(no subject)
Hi, everyone.
I'm new here and to LJ in general, but not to Static Shock fandom. You can find me on fanfiction.net as well. I though I'd post a Static Shock fanfiction to start off my relationship with this community. XD
Title: When To Run
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/General
Summary: One-shot. Some of the men in Sharon’s life try to warn her about Virgil, claiming something is terribly wrong with her baby brother. She doesn’t want to hear it.
Spoilers: The entire series.
Author’s Notes: It is long, over 18 pages, and hopefully will upset the SS universe with this take on darker side effects of Virgil’s Bang Baby powers on his physical body. It was a bunny that would not leave my mind and was leaving me restless until it was written.
When To Run
I think a lot of people are under the impression that I don’t like my baby brother, but actually, that’s far from the case. I love Virgil more than life itself. He can be annoying, but no matter how much he aggravates me, I’ll always love him and he knows it.
When Daddy told me that my baby brother was Static, I avoided Virgil for nearly a week. It was so out of character for me; normally I’d have jumped right in that boy’s face and chewed him out for keeping secrets from his big sis. But I just couldn’t. It was so big, and I could barely comprehend it. Every time I even thought of Virgil I either cried for everything he’d been through or nearly burst from anger or some other volatile emotion that left me drained and upset. I pride myself in being a strong woman, and it takes a lot to shake me. See, a while back I’d guessed that he was Static, but to actually know, for that speculation to be proved real… well, it was a shock. I eased up on him after I found out, and he was suspicious but I could tell he enjoyed the fact that I made him breakfast and cut him some slack around the house.
Daddy had told me that Virgil was Static about two months after the cargo ship explosion. The one that took out half the downtown Dakota docks and led to the foot-long list of missing persons that was being spread around Dakota. It was all over the news and scared me right good, and Daddy told me that Virgil had been there at the time. And that Richie had been there too!
Now, that was a surprise. Virgil was always a possibility, but Richie Foley as a superhero? That was something I hadn’t seen coming, but… when I think back, there are so many holes and loose strings and odd situations that suddenly fall into place when Static and Gear’s identities are revealed. It’s unsettling and makes me feel completely stupid.
I hate feeling stupid.
Virgil had always had this spark about him, even when he was just a little kid. He’d always had this energy, this presence. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with all that confidence that was almost to the point of being cocky. He had a sort of natural charisma that made people like or envy him. I couldn’t believe now that I hadn’t seen how he’d changed. It was subtle, but his spark was more electric now, literally. The twinkle in his eye was brighter and he moved jumpy and quick like a bolt of human lightening. No wonder no one forgot him; he was the lightening, darting from place to place, leaving an irremovable scorch of Virgil in his wake.
While Virgil still didn’t know that I knew his secret, Richie was much more observant. Maybe it’s because he’s supposedly this super-genius or something, I don’t know.
I was in the house one day and Virgil and Richie had just come home. Richie’s like Virgil’s brother, and in some ways I’ve actually come to think of him as my second baby brother, too… but I’d never tell him that.
“Hey, Sharon,” Virgil chirped. He threw down his bookbag like always and punched me lightly on the shoulder as he passed into the kitchen, grabbing an apple. “Richie and I are just in for a snack. We got a mean game of b-ball to play, right Rich?”
“Yeah, V,” Richie grinned, catching the apple Virgil tossed to him and setting it behind him on an end table beside the couch. “You go on ahead, I’ll be out in a sec.”
“Right-o!” Virgil called cheerily, shutting the front door behind him.
I expected Richie to clomp up the stairs and get a video game he’d left in Virgil’s room or go to the bathroom or something, but he just stood there looking at me like he was deciding whether or not to say what he was going to say. The look unnerved me; Richie was always such a cheerful guy, and seeing him so serious made me uncomfortable.
“What?” I said sharply.
“Sharon,” Richie began. He stopped, and then took off his bookbag and threw it down next to Virgil’s.
“C’mon,” He said, tugging on my arm and leading me into the kitchen. I frowned at him but followed anyway. He sat down at the table, and I sat across from him. I looked at him expectantly.
“This better be good, Richie,” I said, pulling out all the stops to make sure he knew I was annoyed. I’m talking eye rolling, finger drumming, and that annoying little “tsk” sound that you make when you suck on your teeth.
“You know that I’m Gear and Virgil is Static, right?” He asked, and my fingers stopped tapping on the tabletop.
“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly. “Daddy told me all about it.”
“I thought as much,” He said, nodding and looking somber. “Virgil is my best friend in the entire world. I’d be lost without him. And I’ve thought about this, and it took me a while to come to a decision, and that’s saying something, so… listen to me.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, not knowing if I should be alarmed or not.
He took a deep breath.
“After the first Big Bang, Virgil was fine physically, emotionally, and mentally… at least, as fine as to be expected for a fourteen year old kid who had just been manipulated into joining a gang fight and then breathed in a lungful of experimental gas used for the purpose of mutating human cells.”
“He was going to join a gang!” I exclaimed, thinking instantly of our mother.
“No, no,” Richie said dismissively, waving his hand in the air as if to brush away the topic. “Wade offered him protection from F-stop, and Virgil couldn’t just refuse the leader of one of the most prominent gangs in Dakota. He never joined,” Richie added hastily, seeing that I was still upset. “Most of the people at the docks that night were mutated freakishly on the physical level or had extensive nerve damage that resulted in brain loss and left them mentally retarded or ill. A few were affected both physically and mentally and were left deformed and criminally insane with a taste for revenge. Example numero uno: Ebon. But, more than half died right at the docks or were given off-the-record mercy killings in Dakota Medical or the hospital in Gotham, so… all in all, Wade’s crew had bigger issues to worry about than whether or not a freshman in high school was added to their ranks.”
I know that I must have been staring at Richie with my mouth gaping open like a fish and looking like a damn fool, but I couldn’t help it. The boy went on before I could say a word.
“But we’re not talking about that,” Richie continued impatiently. He paused and kind of scrunched up his nose and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Well, we sort of are, I guess. We’re talking about the Big Bang, so… But actually the second Big Bang… but that’s still a Big Bang, just a different one -”
“Get on with it!” I said loudly, banging my hand on the table. He snapped his gaze back to me and smiled sheepishly. Richie Foley confused me, because he was such a mixture of different ages. It’s hard to explain. He had the body of an average sixteen-year-old boy, but his eyes were the eyes of an old man, full of more knowledge than he should have ever had. He was loud and spoke with slang and acted pretty confident, but behind it he was vulnerable like a lost little child who just wanted acceptance.
See what psychology classes do for you?
“I… I think that Virgil is having a sort of… adverse reaction to his second exposure to the Big Bang gas.” Richie said in one breath.
I blinked.
“That’s it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Richie looked at me in a mixture of disbelief and anger.
“’That’s it?’” He repeated incredulously. “Sharon, haven’t you noticed anything different about him?”
“I go to college, Richie,” I answered exasperatedly. “I have a job, and I live with Adam, in Adam’s house. I’m only here on visits.”
“Right,” He said, looking a little flustered.
“The ‘adverse reaction’…?” I prompted.
“Okay,” Richie said. “Virgil has reduced his diet to something like all french fries, pizza and fatty foods. It’s like he’s living off saturated fats.”
“Don’t all teenage boys?” I laughed.
“No,” Richie said, either not getting the humor or ignoring it entirely. “Well, yes. No. Not like Virgil is. I was eating dinner here the other night -”
“Freeloader,” I muttered.
“- and Virgil barely ate a thing, and what he did eat he slathered in butter and salt. And it’s like that at every meal.”
“So, you’re worried about my brother’s eating habits?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Richie, concern is one thing, anal retentive about him is another. And sort of creepy.”
Richie flushed.
“I’m not talking about that! That’s not my point! What I’m getting at is that saturated fats are full of electrolytes. Electrolytes are required by cells to regulate the electric charge and the flow of water molecules across the cell membrane. All these things he’s eating, all the sodium, the potassium, all that - they’re contributing to a build-up of electrolytes. It’s sort of like… if you drink an excess amount of ocean water, the high salinity dehydrates your body and can drive you into madness. I’m trying to tell you, he’s becoming addicted.”
“Addicted to fat? Wait, ‘madness’? My baby brother is going crazy?!”
“No, shut up and don’t be stupid,” Richie snapped, probably still sore from my jab. “Addicted to, in layman’s terms, electricity and the components of it. Which is part of why his diet is altering to suit his dependence. And as for the going crazy part, it’s…” He trailed off, not meeting my eyes.
“Mm hmm?” I hummed disbelievingly. “He’s practically made of electricity. How can he be addicted to it?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Richie growled in frustration, running his hand forcefully through his hair. “I’ve tried to run some sidebar tests but I can’t really do anything solid without Virgil’s consent, and he’d never give me permission. He’d get angry and wouldn’t believe me. But there’s something wrong with him and I don’t think he realizes it. It’s like he can’t get enough electricity. Before, it was dormant in him and he could call on it whenever he needed it, like that,” He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. “When he ran out, he juiced up and that was that. Now, it’s still in him, but it’s… it’s like a drug, almost. I caught him the other day, in the gas station. I was trying to work out some of the bugs in a newer program I’m going to install into Backpack. It’s supposed to give me a clearer read out to keep better track of police reports and include data from -”
“We were talking about Virgil?”
“Oh, yeah. Um. Anyway, I was on the computer and the power went out. I went to check it out and found Virgil in the back storeroom of the gas station near the fuse box, completely buzzed with this crazy look in his eye. It scared me, Sharon.
“I know I’m not the bravest person in the world,” Richie continued, looking shaken. “but I can handle Virgil, before the Big Bang happened and even after. I know more about him than I do myself and I didn’t know him at all right then in the storage room and Sharon, it scared me.”
I tried not to show how disturbed I was by how emotional Richie was getting.
“You are not telling me that my baby brother is some kind of drugee. I won’t hear it.”
“No, no, no,” Richie said. “He’s not… Virgil’s not… not a drugee. No. I think. Electricity’s not a drug. At least, not for normal people except for maybe a masochist. Virgil’s a Bang Baby who harbors electricity in his body, so it’s a completely different story for him. It’s really weird, Sharon.”
“What do you want me to say? You want me to talk to Virgil?” I asked Richie, who shook his head back and forth so fast that it made me dizzy.
“No,” He said. “Don’t say anything to Virgil at all. I just wanted to tell you… I thought you had a right to know, I guess. Maybe you can do something about it. I’m just afraid of what will happen if he builds up a tolerance to it, if that’s even possible. He’ll have to keep getting more and more electricity to get that same fix…”
He smiled sadly at me for a moment, and then bit his lip and stood.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Virgil’s probably wondering what’s taking so long. We’ve got a game of ball to play and only a few hours of good daylight left to play it in.”
I stood too, and walked with him to the door. Richie opened it and moved to leave, but hovered in the doorway for a moment before turning back.
“Sharon,” He said, staring me straight in the eye with this serious expression on his face that was so unlike him that it shook me a little. “If you catch him, if you see him when he’s that juiced up… please promise me that you will run. Ignore the fact that he is your brother, and run. Please.”
I couldn’t even come up with a good remark, the scathing kind that I never really meant but always said to Richie. The ones he always just shrugged off and responded to with a goofy grin.
“Sharon,” Richie pleaded, and suddenly I wished for him to be fourteen again and not a genius and far, far away from my other baby brother.
I nodded. He stayed there and looked at me for barely a half a second before disappearing outside. I remember hearing Virgil greeting him jovially and his cheerful response as if nothing in the world was wrong.
I’ll always remember those words, no matter how old I grow and no matter what happens in my life. Especially because it was the last thing that Richie ever said to me.
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I wanted to stay at home and watch Virgil after my conversation with Richie, just to see whether or not the boy was for real. I made some lame excuses to Adam about needing to be with Daddy because he was stressed out with work and needed my moral support. I did feel a little guilty about abusing my fiancé’s trust that way, but really, even as a Bang Baby himself, I don’t know if Adam would understand.
A few times while Virgil was at school I sat down with Daddy and talked to him about Virgil and Static. Daddy told me that he was worried about Virgil’s safety but trusted him, and hadn’t noticed anything too different about his behavior. I decided that I was being foolish for believing Richie, and told myself that Richie himself was just a paranoid high school kid with too much time on his hands.
When a week or so had passed since my conversation with Richie, I’d convinced myself that nothing was amiss and that Virgil was the same as he’d always been. Until I got a call from the Dakota Medical via the Dakota Juvenile Detention Center. It seemed that Francis Stone had landed himself in his fourth consecutive placing in DJDC.
Francis Stone, or Hotstreak, was a ward of the state, which is a polite way of saying that he had no other living legal guardians and was handed over to the government to be cared for. He’d gone missing after the explosion, and had only been found about a week later when some fishing boat in Metropolis had pulled up a net of fish and found Francis and another notorious Bang Baby named Ebon half dead inside. The fisherman had almost thrown them back. It was a miracle that they’d remained alive and had somehow been pulled by the current from Dakota to Metropolis. Added to that, they were extremely lucky that it was Metropolis where they found themselves, because Metropolis is one of the most advanced cities in medical technology.
The two were stuck together in a very literal sense, conjoined along their sides like Siamese twins. As Francis’ counselor, I get to see some of his personal records, and I can tell you it wasn’t pretty. At all.
The two of them, or the one of them, had been sent to the hospital in Metropolis right after they’d been identified, and people knew of them from news reports of Dakota’s growing criminal problem. (Which, I’m proud to say, was being stopped thanks to Static. And maybe Gear.) They’d gone into surgery and came out two separate people again after multiple times under the knife and, from what I understand, painful skin graphing.
Francis hadn’t even been officially released; he’d let himself go against doctor recommendations and without proper physical therapy, but because he was legally an adult (albeit just recently) they couldn’t stop him. He’d only been out a few days, but I was disappointed with him. He’d get a piece of Sharon Hawkins’ mind, that’s for sure.
My major is in psychology and I hope to be a psychiatrist, and Dakota has been putting me to use for a few years as a counselor and occasionally giving me a phone at the teen crisis hotline. It counts as hours toward my psych class, and it gives me experience I know I’ll need, especially since they normally send middle and high school students in need of counseling or guidance to me (or send me to them in some cases). I’d met with Francis before and we’d gotten on relatively well after he’d come to grips with the fact that I was Virgil’s big sister. He’d sworn me to secrecy as he told me his anxieties, one of which included hospitals.
“Hi, I’m Sharon Hawkins,” I said sweetly to the woman at the front counter of Dakota Medical, showing her my ID card and verifications. “I’m here to see Francis Stone?”
“Fourth floor, third door on your right,” the woman said tonelessly.
“Thank you,” I answered. She grunted in response and rolled her chair in the opposite direction.
I don’t have as big a phobia of hospitals as Francis had, but I don’t really like them. I tapped my foot on the floor of the elevator as it slowly ascended, keeping time to the corny music that was playing softly in the background. I jammed the 4 button repeatedly, and then when the elevator finally opened to reveal the fourth floor, I walked down the hall and turned into the third room on the right.
The room was blindingly white and hospital-standard sterile. I had to blink to clear the spots in front of my eyes from the sudden brightness, and then there was a splash of color in the center of the room on the bed. It was the flaming red hair I had come to associate with Francis, or Hotstreak, as he’d taken to calling himself after the first Big Bang.
Francis was there, and he was hooked up to more machines and wires than I had ever seen in my life. There was an IV in the crook of his elbow. His eyes were closed, and half of his face was purpling with bruises. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, merely had thick layers of bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. I could see more bruising on his arms and parts of his torso. There were patches of pink and red on the gauze where wounds were trying to bleed through. Whatever shape the bottom half of his body was in I didn’t know, because he was tightly tucked in under crisp white sheets.
I gasped. I’d thought something fishy was going on when we’d been set up to meet in a hospital of all places, but I had thought it was merely a standard and confidential talk between counselor and student, not this. No, nothing like this.
“Francis!” I shrieked, nearly sprinting across the room. All thoughts about telling him off flew from my mind. I dragged the visitor’s chair over to his bedside and sat on the very edge, peering at him anxiously.
“Sharon?” He asked weakly. His eyelids fluttered open and he squinted a little. “Hey Doc, that Sharon?”
I looked up and saw that I had completely missed the other person in the room. He was a tall man with an orange goatee. I took him to be the doctor. He smiled thinly at me.
“Oh!” I said loudly, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you, Doctor…”
“Todd,” He supplied, shaking my hand. “Dr. Donald Todd.”
“Todd… Todd… that name sounds familiar.”
“Yes,” He said sadly. “It should.”
“Sharon,” Francis said gruffly. I whirled around, hurrying to take my seat beside his bed. I grasped his hand.
“What’s wrong, Francis?”
“I… I ain’t no punk, you know that…” He took a deep, ragged breath. “But it hurts.”
“Oh, Francis,” I said, squeezing his hand gently. It was calloused from the fire he always held and unnaturally hot. I didn’t know if it was from fever or if his skin was always this temperature. “I wish I could help you.”
“You’re my only real friend, you know that?” Francis said.
“Really?” I asked. My eyes were watery and I knew I would start to cry.
“Yeah,” He breathed, trying to sit up. “An’… an’ I want you to know… know who did this to me.”
Maybe it was the shock, but I hadn’t given real thought to who or what had done this to him.
“Tell me,” I said soothingly. “The monster who did this to you won’t get away.”
“It was Static,” He said, before beginning to cough violently. Dr. Todd hurried forward and eased Francis back onto the bed, trying to stop his coughing.
I don’t know what happened, but I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. My brain hadn’t even begun to comprehend the first syllable when I realized that Francis was speaking again.
“He was crazy,” Francis rasped. “I thought Static was a good guy, man. We ain’t never been buddy-buddy an’ we ain’t never been on the same side but we’ve worked together. We respected each other. All I was doin’ was jackin’ a car an’ he comes outta nowhere and just attacks me like some kinda demon-thing. I told him I wasn’t gonna steal the freakin’ thing but he just went insane. His little sidekick tried to stop him, which was pretty stupid, but Static didn’t even listen. Just threw Poindexter like a toy, an’ I think broke somethin’, cause I heard a crack. Loud, too.”
“Shh, Francis, shh,” I said, trying to soothe him. I could barely speak and when I did my voice was thick and slow. “It’s okay. You’re just a little confused right now. Static wouldn’t act like that, especially not to Gear.”
“No!” He said loudly, trying to sit up. He fell into a second coughing fit and while Dr. Todd helped him I felt tears slide down my cheeks. I didn’t like seeing Francis, the epitome of tough, so weak. It made me feel helpless and hopeless, and when I thought of getting help and restoring hope, I thought of Static and Virgil. And thinking of them, or him, or whatever - was Virgil two people now? Was Static a different person, someone not tied to the morals and reality of Virgil Hawkins? - it just made me cry even more.
“Sharon,” Francis said in a voice that was surprisingly soft. “Sharon, please don’t cry. I hate it when girls get all mushy an’ stuff.”
I surprised myself and giggled almost 0hysterically.
“Sharon, I don’t -” Francis took a deep breath here that rattled in his chest. “ - I don’t think it’s his fault. I know how you really like ‘im and I think, I think that somethin’ happened to him or somethin’. Maybe he’s on somethin’. The Static I know wouldn’t pummel me like this and I’d never let ‘im. In fact, when I get outta here I’m gonna beat his sorry -”
Francis started coughing here and gripped my hand tightly. I had to look away.
“I’m - I’m not gonna be able to, am I?” Francis whispered after several moments of silence. It was plain to see that he was struggling to even speak. “I - I’m not leavin’. Not like this, man. Not breathin’.”
“Francis!” I said sharply. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I hate hospitals,” He said. “So does Ebon. I hate him, too. We made a deal, we ain’t never seein’ each other again.”
“You’re going to be fine. In fact, you can recover and use my Daddy’s Community Center to help you with therapy, the therapy you never finished. I’ll be there with you. I’m your counselor, remember?”
“Yeah,” Francis rasped. “Just… Sharon?”
“Yes?” I whispered, not really knowing why I was but feeling as though I should.
“If you catch him, if you see him when he’s got that crazy look in his eyes, Static, I mean… please promise me that you will run.”
My eyes widened in surprise and an odd sense of déjà vu swept through me. I don’t know how long I was silent but I guess I’d closed my eyes because I remember opening them, and Francis was staring at me with this unreadable look and he said,
“Ignore the fact that he’s your hero, and run. Please.”
I stared.
“Please,” He begged, grasping my hand as though it was his lifeline.
I nodded numbly. Francis had actually smiled, he fell back onto the pillows with a wince.
“Excuse me,” Dr. Todd said curtly. I started; I had forgotten he was even in the room. “But I believe you have over-exerted my patient… he needs his rest.”
“Oh, um, yes,” I answered, flustered. “Just… just give me a second, okay?” I leaned over Francis and smiled at him.
“Get better, okay?” I whispered, smoothing his red hair like my mother used to smooth mine whenever I was sick.
“Mm’kay,” He murmured in response. I gave his hand one last squeeze and then let it go. It fell to his side.
“Please, miss,” Dr. Todd said.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I grumbled. I heard Francis give a gravelly chuckle followed by a hacking cough as I left, full of conflicting emotions and feeling incredibly disturbed.
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I’m in love with Adam Evans. We’ve been dating for a few years and now we’re engaged, and his voice still makes butterflies tumble in my stomach. When I kiss him, my knees still feel weak and I still see fireworks. I love him because he’s ambitious, generous, kind, strong, loving, brave, reliable… everything I want in a man. I also love him because I can cry and blubber on his shoulder like a baby and he won’t think any less of me.
Which is what I did when I read in the paper that Francis “Hotstreak” Stone had died of unknown causes in Dakota Medical Center the very night I had gone to see him, just five hours after I had left.
“Oh, Adam,” I sobbed, and he wrapped his strong arms around me and let me cry.
“Sharon, it’s okay,” Adam said once I’d finally stopped crying. “It’ll be all right.”
“How do you know?” I asked, not looking at him, but it probably came out sounding something like, “Hmmmfymuhnumm?” since my face was buried in his shirt.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Adam said. “It wasn’t your fault. Hotstreak was a trouble-maker and he caused problems for a lot of people, but he didn’t deserve to die. You falling apart over what you could have said or done to prevent it won’t bring him back.”
I didn’t answer him.
“You’re great at what you do. You were his friend. That made a difference.”
“Yeah,” I sniffled pitifully. Adam tightened his arms around me and we sat in silence for a long time. I was just nodding off into sleep when Adam said,
“Sharon?”
“Hmm?”
“I know what the ‘unknown causes’ were.”
My eyes snapped open but didn’t say anything. I waited for Adam to speak.
“It was Static, Sharon. Static killed Hotstreak.”
I was paralyzed again just like I had been in the hospital at Francis’ bedside. I couldn’t breathe and forgot to let in air. Hearing my fiancé say it so plainly was like a slap in the face and suddenly it was real and much too painful to understand. My throat closed up, and how the first thing I thought despite the tiny voices in the back of my head that were screaming the truth was,
“You’re lying.”
“No, baby, I’m not,” Adam said remorsefully. “I want to be lying. You don’t know how bad I want to be lying. But Jovan and Tiara, they saw the whole thing firsthand. They said Static was a madman. They said he tore up the entire block and even sent Gear - Gear, Sharon! - headlong into a building when he tried to stop him.”
I scrambled up off the couch and I stood in front of him, suddenly so angry I could barely see straight.
“Now you listen to me! Static would never, ever kill anyone, or hurt anyone! Even if it was a villain, or a bad guy, or… or… or whoever!”
Adam stood and reached out towards me but I shoved his arms away.
“No!” I shouted at him. “Don’t come near me with your… your lies!”
“Sharon,” Adam said calmly. “Calm down.”
“I am calm!” I screamed.
And then I started crying in earnest, so hard that I almost choked on my sobs. Adam tentatively pulled me into an embrace and for the second time that night he let me cry on him.
When I’d been reduced to hiccups he said softly,
“Sharon?”
I didn’t answer him. He hooked his finger under my chin and tilted my head up so he could see my face. I know Adam very well, since I do plan to marry him, but for some reason I couldn’t see what was going through his mind then. All I knew was that he had this expression on his face that made me nervous.
“If you’re near him, if you see him when he’s loose… please promise me that you will run. Ignore the fact that he’s your friend, and run. Please.”
I looked away.
“Sharon,” Adam pleaded, looking as though he might cry if I said no.
“Okay,” I whispered.
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A couple days later I went over to my old house just to visit with Daddy for a while. He always reassures me and makes me feel better. It was almost 9 o'clock at night, but I knew Daddy wouldn't mind a late visit. It was dark in the house and none of the lights were on. I walked in and flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
“Daddy?” I called. My voice echoed back at me.
“Sharon, sweetie,” Daddy’s voice said. He came forward and gave me a hug. I hugged him back, and then pulled away.
“Daddy, the electricity’s gone,” I said, demonstrating by flicking the switch on and off. Daddy put his hand on mine and led me over to the couch.
“Come sit down, Sharon. I have a few… unpleasant things to tell you,” Daddy said, looking at me as if he wished to spare me from the news. “I’m sure you already know about Hotstreak.”
“Yes,” I said. “I still feel like I could have maybe stopped it but… Adam has been helping me.”
“That’s good, sweetheart, that’s good,” Daddy said with a smile. “You made a good choice with Adam.” He sighed before continuing. “Richie Foley is in the hospital.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “I knew he was hurt but - Oh, Daddy, how bad is it?”
Daddy didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “He hasn’t woken up yet.”
“What!”
“Yes,” Daddy said wearily. “The speed and force he was going at made it impossible for him to stop in time and he was slammed into the seventh floor of a building, knocked unconscious, and then fell again straight down the seven floors onto the cement.”
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the picture that popped into my head.
“Virgil told me that Hotstreak was the one that threw him into the building. He tried to stop it but it was too late. All he could do was rush him to the hospital.”
I didn’t know what to say. Virgil had lied, that much was true and upsetting. It didn’t make sense; Virgil was the kind of guy that admitted that he was responsible for his mistakes.
“The doctors, especially Dr. Todd, said that Richie has a definite chance of recovery, but as with most coma patients there’s never a one hundred percent certainty.” Daddy sighed. “Virgil’s completely upset. Or seems to be so.
“I… I don’t know what to believe, to be honest with you,” Daddy continued tiredly. “But Sharon, I have something important to tell you. It’s about Virgil. I’ve seen him do it twice, but for all I know he could have done it more. He’s doing something… I think he’s… he’s, for lack of a better way to put it, sucking the electricity out of the house.”
I tried to cover up my gasp. Richie’s voice was echoing in my mind.
“I’m just afraid of what will happen if he builds up a tolerance to it, if that’s even possible. He’ll have to keep getting more and more electricity to get that same fix…”
“I didn’t even realize what was happening at first, because I just attributed the higher electricity bill to something like leaving lights on when we weren’t in the room or leaving things running, but…” Daddy frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose. “After this latest electricity bill came, I knew it was something else. The charge was outrageously high. We can’t afford to pay this, Sharon.”
“But how do you know that it’s Virgil?” I demanded stubbornly. “Do you have proof?”
“Sharon, I don’t want to jump to conclusions about my own son, but I have a feeling that it wasn’t Hotstreak who hurt Richie.”
“Adam’s friends say they saw Static do it,” I admitted in a voice that cracked a little.
And then Daddy had looked up at me with the saddest look on his face and he murmured, “I’ve seen him.”
He didn’t have to explain what he meant.
“Sharon,” Daddy said. That too-familiar wave of déjà vu washed over me again. He had a serious expression on his face, but there was something in his eyes. Fatherly love, compassion, worry… fear? “If you catch him, if you see him when he’s -”
“Daddy!” I shrieked, jumping up. “Stop! Stop! Don’t you say it too, don’t you say it, I know what you’re going to say!”
“Please promise me that -”
“No!” I shouted, moving away from him. Daddy moved in front of me and caught my hands in his. I had no choice but to look up at him and he seemed desperate. It terrified me.
“ - that you will run.”
“Daddy…” I said weakly, looking for an exit. “I’ve heard this too many times already, Daddy.”
“Ignore the fact that you love him, and run. Please.”
“Daddy,” I moaned, crying. I was shaking my head, he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be saying this, this meant it was all true -
“Please, sweetheart,” Daddy said, and I was amazed to see his eyes wet.
“Daddy, I -”
I didn’t finish because Daddy was suddenly enveloped in a purple light and his hands were sparkling and they hurt to hold. He gave a yell as he was suddenly levitated in the air and upside down. I yelped and spun around. There was Virgil.
He wasn’t even in his Static costume, as if he couldn’t be bothered. His dreads were sticking up all around his head like some sort of black halo, and he was surrounded by a crackling light that seemed to ooze from his pores.
“Virgil!” I cried, and I didn’t know what to do.
He turned his head toward me and I finally saw that Richie had warned me about. His eyes, there was something in them. Instead of the warm brown I knew they were dark and seemed to literally spark with something like barely repressed power. It was a reckless, uncaring, and ruthless look. Something was unhinged and there was no grease to ease it back into place.
He wasn’t sane.
“So,” Virgil drawled, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his ankles, a display of unsettling casualness.
“Have I interrupted this nice little family meeting? So sorry,” He said sarcastically. “If I’d been told about it, maybe I wouldn’t have barged in on you so unexpectedly like this, huh?”
“Virgil, put me down!” Daddy yelled.
“Hmm.” Virgil said, tapping his chin in exaggerated thought. “How about… no.”
“Virgil, what are you doing?” I asked him, backing a way a little when he focused his gaze on me. I don’t know how he did it, but he was right in front of me and he grabbed onto my forearm with a bruising grip. I stifled a scream and he grinned down at me. When had he gotten so tall?
“Virgil, don’t you dare hurt your sister!” Daddy roared from his position upside down in the air.
“Oh yeah?” Virgil taunted.
His right hand was up, and he twirled his finger in the pattern of a circle before flicking it to the left. Daddy spun around and was hurtled into the wall. He seemed to hang there, and then he slid down and landed with a dull thud. He didn’t move.
“DADDY!” I screamed, but Virgil was pulling me away.
“What’s wrong, Sis?” Virgil cooed, dragging me outside. The nickname wasn’t affectionate now but poisonous and I cringed. “Scared?”
“Of you?” I spat. “You’re just a little boy, my tiny baby brother like always.”
“Tiny?” Virgil laughed madly. “Little? Oh, Sharon. Look at all this power. Even if I’m still your brother, I’m anything but little.”
He pushed me in the back and I stumbled. It was dark, but Virgil was glowing bright enough to light our way easily.
“What do you want, Virgil?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“I want power, Sharon,” Virgil exclaimed, his eyes wild and dark. His movements were jerky, uncontrolled, and he kept shifting, unable to stand still. “I want... electricity.”
“But there is none,” I protested. “Not in this house. Daddy shut it off.”
“Oh, Sharon,” Virgil laughed. He was walking toward me, and I had to move backwards otherwise he’d run right into me. “That’s what I love about you. Always so optimistic. But I have news for you, Sharon. We are in a city, girl. Electricity is everywhere, even when it’s supposed to be off.”
Virgil pushed me away, moved toward the streetlight. With a lavender knife he slit the wire and grasped its coppery entrails, and with a yell he seemed to leech the electricity from it.
With an unnaturally loud hum, the streetlight brightened so much that I had to shield my eyes, and then it burst, shattering splinters of glass over me. I screamed. Virgil didn’t seem to see me now. There was a look of bliss over his face, and he was hovering in the air now, rising, and he grasped the powerlines, absorbing all the electricity that the wires provided. The lights in the windows of our next-door neighbor’s houses blinked violently off and the rest of the neighborhood seemed to be following in suit.
The night was suddenly black, dark and horrifying. The only light was the moon far, far away, and it was dwarfed in brightness by my brother, my baby brother. He was defying gravity and lit up like some sort of wicked saint. His eyes were wild, crazy, bloodshot. His arms were spread open wide, embracing his addiction, feeding until he was full. But he would never be full. Never.
I ran. I thought of Richie, and Francis, and Adam, and Daddy.
I kept running.
Author's Note: Please comment!
I'm new here and to LJ in general, but not to Static Shock fandom. You can find me on fanfiction.net as well. I though I'd post a Static Shock fanfiction to start off my relationship with this community. XD
Title: When To Run
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama/General
Summary: One-shot. Some of the men in Sharon’s life try to warn her about Virgil, claiming something is terribly wrong with her baby brother. She doesn’t want to hear it.
Spoilers: The entire series.
Author’s Notes: It is long, over 18 pages, and hopefully will upset the SS universe with this take on darker side effects of Virgil’s Bang Baby powers on his physical body. It was a bunny that would not leave my mind and was leaving me restless until it was written.
When To Run
I think a lot of people are under the impression that I don’t like my baby brother, but actually, that’s far from the case. I love Virgil more than life itself. He can be annoying, but no matter how much he aggravates me, I’ll always love him and he knows it.
When Daddy told me that my baby brother was Static, I avoided Virgil for nearly a week. It was so out of character for me; normally I’d have jumped right in that boy’s face and chewed him out for keeping secrets from his big sis. But I just couldn’t. It was so big, and I could barely comprehend it. Every time I even thought of Virgil I either cried for everything he’d been through or nearly burst from anger or some other volatile emotion that left me drained and upset. I pride myself in being a strong woman, and it takes a lot to shake me. See, a while back I’d guessed that he was Static, but to actually know, for that speculation to be proved real… well, it was a shock. I eased up on him after I found out, and he was suspicious but I could tell he enjoyed the fact that I made him breakfast and cut him some slack around the house.
Daddy had told me that Virgil was Static about two months after the cargo ship explosion. The one that took out half the downtown Dakota docks and led to the foot-long list of missing persons that was being spread around Dakota. It was all over the news and scared me right good, and Daddy told me that Virgil had been there at the time. And that Richie had been there too!
Now, that was a surprise. Virgil was always a possibility, but Richie Foley as a superhero? That was something I hadn’t seen coming, but… when I think back, there are so many holes and loose strings and odd situations that suddenly fall into place when Static and Gear’s identities are revealed. It’s unsettling and makes me feel completely stupid.
I hate feeling stupid.
Virgil had always had this spark about him, even when he was just a little kid. He’d always had this energy, this presence. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with all that confidence that was almost to the point of being cocky. He had a sort of natural charisma that made people like or envy him. I couldn’t believe now that I hadn’t seen how he’d changed. It was subtle, but his spark was more electric now, literally. The twinkle in his eye was brighter and he moved jumpy and quick like a bolt of human lightening. No wonder no one forgot him; he was the lightening, darting from place to place, leaving an irremovable scorch of Virgil in his wake.
While Virgil still didn’t know that I knew his secret, Richie was much more observant. Maybe it’s because he’s supposedly this super-genius or something, I don’t know.
I was in the house one day and Virgil and Richie had just come home. Richie’s like Virgil’s brother, and in some ways I’ve actually come to think of him as my second baby brother, too… but I’d never tell him that.
“Hey, Sharon,” Virgil chirped. He threw down his bookbag like always and punched me lightly on the shoulder as he passed into the kitchen, grabbing an apple. “Richie and I are just in for a snack. We got a mean game of b-ball to play, right Rich?”
“Yeah, V,” Richie grinned, catching the apple Virgil tossed to him and setting it behind him on an end table beside the couch. “You go on ahead, I’ll be out in a sec.”
“Right-o!” Virgil called cheerily, shutting the front door behind him.
I expected Richie to clomp up the stairs and get a video game he’d left in Virgil’s room or go to the bathroom or something, but he just stood there looking at me like he was deciding whether or not to say what he was going to say. The look unnerved me; Richie was always such a cheerful guy, and seeing him so serious made me uncomfortable.
“What?” I said sharply.
“Sharon,” Richie began. He stopped, and then took off his bookbag and threw it down next to Virgil’s.
“C’mon,” He said, tugging on my arm and leading me into the kitchen. I frowned at him but followed anyway. He sat down at the table, and I sat across from him. I looked at him expectantly.
“This better be good, Richie,” I said, pulling out all the stops to make sure he knew I was annoyed. I’m talking eye rolling, finger drumming, and that annoying little “tsk” sound that you make when you suck on your teeth.
“You know that I’m Gear and Virgil is Static, right?” He asked, and my fingers stopped tapping on the tabletop.
“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly. “Daddy told me all about it.”
“I thought as much,” He said, nodding and looking somber. “Virgil is my best friend in the entire world. I’d be lost without him. And I’ve thought about this, and it took me a while to come to a decision, and that’s saying something, so… listen to me.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, not knowing if I should be alarmed or not.
He took a deep breath.
“After the first Big Bang, Virgil was fine physically, emotionally, and mentally… at least, as fine as to be expected for a fourteen year old kid who had just been manipulated into joining a gang fight and then breathed in a lungful of experimental gas used for the purpose of mutating human cells.”
“He was going to join a gang!” I exclaimed, thinking instantly of our mother.
“No, no,” Richie said dismissively, waving his hand in the air as if to brush away the topic. “Wade offered him protection from F-stop, and Virgil couldn’t just refuse the leader of one of the most prominent gangs in Dakota. He never joined,” Richie added hastily, seeing that I was still upset. “Most of the people at the docks that night were mutated freakishly on the physical level or had extensive nerve damage that resulted in brain loss and left them mentally retarded or ill. A few were affected both physically and mentally and were left deformed and criminally insane with a taste for revenge. Example numero uno: Ebon. But, more than half died right at the docks or were given off-the-record mercy killings in Dakota Medical or the hospital in Gotham, so… all in all, Wade’s crew had bigger issues to worry about than whether or not a freshman in high school was added to their ranks.”
I know that I must have been staring at Richie with my mouth gaping open like a fish and looking like a damn fool, but I couldn’t help it. The boy went on before I could say a word.
“But we’re not talking about that,” Richie continued impatiently. He paused and kind of scrunched up his nose and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Well, we sort of are, I guess. We’re talking about the Big Bang, so… But actually the second Big Bang… but that’s still a Big Bang, just a different one -”
“Get on with it!” I said loudly, banging my hand on the table. He snapped his gaze back to me and smiled sheepishly. Richie Foley confused me, because he was such a mixture of different ages. It’s hard to explain. He had the body of an average sixteen-year-old boy, but his eyes were the eyes of an old man, full of more knowledge than he should have ever had. He was loud and spoke with slang and acted pretty confident, but behind it he was vulnerable like a lost little child who just wanted acceptance.
See what psychology classes do for you?
“I… I think that Virgil is having a sort of… adverse reaction to his second exposure to the Big Bang gas.” Richie said in one breath.
I blinked.
“That’s it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Richie looked at me in a mixture of disbelief and anger.
“’That’s it?’” He repeated incredulously. “Sharon, haven’t you noticed anything different about him?”
“I go to college, Richie,” I answered exasperatedly. “I have a job, and I live with Adam, in Adam’s house. I’m only here on visits.”
“Right,” He said, looking a little flustered.
“The ‘adverse reaction’…?” I prompted.
“Okay,” Richie said. “Virgil has reduced his diet to something like all french fries, pizza and fatty foods. It’s like he’s living off saturated fats.”
“Don’t all teenage boys?” I laughed.
“No,” Richie said, either not getting the humor or ignoring it entirely. “Well, yes. No. Not like Virgil is. I was eating dinner here the other night -”
“Freeloader,” I muttered.
“- and Virgil barely ate a thing, and what he did eat he slathered in butter and salt. And it’s like that at every meal.”
“So, you’re worried about my brother’s eating habits?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Richie, concern is one thing, anal retentive about him is another. And sort of creepy.”
Richie flushed.
“I’m not talking about that! That’s not my point! What I’m getting at is that saturated fats are full of electrolytes. Electrolytes are required by cells to regulate the electric charge and the flow of water molecules across the cell membrane. All these things he’s eating, all the sodium, the potassium, all that - they’re contributing to a build-up of electrolytes. It’s sort of like… if you drink an excess amount of ocean water, the high salinity dehydrates your body and can drive you into madness. I’m trying to tell you, he’s becoming addicted.”
“Addicted to fat? Wait, ‘madness’? My baby brother is going crazy?!”
“No, shut up and don’t be stupid,” Richie snapped, probably still sore from my jab. “Addicted to, in layman’s terms, electricity and the components of it. Which is part of why his diet is altering to suit his dependence. And as for the going crazy part, it’s…” He trailed off, not meeting my eyes.
“Mm hmm?” I hummed disbelievingly. “He’s practically made of electricity. How can he be addicted to it?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Richie growled in frustration, running his hand forcefully through his hair. “I’ve tried to run some sidebar tests but I can’t really do anything solid without Virgil’s consent, and he’d never give me permission. He’d get angry and wouldn’t believe me. But there’s something wrong with him and I don’t think he realizes it. It’s like he can’t get enough electricity. Before, it was dormant in him and he could call on it whenever he needed it, like that,” He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. “When he ran out, he juiced up and that was that. Now, it’s still in him, but it’s… it’s like a drug, almost. I caught him the other day, in the gas station. I was trying to work out some of the bugs in a newer program I’m going to install into Backpack. It’s supposed to give me a clearer read out to keep better track of police reports and include data from -”
“We were talking about Virgil?”
“Oh, yeah. Um. Anyway, I was on the computer and the power went out. I went to check it out and found Virgil in the back storeroom of the gas station near the fuse box, completely buzzed with this crazy look in his eye. It scared me, Sharon.
“I know I’m not the bravest person in the world,” Richie continued, looking shaken. “but I can handle Virgil, before the Big Bang happened and even after. I know more about him than I do myself and I didn’t know him at all right then in the storage room and Sharon, it scared me.”
I tried not to show how disturbed I was by how emotional Richie was getting.
“You are not telling me that my baby brother is some kind of drugee. I won’t hear it.”
“No, no, no,” Richie said. “He’s not… Virgil’s not… not a drugee. No. I think. Electricity’s not a drug. At least, not for normal people except for maybe a masochist. Virgil’s a Bang Baby who harbors electricity in his body, so it’s a completely different story for him. It’s really weird, Sharon.”
“What do you want me to say? You want me to talk to Virgil?” I asked Richie, who shook his head back and forth so fast that it made me dizzy.
“No,” He said. “Don’t say anything to Virgil at all. I just wanted to tell you… I thought you had a right to know, I guess. Maybe you can do something about it. I’m just afraid of what will happen if he builds up a tolerance to it, if that’s even possible. He’ll have to keep getting more and more electricity to get that same fix…”
He smiled sadly at me for a moment, and then bit his lip and stood.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Virgil’s probably wondering what’s taking so long. We’ve got a game of ball to play and only a few hours of good daylight left to play it in.”
I stood too, and walked with him to the door. Richie opened it and moved to leave, but hovered in the doorway for a moment before turning back.
“Sharon,” He said, staring me straight in the eye with this serious expression on his face that was so unlike him that it shook me a little. “If you catch him, if you see him when he’s that juiced up… please promise me that you will run. Ignore the fact that he is your brother, and run. Please.”
I couldn’t even come up with a good remark, the scathing kind that I never really meant but always said to Richie. The ones he always just shrugged off and responded to with a goofy grin.
“Sharon,” Richie pleaded, and suddenly I wished for him to be fourteen again and not a genius and far, far away from my other baby brother.
I nodded. He stayed there and looked at me for barely a half a second before disappearing outside. I remember hearing Virgil greeting him jovially and his cheerful response as if nothing in the world was wrong.
I’ll always remember those words, no matter how old I grow and no matter what happens in my life. Especially because it was the last thing that Richie ever said to me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wanted to stay at home and watch Virgil after my conversation with Richie, just to see whether or not the boy was for real. I made some lame excuses to Adam about needing to be with Daddy because he was stressed out with work and needed my moral support. I did feel a little guilty about abusing my fiancé’s trust that way, but really, even as a Bang Baby himself, I don’t know if Adam would understand.
A few times while Virgil was at school I sat down with Daddy and talked to him about Virgil and Static. Daddy told me that he was worried about Virgil’s safety but trusted him, and hadn’t noticed anything too different about his behavior. I decided that I was being foolish for believing Richie, and told myself that Richie himself was just a paranoid high school kid with too much time on his hands.
When a week or so had passed since my conversation with Richie, I’d convinced myself that nothing was amiss and that Virgil was the same as he’d always been. Until I got a call from the Dakota Medical via the Dakota Juvenile Detention Center. It seemed that Francis Stone had landed himself in his fourth consecutive placing in DJDC.
Francis Stone, or Hotstreak, was a ward of the state, which is a polite way of saying that he had no other living legal guardians and was handed over to the government to be cared for. He’d gone missing after the explosion, and had only been found about a week later when some fishing boat in Metropolis had pulled up a net of fish and found Francis and another notorious Bang Baby named Ebon half dead inside. The fisherman had almost thrown them back. It was a miracle that they’d remained alive and had somehow been pulled by the current from Dakota to Metropolis. Added to that, they were extremely lucky that it was Metropolis where they found themselves, because Metropolis is one of the most advanced cities in medical technology.
The two were stuck together in a very literal sense, conjoined along their sides like Siamese twins. As Francis’ counselor, I get to see some of his personal records, and I can tell you it wasn’t pretty. At all.
The two of them, or the one of them, had been sent to the hospital in Metropolis right after they’d been identified, and people knew of them from news reports of Dakota’s growing criminal problem. (Which, I’m proud to say, was being stopped thanks to Static. And maybe Gear.) They’d gone into surgery and came out two separate people again after multiple times under the knife and, from what I understand, painful skin graphing.
Francis hadn’t even been officially released; he’d let himself go against doctor recommendations and without proper physical therapy, but because he was legally an adult (albeit just recently) they couldn’t stop him. He’d only been out a few days, but I was disappointed with him. He’d get a piece of Sharon Hawkins’ mind, that’s for sure.
My major is in psychology and I hope to be a psychiatrist, and Dakota has been putting me to use for a few years as a counselor and occasionally giving me a phone at the teen crisis hotline. It counts as hours toward my psych class, and it gives me experience I know I’ll need, especially since they normally send middle and high school students in need of counseling or guidance to me (or send me to them in some cases). I’d met with Francis before and we’d gotten on relatively well after he’d come to grips with the fact that I was Virgil’s big sister. He’d sworn me to secrecy as he told me his anxieties, one of which included hospitals.
“Hi, I’m Sharon Hawkins,” I said sweetly to the woman at the front counter of Dakota Medical, showing her my ID card and verifications. “I’m here to see Francis Stone?”
“Fourth floor, third door on your right,” the woman said tonelessly.
“Thank you,” I answered. She grunted in response and rolled her chair in the opposite direction.
I don’t have as big a phobia of hospitals as Francis had, but I don’t really like them. I tapped my foot on the floor of the elevator as it slowly ascended, keeping time to the corny music that was playing softly in the background. I jammed the 4 button repeatedly, and then when the elevator finally opened to reveal the fourth floor, I walked down the hall and turned into the third room on the right.
The room was blindingly white and hospital-standard sterile. I had to blink to clear the spots in front of my eyes from the sudden brightness, and then there was a splash of color in the center of the room on the bed. It was the flaming red hair I had come to associate with Francis, or Hotstreak, as he’d taken to calling himself after the first Big Bang.
Francis was there, and he was hooked up to more machines and wires than I had ever seen in my life. There was an IV in the crook of his elbow. His eyes were closed, and half of his face was purpling with bruises. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, merely had thick layers of bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. I could see more bruising on his arms and parts of his torso. There were patches of pink and red on the gauze where wounds were trying to bleed through. Whatever shape the bottom half of his body was in I didn’t know, because he was tightly tucked in under crisp white sheets.
I gasped. I’d thought something fishy was going on when we’d been set up to meet in a hospital of all places, but I had thought it was merely a standard and confidential talk between counselor and student, not this. No, nothing like this.
“Francis!” I shrieked, nearly sprinting across the room. All thoughts about telling him off flew from my mind. I dragged the visitor’s chair over to his bedside and sat on the very edge, peering at him anxiously.
“Sharon?” He asked weakly. His eyelids fluttered open and he squinted a little. “Hey Doc, that Sharon?”
I looked up and saw that I had completely missed the other person in the room. He was a tall man with an orange goatee. I took him to be the doctor. He smiled thinly at me.
“Oh!” I said loudly, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you, Doctor…”
“Todd,” He supplied, shaking my hand. “Dr. Donald Todd.”
“Todd… Todd… that name sounds familiar.”
“Yes,” He said sadly. “It should.”
“Sharon,” Francis said gruffly. I whirled around, hurrying to take my seat beside his bed. I grasped his hand.
“What’s wrong, Francis?”
“I… I ain’t no punk, you know that…” He took a deep, ragged breath. “But it hurts.”
“Oh, Francis,” I said, squeezing his hand gently. It was calloused from the fire he always held and unnaturally hot. I didn’t know if it was from fever or if his skin was always this temperature. “I wish I could help you.”
“You’re my only real friend, you know that?” Francis said.
“Really?” I asked. My eyes were watery and I knew I would start to cry.
“Yeah,” He breathed, trying to sit up. “An’… an’ I want you to know… know who did this to me.”
Maybe it was the shock, but I hadn’t given real thought to who or what had done this to him.
“Tell me,” I said soothingly. “The monster who did this to you won’t get away.”
“It was Static,” He said, before beginning to cough violently. Dr. Todd hurried forward and eased Francis back onto the bed, trying to stop his coughing.
I don’t know what happened, but I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. My brain hadn’t even begun to comprehend the first syllable when I realized that Francis was speaking again.
“He was crazy,” Francis rasped. “I thought Static was a good guy, man. We ain’t never been buddy-buddy an’ we ain’t never been on the same side but we’ve worked together. We respected each other. All I was doin’ was jackin’ a car an’ he comes outta nowhere and just attacks me like some kinda demon-thing. I told him I wasn’t gonna steal the freakin’ thing but he just went insane. His little sidekick tried to stop him, which was pretty stupid, but Static didn’t even listen. Just threw Poindexter like a toy, an’ I think broke somethin’, cause I heard a crack. Loud, too.”
“Shh, Francis, shh,” I said, trying to soothe him. I could barely speak and when I did my voice was thick and slow. “It’s okay. You’re just a little confused right now. Static wouldn’t act like that, especially not to Gear.”
“No!” He said loudly, trying to sit up. He fell into a second coughing fit and while Dr. Todd helped him I felt tears slide down my cheeks. I didn’t like seeing Francis, the epitome of tough, so weak. It made me feel helpless and hopeless, and when I thought of getting help and restoring hope, I thought of Static and Virgil. And thinking of them, or him, or whatever - was Virgil two people now? Was Static a different person, someone not tied to the morals and reality of Virgil Hawkins? - it just made me cry even more.
“Sharon,” Francis said in a voice that was surprisingly soft. “Sharon, please don’t cry. I hate it when girls get all mushy an’ stuff.”
I surprised myself and giggled almost 0hysterically.
“Sharon, I don’t -” Francis took a deep breath here that rattled in his chest. “ - I don’t think it’s his fault. I know how you really like ‘im and I think, I think that somethin’ happened to him or somethin’. Maybe he’s on somethin’. The Static I know wouldn’t pummel me like this and I’d never let ‘im. In fact, when I get outta here I’m gonna beat his sorry -”
Francis started coughing here and gripped my hand tightly. I had to look away.
“I’m - I’m not gonna be able to, am I?” Francis whispered after several moments of silence. It was plain to see that he was struggling to even speak. “I - I’m not leavin’. Not like this, man. Not breathin’.”
“Francis!” I said sharply. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I hate hospitals,” He said. “So does Ebon. I hate him, too. We made a deal, we ain’t never seein’ each other again.”
“You’re going to be fine. In fact, you can recover and use my Daddy’s Community Center to help you with therapy, the therapy you never finished. I’ll be there with you. I’m your counselor, remember?”
“Yeah,” Francis rasped. “Just… Sharon?”
“Yes?” I whispered, not really knowing why I was but feeling as though I should.
“If you catch him, if you see him when he’s got that crazy look in his eyes, Static, I mean… please promise me that you will run.”
My eyes widened in surprise and an odd sense of déjà vu swept through me. I don’t know how long I was silent but I guess I’d closed my eyes because I remember opening them, and Francis was staring at me with this unreadable look and he said,
“Ignore the fact that he’s your hero, and run. Please.”
I stared.
“Please,” He begged, grasping my hand as though it was his lifeline.
I nodded numbly. Francis had actually smiled, he fell back onto the pillows with a wince.
“Excuse me,” Dr. Todd said curtly. I started; I had forgotten he was even in the room. “But I believe you have over-exerted my patient… he needs his rest.”
“Oh, um, yes,” I answered, flustered. “Just… just give me a second, okay?” I leaned over Francis and smiled at him.
“Get better, okay?” I whispered, smoothing his red hair like my mother used to smooth mine whenever I was sick.
“Mm’kay,” He murmured in response. I gave his hand one last squeeze and then let it go. It fell to his side.
“Please, miss,” Dr. Todd said.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I grumbled. I heard Francis give a gravelly chuckle followed by a hacking cough as I left, full of conflicting emotions and feeling incredibly disturbed.
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I’m in love with Adam Evans. We’ve been dating for a few years and now we’re engaged, and his voice still makes butterflies tumble in my stomach. When I kiss him, my knees still feel weak and I still see fireworks. I love him because he’s ambitious, generous, kind, strong, loving, brave, reliable… everything I want in a man. I also love him because I can cry and blubber on his shoulder like a baby and he won’t think any less of me.
Which is what I did when I read in the paper that Francis “Hotstreak” Stone had died of unknown causes in Dakota Medical Center the very night I had gone to see him, just five hours after I had left.
“Oh, Adam,” I sobbed, and he wrapped his strong arms around me and let me cry.
“Sharon, it’s okay,” Adam said once I’d finally stopped crying. “It’ll be all right.”
“How do you know?” I asked, not looking at him, but it probably came out sounding something like, “Hmmmfymuhnumm?” since my face was buried in his shirt.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Adam said. “It wasn’t your fault. Hotstreak was a trouble-maker and he caused problems for a lot of people, but he didn’t deserve to die. You falling apart over what you could have said or done to prevent it won’t bring him back.”
I didn’t answer him.
“You’re great at what you do. You were his friend. That made a difference.”
“Yeah,” I sniffled pitifully. Adam tightened his arms around me and we sat in silence for a long time. I was just nodding off into sleep when Adam said,
“Sharon?”
“Hmm?”
“I know what the ‘unknown causes’ were.”
My eyes snapped open but didn’t say anything. I waited for Adam to speak.
“It was Static, Sharon. Static killed Hotstreak.”
I was paralyzed again just like I had been in the hospital at Francis’ bedside. I couldn’t breathe and forgot to let in air. Hearing my fiancé say it so plainly was like a slap in the face and suddenly it was real and much too painful to understand. My throat closed up, and how the first thing I thought despite the tiny voices in the back of my head that were screaming the truth was,
“You’re lying.”
“No, baby, I’m not,” Adam said remorsefully. “I want to be lying. You don’t know how bad I want to be lying. But Jovan and Tiara, they saw the whole thing firsthand. They said Static was a madman. They said he tore up the entire block and even sent Gear - Gear, Sharon! - headlong into a building when he tried to stop him.”
I scrambled up off the couch and I stood in front of him, suddenly so angry I could barely see straight.
“Now you listen to me! Static would never, ever kill anyone, or hurt anyone! Even if it was a villain, or a bad guy, or… or… or whoever!”
Adam stood and reached out towards me but I shoved his arms away.
“No!” I shouted at him. “Don’t come near me with your… your lies!”
“Sharon,” Adam said calmly. “Calm down.”
“I am calm!” I screamed.
And then I started crying in earnest, so hard that I almost choked on my sobs. Adam tentatively pulled me into an embrace and for the second time that night he let me cry on him.
When I’d been reduced to hiccups he said softly,
“Sharon?”
I didn’t answer him. He hooked his finger under my chin and tilted my head up so he could see my face. I know Adam very well, since I do plan to marry him, but for some reason I couldn’t see what was going through his mind then. All I knew was that he had this expression on his face that made me nervous.
“If you’re near him, if you see him when he’s loose… please promise me that you will run. Ignore the fact that he’s your friend, and run. Please.”
I looked away.
“Sharon,” Adam pleaded, looking as though he might cry if I said no.
“Okay,” I whispered.
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A couple days later I went over to my old house just to visit with Daddy for a while. He always reassures me and makes me feel better. It was almost 9 o'clock at night, but I knew Daddy wouldn't mind a late visit. It was dark in the house and none of the lights were on. I walked in and flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
“Daddy?” I called. My voice echoed back at me.
“Sharon, sweetie,” Daddy’s voice said. He came forward and gave me a hug. I hugged him back, and then pulled away.
“Daddy, the electricity’s gone,” I said, demonstrating by flicking the switch on and off. Daddy put his hand on mine and led me over to the couch.
“Come sit down, Sharon. I have a few… unpleasant things to tell you,” Daddy said, looking at me as if he wished to spare me from the news. “I’m sure you already know about Hotstreak.”
“Yes,” I said. “I still feel like I could have maybe stopped it but… Adam has been helping me.”
“That’s good, sweetheart, that’s good,” Daddy said with a smile. “You made a good choice with Adam.” He sighed before continuing. “Richie Foley is in the hospital.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed. “I knew he was hurt but - Oh, Daddy, how bad is it?”
Daddy didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “He hasn’t woken up yet.”
“What!”
“Yes,” Daddy said wearily. “The speed and force he was going at made it impossible for him to stop in time and he was slammed into the seventh floor of a building, knocked unconscious, and then fell again straight down the seven floors onto the cement.”
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the picture that popped into my head.
“Virgil told me that Hotstreak was the one that threw him into the building. He tried to stop it but it was too late. All he could do was rush him to the hospital.”
I didn’t know what to say. Virgil had lied, that much was true and upsetting. It didn’t make sense; Virgil was the kind of guy that admitted that he was responsible for his mistakes.
“The doctors, especially Dr. Todd, said that Richie has a definite chance of recovery, but as with most coma patients there’s never a one hundred percent certainty.” Daddy sighed. “Virgil’s completely upset. Or seems to be so.
“I… I don’t know what to believe, to be honest with you,” Daddy continued tiredly. “But Sharon, I have something important to tell you. It’s about Virgil. I’ve seen him do it twice, but for all I know he could have done it more. He’s doing something… I think he’s… he’s, for lack of a better way to put it, sucking the electricity out of the house.”
I tried to cover up my gasp. Richie’s voice was echoing in my mind.
“I’m just afraid of what will happen if he builds up a tolerance to it, if that’s even possible. He’ll have to keep getting more and more electricity to get that same fix…”
“I didn’t even realize what was happening at first, because I just attributed the higher electricity bill to something like leaving lights on when we weren’t in the room or leaving things running, but…” Daddy frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose. “After this latest electricity bill came, I knew it was something else. The charge was outrageously high. We can’t afford to pay this, Sharon.”
“But how do you know that it’s Virgil?” I demanded stubbornly. “Do you have proof?”
“Sharon, I don’t want to jump to conclusions about my own son, but I have a feeling that it wasn’t Hotstreak who hurt Richie.”
“Adam’s friends say they saw Static do it,” I admitted in a voice that cracked a little.
And then Daddy had looked up at me with the saddest look on his face and he murmured, “I’ve seen him.”
He didn’t have to explain what he meant.
“Sharon,” Daddy said. That too-familiar wave of déjà vu washed over me again. He had a serious expression on his face, but there was something in his eyes. Fatherly love, compassion, worry… fear? “If you catch him, if you see him when he’s -”
“Daddy!” I shrieked, jumping up. “Stop! Stop! Don’t you say it too, don’t you say it, I know what you’re going to say!”
“Please promise me that -”
“No!” I shouted, moving away from him. Daddy moved in front of me and caught my hands in his. I had no choice but to look up at him and he seemed desperate. It terrified me.
“ - that you will run.”
“Daddy…” I said weakly, looking for an exit. “I’ve heard this too many times already, Daddy.”
“Ignore the fact that you love him, and run. Please.”
“Daddy,” I moaned, crying. I was shaking my head, he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be saying this, this meant it was all true -
“Please, sweetheart,” Daddy said, and I was amazed to see his eyes wet.
“Daddy, I -”
I didn’t finish because Daddy was suddenly enveloped in a purple light and his hands were sparkling and they hurt to hold. He gave a yell as he was suddenly levitated in the air and upside down. I yelped and spun around. There was Virgil.
He wasn’t even in his Static costume, as if he couldn’t be bothered. His dreads were sticking up all around his head like some sort of black halo, and he was surrounded by a crackling light that seemed to ooze from his pores.
“Virgil!” I cried, and I didn’t know what to do.
He turned his head toward me and I finally saw that Richie had warned me about. His eyes, there was something in them. Instead of the warm brown I knew they were dark and seemed to literally spark with something like barely repressed power. It was a reckless, uncaring, and ruthless look. Something was unhinged and there was no grease to ease it back into place.
He wasn’t sane.
“So,” Virgil drawled, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his ankles, a display of unsettling casualness.
“Have I interrupted this nice little family meeting? So sorry,” He said sarcastically. “If I’d been told about it, maybe I wouldn’t have barged in on you so unexpectedly like this, huh?”
“Virgil, put me down!” Daddy yelled.
“Hmm.” Virgil said, tapping his chin in exaggerated thought. “How about… no.”
“Virgil, what are you doing?” I asked him, backing a way a little when he focused his gaze on me. I don’t know how he did it, but he was right in front of me and he grabbed onto my forearm with a bruising grip. I stifled a scream and he grinned down at me. When had he gotten so tall?
“Virgil, don’t you dare hurt your sister!” Daddy roared from his position upside down in the air.
“Oh yeah?” Virgil taunted.
His right hand was up, and he twirled his finger in the pattern of a circle before flicking it to the left. Daddy spun around and was hurtled into the wall. He seemed to hang there, and then he slid down and landed with a dull thud. He didn’t move.
“DADDY!” I screamed, but Virgil was pulling me away.
“What’s wrong, Sis?” Virgil cooed, dragging me outside. The nickname wasn’t affectionate now but poisonous and I cringed. “Scared?”
“Of you?” I spat. “You’re just a little boy, my tiny baby brother like always.”
“Tiny?” Virgil laughed madly. “Little? Oh, Sharon. Look at all this power. Even if I’m still your brother, I’m anything but little.”
He pushed me in the back and I stumbled. It was dark, but Virgil was glowing bright enough to light our way easily.
“What do you want, Virgil?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“I want power, Sharon,” Virgil exclaimed, his eyes wild and dark. His movements were jerky, uncontrolled, and he kept shifting, unable to stand still. “I want... electricity.”
“But there is none,” I protested. “Not in this house. Daddy shut it off.”
“Oh, Sharon,” Virgil laughed. He was walking toward me, and I had to move backwards otherwise he’d run right into me. “That’s what I love about you. Always so optimistic. But I have news for you, Sharon. We are in a city, girl. Electricity is everywhere, even when it’s supposed to be off.”
Virgil pushed me away, moved toward the streetlight. With a lavender knife he slit the wire and grasped its coppery entrails, and with a yell he seemed to leech the electricity from it.
With an unnaturally loud hum, the streetlight brightened so much that I had to shield my eyes, and then it burst, shattering splinters of glass over me. I screamed. Virgil didn’t seem to see me now. There was a look of bliss over his face, and he was hovering in the air now, rising, and he grasped the powerlines, absorbing all the electricity that the wires provided. The lights in the windows of our next-door neighbor’s houses blinked violently off and the rest of the neighborhood seemed to be following in suit.
The night was suddenly black, dark and horrifying. The only light was the moon far, far away, and it was dwarfed in brightness by my brother, my baby brother. He was defying gravity and lit up like some sort of wicked saint. His eyes were wild, crazy, bloodshot. His arms were spread open wide, embracing his addiction, feeding until he was full. But he would never be full. Never.
I ran. I thought of Richie, and Francis, and Adam, and Daddy.
I kept running.
Author's Note: Please comment!