Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ If It Makes You Happy ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock and associated characters. Just manipulating them against their will.
Warnings: SLASH, violence, swear words galore, and...uh..we’ll see what else later on.
OooooooooooO means scene break


If It Makes You Happy:
Chapter Eleven


Shiv knocked on the door twice, and opened it, startling Ebon from his advance. Richie could have kissed the guy.
“‘Ey, boss! What you doing?” the Asian asked curiously, walking in.
Ebon looked ready to murder, coiling away from Richie to snarl at him.
“Er...sorry. Wrong time to chat?”
“Shiv, I’mina kick your–!”
“But I had something to say! Boss, when it all goes down tonight, are ya bringing Tarmac and the others?” Shiv asked curiously, blinking. “Because I was kinda wondering, because Hotstreak’s the only meta in his gang.”
“I wanna fuck him over. It ain’t no thang if he’s the only meta there. I want to crush him an’ his stupid little gang. Did the package arrive?” Ebon asked, currently distracted by Shiv’s questions. Richie inched away, moving over toward the windows, keeping his eyes on them.
“Yeah. ‘Bout an hour ago. Some of the guys are already loading up. Want me to send a messenger?”
“...Yeah. Make sure they get the message before we head out. I want him knowin’ I ain’t playin’ around. I ain’t takin’ mercy on anybody.”
“Want me to pretty ‘em up? I can make ‘em real pretty!” Shiv cackled, looking psychotically happy about things as he rubbed his hands together.
Ebon scoffed at his expression, turning away from him. “Do what’cha want. Just make sure you ain’t tied to it.”
“All right! Art project! Yes! Thanks, Ebon, man! Hey, I’ll see you, later, ‘k?...oh, and...boss?”
“What?”
“Did ya tell him your dream about Gear?”
“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!”
Shiv hurried out of the room with a startled gasp, Richie already wondering how he could send a detailed thank-you card to the meta. He then froze as Ebon turned back to him, snarling.
“That’s the second person to say something like that,” Richie uttered, drawing back from him. “Do you have something to say to me?”
“Shit, you tell one person, an’ they fuckin’ know it all. None of your business. Now...where were we...?”
“Before you start, what are you making him do?” Richie asked curiously. “I mean...he sounded pretty excited about painting something.”
Ebon chuckled–not a pretty sound. The shadow man turned away from him, a waving hand telling Richie that he’d lost interest. He picked up the cell phone, and his beer. “Don’t even worry about it, chump. You don’t gotta worry about that.”
“But...I am. Uh...see...I’m just kinda worried that I’m going to end up like...like that.”
“You won’t,” Ebon assured him. “Shiv ain’t doin’ shit to you. I cover my own tracks. I’m out. You ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“Hey, wait a minute–!” Richie tried to protest, but Ebon was out the door, locking it behind him.
Sighing in frustration, Richie turned toward the window, walking over to see what he could do to escape. Looking out, he saw that he was seven stories up–he could see the rundown apartments straight ahead, all their windows broken and boarded over. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear sirens. Frowning, he leaned against the window, wondering what he could do to–
He turned to the boxes of electronics at his side, lifting both eyebrows.

OooooooooooO

Static found the building, narrowing his eyes as he saw the jumble of vehicles parked behind it, hidden from the street. They were still here...glancing around himself, he settled for a straight approach, losing altitude to cruise closer to the building. He could climb in through one of the fire escape entrances, but the stabilization was questionable.
Hoping that no one had spotted him yet, he took a chance with the eighth story landing, and quietly walked inside through the open doorway. The building was to be condemned, judging by the state it was in, but he was excited to hear the music. The deep, resounding bass followed by a cacophony of dirty lyrics made him grin as he began walking. That just told him he was at the right place. Bored thugs were dangerous thugs.
Alighting onto his disc once more, Static cruised through the halls, looking for the stairway down. While he knew he should bust in within a blaze of glory, he figured Richie might be hurt in that chaos. That Ebon might hurt him before he even got close. He had to approach this wisely.
He and Gear had broken up houses like this one before–it had been a careful process, but it had been done better with two people. He’d done a few solo missions before, but while they were all important in that no one was hurt and killed, this one was different–his best friend was in there. Surrounded by trigger happy thugs eager to strengthen their rep. Shooting a kid wouldn’t be their first offense, but killing the friend of Static was something propelling.
Gritting his teeth, he paused within an open doorway, crouching low on his disk. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, listening to the lyrics floating up the nearby hall.
Think, Virgil, think! He thought to himself. What would Gear say in this situation...?
“Damn, V. Why do you think most artists have to lie about crap they don’t even do in real life?”
No, no, no.
“What’s that smell? V! Gross!”
Nope. Besides...it wasn’t him. It was the one armed man heading thataway...
“...Did you see the size of that rat, Virgil?”
No, not that, either.
“It’s always best to approach the situation from afar, man. We’ve got thirty guys, all loaded with weapons in that room there. More than likely, there are two rooms with at least five guys each. Let’s say they have two hostages. Taking them by surprise might make them jumpy, and shoot the hostages in haste...”
Ah, there you go, Virgil, he thought with a mad-happy grin. That’s what he’d say...
“Let’s do this,” he continued to think of Gear’s voice, firm and thoughtful as he planned out an attack. “We’ll sneak here and there, look for the hostages, first. Once we find them, I want you to keep them from getting killed–I’ll be the distraction in front. As soon as you get those hostages out, come back, and do your thing...”
Yes, that’s what Gear would say.
But...he wasn’t here. He was the one Virgil had to rescue. But his little roleplaying had given him an idea. Coasting atop the floor, he headed over to a window. Climbing out, he was carefully searching through all the windows on this side of the building, looking for his best friend. He could not believe his luck, nearly forty-five minutes later, when he found him.
The boards in the window had almost thrown him off, but he’d glimpsed Richie’s familiar golden locks and the red and blue sweater shirt that Virgil had given him for Christmas a year back.
He tapped on the board, hissing, “Hey, Rich!”
“Static? It’s about fucking time!”
“I’m sorry! Felix didn’t tell me shit until after lunch!”
Richie was on the other side of the window, banging on it angrily. “And you didn’t even notice I was gone all that time? What kinda friend are you?”
“I’m so sorry! You okay?”
“Yeah, just a little disgusted here and there. Hey, listen...V, this is important. Don’t bust this up, now.”
“What?” Static exclaimed. “They all here, now! We could–!”
“We could plan in advance to catch them all at the docks, tonight,” Richie said firmly, peering up at him through a space in the boards. Static blinked, considering that idea. “Both Ebon’s and Hotstreak’s gangs are going to meet at the Francesca Docks...I don’t know the time. We can round up the police and you can be at the ready before they even fire off a shot.”
Static winced, positioning himself so that he was resting an elbow over a knee. “It sounds like a plan, but I noticed you said only ‘you’–meaning me. Where you gonna be?”
“Ah, well...I don’t think Gear will be able to show up tonight,” Richie said on an embarrassed note. Static pried his fingers through the small space between boards, trying to pull it back enough to see what the hell was going on. When Richie saw this, he narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“Why isn’t Gear showing up?” Static asked cautiously.
“Just...he isn’t.”
“Why?”
“He just isn’t.”
“Why?”
“Just... isn’t.”
“Why?”
“He isn’t...just...”
“Richie!”
“V! ”
Static rolled his eyes, and pried the board back to glare at his friend. “You ain’t pullin’ that wit’ me–! Jesus, Richie! Did that happen just now?”
“No,” Richie muttered, rearranging his collar. “Totally unrelated to the incident, today.”
“You–! Who you hook up, with? Man, I didn’t think–!”
“‘Think’ what, Virgil?”
Static held his hands up in surrender at Richie’s menacing tone. Then he chuckled, fingers curling over the board once more as he peered in at his best friend. “Honest, I ain’t thought you’d do that sorta thing. I always thought of you as an asexual creature.”
He pulled back as Richie hit the board with both fists. Laughing quietly, Static resumed his position.
“Okay, look–all joking aside. You okay?”
“I’m cool.”
“And you want this to follow through?”
“Static, we can take them all down in one swoop if you do this. Get Lewis to cooperate. I’m sure he’ll pull through once he finds this out.”
“What’chu gonna do in the meantime?”
“Well...just...I was going to contact Lewis, but you showed up.”
“Let me get you out–!”
“No, Virgil,” Richie said, holding up his hands. “If I leave, Ebon’s going to suspect that you know. And he’ll cancel the plans, or make a diversion. We can’t have that. I’ll be fine, here, for now. Just...get ready for tonight’s showdown.”
“Richie, I can’t leave you here with them! Just–!”
“Think about it, Static! What’s Ebon going to think once he comes back, and finds me gone? There isn’t any way I can escape from this window, and there isn’t a way they’d miss me if I tried to sneak out there! Once he realizes that Static rescued me, he’d automatically assume that Static knows of his plans tonight, and will do what he can to cancel it. You’d miss the chance! Just...I’ll be fine, here. No one’s tried to hurt me.”
Static sighed, shaking his head, not liking the situation at all. “I don’t like it, Rich. I don’t want to leave you here...man, anything can happen! Hotstreak and Ebon are always gonna be around, but if you’re taken out...”
“Oh, I’m fairly confident nothing will happen to me, Static,” Richie assured him with a crooked smile. “Don’t even fret about that. I promise you, V–nothing will happen to me. Just...get out of here and get that set up. Francesca Docks.”
“Richie...”
“It’s all right! Honest! I can handle myself...just go, all right? Lewis will need all the resources he can get to stop it and pull them in.”
Static gave a pained expression, shaking his head once more. But he straightened, standing. “Richie, don’t get hurt, all right? I’ll come back and hang out for awhile, all right? I don’t care if we miss the chance tonight, but I do care if you get hurt.”
“Aw, aren’t you a sap?”
“You’re my bro, man. Just...don’t get hurt. I don’t think I’d do well alone,” Static chuckled, Richie flushing slightly at the words.
“I’ll be fine. Good luck, k?”
“Stay outta trouble. I’ll be right back. And...I dunno, if he moves–let me know.”
“Already workin’ on it, Static. Go.”
Static took one look back at Richie, then hurried off, hating what he had to do.
Richie pulled away from the window, sighing as he began to take apart his project. He didn’t need the transmitter, now. Virgil would do all the work he needed done.

OooooooooooO

Hotstreak frowned as he considered his cigarette thoughtfully. It was nearly midnight–a couple of hours away from the confrontation at the docks. All of his crew had been rounded up, and everyone was ready for a showdown...everyone was packing and riled. They were hiding out within a large boat hangar that was popular with raves and beach parties, a distance away from Francesca Docks. Lake Dakota was calm and flat, tonight, and the stars in the sky were reflecting on it. They were far enough away from the major light pollution that Dakota spout, so he could see the other sliver of civilization across the lake. The flicker of lights and traffic caught his attention, and he yawned as he watched it.
While he knew Ebon was more than ready for him, both crews ready to finish this dispute once and for all, he was just a little hesitant about. Not because he was having second thoughts about the entire thing, or about the threat of being hurt and or killed...just...he felt odd, right now. He kept thinking about last night, his mind drifting back to that bedroom in that plain two story house.
It had been something he’d never thought he’d find himself do...but in a way, it had been almost natural. He was pretty sure he wasn’t gay...nor had he ever entertained homosexual thoughts, before. The thought of such always turned his gut. But last night...it had been...surreal. And unregrettable. He wouldn’t take that night back even if the entire Justice League got on his ass.
It wasn’t as if the sex were out of the mind fantastic...what had made it enjoyable was knowing that he was connecting with a person that didn’t take him as everyone else did. Sure, Richie Foley was one of his prime targets all the time, and he knew the kid thought of him as a bully and a terror, but...to accept and treat him as a normal person...to have an actual conversation with him and identify with him on various things... how long had it been since he connected with another person on such issues?
Sure, Maria had been his closest match in that aspect–the watery beauty knew a majority of things about him that no one else did, but she was just as he was–tough, street smart, and savvy, worming the information out of him in only ways females knew. He couldn’t connect with her in ways that were obvious, but though conversation were they able to grow comfortable with each other. She was his Gail to his Dwight, Fagina to his Number Two, his Sophie to his William...or something of the sort.
But Richie was different–he was a male, so he identified closely with the male aspect of things. And there was a sort of forgiveness he gave, and a unrelenting push he administered so that Hotstreak was clear he wasn’t taking his bullshit.
And the sex with him...while certainly pleasurable and certainly new, had been more than just physical pleasure. It felt as if he were trying to look for comfort, for stability, for reassurance...and Richie gave him what he’d unconsciously searched for. By holding him close and trusting him, letting himself go and pulling everything off in a manner that didn’t leave Hotstreak feeling as if he were obligated to stay, he’d forever gained Hotstreak’s trust in letting himself go in front of the blond.
It was an awkward moment when he realized this. But once he had...he’d found himself unable to leave. He’d completely overstayed what he thought was going to be a short visit. Hell, he’d come over to yell at the guy, not have sex with him. Not spend the night with him. Not divulge in secrets. He had found himself watching the sun rise, completely alien over himself, uncertain of what to do now. When Richie had looked at him, he knew...he knew this was just one of those moments that weren’t supposed to last forever. They weren’t meant to be together...they were too opposite, and both had different lives. It just wouldn’t work. Plus, he wasn’t like Richie Foley–it was a one time thing.
But he could still think of the guy, and know what it was like to be inside of him, to know what sounds he made when he felt pleasure. And also know what it was like to whisper his secrets, and know that they would be kept, held in confidence, while being gently pushed to do things he wasn’t ready to accomplish quite yet.
He didn’t regret anything at all, last night.
He stared up at the night sky, letting his cigarette die without another puff. Things would continue to be the same between them–he knew he had someone he could trust if things grew to be too much for him to bear, and he knew Richie would allow him to come back with nothing more than a friendly smile and a tendency to forget what Hotstreak had done to him that day.
He swallowed, killing the cigarette by rubbing it into the sand. He turned to walk back to the others, and get himself pumped for this evening’s confrontation.

OooooooooooO

Ebon and his crew had been on time. Hotstreak and his were waiting as they showed up. Before they could do anything, though, the cops were everywhere. And Static had been waiting for them–Hotstreak had found himself thoroughly drenched with a fifty-five drum gallon full of Lake Dakota water, and Ebon had been charged with enough electricity to shift his shadowy form into a lumpy mass of indistinct shadow before reforming into a humanoid form, out cold.
It was been a surprise, actually. Who had told? How’d they know what was going down? Automatically, Hotstreak was wondering if his one of his own had snitched for cash, and he knew Ebon was going to have the same thing running through his mind. He’d said nothing to Richie.
As his hands were cuffed, his hair clinging miserably to his face and neck, he shot a tempestuous glance at the grinning African American boy that was hovering nearby. There was a whole shit load of cops that were milling about, stuffing as many members as they could in waiting vans parked just a few blocks down from the Docks, and there was a special unit waiting for him and Ebon. Shiv had gotten away, the little sneak. The other Metas hadn’t been involved, which was sort of surprising.
While sullen that he’d be spending time in the slammer, Hotstreak figured it was probably for the best, anyway. At least he wasn’t the only one getting his ass busted. Ebon’s was, as well. For now, a truce would be administered until one of them was released.
As he was being led to the waiting unit, his eyes, promising retribution toward the one that prevented him from using his powers, dropped from Static and fell onto a familiar face just outside the scene, almost hidden within the shadows. When Richie realized he was looking at him, he merely nodded in acknowledgment. Giving him nothing to hate, or to reassure.
How and why he was there, he didn’t really give a shit about. It was nothing, really–it was just commonly known that wherever Static was, Richie was nearby.
Which...made him wonder...where was Gear?
In a way, he kinda knew. It should have been obvious.
“Hey,” he snarled at the two that were leading him toward the unit. “Give me a minute.”
“Let’s go! Get in there!” one growled, shoving at him.
“I got a piece in my lower pocket...on my left leg.”
Abruptly, they stopped him, and performed a frisk once more. When the second officer located the ‘piece’, he straightened, giving Hotstreak a confused look. The Darth Vadar was barely visible within the darkness.
The meta simply shrugged. “It ain’t mine. Give it to that fucking nigger in the sky, there. Tell him it’s his friend’s.”
“Gizmo has toys?” the first officer snickered, roughly shoving Hotstreak into the back of the van. “Sorta figured the kid was a geek that way.”
“Make sure ya tell him to give it to Gear! I said!” Hotstreak shouted as the doors were shut. In the darkness, he snorted and leaned his head back against the wall. Shoulda figured...it was only obvious, he thought to himself.
In the other corner, Ebon rose from his position, trying to clear his head. The special bands Gear himself had created prevented Ebon from phasing out of them. The meta was just as stuck as Hotstreak was. He glared over at the redhead, the two acknowledging each other in silence.
The sounds of the outside commotion filtered in slightly through the van walls, and both reflected on their own thing for awhile. Then, as the driver and accompanying officers climbed into the front, the shutting doors causing the van to rock slightly, Ebon looked over at him with a bored expression.
“Hey...wanna hear ‘bout this dream I hadda ‘bout Static’s partner?”
“...fag.”

OooooooooooO

St atic stared at Richie, who flushed as Darth Vadar was passed from one to the other. As soon as he’d talked to the chief about what was being planned for the Docks, he’d returned to keep an eye on his friend during that time. Richie had emerged from Ebon’s hideout, harassed and annoyed, but okay. He’d managed to steal his friend away to safety when Ebon grew preoccupied with something Shiv had done earlier. In the confusion, Ebon hadn’t realized Richie wasn’t with them, the plan carrying out without any flaws.
“Richie? Is there something you ain’t tellin’ me?” Static asked, out of earshot from the activity still occurring at the Docks. “He told me to give it specifically to Gear...”
“He did? Why–?”
“Richie...” Static said warningly, dropping to hover close to his friend, staring directly into his face. His tone was accusing, and Richie grew flustered at his friend’s closeness, and for the fact that he could be in really big trouble.
“I...have no idea why he’d say that, Static. Maybe I’m obvious.”
“How can you be?”
“Shit, Virgil! I follow you everywhere, remember? I don’t know...it’s not like I’d go and tell all my enemies. But, I...” Richie then trailed off, looking at the Darth Vadar with an almost wistful expression.
Static straightened, arms crossing over his chest, his face the expression of horror. “Richie...those weren’t from...”
Richie froze, wondering if Virgil somehow figured it out. He’d given no clue–! No indication–! Hadn’t even hinted–!
“...Frieda, are they?”
Richie could have slapped Virgil for being so dense, and lovingly so at the same time. He would have breathed a sigh of relief, but laughter bubbled out of him before anything else. “Virgil, has anybody told you you’re an idiot?”
“Well...not in the last hour...so...they aren’t?”
“NO!”
“Well, then...we’ve got all weekend, Richie. I’ll get it out of ya, soon. You know how stubborn I can be. I don’t ever forget! Got the mind of an elephant, yo!”
“Hey, you weren’t able to make the date with Daisy, weren’t you?”
“SHIT! I forgot–! Oh, fuck, I forgot to call her to cancel! Think she’ll be pissed at me?”
“Just tell her you were with me, all right? I’ll help take the blame.”
“...You’re a good man, Rich. What would I do without you?”
“You’d be jerking off to Beyonce’s new CD, dateless forever...”
“...ouch...”