Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Right Here ❯ Chapter Thirteen ( Chapter 13 )

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

I'm_Alive...thank you SO MUCH FOR YOUR FEEDBACK! Have I ever told you you're my hero? That I love you? XD Anyways, thanks for dropping me a line...letting me know that you're...ah...alive...*crickets chirp* ANYWHO! THANKS!

Right Here
Chapter Thirteen



Theresa’s death made the back section of Dakota’s news; it wasn’t important, a trouble-maker removed permanently by the filth she ran with. No one knew who had performed that drive-by, and the car that her mother had described had been found. But it was barely recognizable as a heady dosing of gasoline and a single match had pretty much destroyed any evidence that it may have had.

Forensics made a half-hearted probe, but called it off after realizing that they could gain nothing from the metal skeleton.

It wasn’t the first death of a well-known bang baby; and citizens of Dakota knew it wasn’t the last. As far as they were concerned, trouble-makers deserved their ends by such means.

Ebon had been satisfied by the results; but when the police began questioning his whereabouts and involvement, he did something that surprised everyone; he turned himself in for questioning.

Shiv, Kangorr and others had been rocked off their heels by this move; Ivan Evans, turning himself in willingly? Didn’t he know that other charges could be found against him? That they wouldn’t waste any time in administering the cure, and tossing him into State Penitentiary?

And it had happened–the next time the gang saw him, he was in human form for his mug shot; looking cocky and confident.

That had made first page; and for the first time in a long time, Dakota breathed a cautious sigh of relief. Because Ebon behind bars and normal made everyone feel safe. No matter that crime continued to plague the city with various other forms of violence.

Hours after Ebon had turned himself in, D, V, and S walked into the community center that same afternoon; Ebon’s crew had been talking about their leader’s current position within the half finished cafeteria, and had stared at the three blankly.

V crossed his arms, giving a smirk.

“We’re in charge, now,” he said smoothly, looking at everyone expectantly. “While Ivan takes a break behind bars, we’ll be running the show until he comes back, or until proper organization can be arranged.”

Shiv watched as the guys shifted in their seats, giving each other bewildered looks and murmurs of anxious confusion. He looked back at V, then at D. Kangorr gave a grunt, not caring either way as he finished off another can of Natural Ice.

“Why you gotta do that?” one of the guys asked V; Shiv looked at him, knowing that T-Bone was one of Ebon’s go-betweens. Ebon had once considered him a mentor back in the day; but when Ebon got his powers, T-Bone was the one following him. “He didn’t give no say to us.”

“Don’t worry about him,” V continued in that same, soft voice. “He’s in charge of Dakota; but once he dealt with us, control shifted. We’re a bigger power than him; I hope you all understand that his business is now ours. He may make decisions, but he answers to us.”

Most of them looked at the trio in disgust. They couldn’t take well-dressed, expensively coiffed young people like these ones seriously. They were convinced these three hadn’t seen the harsher part of their lives; hadn’t participated in fights, or gun battles or even raids from the police. When V gave them all questioning looks on their disgust, T-Bone rose from his seat.

“Ebon worked hard to get this far,” he spat. “Why he gonna hand over his baby to some fuckers we ain’t ever heard of, before?”

“Because he knows what’s best for him,” V said with a smirk. “Don’t worry about details...just know that we’re in charge while our lawyers work on releasing him.”

“Your...lawyers?”

“The very best. We aren’t staying in this shithole forever–once he returns, he’ll regain control over Dakota the way he had before. And by then, we’ll have settled any leftovers of negotiations and have our transits and operations formed. He’ll continue to answer to us; which means that you’ll be answering to us.”

T-Bone gave a distinct shake of his head. He looked at the others that were staring at the three with obvious expressions of trepidation. “This ain’t right.”

“Let’s keep all opinions to ourselves,” D suggested. “We’re not interested in listening to the lot of you bitch and moan. That isn’t our job. Just know that if we make a decision, you’ll need to hop on it to satisfy us.”

“Man, fuck that shit,” T-Bone muttered, giving a disgusted wave. He looked at the others as he adjusted his heavy leather jacket. His jewelry gave a musical chime as he shifted to retrieve his cell and his car keys. “I ain’t followin’ anybody but him. He ain’t said shit to us. Therefore, I ain’t listenin’ to what you have to say. I’m out.”

“You want to make that decision so quickly?” V asked, giving the larger man a disapproving stare.

Shiv immediately shifted from foot to foot, the tension growing thicker as T-Bone stared down at the well-dressed man.

“You ain’t shit, white boy,” T-Bone snapped. “I made my decision–I’ll wait for Ebon.”

“Trust is a shaky thing in the world of crime,” V murmured, crossing his arms as he looked away from the taller man. He took on their verbal slang with a mocking air as he continued with, “If you ain’t followin’, you’re workin’ against us. An’ we can’t work with those that don’t wanna work with us. S?”

T-Bone gave him a surprised look, his features screwing into a puzzled frown. He suddenly understood what was said, and was reaching for his semi-automatic when S swept out past V, withdrawing a single throwing knife from the inside of her jacket pocket. She released it as he moved to shoot her–there was a sickening sound of suctioned air as the black blade penetrated his windpipe, his face taking on a surprised expression as his air was cut off.

He dropped his gun as his hands flew up to his neck, fingers numbly groping the knife.

Everyone watched in stunned fear as he struggled to choke in air, his dark skin taking on a pale pallor as he staggered toward the door. S gave a low chuckle, and then looked away as V gestured with his hands.

“Any more objections?” he questioned, seeing that everyone’s attention was riveted upon T-Bone as he continued to asphyxiate from the single blade in his throat. “Seeing that no one else is having any problems with our brand new arrangements, I want to make this clear–you will be following our rules. Ebon is just going to enforce them. He isn’t the top dog anymore–we are. If we say ‘jump’, I want people asking us how high and for how long. Is that understood?”

“Shiv...man...” Kangorr hissed, nudging his partner’s arm. Shiv managed to tear his eyes away from T-Bone to look at him. Kangorr gestured at the older man, who dropped to his knees, the gasping sounds forced as he struggled to breathe. “He ain’t deserve that. Finish him off quick.”

Shiv blinked, then looked at the three, who were looking at the pair of them with muted interest. He wasn’t going to–but he looked over at T-Bone and made his decision as he listened to the man choke.

His hand formed a hammer, and he was upon the man before anyone could move. He put all his weight into the swing, effectively killing the man off with one blow to the head. The obscene crack of T-Bone’s skull seemed to ring throughout the cafeteria as everyone stared at the dead man with silent shock, Shiv pulling back and reforming his hand. He stepped out of the way as the man’s heavy body fell forward with a definite sound of released body fluids.

He was disgusted, jumping away as he stared at the dead body. Then, with a quick glance at the three that were watching quietly, he retreated behind Kangorr.

V gave a small sound of displeasure, but relaxed as he glared at the others. “You’ve been warned,” he said, presenting his back as he glanced at D. He looked at S. “Stay here. Keep them in line. We’ll call you in case something comes up.”

S said nothing as she stared down at T-Bone’s unmoving bulk, then shifted her eyes to both Kangorr and Shiv. D and V walked away, the sounds of their steps ringing off the half finished walls of the building.

With a sense of unease and caution, the remaining gang members looked at S–who simply smiled back.

OooooooooooO

Shiv stared blankly down at the newspaper that Kangorr had brought for him; there was an old photo of Theresa Menounos plastered next to the single paragraph of her young life. The article made her seem so vicious, cold, unfeeling...but he had known her. She had had feelings, and she had a conscience. Why couldn’t these people know that she did what she had to to survive?

Her funeral was going to be a small, private ceremony tomorrow; he wasn’t planning on going. He felt that way because he knew he’d be retaliated against by those true to Theresa. He wasn’t involved in her murder, but the ones that knew he rolled with Ebon would blame him.

But it would be disrespectful not to go; and she had been so close to him. He resolved himself to go, and watch from the outside. He would pay his respects, and somehow learn to move on.

As he stared down at the newspaper, his shoulders slumped and his hair unfixed, he realized that staying on Ebon’s good side and avoiding a similar fate as Theresa left him feeling exhausted. He didn’t want to die; dying, the very essence and sense of dying, left him petrified.

The more he stared down at the dead bodies he’d helped destroy, the more he grew frightened of what would happen to him as he died. He didn’t know where people went after they died; he didn’t know what would happen to him. Would he just...cease to exist? That very thought sent his gut turning restlessly, because as he lived, he existed. He was somebody; maybe a nobody to others, but he breathed, thought, ate, drink and shit, so therefore, he existed. When people die...what happened next?

Death was unforgiving and it was cruel; it wasn’t pretty, like the movies depicted. He knew first hand what dead bodies did. He didn’t want to imagine himself mutilated by bullet or knife, losing all control over muscles, pissing or shitting all over himself; he didn’t want to die.

Where would he go when he died, when in real life, he was living this? The unknown terrified him.

Staring at Theresa’s old mug shot, he couldn’t picture her dead. She was too full of life to be dead. He felt numb in that aspect.

A shadow fell across the page, and he shifted his dark eyes up; into the blank expression of S.

Her black eyes stared at him, with neither question or expression reflected in them. He hadn’t even heard her approach.

He tried to give her a scowl, but failed. He didn’t think she could speak, anyway. Not English. He wasn’t sure of her nationality, and she never spoke unless D or V addressed her. One thing he’d noticed, however, was the iPod.

The MP3 player was always present on her person, and the ear plugs were always tucked into her ears. The wires were nearly hidden the layered shag that danced around her round face. He could hear her music–the beat of something techno seemed glaringly obvious within the silence of the room.

“What’chu lookin’ at?” he snarled at her. “Go play somewhere else.”

When she didn’t move, merely blinking quizzically as those black eyes settled upon his lips, he lunged at her. One of his fists shaped into that of a hatchet. He had that blade settled against her throat before she could even move.

As her eyes shifted up to his, her pretty lips curling into a disagreeing frown, he spit, “You got anythin’ to say? You don’t say it to me. I don’t wanna talk with anybody! Get the fuck out of here! Before I forget that I ain’t s’pposed to be talking to you!”

She was reading his lips, he realized. When he finished threatening, she gave a smirk. Her head gave a light tug backwards and turned away, walking off without a word down the hall. He lowered his arm, shifting it back into its normal state, and watched after her.

Ebon had been in questioning for over a day, now. He wondered why he’d gone. Maybe Ebon felt guilty for what he did to Theresa, and was somehow looking to rectify himself with it. He hadn’t left any orders for him and Kangorr–in fact, after that meeting with D and V, Kangorr had left, presumably to see his two children before being called back to duty.

Shiv had no where to go. No one to go to at times like these. He felt lost...alone...and without Theresa anywhere about; useless.

If this what death meant, then he felt even more so against the very thought.

OooooooooooO

It was late by the time Virgil left Daisy’s two nights after meeting with Richie at the gas station. He was still in a world of shock, anger and heavy remorse as he tried to accept what had been done to his friend. It was hard; Richie was now a complete stranger that wore his best friend’s clothes and glasses behave in a manner that didn’t fit him. His mood swings sent Virgil into a disoriented loop that left him feeling exhausted, and while Richie apologized for it, Virgil couldn’t help but feel his own emotions swinging every which way, like a pendulum that swung out of control. Both of them found themselves walking eggshells around each other, each one trying to anticipate the other’s mood. And when one was incorrectly taken, the air was filled with defensive snaps and jabs that left them both guilty.

The threat Ebon had posed upon learning Gear’s identity had been quelled when the living shadow made headlines upon his own surrender and curing for questioning. Virgil and Richie had been confused, as the rest of the city had been. What had he been trying to prove? What was he looking to gain? What prompted this willingness to deliver himself to the authorities?

While the action gave Richie a huge sense of relief and comfort in knowing that Ebon couldn’t terrorize him any further, the blond was also wondering aloud the possibilities of Ebon remaining there.

They had learned of Theresa’s death from the papers, and while Virgil had been a little saddened by the way she was killed, he’d noticed that his friend had seemed...more or less satisfied. It bothered him that Richie would feel that way, but he also admitted that he did not know what Richie went through that night, so he wasn’t going to judge. Virgil wanted to pay his respects, and had planned on going to the funeral. As Talon, Theresa had been a menace; but he felt that for her to be killed the way she had was unfair, especially considering that Ebon had been behind it.

Well, it was theorized, actually.

Constance Menounos had said that Theresa had confessed to ‘being in trouble’...but didn’t know what kind or from whom. Theresa had been set to leave Dakota when she was gunned down; while Virgil wanted to investigate why the former bang baby was on the run from her crew, he was also curious as he wondered what she could have done to Ebon that prompted a death sentence. Did Theresa balk at something sinister and grievous? Or...had she felt guilty by what happened to Richie that Saturday night? It was something that bothered Virgil.

But as Dakota relaxed from Ebon’s absence, the crime activity remained the same.

He hadn’t put on his costume, yet. Every time he made the move to do so, his body would suddenly feel a hundred times heavier, and he just couldn’t force himself to do it.

Static was still on vacation, and Gear was permanently out of commission, he’d thought, staring at the blue, black and yellow costume that was kept in his bag. Would the city even notice? Would they even care?

He had felt that if he put on the costume, he’d somehow smother himself. He was reluctant to even think about it. He hoped, that as the days passed, these feelings would pass. So he visited his girlfriend and released his pent up aggressions in the timeless form of sex–they’d learned that if they were quiet and slipped out from her family’s house to her mother’s greenhouse, they would complete the action with those satisfying results that always left him feeling content and drained.
This night was one of those; it helped that Daisy was just as much into it as he was. Even more so when she initiated it.

He walked into his family’s kitchen, tossing aside his gloves and house keys with a loud sigh.

He gave a startled expression upon seeing Adam Evans sitting at the table, various forms and notepads scattered around him. Sharon’s boyfriend and his former opponent had been a trusted confidant at times, and Virgil liked talking to him. Adam was musically talented, wise in the street smarts, and carried that overall weight of life experience that Virgil related to in terms of heroism and teenage angst. Virgil could talk to Adam about what was bothering him, and Adam would give him simple advice and encouragement.

It was rare to see the youngest Evans brother; Adam was most often busy making music and had recently signed on to co-produce an up-and-coming rap artist that had been chosen by a brand name label. Sharon had complained that he loved his music more than her; and Virgil always had a quip that praised Adam’s smarts in that aspect, usually earning him a slap or a drawn-out rant that drove him out of the house in fear of his life.

But tonight, as he looked at Adam and took in his somewhat menacing facial features, he felt a chill race violently up his spine. He’d seen the mug shot of Ivan; he and Adam looked eerily alike, save that Adam was shorter, more filled in the shoulders and chest, and had a rounder face. But their eyes were almost the same; the hooded brows, the tilt at the sides, the contemplative and intimidating way they focused on something.

He’d never thought of Ebon as that scary, before. But he looked at Adam tonight, watched as those eyes turned on him; and wondered what it would do to Richie if he ran into the friendlier brother after that vicious attack. It made Virgil’s gut curdle violently, and he suppressed a grunt of pain.

Adam mistook the expression as something else, and drew his head back with a frown. “Well...I haven’t seen that look directed at me ever since Sharon found out my spit-and-flick trick.”

“Sorry...man, I...you here, for awhile?”

“Yeah...I got some time. What’s up?”

“Where’s Sharon?”

“Somethin’ about blowing out her hair for tomorrow.” Adam rolled his eyes, propping his chin upon his palm. “Chicks, man. I don’t see why she does it. It always ends up lookin’ the same.”

Virgil chuckled, shaking his head as he sank into the chair at the head of the table. “Ain’t that right, brotha-man. Where ya’ll off to, tomorrow?”

“I gotta fly into St. Louis–figured I’d take her with me. We only gonna be there for a couple of days. Maybe fly into the N-Y-C before comin’ back here. But we should be back by Tuesday.”

“What cha’ll gonna do in New York?”

“Maybe meet with some guys. See what talent they got.”

“You scoutin’, now?”

“Here and there. But I’m stickin’ to making music. So, what’s that look about?”

Virgil traced the patterns of the wood table with the tip of his finger, and narrowed his eyes as he looked over at Adam. “Your brother all up in jail...”
“Yeah,” Adam said on a sigh, straightening from the table. “I ain’t up on that. We ain’t close, anyway. Kinda pretend that we ain’t related. Which isn’t hard, considering that we don’t even talk anymore...he stays out on his own business and keeps me out of it. I don’t want to interfere with what he’s doin’. I know, it sounds like I’m coppin’ out, but I can’t do shit against my own brother.”

“Yeah...I understand. It’s all good. I mean...he’s in jail, now. He can’t do anything.”

“Maybe he can’t...but we all know he’s got goons runnin’ what he’s got set up. I don’t know...is that what this is about?”

Virgil shifted in his seat. “He’s gone all hard-core. He ain’t care what he does to people nowadays.”

Adam grunted, tossing his pen aside as he swept his hands over his skull, frowning deeply at his work before him. “Don’t mean to be rude, Virg, but is this goin’ anywhere?”

“Yeah...he...I just found out...well, a coupla days ago, actually...Saturday night, he–God. Adam, he fucked Richie over. I mean, Gear. Ebon hurt him–real bad. And he don’t wanna be Gear, anymore.”

“Who, Richie?” Adam asked, looking over at him in surprise and concern. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah...I guess...but...Adam, man, Ivan–he...shit, Adam, he raped him. He fucked him up and raped him.” The words had been hard to get out, and he hadn’t known why he was telling Adam this, especially when Adam didn’t like hearing what his older brother was doing. But it was an unexplained drive from within; and as soon as the words were out, he realized why he was saying them. “So now, Ebon knows who Richie is. And he knows where he lives. An’ he even–he even went to his house the other night to...to bother him. But...the thing is...now that he knows who Richie is, he’s gonna found out who I am. An’ I’m scared, man. For my family. For my friend, and his family. I mean, I know this type’ah shit was gonna happen someday? Just not to this degree. There are some people that know who I am, but having Ebon know this? When he’s fuckin’ things up with various people? I’m scared! For my family! Cuz you know he’s gonna use ya’ll against me when he finds out who I am!”

Adam stared at him in stunned silence, but his eyes gave nothing away as he listened to Virgil’s half hysterical rant. The kitchen went silent as Virgil swept his hands over his dreads, then propped his forehead against his palms, staring down at the table. For some time, all that they could hear was the light traffic outside; the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall.

Adam was busy trying to accept what had been said; what his brother was capable of. And for that, he felt immense guilt rise up within, guilt in that he had no control over his sibling and for all that he’d caused to Dakota. And to those closest to him.

He felt numb as he looked away from Virgil, staring at the open notebook in front of him. The lyrics he’d written were a blur as he thought of Richie being hurt that way; he thought of Sharon and Robert being targets. He thought of the pressure Virgil felt upon knowing all this, his role as Static growing overwhelmingly too much for the teen.

But he felt guilt in that he could do nothing for them.

Virgil wiped his nose and looked up from the table, noting Adam’s heavy expression. He stared at the older male for a few moments, wondering what he was thinking. He knew that his confession was a way of asking for help. Advice, some sort of comfort. But as the minutes ticked by, all Adam did was shake his head and shift in his seat.

“That’s fucked up, man,” he said softly, his large hands wiping his face. “That’s fucked up. What the fuck is he thinking?”

Virgil had no answer to that; but he could sense and see Adam’s own distress over his brother’s actions. He wished he could take back the words, so that Adam could find out some other way. But the more he thought over his decision, the more he felt it was right. Because his family was in danger, and he needed to know what to do.

He spread his hands out helplessly. “I gotta warn ya, man, that it just...yeah, it’s good that he’s in jail right now. But what will happen when he breaks out? What will happen when he decides that he’s gonna pull some shit before goin’ back again? I...I don’t know what to do.”

“...Richie okay?”

“Yeah...but...he doesn’t want to resume bein’ Gear, again.”

“...Did he go to the hospital?”

“Yeah...he did.” Virgil wasn’t ready to confess who had been there with Richie. Richie hadn’t come out to anybody but him–and even then, he’d found out through deduction and accident. Virgil wasn’t going to give his secret away. He hoped Adam didn’t pry too much into that aspect. But it looked as if it didn’t matter. Adam was still stunned by what had been revealed to him to even say anything.

Adam nodded solemnly, then shook his head, turning his face away from Virgil as he leaned against the table. His long arms folded, and he propped his forehead against them, once again lapsing into silence.

Virgil felt incredibly guilty, then...but it was for the best. Adam had shown and said that he’d wanted nothing to do with his older brother; but every time he heard of the things Ivan had done, it had all left an impact upon him. It showed as he stared at the older male, helpless to offer any sort of comfort or action that would somehow dull the pain. But he couldn’t. Because he didn’t know what to say and didn’t know how.

Finally, Adam lifted his head, that expression of stunned anger still on his face. His long fingers swept over his features, and he exhaled loudly.

“We’ll work on that,” he said gruffly, reaching out to put things away. “I’ll help you work on that. I just...damn, Virg...I don’t know what to say. I understand what you mean by the family bein’ all up in Ebon’s sights–but he hasn’t found out who you are, yet, did he?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“I won’t let him get near the family. But we have to let Robert and Sharon know what’s going on. I’m sorry for Richie, man. That was fucked up shit. I don’t even know what to say to him if I see him. I feel fuckin’ ashamed! What the hell am I supposed to say to him?” Angrily, Adam rose from his chair, stacking his work into a couple of piles. Then he stopped all movement. “Goddamn it. Goddamn. Fuckin’ Ivan. Someone needs to waste his ass. He needs to be removed.”

Virgil was stunned at the force of which Adam spoke with, the vehement anger that darkened every word. He hadn’t imagined Adam ever wanting to have Ivan killed; ignored and disowned, of course, but never killed. It startled him.

“That’s right,” Adam said, glancing over at him. “That’s what I said. He needs to be removed. He’s just gonna keep on doing this bullshit until he’s finally killed. That’s the only way he’s gonna be stopped.”

Virgil closed his eyes and slumped low in his seat. “I’m not going to–!”

“I ain’t sayin’ you should, Virgil! I’m just saying...I’m just saying my brother’s a monster, an’ someone has to do him in. That’s the only way he’s gonna be stopped! Virgil...I’m sorry, man. I can’t–I can’t think, right now. But we need to talk with your sister and your father. They need to be warned. Cuz even if Ebon’s in jail, you know there’s suckers out there that’ll still do what he says.”

“...Yeah...”

Adam swept a hand over his skull once more, shaking his head. “Man, I...I’ll wait on you to start it. I can’t...I need a break. Can ya let Sharon know I went for a walk?”

Virgil swallowed. “I’m sorry, Adam. I didn’t want–”

“There’s no need to apologize, Virgil. I’m just feelin’ shamed out, right now, over what my brother’s capable of. I just need to be alone for awhile. If I don’t come back here by eleven, I’m just heading home. I’m sorry, Virgil. And...and I don’t even know what I’m gonna say to Richie when I see him.”

Adam turned, and walked out from the kitchen, his anger trailing after him. Virgil quietly stared at the closing door, interlacing his fingers as he went over the conversation. He didn’t feel so good. His brain seemed to have locked up for any available plans and ideas of what to do for the next step.

But it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him–now that Adam knew what was going on, perhaps the pair of them would plan out a safety plan to keep the families safe.

Until then...Virgil left the kitchen to sort out proper funeral clothing.