Author’s Note: This is my first, and possibly only, foray into fan fiction for animated series, but this is one of a few animated series that I sincerely like. I’m not making any money off of this, and I don’t own the character and all the usual disclaimers. I’m also not going to lie---this is purely a by-the-numbers angst piece and not terribly original. It was just a little bunny that hopped into my head and I had to write it to get it out of there J. People keep telling me I need to write with more brevity. Let’s face it---that’s not going to happen. ;-) In the spirit of cartoons, I’ve tried to keep my usual tendencies to long pieces somewhat under control and not to insert too many more scenes than I need for the story. Please forgive the sections where I fill in some background if it drags a bit, I put them in just in case some of my friends who don’t watch the show read this fiction. Please forgive me, gentle readers, for sending Virgil (way) out of town for this fiction. I won’t do it again, I love V as much as anyone, but I needed him to be out of town for plot purposes. If I ever write another piece, I promise he’ll be in it more. And one last word: There may be a scene here or there where you’ll wonder why I don’t get a bit more intense or why the story tone doesn’t get darker and more angsty than it is. It’s because, bearing in mind that it’s based on an animated series, I’ve made a conscious decision to limit how deeply into dark subject matter that I go. I hope you’ll understand. This piece should be considered AU for two reasons: 1) I take a few liberties with things like characters’ ages, Sharon’s education, Gear’s abilities, and expanding Backpack’s capabilities and 2) I haven’t been lucky enough to see every episode yet, so there are probably gaffs that you’ll need to forgive.

Plot: While Static is out of town, Gear and Sharon deal with a metahuman with a toxic touch.

Rating: Hmm... Action-wise, I don’t think the violence or the themes are worse than anything that’s been on the show (if you can deal with the more intense episodes of the actual t.v. show, you can handle this fiction), but there’s a bit of mild language. While I’m deliberately toning it down, there’s still a word or comment here and there that would never get onto a Y-7 cartoon.

Pairings: Most of the story centers on Gear and Sharon, so basically I’d call it Richie/Sharon friendship, though I suppose some of what happens could be on the borderline of ‘shippy. Interpret it whichever way you like.

STATIC SHOCK

“While You Were Out”

by lln_books

1

Toxin

“I can’t believe you get to visit another planet, and I’m stuck here babysitting mutant purse snatchers and sewer surfers…not to mention your sis…um, hang on a second, will ya, V?”

Something was happening on the streets below. From his very good vantage point (flying through the skies over the city of Dakota courtesy of two rocket-powered skates he’d designed and constructed) the teenage Bang Baby superhero known to the citizens as “Gear” could see some sort of commotion on the street below.

The name “Gear” referred to his wizardry with all things technical and mechanical and the arsenal of gadgets he’s invented to fight crime in Dakota, not the least of which was the portable computer/robot he’d dubbed Backpack. Backpack was, true to its name, currently strapped on Gear’s back, its ‘metahuman alarm’ blaring a warning that there was a mutant in the area. Gear was pretty sure he’d find a mutant at the heart of the ruckus on the streets below.

If the truth were known, however, the real effect of the infamous chemical explosion known as the “Big Bang” on seventeen-year-old Richie Foley, a.k.a. ‘Gear’, was that it had supercharged his I.Q., particularly in all things related to math, physics, and chemistry. Building his collection of superhero gizmos was simply the way he’d chosen to use his newfound skills. He clipped one of those gadgets---the two-way radio known as the ‘shock-box’---back onto his belt and grabbed a small, silver, grenade-shaped object. Then he swooped towards the street and the disturbance going on there.

Static, Gear, and a handful of other ‘Bang Babies’ had been lucky: Their mutations hadn’t been disfiguring in the least, in fact out of their superhero guises, it would have been impossible to notice anything different about them since the Big Bang. Not every Bang Baby was that lucky. In the case of the mutant making trouble on the streets below, the explosion had mutated him into a rodent-looking creature now known as ‘Pit’. Whether he was called that for his insatiable appetite or the eye-watering odor he gave off, Gear did not want to know. He was glad for the shield he’d attached to his helmet that covered most of his face and protected from some of the stench.

Pit was in the middle of the Friday Night Farmer’s Market, raiding the merchants’ booths and stealing shoppers’ bags for the piles of fruits, jerky, and breads. With that noxious vapor Pit was giving off, nobody was eager to stop him, either. Fortunately, Pit was so busy stuffing his face that he didn’t spot Gear until the teenager landed on the street, not one inch closer to the mutant than he needed to in order to throw the grenade-shaped ‘zap cap’. Once airborne, the zap-cap popped open to reveal several lengths of nearly unbreakable steel cables that wrapped themselves tightly around Pit, binding his arms and legs. Pit didn’t make a noise of protest until the end of one cable looped around and covered his mouth, effectively ending his eating binge. The bindings kept the mutant contained until a few brave police officers dared to venture close enough to cuff the mutant. Even through the face shield, Gear caught a whiff of the smell as the officers lead the mutant past him and stuffed Pit into the police car.

“Whew, yikes!” Gear coughed a bit. “Next time you grab someone’s groceries, pal, do us a favor and steal their deodorant.” Even as Gear took off, he could hear arguments and calling in of favors among the police officers over who would get stuck driving the stinky Bang Baby to the station.

On Gear’s belt, the shock-box beeped, reminding him of his interrupted conversation. He retrieve the communicator. “Sorry about that, V. Rodent problem.”

“Ew, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. I’m queasy enough bouncing around up here.”

The voice on the shock-box was garbled a bit, but considering that Virgil Hawkins, also known as the Bang Baby superhero Static, was currently halfway across the solar system from Earth and heading for another galaxy, the reception on the recently improved communicator wasn’t too bad. With the modifications Gear had made before Static’s departure, he had figured it would only transmit as far as the Justice League satellite in orbit of Earth. Once the spacecraft carrying Static and the Justice League went through the wormhole that would carry them to that other galaxy, they’d be too far away for even the new shock-box to reach.

Gear was trying very hard not to be envious of his friend and partner in crime-fighting at the moment.

Virgil had explained the situation repeatedly before he departed with the Justice League for alien worlds and a much cooler challenge than mopping up mutants in Dakota. “You know the JLA’s rules. I wouldn’t even be going if Flash didn’t need my powers. This Am’prael Nine planet has an atmosphere that fries inorganic power sources---which means Backpack and the zap caps wouldn’t work there. You’d be too vulnerable.”

Richie hadn’t been convinced. “Yeah, and what’s Batman going to do there without his utility belt? Freeze the aliens with that icy glare of his?”

“Besides, it’s too dangerous leaving Dakota with no superhero protection, especially right now,” Virgil had insisted. That much Richie believed. There were a few other Bang Babies who could be counted on to lend a hand in a bad situation, but Static and Gear shared the bulk of the crime-fighting burden in the city, and they’d had almost more mutant problems than they could handle between the two of them in the last few months. “I don’t know what it is, but the freaks sure have been getting freakier lately.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t have to give me the ‘You’re the most important member of our team’ pep talk, Dad.”

“Funny, Richie.”

Gear had given up arguing simply because there was nothing Static could do about the Justice League’s decision. They’d probably just tell me to sit in the corner and not touch anything like they did last time, anyway, he couldn’t help the slightly bitter thought. It wasn’t just being left behind while they went to deal with aliens on other planets that was bugging him, and he knew it.

Returning his attention to the shock-box, Gear asked, “You’re going to be back for the Dakota Mega-Con, right?” It was their annual tradition to go to the convention, spend every dollar they had on updating their comic book collection, dress up in costumes from whatever sci-fi show was trendy that year, and usually get tossed out on their butts whenever one of their debates with fellow sci-fi geeks got out of hand.

Even through the interference on the shock-box, Static managed to sound insulted. “When Olga Bogaev from ‘Adventure Galaxy’ appearing---in costume---and Trey Armstrong signing copies of ‘Galactic Riot, Issue One-Hundred’? Would I miss that?” There was a pause. “Uh, Rich, you aren’t going to lead another panel on the technical gaffs on ‘Adventure Galaxy’ again, are you?”

“Sorry, V, but when they’ve got such glaring technical errors, it’s my duty.”

There was a faintly audible groan on the other end of the communicator. “Oh brother, we’re getting tossed out again…” Another pause. “Listen, we’re about to go into the slipstream. I’m not going to be able to contact you again until we get back. Just be careful; I meant what I said about the freaks getting freakier lately. And don’t forget you promised to keep an eye on Sharon for me.”

“What is it with you and Reilly, anyway?” Gear asked. Following Static’s older sister around while she was out with her new boyfriend just because the mere presence of Reilly Cates made Static’s spider-sense tingle wasn’t anywhere on Gear’s list of fun ways to spend Saturday night. Not to mention if Sharon ever found out that she was being secretly chaperoned by her brother’s best friend, she’d probably kill both of them in their sleep. Cates seemed all right to him, but if Static didn’t trust him, that was good enough reason for Gear to keep an eye on him. The last time they’d failed to act on bad vibes about a person, Richie had ended up with a bullet in his leg. Virgil never got over it, and it was definitely not a mistake Richie cared to repeat, either.

“Just something about that guy bugs me, Rich. Seriously. You’ll look in on them, right?”

“Already on my way.”

Static sounded relieved. “Thanks. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Bring me back a rock from Am-what’s-its-name,” Gear signed off.

The shock-box went dead. Gear wasn’t sure if Static had heard that last bit or not.

Gear had spent half the night sitting on the roof of the parking garage across the street from the Dakota Theater of the Arts, site of Sharon and Cates’ second date. From there, he had an unobstructed view of the front and side exits of the theater. It looked like some sort of ballet or modern dance troop was there, performing some show with a long French title Gear couldn’t begin to pronounce. Snoozefest. Bet ol’ Reilly’s never seen an episode of ‘Adventure Galaxy’ in his life, he mused. Personally, if a ‘theater’ didn’t have a giant screen, stadium seats, and something with plenty of action sequences or special effects playing, he avoided it like it was the chef’s surprise at Dakota High’s cafeteria.

Sharon and Reilly had left the theater at 11p.m. Gear had temporarily lost track of them after they’d left the theater. Backpack’s metahuman alarm had sounded an alert just as Sharon and Reilly had started walking towards the park. Gear had left the lovebirds long enough to find the cause of the alarm, which had been when he’d caught Pit making trouble. He found Sharon and Reilly now sitting on a bench in the park’s Rose Garden. Beneath the face shield, Gear raised an eyebrow. The Rose Gardens, eh? Someone’s planning on making a move. I’m betting he’s a ‘yawn-stretch-and-slip the arm around her shoulder’ guy.

Sure enough, a moment later, Reilly stretched and circled an arm around Sharon’s shoulder. Sharon neatly ducked the move by leaning over and rummaging around her purse for something. Gear smiled a bit, I could’ve told him that move never works…

Another effort followed, with no more luck.

See? Told ya.

Gear had no interest in looking or listening in while Sharon and her date talked---or did anything else for that matter. He was a superhero, not a perv. He’d stay out of sight, venture close enough to make sure everything was all right, and then maybe do a patrol around the park.

At that moment, Sharon all but leaped from the bench. Gear knew that expression on her face, as he and Virgil had been on the receiving end of it at least once a day for as long as he could remember. Whatever Reilly had said after her rebuffs, she was losing her patience. And then he was on his feet, towering a good twelve inches taller than her. If he meant it to be intimidating, he failed miserably. Sharon only put her hands on her hips and glared up at him.

Backpack’s metahuman alarm blared again. Reflexively, Gear hit the ‘mute’ switch before the noise alerted them to his presence. The robot’s scope extended, pointing over Gear’s shoulder directly at Sharon and Reilly.

Sharon didn’t hear the alarm. Her attention was fully on Reilly…

…and the vampire-like fangs that had appeared where human teeth had been a moment earlier. Fixated on the teeth, she apparently hadn’t yet noticed the other transformations her date was undergoing---like the long scorpion-like tail and stinger that ripped through his long suede overcoat, shredding it to pieces to reveal muscular skin that was morphing before their eyes into scales from the tip of the ever-growing tale to the top of his bald head.

“Whoah! Okay, that move I didn’t see coming,” Gear yelped. Guess Virg was right about this clown, after all.

If Reilly---the Bang Baby---expected his transformation to terrify his date, he wasn’t disappointed. Sharon stared, wide-eyed, through all this, immobilized.

But only for a moment. When Reilly let out a hiss, she snapped out of her stupor. Her expression went from terror, skipped right over the impatient glare, to full fury. If Cates had scared her the least bit, she was determined not to let it show. Even as Gear was moving to help, Sharon drew back her arm and let the Reilly have a bone-jarred punch where his nose had been only seconds earlier. Reilly staggered. Sharon didn’t let the fact that he now had three feet slow her down—she just picked the closest two and gave first one, then the other, a stomp with her spike heeled shoe. Reilly let out two howls to match.

Gear shook his head. “And Virg was worried about her…”

Sharon used the distraction she’d created to run, and would have escaped if Reilly had not recovered with metahuman speed. His long, rounded tail shot forward and blocked her path, nearly pinned her to a tree. She looked back at him for only a split-second, face a mask of determination, then started to run the other direction. The second’s lapse was the only opening the mutant needed. Those pointed teeth let loose with a sticky substance aimed directly at her face. Sharon raised her handbag, used it to shield herself. The purse took the brunt of the gooey attack, but a few drops still splattered onto her cheek.

“Stop fighting,” Reilly ordered. Sharon didn’t move.

He took one more step towards her before the zap cap hit him. Occupied with Sharon, he hadn’t seen Gear approach. The zap cap’s cables had no problem binding even a metabreed as massive as Cates. Reilly hit the ground with a thud and rolled to face the new threat.

“You’ve gotta learn to handle rejection, pal, ‘cause you’ve just killed any chance you had for another date,” Gear advised him.

Reilly hissed. The monstrous mouth opened and Gear raised an arm just in time to deflect the disgusting spray from those pointed teeth. The foul stuff covered his arm, glove, and the pad that protected his elbow. “Yech, all right, that’s nasty…”

Gear moved past the bound mutant and crossed to where Sharon still stood as though frozen in place. “Hey, you okay there?” There was no answer—or hint of movement---from her. He tried shaking her shoulder, to no avail. She was staring, glassy-eyed, in the direction of the downed mutant, not budging an inch.

Behind him, Cates let out a bellow of rage. He freed his tail from the bindings and swung it like a whip in the direction of Gear and Sharon. Gear grabbed Sharon around the waist and dragged her out of the path of the stinger. He blocked a second blow from Reilly with the padding on his elbow. The stinger buried itself in the pad and tore it off Gear’s arm when Reilly drew his tail back. Each movement of Reilly’s tail was slowly loosening the cables binding him. He freed one arm and began prying the tethers away.

“I know you,” Reilly growled. “Static’s anonymous little sidekick. What’s your name? Gizmo? Gadget?”

Gear reached for another zap cap, this one smaller than the ones containing the steel cables. This was the first zap cap that he’d designed, long before he’d undergone his own metamorphosis, back when he was helping Static learn to use his electromagnetic powers. This one had been charged to capacity with a reserve of Static’s own power. The shock from the device stunned Reilly into halting his struggle. Gear didn’t expect the effect to last long.

This was a losing battle. Sharon wasn’t coming out of her stupor anytime soon from the looks of it, and he couldn’t fend off Reilly, much less counterattack, while trying to keep Virgil’s sister out of harm’s way. Responsibility for Sharon’s safety won out. Gear hesitated, and then decided. Keeping hold of Sharon’s waist, he fired his rocket skates, lifting both of them skyward and away from Cates only seconds before the metahuman broke free of his bindings.

**

2

Aftershock

Reilly Cates had slipped right past the radar that usually helped nineteen-year-old Sharon Hawkins separate the nice guys from the jerks…or in Reilly’s case the mutant jerks. Sure, there had been… something…about the guy, that air of mystery and confidence that, cliché as it might be, had interested her the day he had walked into the youth center. She’d had no intention of going out with him though. Sharon had rules that kept her life working at the youth center independent of her dating life. Reilly had been interested in donating time as a mentor at the center, therefore, where she was concerned, dating him would have been a conflict of interest. He’d been persistent in asking her out, and she’d politely declined each time.

Sharon wasn’t sure what had changed her mind. It wasn’t because he was handsome. It wasn’t because he wore expensive clothes or drove a Benz. Sharon wasn’t that shallow. He was funny and had a knack for winning over the kids at the center. She respected that. It wasn’t the air of mystery, for that made her wary just as much as it intrigued her. All she knew of his past was the very little bit he’d volunteered: He’d lived in Dakota all his life, his family was working-class, his father was a computer programmer and his mother a teacher. They’d been hit hard by the recession, in which both of them had been laid off and the family relocated to one of the city shelters throughout the slow process of finding new employment. It was the time in the shelter, during which he had attended Dakota High School, and that had inspired Reilly to want to spend time working with children in need after he’d graduated. Sharon had respected that as well, but it had not changed her mind about her strict rule against dating the center’s volunteers.

She wondered how much of that story was true, in retrospect.

The day Sharon had, to her own surprise, changed her mind about dating Reilly, he had been miserable with an attack of spring allergies. He’d shown up at the center that day with a bottle of Flonase and a pocket full of Kleenex, professing that he was fit to work…until he had sneezed quite wetly right onto Sharon. She had sat there watching, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, while he’d apologized and offered her dinner to make up for it. “Say ‘yes’,” he’d asked, flashing his brightest smile at her.

“Yes,” she’d said automatically.

It hadn’t made sense to her, then, why she’d changed her mind. It made sense now. She remembered sitting there, almost in a stupor, not inclined even to move a muscle to blink, after he’d sneeze what she knew now was that vile stuff he’d spat at her in the park that night. Must have been something about it that made people particularly suggestible. Thinking back on her two dates with him---both of which she’d agreed to after being ‘sneezed’ on---she could guess that he’d been using that power on plenty of other people: The maître d' at the fancy restaurant who’d suddenly changed his mind about the lack of an available table for them; The security guard who’d granted them after hours entrance to the top of the panorama tower; The saleswoman who had discounted by half the price of a pair of earrings Sharon had liked at Reilly’s “suggestion”; The curator who’d agreed to give them a private tour of the gallery displaying works of Sharon’s favorite artist, Sellé Vriske.

Once Reilly’s poisonous bile had worn off, Sharon was livid.

The---‘venom’ summed it up, Gear supposed---had worn off about the same time he realized that he’d been flying in a direct line to Virgil and Sharon’s house, a location Richie knew by heart but “Gear” couldn’t possibly know. He’d just decided to land and go through the motions of asking for directions to her house when Sharon blinked and drew a sharp breath. Her hand automatically moved to clutch her aching head, until she realized that she was flying several hundred feet above Dakota’s streets and decided that hanging on with both arms to the nearest support---in this case, Gear---was a wiser move.

He managed to set them down almost without incident—that is without crashing into a tree or shrub---on an empty sidewalk in a quiet neighborhood not too close to their house. Still a bit disoriented, Sharon stumbled a step, not practiced at such landings, and managed to keep her balance, though she lost her grip on her slime-covered handbag. She started to retrieve it, but Gear beat her to it.

“Here, let me. I’ve got gloves on, and there’s no telling where that creep’s been,” he said. Backpack produced one of the soft cloths Gear used whenever the robot needed its optics cleaned, and he used it to mop up the dried venom still stuck to her bag. The robot retrieved the cloth and stored it away, just in case Gear wanted to have a look at the substance later. Gear passed the handbag and the wallet that had fallen out of it back to Sharon. He pretended not to notice that her hand was shaking a bit when clutched the bag. Of the wallet, he added, “Don’t forget this---can’t be too careful, credit card fraud is on the rise and all.”

Sharon didn’t smile at the feeble joke, so he tried again. “So, you okay?”

That snapped her out of it. She stared at him as though he’d just asked the single stupidest question ever uttered by a human being. “First guy who’s interested in over three months, first guy who was interested in seeing my Vriske…” She noticed the expression on Gear’s face. “Vriske is an artist.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Oh good, ‘cause, for a minute there, I had an image…”

She ignored him. “…first time I ever break my rule about dating co-workers, and he just morphed into a damn scorpion mutant bug Bang Baby and tried to kill me…”

“Actually, I prefer the term ‘metahuman’…” he corrected.

“Got to find a new mentor for the kids at the club. Not to mention this beats the time Jared Allen yakked on me at the freshman dance on the ‘bad date meter’,” she added. Gear choked back a chuckle and caught himself before blurting out: I remember that. “…and the he wants to know if I’m ‘okay’!” Sharon finished.

“Well, not to defend out spitting buddy back there, but if you think the normal social scene is rough, you should try landing a date after you’ve been chemically mutated.”

Sharon glared at him.

“Er, I mean, I’m…uh…sorry?” he tried.

She fixed him with a stare so intense that, for one panicked moment, he wondered if she had recognized him beneath the disguise. Finally, she asked, “You’re that guy who hangs with Static. It’s, um….?”

Gear felt his own patience fraying. “Gear.”

“So, where was Static while bug-man was spewing all over the park and me and my purse?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he answered. Now that was an understatement.

She crossed her arm, giving Gear a thorough once-over, and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a mutant.”

“Metahuman. And I’m not sure what the right answer to that is. ‘Thanks’?”

“I didn’t see any mu---metahuman---superpowers…you go chasing after Bang Babies with just those gadgets? How are you not roadkill by now?” she continued.

Gear gave her a look of annoyance. “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a strange way of showing appreciation to people who save your life?”

She didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, really.” Gear shook his head. Yep, no doubt about it, Sharon was definitely recovering quickly from her run in with Cates.

Sharon let out a sigh, bringing her temper back under control. He was right, of course, it wasn’t fair to take it out on him because she was hacked off at Reilly Cates. Her hand was still shaking a bit, and she had a feeling once she started replaying the events of the evening in her mind, she was going to have a serious meltdown. She sure as hell didn’t want to do it in front of this ‘Gear’ guy. Sharon took a look around the neighborhood where they’d landed, getting her bearings. She knew this area.

“My house isn’t far from here,” she said.

“I can take you the rest of the way,” he offered. Virgil would kill him if he didn’t make sure Sharon got home safe, especially since Cates was still running around God-knew-where.

“No that’s okay, you did enough.”

“Really, it’s no----” Gear started to argue, but another alarm from Backpack interrupted him. The robot extended its scope again, this time aiming at Gear’s elbow. That was the first time he noticed that the pad on his elbow had been torn clean off and there was a thin cut. Whether it was from Reilly’s stinger or from the fabric of the elbow pad when it had come loose, he didn’t know. It was a minor cut, really, but enough to trigger Backpack’s medi-alarm. Gear had installed the alarm only a couple of weeks earlier. Considering that, since the Big Bang and ensuing parade of metahuman villains had invaded the city of Dakota, Gear had been turned into a zombie, had his arm broken, been brain-jacked by a psycho computer virus, and shot in the leg, the alarm had seemed a needed precaution. Backpack had been programmed to contact Static if Gear were injured and vice versa. Gear would have to tone down the alarm’s sensitivity, though; it shouldn’t have gone off just for a scrape.

The sound of the alarm made Sharon jump. “What’s the matter? Why’s it doing that?” She looked around the street nervously. “Is Reilly coming back?” She grabbed his arm, examining the injury. Sharon actually looked concerned. “Did Reilly do that?! You should have someone look at that.”

He hit the kill switch on the alarm, to silence it and to stop Backpack before it began trying to contact Static (not that it could, with Static on the other side of the galaxy right then). “Nah.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Typical guy. Arm could be falling off and they’d still say,” She did her best Monty Python impression, “‘It’s just a flesh wound’…”

“Trust me, it’s nothing. Backpack’s just programmed to keep tabs on my health. You have enough run-ins with bug men and other creeps in this city, and you’ve got to start taking precautions.” Backpack extended a small tube, which neatly sprayed the injury with a liquid bandage. The robot then retracted its scope.

Sharon smiled a bit. “Now, that is cool.”

The compliment caught him by surprise. Gear was grateful for the helmet, so she couldn’t see his ears go bright red. He shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly firing bolts of static electricity from my fingers or shooting laser beams out of my eyes, but I like it. Comes in handy, especially with metahumans who spew mystery goo and try to impale me with giant stingers.”

“I don’t know if this will help, but when Reilly sprayed me with that stuff, before you showed up, it kind of felt like being paralyzed or hypnotized or something. I think I’ve seen him use it on other people, too. Before I knew what he was and what he was doing. People had a way of getting really…suggestible…changing their minds and doing what he wanted them to do.”

Gear mentally filed that away for when he studied that venom sample later. “That might help. Thanks.”

Her expression darkened. “You don’t think Reilly’s going to come back, do you?” No doubt about it, there was nervousness in her tone. “It’s just that having to fend off a pushy date is one thing, but mu---metahuman super creeps…you’d think you’d get used to it in this city, but they still scare me.”

I know the feeling, he silently agreed. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think that Reilly picked up on you’re being scared of him, you being busy kicking his butt and all,” he complimented. “Besides, Static and I will be keeping an eye out for him from now on. If he shows his scaly face again, we’re all over him.”

She wasn’t reassured, but tried to maintain the calm facade. “Imagine my relief.”

Oh boy, if she wasn’t Virgil’s sister… “Hey, can we call a truce here?” he asked. She gave just the slightest nod. He guessed that was agreement. “So, any chance you’ll reconsider that escort home? Give me a chance to redeem the name of Bang Babies in the eyes of Vriske fans?”

“Whatever.” Sharon turned and headed in the direction of her home. He touched a button, retracting the wheels of his skates, and fell in step alongside her.

“So, you must be good with computers to build that. Ever considered doing mentor work down at the youth center? Who knows, with a Dakota superhero teaching, the kids might actually stay awake for an entire class.”

“You work at the youth center? And you think what I do is tough?”

Sharon looked immensely pleased at that.

**

It was the simplest solution for his two immediate needs: Digging up information on this Reilly Cates guy and keeping an eye on Sharon in case Reilly decided to come after her again. Cates did know where she lived, after all, and he probably knew that her father was out of town that night and Virgil was away on his ‘field trip’. The same thought must have occurred to Sharon, for Gear had heard the distinct click of every lock on their door and window when he’d left her that night. He kicked himself mentally afterward for not thinking to drop her at one of her friends’ houses instead.

It wouldn’t have been a problem for Gear to do some Internet research while keeping an eye on Sharon. He had refitted Backpack with a portable laptop and wireless Internet capability. However, he had no intention of sitting in the trees or bushes outside her house in case Reilly showed up and freezing his butt off all night in the meanwhile. Problem was, there was no way the fiercely independent Sharon Hawkins was going to put up with a bodyguard no matter how much Gear argued with her.

Okay, so maybe “Gear” couldn’t set up stakeout in the Hawkins household, but Richie Foley knew exactly how to get his foot in the door…

After taking Sharon home, Richie had flown back to the abandoned gas station with the small one-time office that was now Static and Gear’s ‘HQ’, ditched his superhero disguise in favor of his familiar striped sweatshirt, jeans, and glasses, hidden Backpack inside his school book bag, and made his way back to their house courtesy of his jet-propelled scooter. Less than thirty minutes had passed before he was knocking on their door.

There was a crash from inside the house and a long pause before the locks clicked and the door swung open to reveal a very annoyed looking Sharon—who was brandishing one of the ornately carved walking sticks like it was a club.

He held up his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Yikes! Stressed much? Is this the toughlove approach to discouraging salesmen?”

“Foley!? What are you doing here? Virgil’s still on that field trip.” Sharon didn’t move aside to let him enter, so he breezed right past her. “I thought I was going to get a break from the geek squad this week.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. Sorry, I need V’s computer for a while,” he explained. “I tried giving my computer some extra gigs and a faster CPU for wireless high-speed Internet to download MP3s faster and, well, are computer supposed to melt?” He glanced at her to see if she was buying it.

Sharon stood, hand still on the knob of the open door, waiting.

“Anyway, the school lab’s closed for the weekend and I’ve been banned from the library’s computer lab because, well, I melted that computer, too, but that wasn’t entirely my fault. Got the Biology report due on Monday and I need V’s printer.”

Sharon blinked, unmoved.

“I ordered pizza,” Richie added, cheerfully.

She made an exasperated noise. “Fine, forget I asked.” She closed the door, finally, locking every lock and checking it twice to be sure it was secured. Richie pretended not to notice. “You know where Virgil’s computer is. I’m going to take a shower, be done when I get out. Don’t raid the refrigerator and don’t ‘borrow’ pizza money from my wallet,” she ordered.

He managed to look offended. “Hey, I can pay for my own pizza, thank you.”

She marched past him, heading up the stairs. “Virgil doesn’t keep that emergency twenty dollars in his sock drawer anymore.”

“Oh.”

Sharon shook her head as she disappeared up the staircase, muttering something to herself that he couldn’t quite hear. Richie called after her, “By the way, I make no promises on that ‘fridge thing!” There was no answer, so he guessed she was out of earshot. “Oh, boy. V owes me big time for this.”

He hurried upstairs, ducked into Virgil’s room, and closed the door behind him. As soon as he heard the water running in the bathroom down the hall, he opened his book bag and pulled out Backpack. He set the robot into ‘surveillance’ mode, reprogramming the robot so that, if it detected a metahuman, it would trigger his pager instead of sounding its alarm or triggering the shock-box. Couldn’t very well have Sharon notice the robot and connect the dots between Richie and Gear. Backpack extended its legs, crossed the floor, and climbed up to hide behind the window curtains. If the alarm went off, Richie just wanted time to get Sharon out of the house and to someplace safe. Outside the house, it would be easy enough to leave her long enough to change into Gear. However, he had some of the zap caps hidden beneath his sweatshirt, just in case getting out of the house wasn’t an option.

With the robot on guard duty, Richie sat down at Virgil’s desk and set to work on the computer. Even with Richie’s enhanced computer skills, finding information on Reilly Cates was next to impossible. Of his history, there were school records that were spectacularly uninteresting: Average grades, no extracurricular activities, and no discipline problems. His father worked on the docks as a longshoreman, and his mother worked for a small travel agency. There were no employment records for Reilly himself. Considering the fancy clothes he always wore, that was curious. Either his parents were real generous in the gift department or Reilly used his powers to get more than dates. There were no reported sightings of Reilly’s metahuman alter-ego. That was disappointing---Richie could have used more information on Cates’ metabreed powers.

The Dakota Police Department had files detailing every metahuman they’d run across, including the good ones like Static and Gear. Richie had discovered that much hacking into their computers. It was more than a little disconcerting to be watched that closely, but their observations of various metahumans sometimes yielded useful information. This time, even the police files weren’t helpful. Maybe Reilly was a ‘late bloomer’ like Richie (his and Static’s term for people who hadn’t mutated for months after their exposure to the Big Bang toxins). If Reilly had only recently gone through his mutation, then maybe there hadn’t been any run-ins with him to report yet. Considering what Sharon had told him of the hypnotic effect of Cates’ venom, though, it was probably quite easy for him to use that foul stuff to hypnotize people into forgetting they’d ever seen him, much less keeping records on him.

Richie rolled up his sleeve and examined the wound on his elbow, scratching at the itchy liquid bandage Backpack had applied. He’d got a bit of Cates’ venom on that arm, but it hadn’t had the same effect on him as it had on Sharon. It was possible that the toxin just didn’t work on metahumans physiology. That could come in handy next time they went up against Reilly.

He started his own record on Cates with the scant information that he’d found, adding in what Sharon had told him about that venom. He labeled the computer file “Toxin”. It was as good a name as any for Reilly’s alter-ego.

She should have just gone to stay with Kim or Janel or one of her other friends instead of staying home alone while Reilly was still on the loose, Sharon knew. Well, not quite alone, she thought, if my brother’s ever-annoying sidekick counts as company. It must have been the shock, but she hadn’t even thought about calling one of her friends right away. Once that ‘Gear’ guy had left, Sharon had locked every door and window in the house first thing. After that, she had been wavering between the urge for that meltdown at the memory of what Reilly had done and the desire to track Reilly down and hit with a large, blunt object. The realization that staying home alone might not be the wisest choice had come only with the knock on her door, and the fear that Reilly might be on the other side. It hadn’t been until that moment, searching for any object with which to defend herself and debating sneaking out the back door, that Sharon realized she was extremely vulnerable there by herself. The Youth Center’s self-defense training hadn’t been meant to prepare people to fight Dakota’s metabreed population. Sure, she knew that Gear had said he’d keep an eye out for Reilly, but even metahuman superheroes couldn’t be everywhere at once. What if Reilly had slipped by him while he was busy chasing down some, oh who knew, some giant mutant Gila monster? When she did look through the peephole and saw Foley, not Reilly, she had nearly clobbered him just for scaring her.

Standing in the shower, letting the spray (she hoped) get rid of the residue of Reilly’s poison and trying to clear her mind, she still wasn’t sure about going to stay with friends. If Reilly followed her, it would just put them in danger. Tomorrow, when she got to the Youth Center, she’d make sure everyone was alerted to what Cates really was and how dangerous he was.

That was a bad train of thought. Just considering going out the door with Reilly lurking brought back that feeling of vulnerability, full force.

Sharon hated that feeling.

She was damned if she was going to let that jerk keep her cowering in her house or running around scared like some wimpy movie damsel in distress. With that determination making her feel somewhat better, she finished showering and shut off the water. She quickly pulled on her pajamas and robe, then headed for Virgil’s room. “Foley, I’d like to get some sleep tonight. Are you done with that report or are you messing around playing Ultra’Noid Attack? Foley?”

She didn’t make it to the bedroom. The doorbell rang downstairs.

There was that feeling again.

By force of willpower, Sharon crept down the stairs---taking the walking stick with her, no point in taking chances---and crossed the living room. Through the peephole, she saw the pimple-scarred face of the pizza delivery boy.

For his part, the delivery boy, Marty, was quite startled when the door swung open and, quick as a flash, the woman inside snatched the pizza box, dropped a twenty dollar bill into his hand, slammed the door closed and locked it before he could finish saying, “Pizza King!”

Sharon stood leaning against the door for a few seconds, waiting for her pounding heart to slow down and shaking her head in disgust at her own frazzled nerves. The foul odor coming from that pizza box was doing nothing to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She wrinkled her nose and opened the box----and then closed it just as quickly. “Ugh, that’s not right…peanut butter, garlic, and anchovies…how do those boys eat that garbage?” she muttered. “Hey, Foley! You owe me twenty dollars for this science project you call a pizza!”

There was no answer, so she stomped up the stairs to Virgil’s Room and banged open the door. “Foley?! Did you hear me?”

Richie was sound asleep, face down on the computer keyboard.

“Oh no, you don’t! Wake up, Foley! I’m going to bed and you are not staying here,” she ordered.

He mumbled something indecipherable and then started snoring loudly.

Sharon considered waking him by dumping the revolting pizza right onto his head, but then reconsidered. It might not be the perfect solution, not by a long shot, but it was better than staying here alone all night. She set the pizza box on the desk and left him sleeping. “Just so you know, if Reilly shows up, I’m tossing your butt out there as mutant bait while I go out the back door,” she admonished. She headed for her own room, shaking her head. “I’ve got to be messed up if having Virgil’s geeky friend here actually makes me feel safer…pull it together, Sharon…”

At the sound of the door closing, Richie opened his eyes and grinned to himself. She was going to let him stay. Mission accomplished. He could keep an eye out for Reilly---for Toxin, as Richie had dubbed him---tonight, and tomorrow night Virgil’s dad would be home. Relived that the problem was solved for now, Richie practically dove at the pizza box.

“Ugh, I didn’t order this.” He looked at the name on the box. “Hey, this is Mrs. Farley’s pizza. Eww, pregnant women really do have weird cravings.” With a shrug, he picked up a slice and started munching anyway.

* *

She’d had a bad night’s sleep disrupted by dreams about every guy she’d ever dated morphing into bugs, animals, and in a particularly weird nightmare one became a mutated version of her brother’s gym socks. Sharon woke with dark circled under her eyes, nowhere near rested, to the sounds of music coming from downstairs. That struck her as odd, as she was supposed to be home alone, until the events of the previous night came back in a flood of memory. It sounded like that Lil’ Romeo c.d. that Virgil and Richie played at least twice a day. Sharon groaned and resisted the urge to pull the covers over hear head and stay in bed. Unfortunately, the youth center wouldn’t wait, plus she had exams for her classes at Dakota State University coming up that she needed to study for. She couldn’t let worry about Reilly Cates or the prospect of dealing with her brother’s hyperactive best friend (who was probably emptying their refrigerator at that moment) first thing in the morning keep her hiding in bed. Resigned, she got out of bed, grabbed her robe, and headed downstairs.

Sharon found Foley at the kitchen table, though somewhat less energetic than usual. Despite the c.d. blasting in the background, he was half-asleep over a plate of frozen waffles. There was the imprint of a keyboard on his left cheek. She slammed the kitchen door, accompanying the bang with a loud: “Foley!” He nearly jumped out of the chair, his eyes snapping open.

“Thank you for that,” he complained groggily.

“Serves you right. You owe me for that pizza, by the way,” she said. “You were up all night playing Ultra’Noid Attack again, right?”

“And I’d do it all over again, you know.” Richie tried sitting up, but winced immediately, rubbing the back of his neck. “Except maybe the sleeping on the computer keyboard part…there’s a crick that’s going to last all day…” In truth, he’d been up all night trying to get a location on Reilly---on Toxin. He’d have to try again later, when he got back to the gas station. Virgil’s desktop just couldn’t hack into systems the way Backpack could. He turned his head right and left, trying to work out the sore muscles. The movement only made him aware that he had a headache building along with the stiff neck and back. Plus, his arm had a lovely bruise forming beneath the scratch from Toxin. “Uh-oh, something popped, that can’t be good.”

He wasn’t going to get sympathy from Sharon. “You leave any food for the rest of us?” she asked, opening the refrigerator. She found some leftover peaches, yogurt, and a bagel that he had somehow overlooked.

“Hey, there were peaches?”

Sharon gave him a warning look as she sat down at the table to eat. “Touch them and that fork will be hanging out of your ear, Foley.”

“Well, you’re still in a mood, aren’t you? You have a bad personal crisis going or is it just that time of the month?” She gave him a healthy slug to his shoulder. “Ow! What?”

Sharon wasn’t about to tell him what had happened with Reilly. Virgil and Richie hadn’t liked him to begin with, and there was no way she was letting them find out they’d been right. “Just finish your breakfast. I’ve got to get to work and I’m not leaving you alone with my c.d. collection.”

“You mess up one time…” he answered with a mock sulk.

She didn’t say much for the rest of the meal. Sharon ate quickly and left him to clean up the dishes while she went upstairs to get dressed. By the time she returned, he’d retrieve his schoolbag, with Backpack safely hidden inside, and was waiting at the front door. If she was still worried about Reilly, she wasn’t showing it. However, as Richie took a long look around when they stepped out onto the stoop, he did catch Sharon doing the same.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“It’s fine. I suppose you need a ride somewhere?”

His pager beeped. Richie checked the display---it was the code he’d programmed Backpack to send if it got a location on Toxin. Maybe Toxin wasn’t jumping out of the shadows to attack them, but he was nearby. If Richie wanted to make sure Sharon reached the youth center safely, it was ride in the car with her or follow her by air with the rocket skates, and with his aching neck and growing headache, flying didn’t hold its usual appeal that morning.

He forced a bright smile, aware that Toxin was probably watching. “Hey, as long as you’re offering, how about dropping me off at the cyber café?”

“How about I drive you as far as the youth center and you walk your lazy butt the rest of the way to the café?” Sharon countered, climbing into her car.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?” he asked as he settled into the passenger seat. He hoped Sharon didn’t notice that he was watching the rear view mirror for the entire drive.

* *

He might have been suspicious, jealous even, if he hadn’t recognized the blonde guy as the scrawny kid who hung out with Sharon’s brother. Had it been anyone else in the Hawkins’ household while she was there alone, Reilly would have been far less tolerant, but the geek wasn’t a threat where Sharon was concerned. Cates had bigger obstacles to getting to her than high school kids. Namely, he had to make sure that Static and his sidekick didn’t interfere again.

He thought he’d managed to knick that kid with the gadgets last night. If so, then gadget boy wouldn’t be a problem for much longer. That left Static, and Static would either learn to give him space by watching what Reilly’s venom was about to do to his sidekick…or Reilly would give Dakota’s other superhero a firsthand taste of what it could do.

Yeah, there was plenty of time. So, Cates let Sharon go on her way for the time being.

* *

3

Delayed Reaction

Since trying to find Toxin by flying around the city looking would have been like the old ‘needle in a haystack’ search even if he wasn’t nursing a migraine and a bum arm, Richie came up with a better ---and faster---way to track down the metahuman. After leaving Sharon in the relative safety of the youth center, he took the scooter and went straight to the abandoned service station.

The faster way to search for Toxin was to use the wireless Internet connection in Backpack to hack into the various traffic and security cameras in various locations around the city. The robot automatically scanned the images transmitted from the cameras against the images stored within its memory of Dakota’s assortment of metahuman criminals---in particular for the metahuman it had digitally photographed the previous evening, the one that Backpack had been programmed to call “Toxin”. After that, Richie reset the robot’s metahuman alarm to its normal mode.

He watching the scrolling images for a while. Where are you? If I were a metabreed with a serious skin condition, where would I be? Hey, what’s that joker doing? Yikes, I didn’t need to see that…what do people scratch when they aren’t on camera? There was no sign of Toxin on the cameras, no report of him coming over the police radio scanner. How can a seven-foot bug man wander around Dakota without anyone reporting him? This town is getting way too jad---

His pager beeped. Richie started, until he remembered that he had reset Backpack’s alarm. He recognized the number on the display. Home. That’s right, he’d told his folks he was staying over at friends to finish that non-existent Biology Report. He was supposed to check in that morning. Okay, I’m in for it now…

After ten minutes, a thorough lecture from Mom, much groveling, and the explanation that he was just going to hang out at the Dakota mall for a while, Richie was back to work. He cleared a space on the countertop for the reconditioned microscope that he’d snagged for three bucks from one of the town’s thrift stores. Sharon’s remarks about Reilly’s venom had sparked his curiosity. He wanted to see what the stuff was made of.

The police scanner beeped almost at the exact instant Backpack called up an image from a traffic camera that was only a few miles from the youth center. Toxin. “Possible metahuman sighting. Identity unknown. Corner of Eighth and Kierney. Officer needs assistance.”

That’s my cue. The toxin sample would have to wait.

* *

“…but they’re everywhere. I can’t ditch ‘em no matter where I go. Friday, there were three of them waitin’ when I walked home from school. And this time they offered me twice as much. I’m thinkin’ of droppin’ out…”

It was a cliché, but that didn’t make it any less true: Hearing about other people’s problems really did put your own messes into a different perspective. Sharon certainly heard her share of other people’s situations—and then some---working with the kids at the center. The boy sitting at her desk that morning was barely ten-years-old and already up to his ears in his own problem with monsters---they were non-metahuman kind but no less dangerous than the likes of Reilly Cates. Sharon knew all-too-well the kind of men who were after Jonas Wiles. Her father’s caseload was full of them, and, besides that, her own family had first-hand experience with the likes of them.

“Don’t do that,” Sharon said, sharply. “You let them keep you from school, and you can as good as kiss off any shot you’ve got at getting out of that neighborhood…and that baseball scholarship you were talking about. You say ‘yes’ and they’ve got you for good. The only way out is jail---or worse.” She was blunt---this wasn’t an innocent kid she was talking to. He lived in the worst section of Dakota. There probably wasn’t an evil men could do that this kid hadn’t seen or heard about already. The thought made her sad.

Jonas glared at her from beneath the brim of his hooded sweatshirt. “Well, what then?! I can’t keep tellin’ them ‘no’. You don’t know what they’re like---”

“I know exactly what those monsters are like. I know what you’re going through, Jonas. My brother had creeps like that trying to push their poison on him everyday, too. And that’s on top of the gang-bangers trying to jump him in. He wasn’t much older than you when they started on him.”

The boy looked doubtful. “Yeah? So, what’d he do? How’d he get them off his back?”

Sharon stopped short. She had never thought about that. Virgil had always been coming home from school trying to hide torn up clothes and bloodied noses, now and then admitting they were caused from trying to dodge or escape from the ‘bangers and pushers who were chasing him and Richie, but Virgil hadn’t mentioned incidents like that for quite awhile. She doubted it was because those two nitwits could fight them off. Virgil wasn’t Static, after all, kicking criminal’s butts was way out of his league. She’d have to talk to her brother about it when he returned, or maybe she’d get Virgil to talk to Jonas. Maybe he’d have something to suggest to this kid.

“You’ve got friends, don’t you?” she asked.

Jonas considered this. “Yeah, there’s one or two kids in the neighborhood who are pretty cool.”

“Then talk to them. Walk with them if you can when you go to school or to the store or the park. Make sure your mom knows where you are when you go out. We’ve also got a mentor program here at the center, teenagers and adults who walk the kids to school and back to make sure no one bothers them. I’m sure I can find a mentor from your neighborhood,” Sharon ran down the list of possibilities, hoping one would appeal to Jonas. “If not, we can arrange a bus pass for you so you won’t be on the street by yourself. Sound all right?”

“I guess.”

Sharon folded her hands on the desk, leaning forward and making sure that she had the boy’s full attention for what she had to say next. This was the part of her advice she was going to have a tough time selling him on. “The hard part of this, Jonas, is that it’s not enough to hide from them---you’re going to have to speak up when they come after you again.” Jonas was shaking his head, but she pressed, “Tell your principal or your mom…”

“I can’t do that.” Jonas jumped out of the chair, heading for the door. “They’d kill me.”

Sharon intercepted him halfway to the door, blocking his escape. She kept her tone firm, no room for argument. “You can’t keep taking on monsters like them alone. No one can.” He was staring at her with open defiance. She wasn’t convincing him at all. Sharon fished a business card from her pocket. “If you don’t want to talk to them, you can call me. Fair?”

He shrugged. That was all the answer she was going to get. Sharon sighed. Then she had an idea. “Hey, come with me for a second.”

She lead the way to the recreational area of the center, where a group of kids were in the middle of a basketball game with some of the mentors and social workers. Sharon waved to one of the mentors and he broke from the game to come join them.

“Ty, this is Jonas,” she introduced.

“Hi, Jonas,” he greeted.

Jonas gave a nod in response. “Hey.”

“His usual game is baseball, but he’s got a wicked hook shot. Keep an eye on him,” Sharon said.

From his expression, Ty had understood her meaning perfectly. To Jonas, he just grinned. “In that case, you’re on my team. They’re wiping the court with us today.” He caught the boy by the shoulder, steering him towards the court and the on-going game.

Sharon watched them for a minute, until a pair of hands came from behind her and grabbed her shoulders, nearly making her jump out of her skin. It was her friend Kim, one of the volunteer counselors for the center, grinning at her, completely unaware that she’d almost got a fist in the eye from very on-edge Sharon. “So?”

“What?” Sharon asked, waiting for her heart to stop slamming in her chest.

“ ‘What’? How was the big date,” Kim asked. The answer must have been in Sharon’s eyes, for Kim’s smile faded quickly. “Oh, Shar, what happened?”

“Ever kiss a prince and have him turn into a frog, K? Or a giant bug?” Sharon grumbled.

Kim threw an arm around her friend’s shoulders, “Come on, I want details. Let’s talk.”

* *

All it had taken was one explosion to change Officer Takeda and the rest of the Dakota Police Department’s job from regular law enforcement to something out of a sci-fi movie or Saturday morning cartoon show. Nothing in their years on the job or in the Academy quite prepared them to have their city overrun by a wave of genetically mutated criminals. Even with the help of ‘good guy’ metahumans like Static, Gear, She-Bang, and the few others, it was a never-ending, frustrating, uphill battle protecting the city from them. The Justice System in Dakota was improvising new procedures for dealing with the dangerous ‘Bang Babies’ and for keeping them incarcerated with their unpredictable powers when they did manage to arrest one. Takeda was immensely proud of the fact that the number of officers transferring or quitting altogether had, unexpectedly, decreased with the arrival of the Bang Babies. Disadvantaged though they were against the metahumans, they would not be cowed. As for Takeda himself, he was looking forward to the day they caught the men responsible for the Big Bang and throwing them into the foulest cell in Dakota’s prison system for the rest of their lives…and they’d be there with the worst of the crop of Bang Babies for cellmates if he had his way.

The first metahuman-caused problem that day began with a call from a traffic cop. Takeda and his partner answered the call for back-up, recognizing the police code for ‘metahuman disturbance’. These calls always made him exceptionally nervous; there was no telling what kind of mutant they’d find on the scene, or what tricks the Bang Baby was ready to throw at the officers.

So, the follow-up transmission from the traffic cop was the last thing Takeda expected: “Cancel back-up.”

Takeda’s instincts got the better of him. He decided to check the scene just to be sure everything was under control. Where the metabreeds were concerned, you couldn’t be too careful.

The scene looked peaceful enough. When Takeda and his partner, Doyle, arrived, a traffic cop they didn’t recognize was about to climb back into his vehicle. It looked like he’d pulled over a young man in a ruby-colored Mustang---fresh off the showroom floor judging by the dealer’s stickers covering the spot where there should have been license plates. Both cars were parked in front of a downtown liquor store, and not a very good part of downtown Dakota either. The neighborhood was a slum, defaced with graffiti and run down buildings. Every shop had bars protecting its windows and doors.

Doyle went to speak to the officer; Takeda approached the guy in the car, very aware that this might be the one mistaken for a Bang Baby. If he was, Takeda didn’t recognize him. He kept one hand near the gun on his hip. “Hold on, son. Let’s see the license----”

All Takeda would remember later, when his fellow officers would find him and Doyle handcuffed to the barred windows of the liquor store, was two pointed teeth and the shadow of a memory of a large bug.

Gear heard the police cancel their metahuman call before he left the station, and ignored it. The traffic camera showed him everything---some poor cop had pulled over Reilly for speeding. As soon as he’d gotten a look at those teeth, the cop knew what he was dealing with and got on his radio. Quick and subtle, Cates let him have it with that hypno-venom of his and the cop obediently called off the posse that was coming to help him returned to his own vehicle. By that time, Richie, back in his Gear outfit, was already out the door of the gas station and on his way to help.

The flying did nothing to help the migraine or the growing nausea. Too bad being a superhero doesn’t come with sick leave. It wasn’t his most graceful flight, but he made it the short distance to Kierney Avenue and Eighth in less than two minutes. He spotted the three officers from the traffic camera. They were handcuffing themselves to the front of the Golden Market liquor store, drawing quizzical stares from the few people on the sidewalk. From the air, Gear saw a news van en route. Finally, he spied Reilly Cates, back in his human form, standing next to the open door of a sports car watching the cops.

“…Make those cuffs nice and tight,” Reilly instructed. “And before that venom wears off, forget you ever saw me here.”

Gear landed, somewhat wobbly, on the street directly behind Cates. The noise of the skates drew Reilly’s attention at once. “What about me, Reilly? I saw you. And that spitting thing? One word: nas-ty. Just because we’re metahumans doesn’t mean we ignore hygiene. Plus, I’m pretty sure it must be against the law spitting on a peace officer…”

Cates slammed the car door closed, frowning at Gear. “The sidekick again? Where’s Static? What’s a mutant got to do to get the attention of the real superheroes in this city?” He waited for a reaction, but Gear didn’t take the bait. “You ruined my date last night, and now here you are again, raining on my first ride in my new car.”

“Yeah, sure, you hocked the loogie on the girl and tried to jump her, but I was the mood-killer.”

Gear threw the zap cap in the same instant Reilly transformed into his metahuman form. The few pedestrians still in the vicinity, the clerk inside the Golden Market, and even the men working on spraying a fresh coat of gold paint on the exterior of the market, all took one look at the mutant and high-tailed it out of there. Gear stared up—way, way up---at Toxin's snake-like head. Whoah, this guy’s a lot bigger in daylight, he gulped.

Toxin was ready for the zap cap this time, and batted it right back at Gear with one sweep of his long tail. The cables deployed and wrapped themselves around Gear. He hit the pavement with a thud that vibrated through his whole body.

“All right, I’m glad Virg didn’t see that.”

Toxin didn’t give him the chance to break free of the bonds. He swung his tail again, and it connected with the faceplate of Gear’s helmet. The blow would have cracked his skull if not for the helmet, but the impact lifted Gear from the ground and sent him flying right past the chained policemen. He landed hard atop a pile of trash bags in the alley just as the reporters arrived on the scene.

* *

By the time Sharon finished recounting the details of the previous evening, Kim’s glare had progressed from angry to a death glare aimed at the absent Reilly Cates. She gave a snort of disgust. “And to think, I was going to ask you if Reilly had a brother…”

“I just got done telling a ten year old boy not to be afraid to stand up to gang-bangers and drug dealers, and here I am afraid to leave my front door without a bodyguard. I actually let my brother’s friend hang out at the house all night just because I was afraid Reilly would show up.” Sharon shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, right, like you’ve ever run from anyone in your life, girl. What can you do? Bad dates we can deal with. Bang Baby sleezeballs are another thing. But, I wouldn’t get all twitchy just yet. First of all, you don’t even know that Reilly’s coming back. He knows you know what he is now, so he’s going to have to think twice before he tries something again. Second, if he shows his ugly face around here, he’s going to have to deal with all of us. Third, I say if that Gear dude wants to deal with Reilly, then let him,” Kim suggested.

That idea was not without appeal, but Sharon doubted it was going to be that simple. “I’m not going to keep running around with my tail between my legs hiding from that loser.”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by pounding on the door of Sharon’s office. Ty called from the other side, “Sharon! Kim! It’s on t.v.---another Bang Baby’s going off on the cops not far from here. We’re locking down until it’s over.”

Sharon felt a cold fist in the pit of her stomach. Kim ran out the door to the Rec Room where the center’s television was set up. Sharon paused long enough to make sure her office windows were locked tight before following. She had a good idea who--what---what she’d see on the television.

The staff, volunteers, and kids were gathered around the television when she finally joined them. Some of the adults were checking the locks on the center’s doors and windows. A few of the younger kids were mock-fighting along with the action on the t.v., some were pretending to be Static, Gear, and the other heroes of Dakota, some playing the villains. Some were complaining about Static’s absence from the fight. Jonas was the first to notice Sharon’s arrival, and stepped aside to give her room to join the circle. He was the only one in the group who looked as somber as Sharon felt at the drama playing out on the screen.

On the television, Reilly was knocking a bound up Gear into the next time zone. One swipe from the metabreed’s pointed tail sent the superhero flying into a dumpster. Even with the bags softening the impact, he looked dazed by the blow.

Kim glanced sidelong at Sharon. “Remember what I said about letting that guy handle Cates? Maybe you should just get a big dog instead.”

Sharon didn’t laugh, didn’t even force a weak smile.

“This is Langdon Hill on the scene Channel 9. We’re not sure yet what started this latest metahuman rampage or who this new mutant might be. It looks like he’s managing to slip past the police, and now he seems to be giving Gear a run for his money. Clearly he’s outmatched here. The question is, where is Static while this is happening?”

“The man should know when to shut his mouth,” Sharon muttered.

The reporter was droning on. “I’m going to try to get closer to the action…”

“There goes a stupid man,” Ty observed.

“We’d better round up some more volunteers to walk the kids home,” Kim was doing a head count of the teenagers and adults. “Just in case that Men in Black reject isn’t the only mutant running around the neighborhood. And you, Shar, you don’t move from here until Ty and I get done with our shift and then we’ll drive you home. We’re gonna stay until your dad gets home tonight.”

Ty looked confused. “What’s up?”

“Long story,” Kim answered.

Sharon barely gave Kim a nod of acknowledgement. Her mind was racing. She knew exactly where the alley was---it was the alley beside the Golden Market, just a few blocks from the youth center. So much for the theory that he was giving up now that Sharon knew who—what---he was.

Cates had been on his way there.

* *

Gear opened his eyes to find a giant stinger about to impale him. Reflex saved him; he rolled out of its path a heartbeat ahead of the stinger’s impact. It buried itself in the bags of trash for a moment before Toxin drew his tail back for another strike. Gear threw himself over the side of the dumpster, putting it between himself and Toxin. His head was pounding, his arm was numb him, and nausea threatened to overcome him, but Gear fought it down. If Toxin dug that stinger in him, he’d have more to worry about than migraines.

Toxin was wise to the zap cap, but Gear still had some surprises left. He leaned against the alley wall, put both feet on the dumpster, and shoved with all his might. He fell to the pavement as the dumpster rolled away from him and slammed into Toxin. The mutant staggered, but barely slowed. Gear drew a pen-shaped object from his belt---his version of a taser gun---and fired at what he hoped was the real Toxin, as the headache was making him see two of the mutant. The taser struck home and its charge succeeded in shocking Toxin senseless, at least for a minute.

Using the alley wall for support, Gear pushed himself to his feet. Regaining his feet brought on a dizzy spell. He leaned against the wall for a second, waiting for it to pass. He had faltered just for an instant, but it had not gone unnoticed by Toxin. He raised his tail again, preparing to land another sting, but at the last second, Cates held back, looking over his opponent. Toxin took in the unsteady stance and the gruesome red scratch down Gear’s arm, and his lipless mouth curved in satisfaction. He settled for hurling a lid from a trashcan in Gear’s direction, knocking him down again.

“So, I did get you last night. You know what my poison can do to a regular human, but you haven’t seen what it can do to a metahuman, have you? Makes normal folks suggestible, but Bang Babies tend to react bad---real bad. Last Bang Baby I used it on took three days to kick off…wasn’t a thing the docs could do about it, either. Maybe I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show. ‘Course it’s not the same wasting venom on a sidekick, but when your friend, Static, shows his face, maybe we’ll have a contest to see if he goes faster than you. I’ll give your regards to Sharon…”

“No…” Toxin was about to escape. He’d go after Sharon next, then Virg. Gear struggled to move, to stop him. Moving his head to look around the alley was making his vision swim and his head spin, but Gear ignored it. Concentrate…supposed to have the super I.Q. here…would rather have a giant flyswatter or a piece of flypaper instead right now…

Wait a second…

Gear’s gaze fell on the long Golden Market banner hanging on the alley wall. He reached for his belt and a small vial concealed there.

Toxin’s escape from the alley was delayed when he found himself face to face with a camera crew from Channel 9. The cameraman froze, gaping at the size of the mutant who had, a moment ago, been preoccupied with Gear. Now the metahuman’s full attention was on them. Langdon Hill hadn’t noticed Toxin yet. “Looks like this new metahuman menace has managed to slip past our police force, and now he’s got the upper hand against----for crying out loud, what, Steve? I’m live here!”

Steve the cameraman pointed at something behind the reporter. Hill turned and gaped at Toxin, who towered over him. “I, er…how about an exclusive?” the reporter squeaked.

It was the sudden blast from the paint sprayer dousing Toxin that saved the reporter and his cameraman. It struck Toxin from behind and he knew instantly who was responsible. The geek doesn’t give up so easy. Toxin tried ducking, but the stream of bright gold paint doused him no matter which way he moved. It took less than thirty seconds before the paint sprayer emptied its contents onto him. The distinct sound of snickers from the crowd gathering only fueled Toxin's rage.

Maybe I’ll just kill that little pain in the butt right now, Toxin decided.

He tried raising his tail to strike at Gear…but the paint was sealing itself around Toxin like epoxy, making it difficult to move. “What---what’s in this stuff?”

Gear took an unsteady step towards him. He was replacing the small vile, now empty, onto his utility belt. “Little idea I had during chemistry class,” he managed a grin at Toxin. “Supposed to make paint last longer, but turns out it just makes a really cool superglue. Always wanted to try it out.” Unfortunately, Gear had learned about that particular side effect of his mix only after he’d painted his folks’ house with the compound, but if you couldn’t learn from your mistakes…

His attention shifted to the alley wall above Toxin. “Backpack!”

The tiny robot had scrambled up the side of the wall, using its legs to dig into the brick. On command, it extending a cutting blade and sliced the ropes holding up the banner. The banner fell onto Toxin, mummifying him, and adhered itself to Gear’s special paint mixture. Instant flypaper. Gear would have been thrilled with the success if he weren’t feeling so awful.

The reporter was loving it, however. Steve the cameraman was getting the whole footage of Toxin trying to break free of the canvas cocoon. Hill swooped in on Gear. “Gear! Langdon Hill Channel 9 News. Who is this mutant? What are his powers? How dangerous is he?”

Gear would have enjoyed the spotlight on any other day. Today, however, he staggered right past the reporter with a simple, weary admonishment: “Just…stay away from him.” Backpack climbed down the alley wall and returned to its place on Gear’s shoulders. The robot had retrieved the keys to the cuffs binding the police officers. Gear tossed the keys to Hill. “Unlock them and warn them…his saliva’s…toxic. Don’t unwrap him.”

He didn’t wait to see if the reporter obeyed. Toxin was out of commission for now, he wouldn’t be going after Sharon and Virg, but his warning about the poison echoed in Gear’s mind. He had to get back to HQ…now.

* *

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