Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Watch The Sky ❯ Chapter Ten ( Chapter 10 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for children under 17
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.03.2007 | Updated On: 04.09.2007 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.5K | Visits: 262 | Status: Completed
Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for children under 17
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.03.2007 | Updated On: 04.09.2007 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.5K | Visits: 262 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS! Dwayne McDuffie and WB and Milestone do in...their various ways.
Warning: profanity, darkness, slash, Out of Character
A/N: Sorry...it's a little short. >.< I'll make it up next chapter! Booyah. :-D Many thanks to the people that continue to read this! You know who you are... I know it's rather...um...boring and the very same as the last storeh. But I'd really like input on it...anything. I'm begging (again). I am begging for input!...either way... just please keep reading, and I'll feel better that I've wasted more people's precious time with my filth. :-D Would make me happy.
Chapter Ten
Osgoode stared at the selection before him, self-consciously rubbing his nose while Sean made his choice. The pair were standing in front of a meat counter, Sean reading off a list that Maggie had made. Having become familiar with the Foley family, the men behind the counter made small chat with Sean while Osgoode mumbled his answers to an occasional question thrown his way. As he wandered down the glass-covered shelf, he became aware of being approached.
“Hi, Oz! Long time no see,” came the cheerful greeting. Osgoode felt himself grow even more self-conscious as he looked at Sharon Hawkins, the woman carrying a basket full of meat goods before her. She made him feel taller than his five six. She glanced at Sean, then around the store. “I was hoping to see both you and your brother, together. Virgil mentioned that it’s difficult to tell you two apart.”
“Hi, Sharon,” Osgoode mumbled, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets. Despite his familiarity with the woman, it was still hard to open up and talk to her. He could feel her eyes, so similar to Virgil’s, probe his features.
“I haven’t seen you around, lately,” she continued. “Have you and Virgil had a falling out? I can only suspect–the fool’s been acting a little mopey lately. Hanging around the house and behaving like a barnacle for the couch.”
Osgoode looked at his father for help. He really wasn’t comfortable speaking to Sharon despite her ties, and he definitely wasn’t comfortable speaking about the situation with Virgil. Sean noticed the woman waiting for an answer, and uncomfortably made his way over.
“I’m this boy’s father. Sean. You part of the Hawkins’ family?” he asked gruffly, giving off the impression that he wasn’t comfortable, either. “You look like that boy that comes over all the time...”
Sharon gave Sean an odd look before continuing. “My name is Sharon. My brother’s Virgil? I was just asking Osgoode here why he hasn’t been around very much. He was around so much that for a moment there, I thought daddy had adopted.”
Sean coughed. “Yeah, well...he probably got tired of your brother trying to take place of his brother. Both the boys have been having difficulties with each other lately, and Oz here has a hard time telling people what he feels. He probably got a hint.”
Osgoode winced as Sharon gave Sean another odd look, then shot the twin a similar one. She took a step back. “Right...well...nice seeing you again. Bye.”
When she walked off, Sean winced. Osgoode elbowed his father in the gut with an embarrassed gaze. “DAD! Do you realize how shitty you sound? Geez!”
“That wasn’t what I meant, but that woman made me nervous with that nosiness of hers. Oh well. Next time, fight your own battles, son,” Sean muttered with an embarrassed expression, walking back to the counter as he rubbed his stomach. Osgoode looked after Sharon, who was paying for her purchases. She shot him an dirty expression as she turned and left. Osgoode slapped his forehead, guilt hitting him harshly.
As soon as he was able, he called home, needing to vent his frustration and incredulity over his father’s words with his brother. Richard answered, slightly breathless, but Osgoode paid no attention.
“Do you know what your stupid father did?” Osgoode demanded, glaring at Sean in the front seat. Maggie was now driving over to the nearby bulk-goods store, their purchased meat packed away in a Styrofoam container in the back of the car.
“My daddy does no wrong, Oz!”
“Your ‘daddy’ just told Sharon Hawkins that–”
“Who is that, Ozzie? Sounds familiar...”
“Nevermind!” Osgoode then began his rant, finding it a little odd that his brother was asking him inane questions from time to time, and before he knew it, Maggie was coaxing them both to the check-out line with the large cart full of items. It sometimes amazed him how he could spend so much time on the cellphone with his brother when they were apart, and he looked at the device with disgust. “Anyway, we’re headed home.”
Richard heaved a sigh of relief from the other end. “Awesome. Bring me some goodies!”
Osgoode furrowed his brow. It felt as if his brother was behaving suspiciously, but he put it out of his mind to agonize over his father’s words and behavior.
At that moment, Hotstreak was giving Richard a fully irritated stare as the blond hung up the phone, giving him a mock-surprise expression. “Whoops. You know Oz...he misses me so much that he had to call and talk to me whenever he’s away.”
Shaking his head in disgust, Hotstreak muttered, “You took your time on purpose. You think I’m stupid, Rich?”
Tossing the handheld aside, Richard gave him a hurt expression, pulling on his t-shirt and pulling his knees to his chest. They had been about to mess around, Hotstreak arriving nearly an hour after his family left. Both of them were in their boxers and the mood had been set despite the feeling of being rushed. Hotstreak never stayed at the house for long–just long enough for small talk and whatever else they were in the mood for.
But as the situation with sex approached, Richard had been growing nervous and apprehensive, practically willing his brother to call him to prevent that measure from being taken. It was a little sad for Richard; he hated disappointing his older boyfriend, feeling inadequate in being able to give him what he was asking for. But he hated being pressured for something he didn’t want to do as well.
He watched the metahuman dress with irritated actions, and then turned his attention to the small brown bag sitting atop of his nightstand. He could picture the small tube of jelly and pack of condoms packed neatly inside, feeling sheepish in his relief in that he’d escaped another attempt at the meta claiming his ass.
“No, I don’t think you’re stupid. And I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered, picking at his colored toes. The meta had repainted them, but his aim had been slightly off–so he picked at the traces of color around his toenails. “You don’t have to leave right away...It feels like you just got here.”
“I ain’t hanging around where I can be found out, idiot. Sooner I leave, sooner I’m safe,” Hotstreak said, stuffing his feet into his sneakers and lacing them tightly. He glanced over at Richard, who was watching him with a sullen expression. He straightened to give him an irritated look. “What?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“For what?”
“For...not doing that. I know that’s what you want, but...I don’t want to do it. I’m not ready to, yet.”
“One of these days, it’s gonna come down to that. I don’t see why you keep holding yourself back. If you really give a damn about me, you’d give in and give me all of you.”
“What does anal sex have to do with what I feel for you? It shouldn’t have to be that way!” Richard snapped at him. He pressed his chin against his left knee, feeling childish. He hated feeling as if he were doing something wrong by sticking to his decision based on his readiness. Why should he be made guilty? “Fine then. Run away, all pissed off and stupid.”
“Hey, what’s with the fucking attitude?” Hotstreak snapped back, pausing in pulling on his belt. “You even want me around? You put off signals here and then get all pissed because I took ‘em the way you gave ‘em. Fucking cocktease, anyway.”
Richard muttered something under his breath, turning his head away from him. He listened to Hotstreak gather his jacket and cap, the brown bag snatched and rolled harshly. A door slammed downstairs, and something crashed to the floor. There came the accompanying patter of small feet hitting the linoleum floor, as if something were escaping trouble. Hotstreak paused for a moment, then hurled the bag across the room.
“And I hate fucking coming here! It’s fuckin’ creepy as hell!” he raged. “Things dropping, people moving through the fucking hall, people whispering in the fucking closet–! I hate coming here, but I keep on doing it just to see you! I sacrifice a ton of shit just to see you!”
“You’re just all pissed because I won’t put out for you! Stop it!”
Hotstreak faced him, then crouched at the side of the bed. He stared at Richard for a few moments, then said quietly, “Look...I made a lot of effort and skirt around a lot of shit just to keep seeing you. I lie for you, and I watch your back when I can. I’ve helped you out with so much shit just to keep you happy–”
“It’s not fair that you keep on doing this to me!” Richard cried out, pulling away from him. “If I’m not comfortable doing something like that, why do you keep pushing it on me? I’ve told you to wait! It shouldn’t be THAT important to you!”
“It means a lot of things to me! It means that you trust me, and that you actually care for me! Yeah, it’s a big step and it is–it is uncomfortable, but it ain’t something that someone like you takes lightly! I know it’s a big deal for you, because you actually think about stuff like that, but it’s also a big deal for me, too! It means that I have you, that–”
“I’m not something to possess! And it shouldn’t be so monumental in the way that you’re taking it! You make me sound like a thing, and not a person!”
“It just means a lot to me because I haven’t done it very much. And it does involve a lot of trust and–and all that, and I thought you’d get that!”
“Well, it doesn’t! There are other things that can be more important than that.”
Hotstreak rolled his eyes, but he retrieved the bag. His hairs were standing on end–he felt as if he were being watched very closely by something that shouldn’t be there. Feeling incredibly unwelcome and uncomfortable, urged also by the feeling of escaping before Richard’s family came back, he shrugged on his jacket.
“Whatever. If you’re flaunting and teasing, you might as well as give it up. If you’re giving it up to your other boyfriend...whatever.”
“I’m not seeing anybody else!” Richard protested. “You’re the only one that I see seriously!”
“Oh, ‘seriously’. Yeah. Thanks.”
“...I didn’t mean...”
“How many others do you tease around? Huh? Are they guys I already know? Is this some sort of game you like playing? See who gives what for you? Man...forget it. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of giving all the time, and gettin’ nothing back from you.”
Richard stared at him in sullen regard, then he waved a hand at the door. “Fine. Go. No one’s holding you back.”
Hotstreak stared back at him for a few more moments, crinkling his brow as Richard gave him a scowl. His eyes ran over Richard’s t-shirt and boxers clad form, pausing only at his red toes. He scoffed. “Whatever. I won’t miss you. Just a fuckin’ kid, anyway. Something to pass the time.”
“Say whatever makes you feel better about yourself. I won’t be crying over this,” Richard said, crossing his arms tightly. He glared at the meta, fighting off the burn of tears that were starting to bother him. Once he realized this was happening, he turned his head to stare out the window, giving off a dismissive and arrogant air. “There are others out there that will respect my decision. You aren’t the first.”
“...whatever. Waste of my time, anyway...”
Richard wanted to fling something at his back as the meta left his room, grumbling all the way downstairs. The front door opened and slammed, the whole house shaking in effect. Feeling tight-chested, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, gripping his blankets tightly. He felt incredibly alone at that moment–felt sick and disappointed. He felt as if he’d failed at something.
Trying to swallow, he rose from the bed and opened the window. Digging out his cigarettes, he lit one and stared out with a morose expression. He had really liked the meta–they’d had fun together. Hotstreak’s personality had a rough quality to it, but also a cherishable tenderness to it that Richard found endearing. But he felt angry that the meta pressured him for something he wasn’t ready for, and scowled at the street below.
Remembering the crash downstairs, he stubbed out his cigarette and hid that; then went to clean up whatever it was They had done.
01010011
Static had just finished his rounds the next late afternoon when he decided to drop by the Foley house. The tension he felt for the pair of them was continuously pounding away at him; rereading his notes had him constantly on edge, for there was something there that was waiting to be discovered. But every time he put serious thought to it, it always felt as if something were watching his back; warning him not to delve into it. To back away and forget about it.
But he couldn’t.
At school the twins ignored him, and Virgil thought it was best. Because he didn’t want to bother Osgoode while he tried to figure this out. He didn’t want Osgoode to know that Static had been snooping into his suspicious background because he knew that the twin would take offense. He knew Osgoode would grow defensive. And while things were at a bad point, Virgil didn’t want to make them worse.
He jumped onto the roof of a nearby house, catching sight of the twins–still in uniform but carrying bags bearing logos from a store in the mall–as they ambled down the sidewalk. Both of them were in animated discussion about something he couldn’t quite catch. Leaning elbows onto the edge and resting his chin in his palms, Static sighed. He missed Osgoode. He missed being the recipient of his excited chatter and his almost maternal actions. He missed being able to touch him and smell him. He missed everything–but he knew better than to pressure the twin.
He frowned as the twins paused at their walkway, arguing about something until one of them–he couldn’t quite tell who at this distance–pulled a book from the bag and slapped the other one with it. They burst into laughter and then continued up the driveway, one trying to step on the heel of the other’s shoe.
The world seemed less animated whenever they were out of sight, Static decided with a weary sigh. He had a sullen expression on his face when something caught the corner of his eye. Tilting his head to the right, he saw an SUV with dark, tinted windows pull up to the sidewalk just a house down from the Foley residence. Something ominous had Static straightening from the roof, and he watched the vehicle as it parked. He couldn’t see the occupants, and he definitely didn’t recognize the vehicle from his earlier visits to the house. Something tipped him off in that the vehicle parking there was something of a bad sign.
When he squinted, he realized he was seeing out of state plates–the same state in which the twins had moved from. Feeling instinct scream at him, Static took to his disk and decided to take action. The vehicle was parked at an angle that would be impossible to catch from within the Foley house, so he figured he was safe in that aspect. He careened downward, landing atop of the roof and peering down into the windshield. He couldn’t quite see inside, but he immediately emitted a focused wave of an electromagnetic pulse into the vehicle, disabling it quickly. With that, he forced all the doors open, and straightened himself to stand proudly just outside the driver’s side door.
The man that was startled by the entire action simply stared at him in quiet reaction, and Static barely suppressed the urge to cringe. Clearly unkempt with a raggedy beard, greasy hair and a permeating body odor, the man’s state made Static wonder if he’d just caught a car thief that had wandered into the neighborhood with coincidental ‘plates.
But then he caught sight of the digital camera on the passenger side seat, and a portable printer that had been working moments before the EMP. On the floor were dozens of other pictures, worn notebooks, food trash, and other miscellaneous things that made Static realize that this man had been living in his vehicle for quite awhile. Sternly, he set his gloved hands on his hips.
“Do I have to ask how you get the money to pay for your gas?” he asked.
The man blinked in a slow sort of way, glanced out the windshield, then faced him again. “Sir, what is this about?”
“I was just in the neighborhood when you made a right hand turn without your signal,” Static lied. “So...what’s this? It looks like you’ve lived in this vehicle for awhile. You having troubles?”
“Ah...no,” the man mumbled, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. As he did so, already printed photos fell from his lap to the street. Static startled once he realized he was looking at the twins. He picked them up as the man muttered to himself, fiddling with his camera. The angle of which the picture was taken suggested that the distance between himself and the boys wasn’t a very big one.
It made Static’s stomach curl as he shifted his gaze from the very recent photo to focus on the others. Once he realized it, he could see varied pictures of the boys in all the photos. He looked at the man, swallowing hard as he held up the picture. “Care to explain?”
The man stared at the photo for a few moments, and his expression changed. From sheepishness to a quiet rage, dark eyes burning as he took in the features of the blond twins. He looked at Static. “Four years this July, my younger brother was murdered,” he muttered. “By them–only one led him out into traffic; the other instigated. I can’t help myself. I can’t stand that they run free while my baby brother rots in his grave.”
Static lowered the photo, feeling that tickle of ominousness in his chest. “...What do you mean?”
Eagerly, the man swept out of his vehicle, opening the back driver side door. Static was both amazed and sickened to see piles upon piles of photos of the twins on every available surface of the back of the vehicle. Books and warped notebooks also littered the area, as well as dirtied clothes and trash. Crumpled paper fell to the street as he reached inside, pulling out a notebook that was marked with the words, “March 20XX–April 20XX”. It was a few months before the twins had moved to Dakota.
He flipped through it, Static wincing as he caught whiff of the man’s body odor at close proximity. He glanced at the Foley house to make sure that he hadn’t been caught sight of, and reacted with a start when the man shoved the notebook at him.
“Here, here...March 03...305 p.m. Osgoode, the younger twin by ten minutes exactly, mentions to his brother Richard that Kyle Green deserved what he’d gotten what came to him. He was glad the teen was dead, and he was glad that the car had come by in time. Richard agreed with him, and mentioned the death of John Bruly–both agreed that they were glad that the boys had died. The world was better off without them.”
“What–?”
“Her e–March 04, 800 a.m. Osgoode begins the conversation on their way to school that morning that he does not regret what he’d done. Richard thanks him. March 27, 609 a.m.; Richard complains of an teenager harassing him because he was spotted shoplifting women’s makeup from a drug store near their home. Osgoode tells him that he, quote, would take care of the troublemaker; he just needs a name, unquote.”
“...I don’t...”
“April 29, 924 p.m. Richard meets with an older boy–age and name unknown–and doesn’t come back home until early the next morning. But when he does, the younger one, Osgoode, confronts him. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could hear it. I could hear it, I could hear what that one does to him. That one...that one is dangerous, DANGEROUS! And yet he’s still allowed to roam the streets! He’s never punished for his crimes! And his brother, his brother just instigates it all, covers and excuses him! It’s not right!”
Static stared at him. He rolled his eyes to the left. “Erm...right. Have you been following them long?”
The man stared at him for a few moments, his eyes glazing over for a second. “Not only that,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard the question, “but there’s more. Oh, there’s so much more. Look.”
Static stood by with a helpless look on his face as the man turned and began rummaging through his vehicle for a particular pile of photos. When he brought out a plastic container that was overfilled with items, Static shook his head in disgust. But when the container was open, things caught his eye.
“There’s something weird going on, man. Something...something I can’t explain. But these pictures don’t lie,” the man said, pulling out photo after photo. When Static looked at them, he realized he was seeing flashes of color and light–of particular streaks over the sky. In some, his blood running cold, were fleeting pictures of shadow-like humanoids that looked to be staring at the cameraman from behind various objects. The hairs on his arms and back of his neck rose.
While definitely confronted with a mad man, these pictures were clearly something else.
Images of his notepad came to mind, and he looked at the man with a steel expression. “What...are these?” he asked carefully.
The man stared at what Static had in hand, then shrugged with a sense of finality. “I...I don’t know. I...can’t explain most of them, but these...these things are around this family a lot. I mean, even back in the neighborhood, there was always something odd going on. I can’t quite...I can’t quite explain it. But...but maybe it has something to do with them. With them, I tell you. They aren’t quite normal! I mean, going from severe retards to supergeniuses within months?! To murdering off their peers with nothin’ but a grin? They’re up to no good, I tell ya. No good...no...no good. And no one’s doing a thing about it, but I am. I’m documenting everything they do. Everything...”
The man began mumbling to himself, thrusting another handful of photos into Static’s hands. The teen barely caught what he could, but it seemed as if the man was simply taking it upon himself to show Static everything. While the disturbed individual began digging through his piles of notebooks in his vehicle, Static perused the photos in hand. He about dropped everything when he saw someone he knew.
“Oh my god, he’s seeing Hotstreak?!” he gasped aloud, staring at the evidence in hand. The meta was in conversation with the twin–he could only see his back, but he definitely knew who it was–and both were sitting in an unknown location. He shook his head, mind racing over the incident. Out of reflex he turned the photo over, and was startled at the date and time that was neatly printed upon the back. According to the date, the pair had known each other for over six months. Recalling that incident with Hotstreak recently, he felt a little dizzy. Another lie that needed to be explored.
He stuffed what photos he found necessary into his jacket pocket. “Look,” he said, raising his voice to be heard as he handed over a majority. “I need you to stop following them. What you’re doing is a crime, you know. I need to report you.”
The man climbed out of his car, armed with photos. Seeing them, Static could see that the twins were younger in most of them–he guessed that they were taken before Dakota. He felt sick knowing that this man may have caught him and Osgoode together–he needed to know if his identity was compromised.
“You can’t,” he said with a huff, dropping a pile onto the street. He didn’t notice that they were blowing underneath the vehicle with the afternoon breeze. “You just can’t. You do...you do and there will be no one else to watch them. No one else to document their crimes. No one...absolutely no one. I trusted you! I had hoped that you’d help me take them down!”
“No,” Static said gravely, shaking his head. He stared at the man closely, looking for any sign that the man somehow knew him underneath his mask. “No...man, this is...this is wrong. You can’t go around taking pictures of people–you’re stalking these boys. It could also be taken in another way. You could be slapped with child sex crimes, or something. This is just...wrong.”
“No...NO! I have–I have followed them for years! For months, for days I’ve followed them, watching what they do and where they go and who they talk to, and I’ve been–these creatures! How do you explain these creatures?!” the man cried, picking up a photo with a shadowy humanoid standing in what looked to be the Foleys’ back yard. “I’m telling you! And they get away with it, because they know how to beat the system! They know how to work around things, to get things to work their way! Their parents are under their influence, they’re aliens! ALIENS! Genetically created to study and watch our world for their–!”
“All right, all right,” Static mumbled, pulling out his shockbox. He radioed police headquarters, requesting a car to the address. While the man continued to rant and rave, Static looked at the photos available to him. He needed that evidence–he needed to make sure that–
“MURDERER!” the man suddenly screamed, making him whirl around. Both Osgoode and Richard paused in mid-step, turning to face them as they were heading down the sidewalk away from them. They’d changed out of their uniforms. They looked startled once they realized they had the attention of the mad man that moved out to face them. “BOTH OF YOU! Murdered my youngest brother, you–! Both of you! Creatures of the night–! I’ve watched BOTH of you! Satan’s rape demons!”
Static flushed, shaking his head as he caught the guy. He was suddenly amazed at the strength that was used as the man rushed at them, arms flailing. He caught the man before he could even reach the twins’, charging his clothing and swinging him around to pin him against a nearby stop sign. As he continued to rant and rave, Static swallowed hard and looked at the two boys.
With some trepidation, he noticed that Richard was already looking through the photos that had fallen onto the pavement, Osgoode scowling at him in regard. Hearing sirens in the distance, Static thought fast. He didn’t want to confess that he’d caught the man only because he’d been in the neighborhood in a similar situation. He looked at the SUV, filled with disturbing things. He thought of how Osgoode had helped him, and found it a good situation in his efforts to get close to him once again. He knew Osgoode would help him sort through the things for any compromising photos, and while they were at it, Static could question him on the creatures. On their background. All the while getting back into Osgoode’s good graces, especially if he could somehow get Richard into trouble. It was so spectacular of an idea that he almost grinned happily.
“I need your help,” he said to Osgoode, giving him a pleading expression when Richard gasped in dismay. He saw Richard quickly snatching up pictures, throwing his brother a terrified look as Osgoode looked at him curiously. “I need your help. This man was following both of you for a long time. He has photos. Of everything you did, everywhere you went...people you’ve met.”
He said this loud and directly at Richard, who flinched. Returning his attention to Osgoode, who looked troubled, he said, “I need to take this thing to go through it. To make sure that...that my identity...he may have gotten us both, and this needs–”
Osgoode sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. He consented only because he had no real idea what was going on, but that they were stalked for some time by a familiar face. It was also his chance to get back into Virgil’s good graces again. He couldn’t be too happy about it, so he schooled his features into a suffering scowl. “Fine. Whatever. Since you’re only thinking of yourself, and not even minding the fact that we’ve had a stalker...where do we meet?”
Static felt relieved in that Osgoode would help him, and gave him the address. Feeling much more confident over things, he looked over Richard, who had a very troubled expression as he clutched photos to his chest. “It’s outta the bag, man. Who knows how many else he has in there of you and...him.”
Osgoode was puzzled, looking over at his brother with curiosity. Richard shot him a look of dismay, swallowing hard.
Warning: profanity, darkness, slash, Out of Character
A/N: Sorry...it's a little short. >.< I'll make it up next chapter! Booyah. :-D Many thanks to the people that continue to read this! You know who you are... I know it's rather...um...boring and the very same as the last storeh. But I'd really like input on it...anything. I'm begging (again). I am begging for input!...either way... just please keep reading, and I'll feel better that I've wasted more people's precious time with my filth. :-D Would make me happy.
Chapter Ten
Osgoode stared at the selection before him, self-consciously rubbing his nose while Sean made his choice. The pair were standing in front of a meat counter, Sean reading off a list that Maggie had made. Having become familiar with the Foley family, the men behind the counter made small chat with Sean while Osgoode mumbled his answers to an occasional question thrown his way. As he wandered down the glass-covered shelf, he became aware of being approached.
“Hi, Oz! Long time no see,” came the cheerful greeting. Osgoode felt himself grow even more self-conscious as he looked at Sharon Hawkins, the woman carrying a basket full of meat goods before her. She made him feel taller than his five six. She glanced at Sean, then around the store. “I was hoping to see both you and your brother, together. Virgil mentioned that it’s difficult to tell you two apart.”
“Hi, Sharon,” Osgoode mumbled, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets. Despite his familiarity with the woman, it was still hard to open up and talk to her. He could feel her eyes, so similar to Virgil’s, probe his features.
“I haven’t seen you around, lately,” she continued. “Have you and Virgil had a falling out? I can only suspect–the fool’s been acting a little mopey lately. Hanging around the house and behaving like a barnacle for the couch.”
Osgoode looked at his father for help. He really wasn’t comfortable speaking to Sharon despite her ties, and he definitely wasn’t comfortable speaking about the situation with Virgil. Sean noticed the woman waiting for an answer, and uncomfortably made his way over.
“I’m this boy’s father. Sean. You part of the Hawkins’ family?” he asked gruffly, giving off the impression that he wasn’t comfortable, either. “You look like that boy that comes over all the time...”
Sharon gave Sean an odd look before continuing. “My name is Sharon. My brother’s Virgil? I was just asking Osgoode here why he hasn’t been around very much. He was around so much that for a moment there, I thought daddy had adopted.”
Sean coughed. “Yeah, well...he probably got tired of your brother trying to take place of his brother. Both the boys have been having difficulties with each other lately, and Oz here has a hard time telling people what he feels. He probably got a hint.”
Osgoode winced as Sharon gave Sean another odd look, then shot the twin a similar one. She took a step back. “Right...well...nice seeing you again. Bye.”
When she walked off, Sean winced. Osgoode elbowed his father in the gut with an embarrassed gaze. “DAD! Do you realize how shitty you sound? Geez!”
“That wasn’t what I meant, but that woman made me nervous with that nosiness of hers. Oh well. Next time, fight your own battles, son,” Sean muttered with an embarrassed expression, walking back to the counter as he rubbed his stomach. Osgoode looked after Sharon, who was paying for her purchases. She shot him an dirty expression as she turned and left. Osgoode slapped his forehead, guilt hitting him harshly.
As soon as he was able, he called home, needing to vent his frustration and incredulity over his father’s words with his brother. Richard answered, slightly breathless, but Osgoode paid no attention.
“Do you know what your stupid father did?” Osgoode demanded, glaring at Sean in the front seat. Maggie was now driving over to the nearby bulk-goods store, their purchased meat packed away in a Styrofoam container in the back of the car.
“My daddy does no wrong, Oz!”
“Your ‘daddy’ just told Sharon Hawkins that–”
“Who is that, Ozzie? Sounds familiar...”
“Nevermind!” Osgoode then began his rant, finding it a little odd that his brother was asking him inane questions from time to time, and before he knew it, Maggie was coaxing them both to the check-out line with the large cart full of items. It sometimes amazed him how he could spend so much time on the cellphone with his brother when they were apart, and he looked at the device with disgust. “Anyway, we’re headed home.”
Richard heaved a sigh of relief from the other end. “Awesome. Bring me some goodies!”
Osgoode furrowed his brow. It felt as if his brother was behaving suspiciously, but he put it out of his mind to agonize over his father’s words and behavior.
At that moment, Hotstreak was giving Richard a fully irritated stare as the blond hung up the phone, giving him a mock-surprise expression. “Whoops. You know Oz...he misses me so much that he had to call and talk to me whenever he’s away.”
Shaking his head in disgust, Hotstreak muttered, “You took your time on purpose. You think I’m stupid, Rich?”
Tossing the handheld aside, Richard gave him a hurt expression, pulling on his t-shirt and pulling his knees to his chest. They had been about to mess around, Hotstreak arriving nearly an hour after his family left. Both of them were in their boxers and the mood had been set despite the feeling of being rushed. Hotstreak never stayed at the house for long–just long enough for small talk and whatever else they were in the mood for.
But as the situation with sex approached, Richard had been growing nervous and apprehensive, practically willing his brother to call him to prevent that measure from being taken. It was a little sad for Richard; he hated disappointing his older boyfriend, feeling inadequate in being able to give him what he was asking for. But he hated being pressured for something he didn’t want to do as well.
He watched the metahuman dress with irritated actions, and then turned his attention to the small brown bag sitting atop of his nightstand. He could picture the small tube of jelly and pack of condoms packed neatly inside, feeling sheepish in his relief in that he’d escaped another attempt at the meta claiming his ass.
“No, I don’t think you’re stupid. And I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered, picking at his colored toes. The meta had repainted them, but his aim had been slightly off–so he picked at the traces of color around his toenails. “You don’t have to leave right away...It feels like you just got here.”
“I ain’t hanging around where I can be found out, idiot. Sooner I leave, sooner I’m safe,” Hotstreak said, stuffing his feet into his sneakers and lacing them tightly. He glanced over at Richard, who was watching him with a sullen expression. He straightened to give him an irritated look. “What?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“For what?”
“For...not doing that. I know that’s what you want, but...I don’t want to do it. I’m not ready to, yet.”
“One of these days, it’s gonna come down to that. I don’t see why you keep holding yourself back. If you really give a damn about me, you’d give in and give me all of you.”
“What does anal sex have to do with what I feel for you? It shouldn’t have to be that way!” Richard snapped at him. He pressed his chin against his left knee, feeling childish. He hated feeling as if he were doing something wrong by sticking to his decision based on his readiness. Why should he be made guilty? “Fine then. Run away, all pissed off and stupid.”
“Hey, what’s with the fucking attitude?” Hotstreak snapped back, pausing in pulling on his belt. “You even want me around? You put off signals here and then get all pissed because I took ‘em the way you gave ‘em. Fucking cocktease, anyway.”
Richard muttered something under his breath, turning his head away from him. He listened to Hotstreak gather his jacket and cap, the brown bag snatched and rolled harshly. A door slammed downstairs, and something crashed to the floor. There came the accompanying patter of small feet hitting the linoleum floor, as if something were escaping trouble. Hotstreak paused for a moment, then hurled the bag across the room.
“And I hate fucking coming here! It’s fuckin’ creepy as hell!” he raged. “Things dropping, people moving through the fucking hall, people whispering in the fucking closet–! I hate coming here, but I keep on doing it just to see you! I sacrifice a ton of shit just to see you!”
“You’re just all pissed because I won’t put out for you! Stop it!”
Hotstreak faced him, then crouched at the side of the bed. He stared at Richard for a few moments, then said quietly, “Look...I made a lot of effort and skirt around a lot of shit just to keep seeing you. I lie for you, and I watch your back when I can. I’ve helped you out with so much shit just to keep you happy–”
“It’s not fair that you keep on doing this to me!” Richard cried out, pulling away from him. “If I’m not comfortable doing something like that, why do you keep pushing it on me? I’ve told you to wait! It shouldn’t be THAT important to you!”
“It means a lot of things to me! It means that you trust me, and that you actually care for me! Yeah, it’s a big step and it is–it is uncomfortable, but it ain’t something that someone like you takes lightly! I know it’s a big deal for you, because you actually think about stuff like that, but it’s also a big deal for me, too! It means that I have you, that–”
“I’m not something to possess! And it shouldn’t be so monumental in the way that you’re taking it! You make me sound like a thing, and not a person!”
“It just means a lot to me because I haven’t done it very much. And it does involve a lot of trust and–and all that, and I thought you’d get that!”
“Well, it doesn’t! There are other things that can be more important than that.”
Hotstreak rolled his eyes, but he retrieved the bag. His hairs were standing on end–he felt as if he were being watched very closely by something that shouldn’t be there. Feeling incredibly unwelcome and uncomfortable, urged also by the feeling of escaping before Richard’s family came back, he shrugged on his jacket.
“Whatever. If you’re flaunting and teasing, you might as well as give it up. If you’re giving it up to your other boyfriend...whatever.”
“I’m not seeing anybody else!” Richard protested. “You’re the only one that I see seriously!”
“Oh, ‘seriously’. Yeah. Thanks.”
“...I didn’t mean...”
“How many others do you tease around? Huh? Are they guys I already know? Is this some sort of game you like playing? See who gives what for you? Man...forget it. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of giving all the time, and gettin’ nothing back from you.”
Richard stared at him in sullen regard, then he waved a hand at the door. “Fine. Go. No one’s holding you back.”
Hotstreak stared back at him for a few more moments, crinkling his brow as Richard gave him a scowl. His eyes ran over Richard’s t-shirt and boxers clad form, pausing only at his red toes. He scoffed. “Whatever. I won’t miss you. Just a fuckin’ kid, anyway. Something to pass the time.”
“Say whatever makes you feel better about yourself. I won’t be crying over this,” Richard said, crossing his arms tightly. He glared at the meta, fighting off the burn of tears that were starting to bother him. Once he realized this was happening, he turned his head to stare out the window, giving off a dismissive and arrogant air. “There are others out there that will respect my decision. You aren’t the first.”
“...whatever. Waste of my time, anyway...”
Richard wanted to fling something at his back as the meta left his room, grumbling all the way downstairs. The front door opened and slammed, the whole house shaking in effect. Feeling tight-chested, he slumped onto the edge of his bed, gripping his blankets tightly. He felt incredibly alone at that moment–felt sick and disappointed. He felt as if he’d failed at something.
Trying to swallow, he rose from the bed and opened the window. Digging out his cigarettes, he lit one and stared out with a morose expression. He had really liked the meta–they’d had fun together. Hotstreak’s personality had a rough quality to it, but also a cherishable tenderness to it that Richard found endearing. But he felt angry that the meta pressured him for something he wasn’t ready for, and scowled at the street below.
Remembering the crash downstairs, he stubbed out his cigarette and hid that; then went to clean up whatever it was They had done.
01010011
Static had just finished his rounds the next late afternoon when he decided to drop by the Foley house. The tension he felt for the pair of them was continuously pounding away at him; rereading his notes had him constantly on edge, for there was something there that was waiting to be discovered. But every time he put serious thought to it, it always felt as if something were watching his back; warning him not to delve into it. To back away and forget about it.
But he couldn’t.
At school the twins ignored him, and Virgil thought it was best. Because he didn’t want to bother Osgoode while he tried to figure this out. He didn’t want Osgoode to know that Static had been snooping into his suspicious background because he knew that the twin would take offense. He knew Osgoode would grow defensive. And while things were at a bad point, Virgil didn’t want to make them worse.
He jumped onto the roof of a nearby house, catching sight of the twins–still in uniform but carrying bags bearing logos from a store in the mall–as they ambled down the sidewalk. Both of them were in animated discussion about something he couldn’t quite catch. Leaning elbows onto the edge and resting his chin in his palms, Static sighed. He missed Osgoode. He missed being the recipient of his excited chatter and his almost maternal actions. He missed being able to touch him and smell him. He missed everything–but he knew better than to pressure the twin.
He frowned as the twins paused at their walkway, arguing about something until one of them–he couldn’t quite tell who at this distance–pulled a book from the bag and slapped the other one with it. They burst into laughter and then continued up the driveway, one trying to step on the heel of the other’s shoe.
The world seemed less animated whenever they were out of sight, Static decided with a weary sigh. He had a sullen expression on his face when something caught the corner of his eye. Tilting his head to the right, he saw an SUV with dark, tinted windows pull up to the sidewalk just a house down from the Foley residence. Something ominous had Static straightening from the roof, and he watched the vehicle as it parked. He couldn’t see the occupants, and he definitely didn’t recognize the vehicle from his earlier visits to the house. Something tipped him off in that the vehicle parking there was something of a bad sign.
When he squinted, he realized he was seeing out of state plates–the same state in which the twins had moved from. Feeling instinct scream at him, Static took to his disk and decided to take action. The vehicle was parked at an angle that would be impossible to catch from within the Foley house, so he figured he was safe in that aspect. He careened downward, landing atop of the roof and peering down into the windshield. He couldn’t quite see inside, but he immediately emitted a focused wave of an electromagnetic pulse into the vehicle, disabling it quickly. With that, he forced all the doors open, and straightened himself to stand proudly just outside the driver’s side door.
The man that was startled by the entire action simply stared at him in quiet reaction, and Static barely suppressed the urge to cringe. Clearly unkempt with a raggedy beard, greasy hair and a permeating body odor, the man’s state made Static wonder if he’d just caught a car thief that had wandered into the neighborhood with coincidental ‘plates.
But then he caught sight of the digital camera on the passenger side seat, and a portable printer that had been working moments before the EMP. On the floor were dozens of other pictures, worn notebooks, food trash, and other miscellaneous things that made Static realize that this man had been living in his vehicle for quite awhile. Sternly, he set his gloved hands on his hips.
“Do I have to ask how you get the money to pay for your gas?” he asked.
The man blinked in a slow sort of way, glanced out the windshield, then faced him again. “Sir, what is this about?”
“I was just in the neighborhood when you made a right hand turn without your signal,” Static lied. “So...what’s this? It looks like you’ve lived in this vehicle for awhile. You having troubles?”
“Ah...no,” the man mumbled, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. As he did so, already printed photos fell from his lap to the street. Static startled once he realized he was looking at the twins. He picked them up as the man muttered to himself, fiddling with his camera. The angle of which the picture was taken suggested that the distance between himself and the boys wasn’t a very big one.
It made Static’s stomach curl as he shifted his gaze from the very recent photo to focus on the others. Once he realized it, he could see varied pictures of the boys in all the photos. He looked at the man, swallowing hard as he held up the picture. “Care to explain?”
The man stared at the photo for a few moments, and his expression changed. From sheepishness to a quiet rage, dark eyes burning as he took in the features of the blond twins. He looked at Static. “Four years this July, my younger brother was murdered,” he muttered. “By them–only one led him out into traffic; the other instigated. I can’t help myself. I can’t stand that they run free while my baby brother rots in his grave.”
Static lowered the photo, feeling that tickle of ominousness in his chest. “...What do you mean?”
Eagerly, the man swept out of his vehicle, opening the back driver side door. Static was both amazed and sickened to see piles upon piles of photos of the twins on every available surface of the back of the vehicle. Books and warped notebooks also littered the area, as well as dirtied clothes and trash. Crumpled paper fell to the street as he reached inside, pulling out a notebook that was marked with the words, “March 20XX–April 20XX”. It was a few months before the twins had moved to Dakota.
He flipped through it, Static wincing as he caught whiff of the man’s body odor at close proximity. He glanced at the Foley house to make sure that he hadn’t been caught sight of, and reacted with a start when the man shoved the notebook at him.
“Here, here...March 03...305 p.m. Osgoode, the younger twin by ten minutes exactly, mentions to his brother Richard that Kyle Green deserved what he’d gotten what came to him. He was glad the teen was dead, and he was glad that the car had come by in time. Richard agreed with him, and mentioned the death of John Bruly–both agreed that they were glad that the boys had died. The world was better off without them.”
“What–?”
“Her e–March 04, 800 a.m. Osgoode begins the conversation on their way to school that morning that he does not regret what he’d done. Richard thanks him. March 27, 609 a.m.; Richard complains of an teenager harassing him because he was spotted shoplifting women’s makeup from a drug store near their home. Osgoode tells him that he, quote, would take care of the troublemaker; he just needs a name, unquote.”
“...I don’t...”
“April 29, 924 p.m. Richard meets with an older boy–age and name unknown–and doesn’t come back home until early the next morning. But when he does, the younger one, Osgoode, confronts him. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could hear it. I could hear it, I could hear what that one does to him. That one...that one is dangerous, DANGEROUS! And yet he’s still allowed to roam the streets! He’s never punished for his crimes! And his brother, his brother just instigates it all, covers and excuses him! It’s not right!”
Static stared at him. He rolled his eyes to the left. “Erm...right. Have you been following them long?”
The man stared at him for a few moments, his eyes glazing over for a second. “Not only that,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard the question, “but there’s more. Oh, there’s so much more. Look.”
Static stood by with a helpless look on his face as the man turned and began rummaging through his vehicle for a particular pile of photos. When he brought out a plastic container that was overfilled with items, Static shook his head in disgust. But when the container was open, things caught his eye.
“There’s something weird going on, man. Something...something I can’t explain. But these pictures don’t lie,” the man said, pulling out photo after photo. When Static looked at them, he realized he was seeing flashes of color and light–of particular streaks over the sky. In some, his blood running cold, were fleeting pictures of shadow-like humanoids that looked to be staring at the cameraman from behind various objects. The hairs on his arms and back of his neck rose.
While definitely confronted with a mad man, these pictures were clearly something else.
Images of his notepad came to mind, and he looked at the man with a steel expression. “What...are these?” he asked carefully.
The man stared at what Static had in hand, then shrugged with a sense of finality. “I...I don’t know. I...can’t explain most of them, but these...these things are around this family a lot. I mean, even back in the neighborhood, there was always something odd going on. I can’t quite...I can’t quite explain it. But...but maybe it has something to do with them. With them, I tell you. They aren’t quite normal! I mean, going from severe retards to supergeniuses within months?! To murdering off their peers with nothin’ but a grin? They’re up to no good, I tell ya. No good...no...no good. And no one’s doing a thing about it, but I am. I’m documenting everything they do. Everything...”
The man began mumbling to himself, thrusting another handful of photos into Static’s hands. The teen barely caught what he could, but it seemed as if the man was simply taking it upon himself to show Static everything. While the disturbed individual began digging through his piles of notebooks in his vehicle, Static perused the photos in hand. He about dropped everything when he saw someone he knew.
“Oh my god, he’s seeing Hotstreak?!” he gasped aloud, staring at the evidence in hand. The meta was in conversation with the twin–he could only see his back, but he definitely knew who it was–and both were sitting in an unknown location. He shook his head, mind racing over the incident. Out of reflex he turned the photo over, and was startled at the date and time that was neatly printed upon the back. According to the date, the pair had known each other for over six months. Recalling that incident with Hotstreak recently, he felt a little dizzy. Another lie that needed to be explored.
He stuffed what photos he found necessary into his jacket pocket. “Look,” he said, raising his voice to be heard as he handed over a majority. “I need you to stop following them. What you’re doing is a crime, you know. I need to report you.”
The man climbed out of his car, armed with photos. Seeing them, Static could see that the twins were younger in most of them–he guessed that they were taken before Dakota. He felt sick knowing that this man may have caught him and Osgoode together–he needed to know if his identity was compromised.
“You can’t,” he said with a huff, dropping a pile onto the street. He didn’t notice that they were blowing underneath the vehicle with the afternoon breeze. “You just can’t. You do...you do and there will be no one else to watch them. No one else to document their crimes. No one...absolutely no one. I trusted you! I had hoped that you’d help me take them down!”
“No,” Static said gravely, shaking his head. He stared at the man closely, looking for any sign that the man somehow knew him underneath his mask. “No...man, this is...this is wrong. You can’t go around taking pictures of people–you’re stalking these boys. It could also be taken in another way. You could be slapped with child sex crimes, or something. This is just...wrong.”
“No...NO! I have–I have followed them for years! For months, for days I’ve followed them, watching what they do and where they go and who they talk to, and I’ve been–these creatures! How do you explain these creatures?!” the man cried, picking up a photo with a shadowy humanoid standing in what looked to be the Foleys’ back yard. “I’m telling you! And they get away with it, because they know how to beat the system! They know how to work around things, to get things to work their way! Their parents are under their influence, they’re aliens! ALIENS! Genetically created to study and watch our world for their–!”
“All right, all right,” Static mumbled, pulling out his shockbox. He radioed police headquarters, requesting a car to the address. While the man continued to rant and rave, Static looked at the photos available to him. He needed that evidence–he needed to make sure that–
“MURDERER!” the man suddenly screamed, making him whirl around. Both Osgoode and Richard paused in mid-step, turning to face them as they were heading down the sidewalk away from them. They’d changed out of their uniforms. They looked startled once they realized they had the attention of the mad man that moved out to face them. “BOTH OF YOU! Murdered my youngest brother, you–! Both of you! Creatures of the night–! I’ve watched BOTH of you! Satan’s rape demons!”
Static flushed, shaking his head as he caught the guy. He was suddenly amazed at the strength that was used as the man rushed at them, arms flailing. He caught the man before he could even reach the twins’, charging his clothing and swinging him around to pin him against a nearby stop sign. As he continued to rant and rave, Static swallowed hard and looked at the two boys.
With some trepidation, he noticed that Richard was already looking through the photos that had fallen onto the pavement, Osgoode scowling at him in regard. Hearing sirens in the distance, Static thought fast. He didn’t want to confess that he’d caught the man only because he’d been in the neighborhood in a similar situation. He looked at the SUV, filled with disturbing things. He thought of how Osgoode had helped him, and found it a good situation in his efforts to get close to him once again. He knew Osgoode would help him sort through the things for any compromising photos, and while they were at it, Static could question him on the creatures. On their background. All the while getting back into Osgoode’s good graces, especially if he could somehow get Richard into trouble. It was so spectacular of an idea that he almost grinned happily.
“I need your help,” he said to Osgoode, giving him a pleading expression when Richard gasped in dismay. He saw Richard quickly snatching up pictures, throwing his brother a terrified look as Osgoode looked at him curiously. “I need your help. This man was following both of you for a long time. He has photos. Of everything you did, everywhere you went...people you’ve met.”
He said this loud and directly at Richard, who flinched. Returning his attention to Osgoode, who looked troubled, he said, “I need to take this thing to go through it. To make sure that...that my identity...he may have gotten us both, and this needs–”
Osgoode sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. He consented only because he had no real idea what was going on, but that they were stalked for some time by a familiar face. It was also his chance to get back into Virgil’s good graces again. He couldn’t be too happy about it, so he schooled his features into a suffering scowl. “Fine. Whatever. Since you’re only thinking of yourself, and not even minding the fact that we’ve had a stalker...where do we meet?”
Static felt relieved in that Osgoode would help him, and gave him the address. Feeling much more confident over things, he looked over Richard, who had a very troubled expression as he clutched photos to his chest. “It’s outta the bag, man. Who knows how many else he has in there of you and...him.”
Osgoode was puzzled, looking over at his brother with curiosity. Richard shot him a look of dismay, swallowing hard.