietly, matching the other's tone and volume.
The man turned to face Static more directly. He seemed to measure the teenager up before drawing upon his voice once more. “We mutants, we metahumans,” the old man spat the word with disgust, “are tainted beings. We were never meant to be this way. Our abilities are little more than curses dressed up as blessings so that the world will accept them. I suppose you wouldn’t see them that way, though.” The man gazed intently at Static. It was unnerving. “These so-called powers, they’re sins. Evil, ungodly, wretched things. They’re ‘gifts’ from demons. No! From the Devil himself!” The man stood at this point and started to walk toward the aisle. Static backed away out of instinct.
“Whoa, man. Calm down,” Static put his hands up placatingly, “surely it’s not as bad as all that.”
The old man stopped in his tracks and slumped, “If only you knew,” he muttered. Shaking himself, “But you want to know why I’ve been doing this. The truth? I’ve been trying to rid myself of this damned ability in the only way I know how. Holy water is the only thing I know short of a priest that can get rid of demons. That’s all I want, really, to be rid of this. To be normal. I guess that’ll never happen though. Not now.
“Go ahead, Static. Zap me. Arrest me. Do whatever it is you do with criminals when you catch them. I’m not going anywhere now,” the man raised his butchered hand. “I can’t afford anything else like that.”
Static approached the man carefully, still wary of attack. “Just come with me. I’ll get Gear to meet us somewhere. We have a store of the cure they used on the people exposed to the Bang Gas. It might help. We could--”
“Help? There is no help for people like us. I’ve done terrible things with this power. I imagine you’ve done some, too. Just take me to the police station. I don’t deserve anything better.”
“If that’s really what you want...” The man nodded firmly, so Static led him quietly to the nearest police station and dropped him off there.
Later that day, Virgil and Richie saw on the local news station that Reginald Pierce, 57, had turned himself in as “the Church Creeper.” When questioned, Pierce simply said that he could only break into churches because he wasn’t “pure enough to go in the normal way, and no priest would even want to help someone like me.” Virgil wondered quietly to himself if Static should’ve been