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"Conduction" -Static Shock fic and pic for Prism-sama!
Sorry for the delay Prism-sama. Hope the fact that you get two instead of one makes up for it. Even if they're both half-competent...
“Nobody lives forever. Nobody gets a free pass.
What matters is that you go down fighting...
...and you go down clean.”
- Spider-Man #500
There were a lot of problems rain caused. It slowed down visibility, traction, made everything the same shade of rain-slate grey. This was especially true of the storms that hit Dakota in winter. Wet. Hard. Cold. Unrelenting.
And the worst part of all was that rain cast one giant shadow.
It was the kind of day Virgil Hawkins would have gladly stayed indoors, maybe even catch up on all the homework he had avoided up until now. However, the old adage said “there’s no rest for the wicked” and a quick flip through the police scanner proved right. His hand was already on the shock-box when Richie’s voice crackled through, echoing the details that Ebon had been spotted downtown.
Virgil reiterated silent thanks that his superhero costume came with goggles and a thick coat before he opened up his window and flew out to meet Gear.
“Where you been V?!” Richie Foley called out through the downpour. “I was worried I was going to have to hog all the glory if you came any later.”
Virgil removed the goggles that completed his Static Shock costume in order to see his friend and sidekick without the gold tint. “Sorry man. This isn’t the best weather to be flying around in.”
That was a major understatement. Sure, the powerful Static Shock had enough energy to create an ionized field to prevent his own powers from electrocuting him, but he had to be careful. He was a super hero but the stuff he passed by, if he got too close to where a little spark flew off, well, that was just another to add to the list of why he hated the rain.
Gear gave him the lowdown, possible routes, motives, how much they suspected Ebon was carting with him. Static frowned when his friend listed off the stolen merchandise. All military tech weapons, all lethal. Ebon was always one of the major players but he had progressively been getting more and more hardcore with each heist and skirmish that put his metabreed in jail.
Static concentrated on making a tight jolt skip from one finger to the next. He had to make sure it was compact enough to keep from fizzling out and expanding.
“So what’s the plan?” Ritchie said, slipping into his business mode. Virgil was sorry he had spent so much time concentrating that he didn’t get to exchange the usual quips before they rode into battle.
“Ebon’s got home field advantage in the storm, but he’s gotta keep dry if he wants to dodge me long enough to escape. Make sure you’re behind me when I let loose and keep those lights of yours on full blast once we spot him.”
“I’ve been working on a containment device though,” Gear said hesitantly, “Maybe now would be a good time for me to take point and try it out.”
Gear was trailing behind in the heavy rains, so when Static turned he almost ran into the electric hero before putting on the breaks. Static placed his hands on each of Gear’s shoulders, and the weight of it was tremendous.
“Listen,” Static was using the ‘I’m a superhero and I know these things’ tone on him, “he’s got lasers and bombs and other stuff that we don’t know about but could probably vaporize us. I have to be in front to deflect anything he throws at us. Sorry man, we just can’t risk something untested. If you miss—”
Despite the rain over his visor, Gear managed to look sufficiently deflated. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just that you’re in the same spot.”
“I can handle it,” Static said in a voice as severe as the thunder. His lifted his hands off Ritchie’s costume and spun away without another word, leaving the sidekick to shiver a little bit where the warmth in his shoulders was quickly being drowned out by freezing rain.
It took a long while for them to spot the living shadow that was Ebon. They found him relatively quick really, but their search stretched out painfully long as it went in silence except for the brief calls to reaffirm that they didn’t accidentally lose track of the other, and half cleared throats to voice real concerns.
Static motioned for Gear to stay back as he spiraled down onto the empty street. Apparently the police had been on the ball enough to set up blockades for the drivers hardheaded enough to drive in a storm like this. It made the soft undulations of darkness easier to spot for Static as he put both hands together to release a giant blast of white hot electricity on Ebon.
The darkness made a very human scream and coalesced into the same silhouette that marked his most human form. “Static!”
“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay out in this weather,” Static chided, figuring he might keep Ebon distracted to not notice Gear lingering.
The shape of the man shifted again, slipping into the dark places and out of Static’s vision. “I’m gonna catch a meddling hero, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Static once again threw up a hand and willed his powers to explode in light. “You might have to drop all those weapons first, Ebonny-boy.” The brightness made the sidewalk flash a bright reflection, causing Ebon to recoil and the solidness of a laser gun caught Static’s eye. “Overcompensation I guess,” he chuckled, noticing it was the shoulder cannon type.
Despite his efforts to limit property damage, Static willed the metal to crumple and bend on itself and then used his electromagnetic powers he sent it flying off in the direction of Dakota’s nearest garbage dump. He then turned both of his fists back on Ebon.
“Nah,” the detached voice whispered back, “I prefer to think of it as...contingency plans.”
Static was busy floating in mid-air like a beacon as the rain’s onslaught continued. He didn’t notice Ebon’s arm whip under a parked car and fling a sonic grenade right at the hero’s back. Not until Gear alerted him.
“Static, duck!”
Static worked on instinct and pulled a 180 on his metal Static Saucer to dodge the oncoming attack. But the sonic bomb worked faster, detonating while Static only could blindly shield himself. It wasn’t enough to prevent him from being buffeted by the blast, but the warning managed to give him enough time to brace for a crash landing he could walk away from.
The body of Static Shock hit the roof of a nearby Honda Civic with a sickening thud, the dull patter of rain and the screaming of metal warping only echoed softly in his deafened ears.
“Back off Ebon!” Gear warned as he mentally ordered backpack to fire precautionary shots that kept the dark man from his friend.
If that blank face could smile Ebon would have done it. “I’d like to steal your gadgets boy. Yours look a lot more fun.”
He was dodging the shots effortlessly, and it was all Gear could do to keep the volleys in a close enough pattern to keep the villain at bay. However when Ebon’s hand shot under another dark shadow Gear was prepared.
“Backpack!” he summoned, “Disengage and protect Static!”
The automated helper leapt from Gear’s padded uniform instantly, the automated spider legs propelling it to land in a protective crouch over Static’s crumpled form.
Gear thumbed the catch of one of his uniforms many pockets, producing a clear cylinder with an electrical seal. He had spent the past three days working on it just for occasions like this. It was a flash freeze bomb, timed to encase an area of twenty square feet in freezing cold. The result on wet conditions like these would be instant ice cubes. Hopefully with Ebon trapped inside.
Ebon stretched up into the pelting rain. Out of his nothingness shot another sonic grenade aimed for Static, but backpack had already locked on the trajectory and blasted it with a laser. It exploded by the wayside in a small burst of heat and light that was quickly extinguished.
Gear had practiced the timing for ages. It was almost mechanical for him to switch off the trigger and let loose his freeze bomb with all the strain of burning cold muscles. He could feel the chill’s effect on his arm socket, and the sharp hiss as his mouth begged for air and got mostly water.
The ball flew. Its path was perfectly angled. Its speed was fast and true despite all the factors like the rain slowing it down. Ebon couldn’t catch it in time, this would be—
Another grenade flew off and intercepted it. The flash of ice and the boom of thunder signaled Gear’s failure as he watched his precious invention go off ahead of Ebon’s. But sound was faster than chemical reactions, and all of Gear’s hard work was shattered to pieces with one loud shriek.
“You made me waste the last one, geek,” Ebon hissed threateningly. “I think I deserve a refund, don’t you?”
Gear was trembling, he could feel the water shake off him. But he stayed his ground. Static told him to keep separate so he could use his powers, and he was going to keep that plan. “I’d give you a get out of jail card, but I think you cheated on those enough.”
It was all bravado, Gear thought, as he gathered all of his gadgets into his hands and flung them out at intervals, trying to see if one could penetrate the abyss that was Ebon’s body.
Ebon knew it too, and he stalked toward Gear like a predator with defenseless prey. “Gotcha,” he purred.
From behind the shadow flew another grenade, spit out from some hidden pocket straight at Static, who was still reeling from his fall.
Gear was too busy looking to notice that Ebon had managed to get the second laser cannon out of his hiding place and aimed it at the young sidekick. He was standing stock still, eyes wide in horror that his friend might be hurt. It was an emotional reaction, a human error that he did not notice his own imminent danger.
But backpack knew, and it fired a blast that made the laser explode in Ebon’s grip. Its creator’s safety was the primary protection function, but backpack understood from its connections to Gear’s consciousness that the other function that was near-primary. One that kept trying to recode as tantamount despite the logical processes of the unit. A simple directive: assist and rescue Static Shock.
So backpack did not bother calculations as it crouched and threw itself in the path of the last grenade. An act that its creator would have expected to do without thought. Then backpack took its spindle legs and wrapped around the weapon as it detonated inside the belly of Gear’s creation.
Static’s consciousness left with the scream of metal as his body hit. It remerged with an explosion rendering the graceful designs Ritchie Fowley put into backpack, being torn apart right in front of Static’s eyes because it had taken the shot for him.
Static tried to ignore his body’s screams of protest as he rose. His jacket was twice as heavy from soaking up the rain and the cold was seeping into his joints, making movement sluggish.
“You said that was your last one!” Gear shouted indignantly.
“So I lie a lot,” Ebon hissed back, taking a measure of satisfaction that at least he managed to get under the sidekick’s skin. “Next you’re gonna be crying how life’s not fair?”
“Gear...” Static choked out softly as he eased himself out from the large dent his body made on the car roof.
Although it was too soft to be heard, Ebon whirled around to face Static on instinct. “What do I need to do to make sure you stay down?!” he screamed.
Two streams of black shot out across the rainy expanse and Static lifted up one hand to focus his power. With a spark electric energies merged around his hand and exploded against Ebon’s. However, Static was still disoriented, and his control suffered for it.
The car behind him crumpled at the backlash of a few thousand volts of energy. Static’s innate force field protected him from the blast of hot rubber and warped metal, but the added assail pierced Ebon’s nothingness and send Gear diving for cover.
The living shadow writhed in a way that could never be considered human, coupled with the angry curses of a voice that once belonged to a man named Ivan Evans. With each contortion the figure shrunk and grew more solid, until the only thing under the steam was a very human looking silhouette.
“Kill you...” it hissed, Ebon hissed, “Break you...slow. Use leftovers—argh!—to send to each corner of the world.”
Static was still recuperating. He couldn’t afford the witty quips when keeping himself from slipping back into unconsciousness was about all he could muster. But he managed to keep upright, and that was more than Ebon could say of himself.
Gear was still blinking from the flash. He didn’t have enough time to set his lenses to filter it out, so the understanding sidekick got a faceful of light that had him seeing spots. He picked himself up into a kneeling position, knee-deep in puddles with his whole body soaked in a mixture of sweat and cooling rain. Gear wanted to call out to Static, to make sure he was all right, but the little blurs he could discern made realize that it might come down to a stalemate.
They really were at an impasse. Ebon was so badly burned that it looked as if he couldn’t even muster up the ability to use his Bang Baby powers. Static had a wide storage of reserve electric energy but he was suffering from wounds and a probable concussion, which meant using his powers without massive destruction was about as likely as Ebon suddenly growing a conscience.
Ebon suddenly turned, stumbling away from Static like a hunted man. The hero wanted to believe that it was over, but Ebon was too dangerous to lose. Besides, Static thought with a macabre humor, he blew up the only thing he could lean on.
Gear staggered in front of the retreating figure. It was almost comical really, the great powerhouses of Static and Ebon, and only Gear was in any shape to do something as the storm continued pelting them indiscriminately.
“Oh no you don’t!” the sidekick declared and tackled him.
But his initial move wasn’t followed quickly enough, and Ebon swung his very solid elbow down between Gear’s shoulder blades. The sidekick suppressed a grunt of pain and took a swing. Unfortunately his eyesight was still failing, between the light exposure and the heavy downpour. Ebon dodged it again easily and used his experience as a gang member to deliver a practiced cheap kick right into Gear’s solar plexus.
The padding of his green and white vest saved him from broken ribs, but Gear doubled over gasping.
“Let him go Ebon!” Static shouted, panicked...terrified even. “Your fight is with me!”
The previous fear that filled Ebon at the loss of his powers seemed to wash away. Without their powers or gadgets it was just like beating on two snot-nosed punks, he thought. The man that was once Ivan Evans knew how to do that very well.
“My fight is with whoever I want to beat on,” Ebon chuckled, which was soon drowned out by the scrape of a pipe being dragged along a wet sidewalk. He gave it a practice swing into his palm and was satisfied with the solid thwack it made in his grip.
“Static...” Gear whispered again and took another wild swing at Ebon. He would have managed to clip the thug's jaw if Ebon didn’t take the pipe and swing it directly against Gear's left shoulder. No superhero theatrics, no last minute dodges, just a man with a weapon and a boy without.
Gear gave a strangled cry and crumpled into the rainwater.
Static felt his electrical power build up inside him as he took one unbalanced step. “Leave him,” he hissed and held up one white hot hand, “alone.”
Ebon didn’t move for a moment. The he strolled up behind Gear’s crouched over body and picked the boy’s head up by the chin, pulling him upright until his limp form was dragged in front of him for a full-body shield. The pitch black villain snaked his head to the crook of Gear’s unclothed neck.
There was only a slight difference in the darkness that lay where his eyes would have been. In the rain, Static couldn’t read either one’s expression.
“Do it, hero,” Ebon whispered in sing-song. It looked like the shadows were licking at the corners of Gear’s blond hair. And his friend’s skin was never so pale and white when it was pressed up against the shadow form of the villain.
Static’s hand remained steady. “I swear, you’ll regret it if you do anything, anything to him...”
“You’ll fry him too!”
“Do it Static!” Gear shouted as he fought against the press of Ebon’s body into his back. “Don’t let him escape!”
Static’s electrical field surged in response. “I’ve beaten you before.”
“For God’s sakes, do it!” Gear screamed and managed to tear himself a fraction away from Ebon’s grip. “I trust you!”
Static watched the slim gulf of rain that separated Ebon and Gear grow. His hand tightened at Gear’s words, but the earlier conversation flooded back. And Static hesitated for just a fraction of a second. The gulf shrunk again and Static pulled the force of his blast to the side so it wouldn’t fatally electrocute them both.
The lightning bolts of Static’s attack skipped across the sheet of water that coated the ground. Like flames they licked up at the feet of the two bodies with a sharp bright light dancing in tandem as both of them shuddered violently, coursing with what was once harmlessly resting at Static’s fingertips.
Gear screamed Static’s name.
Both bodies fell. Fog coalescing from the extreme heat that the two bodies generated in such a short amount of time.
Static felt a cry die in his throat, and he collapsed onto his knees when his next step faltered. He was soaked in the rain, his arms were reaching out as if he could shake Gear’s body.
Ebon staggered up again. The pipe was still in his hands. Gear was still entangled in the void that served as his body. The former gang banger hissed with satisfaction as he saw the fear in Static’s eyes, glowing bright like the rest of his radiance. It made Ebon’s pleasure that much greater when he saw the horror on Static’s face when he brought the pipe down on Gear’s head.
It was the sound like breaking a pumpkin. Wet and sharp, but the end had a sickening soft sound. Gear didn’t scream when it broke through is helmet. Gear didn’t say anything at all when his head lolled off to where the blood was spreading its redness through the water.
Static didn’t say anything either as he shot a blast that tore Ebon apart. No quips, no cries, no moralizing. Just white hot rage that decided to use his body as a conductor to revenge an unforgivable offense.
All that was left was the sound of the rain after the blast cleared away. For a second Static just let his body fall into a trance the storm could have, where his heart was beating like a jackhammer, pounding for each drop of rain that hit Gear’s body.
Static was kneeling over him, in a raincoat that Gear...Richie, had given to him in order to complete his costume. It was Richie’s father’s, and the sleeves were too big. But he never felt so small huddled inside it as he tried to collect Gear’s body into his slipping hands. And he didn’t know why, but the pang of regret that his coat had lost all of Richie’s scent on it made his heart twist sharply.
“Gear...” Static whispered, pulling the body close to him so the rain would cover up his sobs. “Richie...man...Richie...wake up, man. Richie...”
The part of Gear’s visor that had shattered from the impact showed hair matted from the rain and the coursing blood. It also showed an eye fluttering open to stare up at Static’s face, with this unfocused awe about it all.
“Virg?”
Static bit back a joyous cry. “Yeah man. It’s me.”
“Virg.” The voice was still so faint, too faint. The brief spark of hope Static had kindled at Richie’s words was extinguished in the storm.
It was all he could do to press close and keep the fragile body of his best friend warm. “I’m here, man.”
“Virg...” he whispered again, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what man? Look, you’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna get you to a hospital. You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?” Static was trying not to sound hysterical and trying to keep himself focused on Richie’s green eye and not the blood that was dripping down his temple.
Richie...Gear, he reached a hand up as if to touch his friend’s hand. Static had made shine so he could see the extent of his wounds. He could use it to send a flare to the police, he could use it to cauterize the fact that there was just so much blood pouring out. He could—
Gear tugged the sleeve of Static’s jacket, once his jacket, their jacket. He smiled, although Static couldn’t see it through the sheets of water that coursed over his visor. “I’m not sorry.”
“What?”
“No regrets,” he whispered. The fractured arm, the shattered visor, the cuts and abrasions on his vest. The scattered remains of backpack and the glass fragments of his bomb. All were slowly being washed away. Gear didn’t mind at all. This was a good way to end the inevitable.
“Don’t say that,” Virgil Hawkins sobbed softly, “Don’t say that!”
“You were worth every bruise,” Richie breathed. And it is only now that Virgil realizes his friend was trying to reach for his face but he just didn’t have the strength to do so.
And he does not hesitate this time when he extinguishes his powers to catch the hand as it falls.
Gear’s head lolled a bit in Static’s grip, but he is still smiling at him even though his eyes have closed.
“You are worth everything, Virg...” the hand spasmed and griped him once. “Even this.”
The hand fell still in Static’s, and the rain washed him out of his grip and into the slate grey of the storm. The rain washes away everything and wipes it clean. Even tears that, for the moment, don’t seem like they will ever end.
“Nobody lives forever. Nobody gets a free pass.
What matters is that you go down fighting...
...and you go down clean.”
- Spider-Man #500
There were a lot of problems rain caused. It slowed down visibility, traction, made everything the same shade of rain-slate grey. This was especially true of the storms that hit Dakota in winter. Wet. Hard. Cold. Unrelenting.
And the worst part of all was that rain cast one giant shadow.
It was the kind of day Virgil Hawkins would have gladly stayed indoors, maybe even catch up on all the homework he had avoided up until now. However, the old adage said “there’s no rest for the wicked” and a quick flip through the police scanner proved right. His hand was already on the shock-box when Richie’s voice crackled through, echoing the details that Ebon had been spotted downtown.
Virgil reiterated silent thanks that his superhero costume came with goggles and a thick coat before he opened up his window and flew out to meet Gear.
“Where you been V?!” Richie Foley called out through the downpour. “I was worried I was going to have to hog all the glory if you came any later.”
Virgil removed the goggles that completed his Static Shock costume in order to see his friend and sidekick without the gold tint. “Sorry man. This isn’t the best weather to be flying around in.”
That was a major understatement. Sure, the powerful Static Shock had enough energy to create an ionized field to prevent his own powers from electrocuting him, but he had to be careful. He was a super hero but the stuff he passed by, if he got too close to where a little spark flew off, well, that was just another to add to the list of why he hated the rain.
Gear gave him the lowdown, possible routes, motives, how much they suspected Ebon was carting with him. Static frowned when his friend listed off the stolen merchandise. All military tech weapons, all lethal. Ebon was always one of the major players but he had progressively been getting more and more hardcore with each heist and skirmish that put his metabreed in jail.
Static concentrated on making a tight jolt skip from one finger to the next. He had to make sure it was compact enough to keep from fizzling out and expanding.
“So what’s the plan?” Ritchie said, slipping into his business mode. Virgil was sorry he had spent so much time concentrating that he didn’t get to exchange the usual quips before they rode into battle.
“Ebon’s got home field advantage in the storm, but he’s gotta keep dry if he wants to dodge me long enough to escape. Make sure you’re behind me when I let loose and keep those lights of yours on full blast once we spot him.”
“I’ve been working on a containment device though,” Gear said hesitantly, “Maybe now would be a good time for me to take point and try it out.”
Gear was trailing behind in the heavy rains, so when Static turned he almost ran into the electric hero before putting on the breaks. Static placed his hands on each of Gear’s shoulders, and the weight of it was tremendous.
“Listen,” Static was using the ‘I’m a superhero and I know these things’ tone on him, “he’s got lasers and bombs and other stuff that we don’t know about but could probably vaporize us. I have to be in front to deflect anything he throws at us. Sorry man, we just can’t risk something untested. If you miss—”
Despite the rain over his visor, Gear managed to look sufficiently deflated. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just that you’re in the same spot.”
“I can handle it,” Static said in a voice as severe as the thunder. His lifted his hands off Ritchie’s costume and spun away without another word, leaving the sidekick to shiver a little bit where the warmth in his shoulders was quickly being drowned out by freezing rain.
It took a long while for them to spot the living shadow that was Ebon. They found him relatively quick really, but their search stretched out painfully long as it went in silence except for the brief calls to reaffirm that they didn’t accidentally lose track of the other, and half cleared throats to voice real concerns.
Static motioned for Gear to stay back as he spiraled down onto the empty street. Apparently the police had been on the ball enough to set up blockades for the drivers hardheaded enough to drive in a storm like this. It made the soft undulations of darkness easier to spot for Static as he put both hands together to release a giant blast of white hot electricity on Ebon.
The darkness made a very human scream and coalesced into the same silhouette that marked his most human form. “Static!”
“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay out in this weather,” Static chided, figuring he might keep Ebon distracted to not notice Gear lingering.
The shape of the man shifted again, slipping into the dark places and out of Static’s vision. “I’m gonna catch a meddling hero, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Static once again threw up a hand and willed his powers to explode in light. “You might have to drop all those weapons first, Ebonny-boy.” The brightness made the sidewalk flash a bright reflection, causing Ebon to recoil and the solidness of a laser gun caught Static’s eye. “Overcompensation I guess,” he chuckled, noticing it was the shoulder cannon type.
Despite his efforts to limit property damage, Static willed the metal to crumple and bend on itself and then used his electromagnetic powers he sent it flying off in the direction of Dakota’s nearest garbage dump. He then turned both of his fists back on Ebon.
“Nah,” the detached voice whispered back, “I prefer to think of it as...contingency plans.”
Static was busy floating in mid-air like a beacon as the rain’s onslaught continued. He didn’t notice Ebon’s arm whip under a parked car and fling a sonic grenade right at the hero’s back. Not until Gear alerted him.
“Static, duck!”
Static worked on instinct and pulled a 180 on his metal Static Saucer to dodge the oncoming attack. But the sonic bomb worked faster, detonating while Static only could blindly shield himself. It wasn’t enough to prevent him from being buffeted by the blast, but the warning managed to give him enough time to brace for a crash landing he could walk away from.
The body of Static Shock hit the roof of a nearby Honda Civic with a sickening thud, the dull patter of rain and the screaming of metal warping only echoed softly in his deafened ears.
“Back off Ebon!” Gear warned as he mentally ordered backpack to fire precautionary shots that kept the dark man from his friend.
If that blank face could smile Ebon would have done it. “I’d like to steal your gadgets boy. Yours look a lot more fun.”
He was dodging the shots effortlessly, and it was all Gear could do to keep the volleys in a close enough pattern to keep the villain at bay. However when Ebon’s hand shot under another dark shadow Gear was prepared.
“Backpack!” he summoned, “Disengage and protect Static!”
The automated helper leapt from Gear’s padded uniform instantly, the automated spider legs propelling it to land in a protective crouch over Static’s crumpled form.
Gear thumbed the catch of one of his uniforms many pockets, producing a clear cylinder with an electrical seal. He had spent the past three days working on it just for occasions like this. It was a flash freeze bomb, timed to encase an area of twenty square feet in freezing cold. The result on wet conditions like these would be instant ice cubes. Hopefully with Ebon trapped inside.
Ebon stretched up into the pelting rain. Out of his nothingness shot another sonic grenade aimed for Static, but backpack had already locked on the trajectory and blasted it with a laser. It exploded by the wayside in a small burst of heat and light that was quickly extinguished.
Gear had practiced the timing for ages. It was almost mechanical for him to switch off the trigger and let loose his freeze bomb with all the strain of burning cold muscles. He could feel the chill’s effect on his arm socket, and the sharp hiss as his mouth begged for air and got mostly water.
The ball flew. Its path was perfectly angled. Its speed was fast and true despite all the factors like the rain slowing it down. Ebon couldn’t catch it in time, this would be—
Another grenade flew off and intercepted it. The flash of ice and the boom of thunder signaled Gear’s failure as he watched his precious invention go off ahead of Ebon’s. But sound was faster than chemical reactions, and all of Gear’s hard work was shattered to pieces with one loud shriek.
“You made me waste the last one, geek,” Ebon hissed threateningly. “I think I deserve a refund, don’t you?”
Gear was trembling, he could feel the water shake off him. But he stayed his ground. Static told him to keep separate so he could use his powers, and he was going to keep that plan. “I’d give you a get out of jail card, but I think you cheated on those enough.”
It was all bravado, Gear thought, as he gathered all of his gadgets into his hands and flung them out at intervals, trying to see if one could penetrate the abyss that was Ebon’s body.
Ebon knew it too, and he stalked toward Gear like a predator with defenseless prey. “Gotcha,” he purred.
From behind the shadow flew another grenade, spit out from some hidden pocket straight at Static, who was still reeling from his fall.
Gear was too busy looking to notice that Ebon had managed to get the second laser cannon out of his hiding place and aimed it at the young sidekick. He was standing stock still, eyes wide in horror that his friend might be hurt. It was an emotional reaction, a human error that he did not notice his own imminent danger.
But backpack knew, and it fired a blast that made the laser explode in Ebon’s grip. Its creator’s safety was the primary protection function, but backpack understood from its connections to Gear’s consciousness that the other function that was near-primary. One that kept trying to recode as tantamount despite the logical processes of the unit. A simple directive: assist and rescue Static Shock.
So backpack did not bother calculations as it crouched and threw itself in the path of the last grenade. An act that its creator would have expected to do without thought. Then backpack took its spindle legs and wrapped around the weapon as it detonated inside the belly of Gear’s creation.
Static’s consciousness left with the scream of metal as his body hit. It remerged with an explosion rendering the graceful designs Ritchie Fowley put into backpack, being torn apart right in front of Static’s eyes because it had taken the shot for him.
Static tried to ignore his body’s screams of protest as he rose. His jacket was twice as heavy from soaking up the rain and the cold was seeping into his joints, making movement sluggish.
“You said that was your last one!” Gear shouted indignantly.
“So I lie a lot,” Ebon hissed back, taking a measure of satisfaction that at least he managed to get under the sidekick’s skin. “Next you’re gonna be crying how life’s not fair?”
“Gear...” Static choked out softly as he eased himself out from the large dent his body made on the car roof.
Although it was too soft to be heard, Ebon whirled around to face Static on instinct. “What do I need to do to make sure you stay down?!” he screamed.
Two streams of black shot out across the rainy expanse and Static lifted up one hand to focus his power. With a spark electric energies merged around his hand and exploded against Ebon’s. However, Static was still disoriented, and his control suffered for it.
The car behind him crumpled at the backlash of a few thousand volts of energy. Static’s innate force field protected him from the blast of hot rubber and warped metal, but the added assail pierced Ebon’s nothingness and send Gear diving for cover.
The living shadow writhed in a way that could never be considered human, coupled with the angry curses of a voice that once belonged to a man named Ivan Evans. With each contortion the figure shrunk and grew more solid, until the only thing under the steam was a very human looking silhouette.
“Kill you...” it hissed, Ebon hissed, “Break you...slow. Use leftovers—argh!—to send to each corner of the world.”
Static was still recuperating. He couldn’t afford the witty quips when keeping himself from slipping back into unconsciousness was about all he could muster. But he managed to keep upright, and that was more than Ebon could say of himself.
Gear was still blinking from the flash. He didn’t have enough time to set his lenses to filter it out, so the understanding sidekick got a faceful of light that had him seeing spots. He picked himself up into a kneeling position, knee-deep in puddles with his whole body soaked in a mixture of sweat and cooling rain. Gear wanted to call out to Static, to make sure he was all right, but the little blurs he could discern made realize that it might come down to a stalemate.
They really were at an impasse. Ebon was so badly burned that it looked as if he couldn’t even muster up the ability to use his Bang Baby powers. Static had a wide storage of reserve electric energy but he was suffering from wounds and a probable concussion, which meant using his powers without massive destruction was about as likely as Ebon suddenly growing a conscience.
Ebon suddenly turned, stumbling away from Static like a hunted man. The hero wanted to believe that it was over, but Ebon was too dangerous to lose. Besides, Static thought with a macabre humor, he blew up the only thing he could lean on.
Gear staggered in front of the retreating figure. It was almost comical really, the great powerhouses of Static and Ebon, and only Gear was in any shape to do something as the storm continued pelting them indiscriminately.
“Oh no you don’t!” the sidekick declared and tackled him.
But his initial move wasn’t followed quickly enough, and Ebon swung his very solid elbow down between Gear’s shoulder blades. The sidekick suppressed a grunt of pain and took a swing. Unfortunately his eyesight was still failing, between the light exposure and the heavy downpour. Ebon dodged it again easily and used his experience as a gang member to deliver a practiced cheap kick right into Gear’s solar plexus.
The padding of his green and white vest saved him from broken ribs, but Gear doubled over gasping.
“Let him go Ebon!” Static shouted, panicked...terrified even. “Your fight is with me!”
The previous fear that filled Ebon at the loss of his powers seemed to wash away. Without their powers or gadgets it was just like beating on two snot-nosed punks, he thought. The man that was once Ivan Evans knew how to do that very well.
“My fight is with whoever I want to beat on,” Ebon chuckled, which was soon drowned out by the scrape of a pipe being dragged along a wet sidewalk. He gave it a practice swing into his palm and was satisfied with the solid thwack it made in his grip.
“Static...” Gear whispered again and took another wild swing at Ebon. He would have managed to clip the thug's jaw if Ebon didn’t take the pipe and swing it directly against Gear's left shoulder. No superhero theatrics, no last minute dodges, just a man with a weapon and a boy without.
Gear gave a strangled cry and crumpled into the rainwater.
Static felt his electrical power build up inside him as he took one unbalanced step. “Leave him,” he hissed and held up one white hot hand, “alone.”
Ebon didn’t move for a moment. The he strolled up behind Gear’s crouched over body and picked the boy’s head up by the chin, pulling him upright until his limp form was dragged in front of him for a full-body shield. The pitch black villain snaked his head to the crook of Gear’s unclothed neck.
There was only a slight difference in the darkness that lay where his eyes would have been. In the rain, Static couldn’t read either one’s expression.
“Do it, hero,” Ebon whispered in sing-song. It looked like the shadows were licking at the corners of Gear’s blond hair. And his friend’s skin was never so pale and white when it was pressed up against the shadow form of the villain.
Static’s hand remained steady. “I swear, you’ll regret it if you do anything, anything to him...”
“You’ll fry him too!”
“Do it Static!” Gear shouted as he fought against the press of Ebon’s body into his back. “Don’t let him escape!”
Static’s electrical field surged in response. “I’ve beaten you before.”
“For God’s sakes, do it!” Gear screamed and managed to tear himself a fraction away from Ebon’s grip. “I trust you!”
Static watched the slim gulf of rain that separated Ebon and Gear grow. His hand tightened at Gear’s words, but the earlier conversation flooded back. And Static hesitated for just a fraction of a second. The gulf shrunk again and Static pulled the force of his blast to the side so it wouldn’t fatally electrocute them both.
The lightning bolts of Static’s attack skipped across the sheet of water that coated the ground. Like flames they licked up at the feet of the two bodies with a sharp bright light dancing in tandem as both of them shuddered violently, coursing with what was once harmlessly resting at Static’s fingertips.
Gear screamed Static’s name.
Both bodies fell. Fog coalescing from the extreme heat that the two bodies generated in such a short amount of time.
Static felt a cry die in his throat, and he collapsed onto his knees when his next step faltered. He was soaked in the rain, his arms were reaching out as if he could shake Gear’s body.
Ebon staggered up again. The pipe was still in his hands. Gear was still entangled in the void that served as his body. The former gang banger hissed with satisfaction as he saw the fear in Static’s eyes, glowing bright like the rest of his radiance. It made Ebon’s pleasure that much greater when he saw the horror on Static’s face when he brought the pipe down on Gear’s head.
It was the sound like breaking a pumpkin. Wet and sharp, but the end had a sickening soft sound. Gear didn’t scream when it broke through is helmet. Gear didn’t say anything at all when his head lolled off to where the blood was spreading its redness through the water.
Static didn’t say anything either as he shot a blast that tore Ebon apart. No quips, no cries, no moralizing. Just white hot rage that decided to use his body as a conductor to revenge an unforgivable offense.
All that was left was the sound of the rain after the blast cleared away. For a second Static just let his body fall into a trance the storm could have, where his heart was beating like a jackhammer, pounding for each drop of rain that hit Gear’s body.
Static was kneeling over him, in a raincoat that Gear...Richie, had given to him in order to complete his costume. It was Richie’s father’s, and the sleeves were too big. But he never felt so small huddled inside it as he tried to collect Gear’s body into his slipping hands. And he didn’t know why, but the pang of regret that his coat had lost all of Richie’s scent on it made his heart twist sharply.
“Gear...” Static whispered, pulling the body close to him so the rain would cover up his sobs. “Richie...man...Richie...wake up, man. Richie...”
The part of Gear’s visor that had shattered from the impact showed hair matted from the rain and the coursing blood. It also showed an eye fluttering open to stare up at Static’s face, with this unfocused awe about it all.
“Virg?”
Static bit back a joyous cry. “Yeah man. It’s me.”
“Virg.” The voice was still so faint, too faint. The brief spark of hope Static had kindled at Richie’s words was extinguished in the storm.
It was all he could do to press close and keep the fragile body of his best friend warm. “I’m here, man.”
“Virg...” he whispered again, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what man? Look, you’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna get you to a hospital. You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?” Static was trying not to sound hysterical and trying to keep himself focused on Richie’s green eye and not the blood that was dripping down his temple.
Richie...Gear, he reached a hand up as if to touch his friend’s hand. Static had made shine so he could see the extent of his wounds. He could use it to send a flare to the police, he could use it to cauterize the fact that there was just so much blood pouring out. He could—
Gear tugged the sleeve of Static’s jacket, once his jacket, their jacket. He smiled, although Static couldn’t see it through the sheets of water that coursed over his visor. “I’m not sorry.”
“What?”
“No regrets,” he whispered. The fractured arm, the shattered visor, the cuts and abrasions on his vest. The scattered remains of backpack and the glass fragments of his bomb. All were slowly being washed away. Gear didn’t mind at all. This was a good way to end the inevitable.
“Don’t say that,” Virgil Hawkins sobbed softly, “Don’t say that!”
“You were worth every bruise,” Richie breathed. And it is only now that Virgil realizes his friend was trying to reach for his face but he just didn’t have the strength to do so.
And he does not hesitate this time when he extinguishes his powers to catch the hand as it falls.
Gear’s head lolled a bit in Static’s grip, but he is still smiling at him even though his eyes have closed.
“You are worth everything, Virg...” the hand spasmed and griped him once. “Even this.”
The hand fell still in Static’s, and the rain washed him out of his grip and into the slate grey of the storm. The rain washes away everything and wipes it clean. Even tears that, for the moment, don’t seem like they will ever end.