Long Way Down
Authors: Rochelle B and an extremely disgruntled Dimitri Aidan
Fandom: Static Shock
Rating: Starts of around PG, eventual R
Pairings: Virgil/Francis/Richie and various incarnations of such. Sharon/Adam, mentions of Francis/Aqua
Warnings: Meh. Slash, Violence, Language.
Notes: (Chelle) I've decided to take Dimitri hostage. He came over to baby-sit my daughter and I kind of locked him in the computer room. I demand ransom. Heh. This kind of cropped up after he wrote 'That's All I Need'. He just laid out such a good plot…
(Dimitri) …actually my computer died so I had to bribe Rochelle to let me use hers. I need to buy a new power source. Times like this I almost wish I worked enough to do something other than pay for my car.
Summery: Second chances are hard to come by, so when Hotstreak is offered a chance to avoid jail he takes it. Working with the police force isn't bad; it's working with Static and Gear that proves…different.
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Chapter One
Scars Remind Us
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"Wake up Francis." A swift kick to his chair jarred him into the world of the more-or-less awake. He dimly heard his shit-for-brains public defender making a noise of protest. He pushed a strand of damp hair out of his face; cursing the 'mist system' the room was equipped with. The vents, instead of putting out cool air, pushed out a steady stream of mist that kept him just wet enough that he couldn't so much as get a decent spark going.
He yawned and glared at the man looming over him. Assistant District Attorney Shutze; also known as Hotsteak's own personal pain in the ass with the authority to be a pain in the ass. They were very familiar, sadly. Shutze delighted in putting him in prison for however long was possible. The first time had been when he was seventeen; a nice six-month stint lets here it for good behavior for setting some police cars on fire. Then a few weeks after he'd gotten out he'd gotten a year for breaking and entering. Again, good behavior.
And now, here he was, two weeks from twenty and he'd been busted for arson. The worst part was, in his humble opinion, that he hadn't even done it on purpose. He'd lost his temper and things had caught on fire… It wasn't like he could really help it.
It wasn't his fault that the justice system refused to pay to cure the Bang Babies it locked up. He thought it was kind of ironic actually. Lock him up because of his power, but refuse to shell out the cash to make it so he couldn't use it anymore. But hey, the citizens of Dakota (geniuses that they were.) had voted against using the money for such things.
"Francis."
"I hate it when you call me that."
"I know. Do you know what this is?"
"The lovely integration room, of course. We've had a lot of good times here." He stretched, back popping as he did. He glanced over at his lawyer, who didn't look much older than he was, with pale brown hair, watery blue eyes, and a washed out skin tone. As usual the man looked three minutes from pissing himself. Hotstreak had heard he did that to be people.
"No Francis." The ADA snorted darkly. "This, my friend, is your third strike. Three major crimes and you're done for life."
"I thought this was my first major crime." He glanced over at his lawyer who just shrugged nervously. "This is the first time I'm not a minor."
"But, my dear Francis, destruction of public property and B&E are very major crimes. All I had to do was petition for your record to be included and, since you're such a constant problem and it seems you just aren't capable of surviving in normal society, the Grand Jury decided it was okay."
He frowned. That wasn't true. He'd been doing pretty good since he got out, laying low and keeping his crimes along the petty level to keep out of trouble. Another look at his lawyer, who seemed to be bordering around the terrified level of things.
"Did we know about this petition?"
"…Yes. I tried to, erh, fight it but we lost. Badly."
"Why didn't you say anything about it?"
"I…didn't want to worry you?"
He sighed and shook his head slowly. "You are such a fuckwad."
Shutze made a noise like he agreed then smiled in a way that made Hotstreak more than a little nervous. "So what do you think prison forever is going to be like? Maybe you can find yourself a nice boyfriend to take care of you?"
He snorted. "I'm a pyro, no one would dare mess with me."
"Ah, that's the even better news! If you go back you'll finally get that cure. Lifers have to be kept under control you know."
That made him pause. He wasn't some kind of pussy of course; he could more than take care of himself against most people. However a few years from now, when younger people came in he might be in a little bit of trouble.
Prison was one place you didn't want to make trouble if you didn't have people backing you up and he hadn't had people on his side for a very long time. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to think. Life. He was going away for life. Crappy gray clothing, his own special number, and crappy food for the rest of eternity.
"Oh fuck."
"Indeed." The man looked almost…gleeful. He was such an asshole. "However there is another option."
"Death?"
"I wouldn't dare give you the satisfaction." Shutze said with, shit-eating grin firmly in place. "I assume you remember your good friend Ebon."
He scowled, remembering the rat-fucking bastard a lot better then he wanted to. Ebon had gotten out on good behavior after the car incident, allowed himself to be cured, and then vanished off the radar, leaving Hotstreak blowing in the goddamn wind. Ebon had swore when they got out it was the two of them, all the way, finally ruling Dakota, and then he'd run off.
Hotstreak owed him.
"I'll take the growling as a yes. We believe he has something to do with a new drug circulating. It's called Satarel."
"Angel of Hidden Things." Hotstreak rolled his eyes. "I kept telling him to lay off that poetic shit. It's a dead giveaway. So, what, you think I know something?"
Because if that were the case he'd gladly make something up, or shake loose a little information. If he could manage to get out of jail while screwing Ebon over all the better. They were just making it too damn easy for him.
Shutze laughed, a loud grating sound that made him wince, then smile. "I sincerely doubt you know much of anything about anything." He glowered. "It's the side effects of the drug that your talents are needed to handle."
"Which are?"
"Mutation similar to those caused by the Big Bang. After prolonged use of the drug the person changes and, usually, goes on a rampage until they come off the high. Then they change back." His confusion must have showed on his face because the ADA rolled his eyes. "The police are having a difficult time catching and subduing the Angels, which is what we call those hopped up on Satarel. We can't do much against a bunch of drugged up, strung out, super powered freaks."
"And you want me to…help? Aren't Sparky and Gadget handling it?"
"Static and Gear are the only thing that's keeping things even close to under control, but they can't be all over the place at once. We see half a dozen or so people take flight everyday. And then when it's over, if they aren't caught, they just…go off the radar." A long pause. "And yes. We would like you to…help. The Angels don't have the same power or skill as the Bang Babies so you would be useful."
He smiled. "It kills you to offer me chance to skate doesn't it?"
Another laugh. "Hardly. I know you and your type. You'll fuck it up royally and be back in here for some more of our special bonding within a few months. Saving people and doing right? Not your thing."
He frowned. This was why he hated this guy. He was so damn smug and judgmental, just like every other cop or 'civil servant' he encountered. They all assumed the worst about him. Not that he gave them much else to work with, but if not for that flare up things would be fine.
"You don't have to do it. If you get convicted, which you may not since you swear it was accidental, we can always appeal. I'm sure this is less than legal."
"Shut. Up. Fuckwad." His lawyer squeaked then sunk low in his seat. No wonder he kept going down for shit. This guy was a moron. "I'll do it."
"What a shock. A woman named Sharon Hawkins will be your parole officer. You can't contact anyone you knew before and you'll be living a perfectly normal life, complete with school and a steady job. Most people have forgotten about you and you should leave it that way. Officially Hotstreak is gone. You should leave it that way." Another smile. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon."
He flipped Shutze the bird before glancing to the side. The door opened and a uniformed officer stepped in. He was holding a set of keys, presumably to unshackle him from the table.
"Officer McKay will be escorting you to the van waiting for you, which will take you back home, where you'll meet Ms. Hawkins."
"Sounds fun." He said with fake cheerfulness. He held up his hands to be unlocked. McKay, who seemed more like a grandfather than someone trusted to transport him across the state, walked over. He smiled mildly before slapping a bracelet of sorts onto his arm. It looked like a simple, plain, piece of black leather that was a bit too big. It beeped before tightening onto his wrist snugly. "The fuck?"
"Newest technology from Luthor Corp." Anti-mutant bastards that those guys were, it was less than a total surprise. "It hones into your power signal and acts as a tracking device. Then, as an added bonus, if you act up or have a 'flare up' the person with the receiver will zap you with a pulse of electricity. The longer you stay out of control the more it will hurt, until you eventually pass out."
"That can't possibly be legal." His lawyer protested. Hotstreak just glared at him again, moving the man to silence. It wasn't like he gave a damn about legal. As long as he was out he'd make the rest up as he went along.
This did, at least, explain why he got such a harmless looking guard. Not that it mattered. As long as he kept anything less than legal under wraps he'd be fine. Besides, a little electricity wouldn't mean much to him. Not after how many times Static had been so kind as to shock him into unconsciousness at least.
"You won't have the receiver will you?"
"I wish." He smiled wryly. "I don't know who has the privilege of pulling your strings Francis. I assume it's being kept quiet so you can't track them down."
Made sense. He stood silent as he was unchained and a bag of normal clothing was shoved into his hands. McKay grunted something about dressing in the van, while his lawyer simpered and insisted that he call him the minute he got a chance and keep a record of any unfair treatment.
Hotstreak just blinked at him before following after McKay. His ankles and wrists were still shackled and he was still damp but he resolved to try and melt this thing off of his arm the minute he got a chance. Maybe this time he'd leave the state, maybe the country.
Life in prison was far from appealing.
Though…the idea of helping to nail Ebon was a pleasant one, almost worth working with the cops for a while. Maybe he'd meet this Hawkins lady (that name was very familiar actually), see what was what, and then make his decision.
After all, they didn't really think some little bracelet could hold him did they?
"It's heat resistant." Sharon Hawkins was a nice looking woman, but nice in an attractive way as opposed to a personality way. She had dark coco skin and long hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She was wearing a pale gray suit with a pink top, which matched her nails, and was very…flattering figure wise.
She wasn't hard on the eyes to say the least.
Her attitude however…
Well she was brash and rude. Had ordered him to sit down and shut up the minute he walked into her office so she could finish yelling at her little brother. Ironically enough she was the older sister of the kid he used to torment in high school. The framed photo on her desk, consisting of four men and herself, showed that. Virgil was standing next to his friend, Foley, and smiling like an idiot.
Not a big stretch for him.
Hotstreak hadn't spared either of those dorks a second thought since he'd been expelled when his powers first surfaced. He'd gotten his GED in Juvie, for lack of anything else to do with his time, and he assumed those two had graduated with all the other norms.
He'd been staring at the tracker, contemplating how long it would take to take it out. He couldn't burn himself, being heat resistant himself, so he could turn it up as much as possible.
"Heat resistant?" He wasn't impressed. Heat resistant just meant it'd take longer to melt. Most things had a melting point, no matter what the label claimed.
"Not really." She smiled crookedly. "It runs on heat. The more you put in the stronger the material becomes. It was made just for pyros."
Fuck. Figured. Lex Luthor was a known mutate-hater and undoubtedly the prospect of binding them from 'harm' appealed to him. He wasn't a fan of the Justice League or anything, but he kept hoping they'd kick that bastard into the next galaxy over.
Her smile got a little bit bigger. "I take it you didn't want to hear that. Sorry."
"I doubt that."
"As you should." She reached onto her desk and picked up a red folder. "You will be living at 23 Gabrielson Road, a block from Dakota U Campus. You will go to Dakota U and you will maintain a 2.5 otherwise you're going to back to jail. You will work at the on-campus café and, after the first two months, start paying your own bills. If you get fired or fall behind on your bills you're going back to jail. You have a 1 AM curfew on school nights, 3 AM on weekends, and you won't drink, do drugs, or otherwise break the law or else you're going back to jail. If you get on my nerves you're going back to jail. If you screw up you're going back to jail. If you interfere in the police investigation or with Static and Gear-"
"I'm going back to jail. I got it."
She smiled. "So you aren't as stupid as you look. Promising."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." She tossed the folder towards him. "You don't get a car, so I'd advise you stay close to campus most of the time. You have an allowance, for the moment, for clothes and food and such. Refrain from wasting it. Your class list and work schedule for the next week are in there, along with your key and Campus Housing number. Oh, and money for the bus. That's it, get out."
He blinked. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah. I have work to do. I'm sure you aren't interested in talking to me, I don't particularly want to talk to you at the moment, and you have to work in an hour. Why beat around the bush?"
He blinked again then smiled thinly. "I already like you more than my other parole officer."
"You had Opest right? She's a twit. Thinks she can bond with and change every person who comes through her office when really everyone just wants to strangle her." She moved her bangs from her face while snorting. "I hate those types."
He laughed. "I really like you."
"I'm engaged and I don't date little boys." Her smile was crooked, but slightly nicer. "However I will give you a ride to the campus. I need to check on my idiot brother anyway. Apparently he can't find his apartment."
"He never was the sharpest tool."
Her smile faded slightly. "Another rule: Only I am allowed to mock and demean my brother and Richie. If I catch you doing it I'll put my foot down your throat. And then I'll send you back to jail."
"Yes ma'am." He mock saluted. She nodded and stood up, gathering her things.
"Keep that up and we'll get along fine."
Dimitri: Hmm.
Rochelle: Hmm? What Hmm?
Dimitri: Just pondering things.
Rochelle: Don't hurt yourself sparky.
Dimitri: Ha ha. I was thinking…if I update every few days and you aim for every other week…are we talking weekly updates?
Rochelle: Sounds about right.
Dimitri: Oh. Cool. There you go folks, another chapter in a week. Or so.