A/N: Another dream-inspired ficlet. Will be multi-chaptered, although I have no clue as to how many. I have the weirdest dreams, I swear to God. XD

[1]

"I'm not sure that I understand the situation," Hawk Girl questioned as the League flew down into Dakota. "You're saying that he can't remember anything further than his sophomore year of high school? He thinks that he's still fifteen years old?"

"Apparently, someone was messing with his head. He didn't get bonked real badly or anything; he just went missing and showed up in his old costume, going on a wild rampage. He sees random civilians as Metahumans, and is trying to fight them. He even still thinks that Richie is still Gear," the Flash explained with a frown. "It's crazy. It's like Static's temporarily lost his mind. And maybe he permanently has, if Batman and J'onn can't figure out what the heck happened and how to fix it."

"Was this caused by an enemy's hand?" Green Lantern wanted to know. "Any enemy we know of, that is? Like the Brainiac scenario?"

"No, something else entirely," Batman finally spoke, his voice as low and even as always. "We think it might've been accidentally self-induced."

"You mean he somehow did this to himself?" Hawk Girl puzzled with a cross of her slim arms. "I don't know if I can believe that. Static's a smart man. He would know what he was doing, whatever it was."

"That's why we think it was an accident," Batman clarified stiffly. "And why we're investigating this personally. We going to have J'onn pry into Static's mind as soon as we knock him unconscious. Foley is on his way to assist us as we speak; I called him myself."

Superman shook his head, listening to all of this from outside of the jet with his advanced hearing. He wasn't fond of the idea of having to do this to Static, but he was hurting innocent people, even if he wasn't aware of it. He needed to be stopped, record superhero or not.

When they arrived, Static was out in the open near one of Alva's industrial parks on the outskirts of Dakota. He was flinging steel girders to the left and right of him, his electric powers throwing them as easily as if they were rolls of paper. He was yelling something, screeching it at the top of his lungs, but what he was saying wasn't making much sense. Everything around him was an illusion, figments from his teenagehood brought into feigned reality. Essentially, he was fighting ghosts. A bird in the air became Talon. A shadow on the ground became Ebon. A running Alva employee became Ferret. A pile of tools became Shiv.

Static didn't – couldn't – remember that Ebon was dead, drowned in the bottom of the bay with Hotstreak. He couldn't remember that Talon was human again, and currently working as Miss Teresa Miller (last name changed by the MRPP, Metahuman Rehabilitation Protection Program) at a hospital in Chicago. He couldn't remember half of the changed or deceased Metahumans he used to fight. Worst of all, he couldn't remember that Richie had dumped being Gear in order to move to Japan to work on technologies that were saving the world from what humans have been slowly doing to kill it. He also couldn't remember how against this he was, and the big fight he and Richie had gotten in over it.

In short, Virgil couldn't remember a thing from the past six years. And whatever happened in his brain had caused him to go off the deep end.

"Target in sight. Preparing to land," J'onn murmured as he set the jet down on a rooftop closest to the industrial park.

They raced to the scene, but hid behind some of the equipment until Richie arrived. They needed the blond to calm Static before they shot him with a tranquilizer and took him back to the Watchtower for study and medical treatment.

"You better be nearly here, Foley," Batman demanded as he touched a headphone by his ear and spoke into the transmitter on the neck of his cape.

Buzzing filled his head before the young man's voice answered him. "I just landed. I should be over there in half an hour."

"That's not fast enough," Batman growled as a girder flew towards him, and Static cried out, 'who's there?' at the hidden League members, of which he forgot he was a part of. "You need to get here immediately. We can't talk to him; he might see us as enemies. You're the only person he will most likely recognize, even through his delusion. Isn't there a way for you to be here within the next few minutes?"

"If I stop by the gas station and pick up my old jet skates, maybe," Richie replied, an idea forming. Batman could tell by the tone of his voice.

"Do that. We'll see you soon." And he clicked the microphone piece off as he signaled for his companions to look sharp, and be ready.

Static roared something, his eyes ablaze through his white mask as he played search and destroy with people he couldn't recall were his comrades. To him, they looked like more Metahuman villains in costumes.

With another electrical blast, Virgil looked up and froze as a green and white clad figure (that had a surprisingly easy time getting into a costume he hadn't worn since he was seventeen) climbed down from the skies to stand in front of him. He blinked. "Dude, there you are! I could've used your help hours ago! Where were you? There have been freaks running around here like crazy, and I've been getting my ass whooped!"

Little did Virgil realize that the ass whooping came from himself as he caused buildings to crumble and other objects to come flying his way, a few of which from the police department as they attempted to restrict him or drive him far enough out of the city to not harm any more citizens. They got him this far before they had to retreat, forgetting how much metal was around for static to use to his advantage.

"Well, I'm here now, bro. And everything's under control," Gear said gently, as he took a cautious step forward.

"Where's Backpack?" Virgil asked. He couldn't remember that the little creation had been annihilated during the last battle they fought together prior to Richie's quitting of the team and moving to the east. There's been another Backpack since, a small, more crab-like version with higher-level technology, but he was a new edition only created within the past year.

"I, uh, left him behind for updates," Richie fibbed carefully as he closed in a bit more, his peripheral vision taking note on each League member's position. He offered a hand. "It looks like you're done here. We should go home now."

Virgil stared at him incredulously. "You're actin' weird, Gear. You wouldn't normally leave Backpack behind, especially not with all these Bang Babies runnin' around! What's up with you?"

"Nothing, man," Richie said slowly. He made sure to keep his voice a pitch higher than it actually was to make himself seem younger, like the version of himself Virgil would be seeing at this moment. It hurt him, though, to be here like this; he wasn't angry with Virgil; never was. Virgil was angry with him for 'abandoning' him. And he was hurt that Virgil didn't want him to go to Japan to use his mind for the greater good. Richie didn't understand why Virgil wasn't allowing him to be happy, to be of more use, to have something more than the sidekick role. For a while Richie thought it was jealousy, but now he's thinking it could be something else.

Virgil didn't seem to believe him. He got down in a fighting stance, his jacket touching the ground, unlike he had been a moment ago when Virgil was at full height; he was too tall for his old uniform. "No, something's wrong. You're acting strange, like everyone else around here! What's going on, huh? Tell me! Is this another mind control thing? If it is, I swear I won't hesitate to fight you to snap you out of it, Gear!"

"It's not what you think," the blond replied slowly. He glanced quickly at Batman, whom was lingering behind him. He sent a look that was pleading for guidance. He turned back to his old friend. "You hit your head or something, V. You're not acting like yourself. So why don't you –"

"Lies!" Static barked, his temper on the rise with his outer upheaval. He launched a cement churner at the genius. "All lies! You can't be Gear! He wouldn't talk down to me like that! You're another one of them. You disguised yourself to trick me, but it's not going to work."

The Justice League showed itself, and it sent Static into an even wilder fit, a scream of frustration emitting from his dark lips as he hurled objects at everyone that came within a twenty-foot radius of him.

The measures were turning into desperate ones. It was worse than when he went a little nuts over his father being taken hostage. Virgil was more furious, more powerful, more screwed-up in the head. He was going to kill someone if he wasn't careful. And it frightened Richie. So, he thought, he might as well resort to drastic means, because desperate times call for them.

"I have a plan!" Richie shouted to the rest of the League, no longer bothering to shroud his voice in a younger-sounding guise. He tore off his helmet. "But it'll only give you a second, so you have to be quick with the tranquilizing dart!"

"No problem," Superman replied from the sky. He nodded to J'onn, whom carried the sedative with him. "Do it."

Swallowing hard, Richie nodded. He zoomed in close to his friend, vaguely thanking no one in particular for the loss of memory the dreadlocked man had. If not for that, he wouldn't be able to do what he was about to do.

Grabbing Static by the shoulders, Gear knocked him to the ground, pinning him. He leaned down, and Static stiffened, but soon threw the blond off. He charged blindly, and as Richie recovered, he shouted, "Wait!"

They collided, one of Virgil's forearms in Richie's hand and their other hands clasped, fingers woven, as Virgil struggled to try and throw or strike the other.

"You're not Richie! You can't be! You look different, and even sound different!" Static hollered in the blond's face. "Just who are you? And what have you done to my best friend?!"

"I let him grow up," Gear said softly. "But I didn't let him let go of his feelings."

"What are you talking about?" the other frowned, his struggles letting up.

Richie leaned forward again. "You're hurt, V. Something messed up your brain, and now you think that you're fifteen again and that we're still friends. But you're twenty-one, and you hate me, and it's all my fault." He released Virgil's arm, and lowered their hands. "We need to help you."

"We? You mean you and all those Bang Babies over there? Fat chance!" he tore his hand away and pointed his finger at the slimmer man. "I know what's going on: you think that you and your little gang can capture me and torture me or strip me of my powers and use them for yourself. I know how villains think! Well, I'm not going to be part of something like that. So fuck off!" He shoved Richie with one of his nova blasts, and the genius went flying. Superman caught him, and Batman and J'onn stepped in as the Flash ran circles around the crazed young adult. Virgil fell to the ground, feeling closed in. "No! No, no, no, no, NO! Stop it! Get away! Where's the real Richie? I want him back! He needs to help me! Nooo!"

A pulsing wave of magnetic force shoved the Flash back and made him stick statically to a machine. Batman skidded back on his boots, and Superman jerked upwards and floated for a minute, stunned. Only Richie stood and made a steady beeline for the perplexed superhero.

"There's something I've always wanted to do," he whispered, and Static whipped his head around to stare at the blond, whom was holding his arm and limping slightly. It was now or never, to put his initial plan into action. It'll only give J'onn a minute, maybe less, but it was all Richie had. And as the Martian stepped closer, intangible and immune to Static's powers, the blond came into the empty ring around the African American.

"Do what? What are you going to do?" Static hissed angrily. His fingers sizzled with what would surely be a voltage high enough to stop Richie's heart.

As if it wasn't already beating rapidly enough to burst.

"You'll see," he said, and then he acted. Gear swooped in, gripped the sides of Static's face with his palms over the darker man's hair and ears, and he forced a tense kiss on the unwilling participant's lips.

And Virgil stopped moving entirely. His breath caught and his eyes widened and his lips seemed to turn to stone. And as the electricity on his fingertips died as sudden as a flat line, J'onn comprehended that this was the opportunity Richie meant, and he shot the tranquilizer. And they watched as Virgil's eyes shut and Richie felt as his lips melted, and then Richie caught the mocha college student.

"A bit unorthodox, but effective," J'onn surmised as Richie became silent.

"Dude, I really did not need to see that," the Flash complained as he pretended to shield his eyes.

"I thought it was sweet," Hawk Girl joked as she watched Superman step forward and take the heavy, unconscious man into his arms.

"We have to get him back to the Watchtower and figure out what went wrong," Batman stated flatly. "Come with us, Foley."

"I'm going to have to," the blond sighed. "I have a feeling he'll want some answers." He willed a dim smile to his mouth that didn't reach his eyes. "Besides, you guys could always use another brain on this bizarre case."

Nodding and exchanging glances, the League collected in their jet and headed toward the Tower, knowing all too well that things were not going to end peacefully.

[/end 1]