Preface

Hello and welcome to Shocked!, my take on the DCAU's show Static Shock, where, like it says in the blurb, everyone is a little bit smarter. I've taken a couple liberties with powers and motivations and added a few OCs where necessary to make everything cohesive, but for the most part the story follows the same trajectory as the show... at least at first. Hopefully you don't have to have seen the show to understand what's going on.

Warnings: Some violence and a little swearing ahead (mainly in later chapters) and not a small amount of hand-wavy, techno-babble science (smarter characters means Apocope spends way too much time on wikipedia/youtube). There will not however be much in the way of romance, because who has time for that when you're fighting supervillains? Also, most of the characters are, like, fourteen, and kids hooking up is not what I want to write.

On formatting: Every chapter starts out with a mini-scene that's either a plot point or some tangent only partially related to the story. The rest of the chapter is divided into numbered scenes with their own titles, which were originally just to help me keep organized, but I kinda like them, so they stayed.

Lastly, I don't own any of the main characters or the setting. Those are the property of the DC Animated Universe.

Enjoy!

1. The Big Bang

Clouds of gas boil up from some unseen source. The sounds of fighting turn into terrified screams while sirens blare nearby and helicopters drone overhead. Everything is acrid, poisonous, deadly.

1.1 Francis and Wade

Francis shoved me again, harder this time.

"What do you think you're doing, punk?" He grabbed my shirt, threatening to tear it. My heart hammered. I hadn't thought this through, and now I was gonna get a beating.

Half blocked by Francis's arm, I could see the freshman kid he'd been picking on. He still clutched the inhaler in his hand, the one Francis had tried to steal.

I looked up at Francis, daring him to do it. If someone had to get beat up, it was better me than that other kid.

"That was a private exchange," Francis said, his voice low and menacing. He grabbed my shirt with two hands and lifted me up off the ground.

Dang, he was strong. I grabbed his wrists, trying to make him let go.

"You were robbing that kid," I said, the words choked and breathy.

For an answer, Francis leaned forward, slammed me against the brick wall of the school. I coughed, the impact forcing the air out of my lungs. I tried to kick him, make drop me, but I didn't have the leverage to do him any real harm. Just make him mad. He let go with one hand and drew it back like it was a Roman catapult ready to smash through a Phoenician fortress. I braced my head against the bricks. He was gonna hit me and then let me go, his point proven.

The punch came, right in my cheekbone. I saw stars for a second, but they faded just in time for me to see the catapult load up again.

"F-Stop!" a familiar voice shouted. I almost cried in relief. It was Wade, an upperclassman even bigger and tougher than Francis, with a couple of his buddies in tow. "Let him go!"

Francis looked at the three black kids, still holding me up, his catapult of an arm still loaded. His eyes were wide and I could practically see the gears in his head spinning as he tried to figure out what to do next.

He dropped me and ran. Wade's two buddies chased after him while Wade himself gave me a hand up off the ground.

"You okay, V-man?"

I touched my cheekbone, where my eye was already half swollen shut. "Yeah. You didn't have to, Wade. He was gonna let me go."

Wade grinned. "And let one of my boys take a beating?" He tousled my hair, like he was being friendly, but it felt more demeaning. I didn't like people touching my dreads.

I knew Wade from the rec center. He played hoops there sometimes and would let me join in if his team was ever short a player. Other than that, nada. He was a big, tough upperclassman, too cool for the likes of me.

"Couldn'ta come two minutes sooner then?" I asked like I was joking, but really I was wondering why he'd gone out of his way to save me but not the inhaler kid. He'd been sitting on his picnic bench the entire time, just on the other side of the grass. He must've seen the whole thing.

Wade laughed.

I laughed too, but it was forced, fake. "Thanks, though," I said, trying to let him know I wasn't insulting him in any way, and made some excuse about getting an ice pack from the school nurse so I could get away from the scene.

"See ya 'round." Wade bumped my fist and I fished my backpack out of the bushes where I'd dumped it so I could face Francis.

####

Derek and Lamar found Francis in the cafeteria and sat down at the table behind him, talking loudly about the things Wade had told them to talk about.

"Say, man, you gonna go with that Hawkins kid to the rec center after school today?" Derek asked. "I know he goes there every day."

"Nah, not today. I told my girl I'd take her to the movies. You?" Lamar said.

"No, I got a meeting with my probation officer."

"That's too bad. I guess Hawkins is gonna have to walk all the way there by himself."

After a few minutes, Francis got up and left, and Wade came and sat next to Derek and Lamar.

"He get the message?"

Derek and Lamar glanced at the empty chair behind them.

Lamar spoke. "Think so."

1.2 Richie

I told the nurse I'd been playing baseball and not paying attention and she gave me a plastic blister full of frozen blue stuff wrapped in brown paper towels. The cold hurt, but felt good at the same time.

I glanced behind me, just to make sure Francis hadn't followed me, and let myself into the underclassman computer lab. Richie was already there, working on his game, his lunch half forgotten on the desk next to him.

A couple months back, Richie had made a deal with Mr Decker, the technology teacher, to let him hang out in the computer lab during lunch. In exchange, Richie promised to keep his grades up and not try to mess with the school's administration programs. It was a pretty sweet deal, because after Richie had proved that he wasn't gonna do anything stupid or nefarious, Mr Decker let us both hang out in here, pretty much unsupervised.

We didn't always eat lunch there, but sometimes it was nice to get away from the overcrowded cafeteria, especially if Francis was around.

"Hey, Richie."

"Heya, V," Richie said, not looking up or slowing down his typing. I sat down next to him and got my own lunch out of my backpack.

I let him type, not wanting him to see my shiner yet. He would chew me out the minute he learned what I'd done.

Richie and me had been best friends for years now, despite the fact that I was black and he was white as wonder bread. We'd been in the same class for gifted kids in elementary school, something that had put us both on the bullying hit list. That and our shared love for computers and comic books had kinda made us automatic friends. We'd survived middle school and managed to keep our heads down freshmen year enough that we'd kinda faded into the background. Not nerds, not dweebs begging to be picked on, just, nobodies.

"Jump?" I asked. This was the game Richie had been building for a while now. It featured a superhero called Jump, who had to run and jump over obstacles to get to a bomb and then carry it out of harm's way before it exploded.

"Yep," Richie said, pausing to push his glasses up his nose. "I'm trying to fix that bug where he gets stuck inside the truck when he lands on it." He saved his work and picked up his PB&J, the same thing he had for lunch every day. He nearly dropped it when he saw the ice pack I'd got from the nurse.

"What happened?" he asked, frowning.

"It's nothing." I touched a finger to the bruise under the pack, to see if the swelling had gone down, debating whether I should tell Richie the same lie I'd told the nurse or let him know what had happened with Wade.

"That's not nothing."

He would get mad at me if I lied and he found out, so I told him the story.

"You realize that was really dumb, right?" He shook his head, like he still couldn't believe it. "That dude has got major anger management issues. You're just lucky Wade showed up."

"Yeah, I guess. I just couldn't stand the thought of him picking on that kid, you know?"

Richie put a hand on my shoulder. "I hear ya. Next time just make sure you got Wade with you before you try and tangle with F-Stop."

I snorted. "F'd-Up, more like."

"Haha, yeah. Who came up with that nickname, anyway? His photography teacher?"

About a half hour later the warning bell rang. Richie saved the work he'd done on his game and made double sure the door to the computer lab was locked before we walked to history class together.

"Shoot some hoops after school?" I asked.

"Nah, man. I got stuff I need to do at home," Richie said, looking down at his shoes and pushing his glasses up his nose.

I told him that was fine and didn't bug him about it. He didn't like talking about his folks.

1.3 Alleyway Altercation

I returned the melted ice pack to the nurse after school and started walking towards the rec center. I could've taken the bus, but Dakota city busses always had weird people on them and it wasn't that far from the school to the center.

My pops worked at the center as part administrator, part organizer and part dad to everyone. He was always doing everything he could to make the center a place for people to go when they needed a safe place, no matter their age or color or circumstance. They had daycare for single parents, GED study courses, self-defense classes, reading rooms and foosball tables and basketball courts open the public. Even a pool and a gym, though you had to pay to use those.

After Mom died, Pops had really thrown himself into the center, as a way to keep himself busy, I guess, and he'd turned what had once been a run-down gym into something people could point to and say, "See? Dakota's really not doing so bad after all." Even if he was busy all the time, I was still proud of him.

I walked along, wondering if it'd be worth it to have Pops sign me up for a weekend self-defense class, or maybe talk him into hiring a karate instructor who could teach classes after school. A good flying mantis kick would probably make bullies think twice before trying to mess with Virgil Hawkins.

Distracted by the daydream, I bumped into a guy waiting at the corner for the light to change. A tall white guy with ginger hair. His pants hung low on his hips, almost falling off, and his t-shirt was stretched tight across muscles that screamed of a well used gym membership. It was Francis Stone, the last person in the world I wanted to see right now.

"You." Francis turned and glared at me.

I took a step back, and Francis grinned like a sadistic lion seeing its prey alone and ill-equipped to handle the situation.

"Not so brave now that your little posse's not here to keep you safe, huh, hero?" he said, somehow making hero mean the same thing as idiot.

"I..."

Francis grabbed my collar and dragged me into an alleyway before my brain had time to send the message to my feet that they should start running. A bag of trash sat next to an overflowing can and Francis threw me into it. It was soft and soggy. I gagged. I wasn't hurt, but I was gonna have to burn this shirt later.

"It's time you learned a lesson," Francis said. "And since you didn't wanna do it the easy way, I guess we're-" Francis cut himself off, looking back at the street.

Three shadows blocked the entrance to the alley. One tall and broad, and two shorter but equally menacing on either side. Wade and his cronies.

Francis took on a fighter's stance, balanced on the balls of his feet, fists up, and faced the shadows. "You. Why're you getting up in my business all of a sudden?"

Wade took a step forward, out of the sunlight so we could see his face. "'Cause you been messing with my man Virgil," he said, looking at me.

Francis kept his eyes on Wade and I slowly got to my feet, trying not to make any noise. The alley wasn't a dead end—connected to the next street over. Maybe if Wade and Francis kept up this staring contest long enough, I could get away, unnoticed.

"This little punk? Really?" Francis asked. "You want him?"

"You dissing my home boy?" Wade said.

Francis tensed, his pale green eyes flicking between me, crouching next to the trash, and Wade's team, blocking the closest exit. That seemed to be all the cue Wade needed and he nodded at the shadow beside him. He had a ski mask on, but I figured it had to be Lamar, judging from the cornrows that stuck out under the bottom of his mask. Lamar reached behind him and pulled a stick like a police baton out from under his shirt. Lamar's buddy Derek did the same on Wade's other side and Francis decided in that moment to run.

Derek and Lamar rushed past me while Wade looked on, still blocking the way out. Francis grunted and swore and tried to fight back, but he was unarmed and after a couple good hits he went down and wrapped his arms around his head.

Whump, whump.

Derek and Lamar smashed their sticks down on the defeated white kid five or six more times before Wade called them off. I felt sick to my stomach, only in small part because of the garbage juice.

"Help him up."

Lamar switched his stick to his left hand and grabbed Francis by the elbow, yanking him to his feet.

Wade sauntered over, leaning in towards Francis's face. "You're gonna leave my man Virgil alone. Got it, F-Stop?"

Francis wiped his nose and swore under his breath.

"What?"

Francis stood up straighter. "I said I got it!"

Wade nodded. "Get outta here."

Francis backed up a couple steps, nearly tripped on a garbage can lid, then turned and ran down the other end of the alley.

With a look, Wade sent Derek and Lamar to stand guard at either end of the alley. Not for the first time that day, my heart pounded in my chest. Richie had been right. That one act of heroism had been a really stupid idea.

"You lemme know if he bugs you again, a'right, V-man?"

My voice caught in my throat for a sec and all I could do was nod.

"I done you a big favor today, and I expect you to pay me back."

I swallowed. "Yeah, of course," I said, trying to figure out how in the world I might be able to help Wade. Maybe he needed tutoring in math class? Tutoring from someone who had a reason to keep it a secret or do it pro-bono? That had to be it, and I felt my shoulders relax.

Wade smiled. "Good. I'd shake on it, but..." He wrinkled his nose.

I pulled at my shirt, nearly gagging myself.

"I'll see you 'round, V-man," Wade said. He left, Derek and Lamar following after him.

Once they were gone I took one more whiff of my shirt and peeled it off. I thought about throwing it into the trash right here, but it was one of my favorite shirts, an over-long yellow button-up with orange sleeves. My white t-shirt underneath had soaked through too, but the button-up had taken the brunt of the damage.

I balled up the shirt and reorganized my backpack so the stanky thing couldn't contaminate my books, put on my jacket and walked to the nearest bus stop, more than ready to go home and forget all of this.

1.4 Laundry

Lucky for me, my sister Sharon wasn't home when I got there. She had a crazy schedule between all her classes and work and everything, so it was always a mystery as to whether or not I'd have to deal with her when I got home.

I threw my button-up, t-shirt and jeans right into the washer, tossed a few kitchen rags in on top to fill it up and started the machine. That taken care of, I got a soda out of the fridge for my eye and went up to my room.

Sharon and Pops harassed me all the time about my room, about how it was a "mess." They just didn't understand my method of chaotic organization. Everything had its pile. There was a pile for clothes, a pile for books and comics, one for dirty dishes and several for different kinds of miscellaneous stuff. As long as I knew where everything was, what did it matter how it looked to other people?

I threw on some clothes that passed the sniff test and lay back on my bed to enjoy some grape soda, comic books and much-deserved peace and quiet.

The phone rang a couple minutes later. I groaned and answered it. It was just a telemarketing robot and I hung up again. But the ringing did remind me that I should call Pops, tell him that he didn't need to give me a ride home when he was done working.

I dialed the number from memory and after a couple rings Pops picked up.

"Hey, Pops."

"Virgil. What's up?" He sounded stressed.

"Nothing. I took the bus home, that's all," I said, glad he couldn't see my guilty face.

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

"Yeah, you got it. Oh. Hey, Pops?"

"Yes?"

I took a deep breath. "Just wanted to let you know I got in a fight today at school."

There was a furious silence on the other end of the line, then an explosion. "You what!?"

"Yeah, me and this baseball, we got in an argument over velocity and momentum, and-"

Pops groaned. "That's not funny, son."

I laughed. "Yeah, sorry."

"I'll see you tonight."

"Okay, see ya." I hung up and went back up to my room. I'd pinned a poster of the solar system to the ceiling above my bed, and I stared at it now, thinking about what I should do if I ran into Francis again at school tomorrow. Ignore him, I guessed.

Really, I didn't know how I was supposed to feel about him. Francis was a bully and deserved to get a taste of his own medicine, but the way Wade had done it was beyond unfair. They'd trapped him, beat him up with sticks while he was unarmed, two against one. It had been scary.

1.5 Speculations

"Jeez, Virg. That's a shiner." Richie sat next to me at homeroom while we waited for the first bell to ring and the school announcements to be read over the intercom. Other fancier high schools had TV screens in all their classes and live broadcasted their announcements every day, but not Lakeside High. It wasn't the dumps, but it wasn't the greatest school either.

"It's that bad?" It'd looked way worse yesterday, I thought.

"Mm-hmm. What'd your dad say?"

"That maybe baseball's not my sport," I said with a laugh. I knew Richie well enough to know he'd understand what I meant.

"Sticking with the other B-ball," Richie said. "Good choice." He glanced around, but it didn't look like anyone was eavesdropping on us. "I heard you were gonna play ball with Wade. What's up with that?" he asked. He had to mean the incident at lunch yesterday. I hadn't told him what had happened in the alleyway yet.

"Nothing." I opened up my backpack and pulled out my algebra textbook. "I just owe him a favor is all." I glanced at the table of girls next to us, who were chatting in loud voices. "I'll tell you 'bout it at lunch."

Richie didn't get the chance to ask anything more, as the bell rang and the homeroom teacher called for order. The announcements came on and I buried myself in my algebra homework due tomorrow.

Homeroom ended soon enough, and I didn't see Richie again until lunch. Just to be safe, I went the back way through the building, to avoid going outside and walking past Wade's picnic bench. Mr Decker let us into the computer lab and took a quick look at Richie's "independent project" before retreating to the teachers' lounge.

"So, Wade?" Richie asked around a mouthful of PB&J.

I sighed. "You're not gonna like it," I said, and explained the whole thing. Bumping into Francis, getting soaked in garbage juice, Wade's "rescue" with the armed goons and me agreeing to pay him back when he asked.

Richie rubbed his the back of his head. "Dang, man. That's an awfully big, bad coincidence."

"What're you saying?"

Richie shrugged. "I dunno. You just happen to bump into Francis, and then Wade just happens to show up with two dudes in ski masks with police batons?"

"You think Wade organized all that?" I asked, wondering how he could've done it. He'da had to trick Francis without even talking to him, since Francis wouldn'ta given him the time of day after what Wade had pulled in the school yard.

"Maybe. I'm just saying it's a weird coincidence. What'd he ask you to do?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I figure maybe he needs help with, like, algebra or something, but doesn't want anyone to know, or doesn't want to pay for a tutor."

Richie grimaced.

"You don't think so."

"If Wade's got bad grades, it's not 'cause he's stupid." He paused, played with his earring like he was nervous. "You ever seen that green hat he wears?"

"Yeah..." I could picture it. Light green baseball cap with a dark green letter "K" stitched above the brim. The symbol of the Kryptonite gang. Something twisted in my gut. "Lots of people wear those hats."

"People with friends in ski masks with police batons?"

I leaned back in my chair, slapped my hand to my forehead. How could I have not noticed it before? Wade was gonna want something a little more than help with math homework.

"What do I do, Rich?"

"I dunno, man. Tell your dad?"

I shook my head. I couldn't do that. First off, it'd kill him to know I'd got mixed up in gang stuff after what had happened with Mom. And second, he'd pull me out of Lakeside and send me to Vanmoor, that awful new private school in the white part of town. He'd threatened to do it before, for way less serious reasons. If he did that, I'd hardly ever get to hang with Richie or shoot hoops at the center after school.

"That's just what they tell you to do in all those dumb PSAs," I said. "'Sides. If he asks me to do something illegal I can just tell him no. I owe him a favor is all, it's not like I joined the 'Nites."

"I guess," Richie said, but he didn't sound like he believed me. It was fair, I guess. If it'd been him in my place I would've felt the same. "But you know I always got your back, right?"

I looked down my nose at him. Growing up, he'd always been a short, skinny kid. He wasn't so short now, but he was still skinny. Not exactly a fighter. In the past, I might have teased him for saying something like that, but I was more mature now, and knew that he meant it, no matter what. You don't tease a bro when he's being sincere.

"Yeah, I know, man."

He held out his fist and I bumped it, a little surprised to find myself feeling way better.

1.6 The Favor

That next week Wade stopped me in the hall before sixth period, green hat on his head. My heart started pounding, but I tried to play it cool.

"V-man."

"Hey, Double-U-man," I said, cringing on the inside. This was not playing it cool.

Wade ignored my lameness. "Remember that favor?"

Like I could forget. "Yeah, I remember."

"Good." Wade glanced down the hall and handed me what looked like a wadded up gym shirt. Was this the favor? Doing his laundry?

To my surprise there was something hard, something heavy wrapped inside the shirt. L-shaped. All of a sudden I felt cold.

"Put it in your bag."

When I didn't move, Wade took back the wadded up shirt, spun me around and unzipped my backpack.

"I need you to hold onto this for me. Just till tomorrow night, got it?" The bag zipped closed and Wade spun me again.

"Wade—"

Wade leaned over, putting his face in mine. "You owe me a favor. I saved your butt twice, and all I'm asking is one little favor. Are you saying you're too stupid to hold onto this and gimme it back tomorrow?"

"I—"

"You check out library books, don't you? You're a real bookworm, I know. Same deal. Hold onto it, give it back later."

Saying that I couldn't right then seemed like a bad idea. The image of Derek and Lamar beating on Francis with sticks went through my mind.

Wade didn't wait for me to answer, taking my silence as a yes. "Good. Pier Fourteen, nine o'clock. We're having a St. Paddy's day party."

I watched him go, horror settling in my stomach. I hitched my backpack higher and went to class, knowing I wouldn't be able to pay attention.

1.7 The Plan

Me and Richie sat on a park bench, my weighted backpack between us.

"You checked for serial numbers?" Richie asked.

"Yeah. Nothing."

He messed with his glasses, pushing them up, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "You realize this is a bad, bad idea, right?"

"What's gonna happen if I don't?" I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "That beating he gave Francis? That had to be like a warning. Like a, 'look what I can do, I'm so tough.'"

"A demonstration of power, yeah. But, V, he can't do nothing if he's locked up. You take this to the cops and..." He made a little 'poof' gesture with his fingers, like the police could make him disappear.

"Like they're gonna listen to someone like me," I said.

Richie cringed. He didn't like me playing the race card any more than I liked having it in my hand, but we couldn't ignore that it was there.

"'Sides," I added, "There's still my pops. I can't let him know about this. I just can't." If his disappointment didn't kill me, my own shame would. "I go to the police and he's gonna find out."

Richie fixed his glasses. "Right. But we gotta take some precautions. Did Wade tell you to come alone?"

I almost jumped to my feet in protest. "You're not coming with me, Rich. This isn't your deal." It took a lot to keep from shouting. The last thing in the world I wanted was for Richie to put himself in harm's way for no good reason.

Richie held up his hands. "Jeez, man. I know better than that. I'm not going to this party if I'm not invited. I'm just saying that I wanna be able to know if something bad goes down so that if it does, I can call the cops."

"What, you want me to wear a wire or something?" It didn't seem like a half-bad idea, now that I thought of it, and recording this meeting would give some real, concrete proof I could give to the police without getting turned away out of hand.

Richie snorted. "I can't magic up spy gear like that. I might be good at computers, but I'm not that good."

"Then what?"

"Just like a check in. I'll walk with you part way and then wait by a payphone near the pier. If you don't meet up with me or call the payphone by say, midnight, I'll know something bad went down and I can call the cops."

I thought about it. "That's not a bad idea. We'd need to find a payphone though. But what about your folks? And do you think you'd be safe just waiting around out there?"

Richie shrugged. "I'll be fine. But what about your dad?"

I hadn't thought about him yet. "Say we're each going to each others' houses, I guess," I said, picking up my backpack. "Let's find a payphone."

1.8 Pier Fourteen

Me and Richie walked towards the waterfront. We were in Dakota's industrial zone, where warehouses lined the streets and big trucks came and went at all hours of the day and night. There wasn't much in the way here of homes or businesses or green spaces. It was all stark and barren, washed in shades of black and orange under the streetlights.

The lakefront ran north-south, and the streets ran parallel to it, the aves perpendicular. Richie stationed himself on the ave that lead to pier fifteen, four blocks away from the street closest to the lake. A couple of seedy looking bars had lights on at the far end of the block, and the rest of the street was home to cheap Chinese restaurants and dollar stores with bars over the windows. It was a step up from warehouses, but not a huge step.

Richie gave me one last bump for good luck and I left him on the corner, trying to hide in the shadows with his heavy dark coat. I had on my own winter coat, in part because of the dark colors and deep pockets, and in part because it really was cold out. I hadn't really owned anything in Kryptonite colors, so I'd spray painted a pair of my old gym shoes. They were half a size too small, but at least I was conforming to Wade's dress code.

Lamar was waiting for me by the big number fourteen that hung on the fence at the pier's entrance. Someone had cut a hole in the fence and Lamar pulled the chain links apart enough for me to squeeze through.

"C'mon," he said, and led me down the length of the dock.

The pier was so huge and solid I wouldn't have guessed we were standing over the lake if I hadn't known better. Another warehouse loomed above us.

I stumbled a little and focused on my feet, wondering where the security was.

Lamar took a left and led me around to the far side of some little out-building, maybe a couple football fields away from the warehouse. Wade was back there, standing huge and menacing, but overshadowed somehow by another, older man.

He was round-faced and missing a couple teeth, but that didn't do anything to make him less intimidating. Something about the way he held himself, the way the rest of the group seemed to revolve around him, like planets circling a star. He had gravitas.

"Hey, Quinn." One of his compatriots tapped him on the shoulder, nodded at Lamar and me.

"This is your fifth, Wade?" Quinn said, looking at me rather than Wade. I could see now, that Wade had four other Lakeside kids with him. Derek and Lamar and two more I didn't know. Oh, God. This Quinn guy had told Wade to do some recruiting. He'd fallen short of his goal and tricked me into coming along. Because I was a stupid underclassman who didn't have enough sense to stay away.

Now I was really and truly in it. If I tried to back out right now, it wouldn't be like what Francis had done to me, or even like what Wade had done to Francis. I'd be dead. Wade might be dead. And no matter how much I hated him now, I didn't want Wade to get killed on my account.

Quinn tilted his head. "He's kinda scrawny."

I had to play along. One month of theater camp three years ago had not prepared me for this. "I'm fast," I said and ripped the pistol out of my pocket, praying this was what Wade had meant for me to do.

Quinn laughed. "A'right kid. Calm down." He glanced at my shoes. "Nice kicks."

I moved over to stand by Wade, my brain running faster than the Flash. The scared part of me said to run now, ditch the gun in the lake and just get out before things got any hairier. The angry part of me said to start pounding on Wade, that it didn't matter that he weighed two of me and was surrounded by legit gang members. But the smart part of me said to stay quiet and wait until I could slip away into the shadows unnoticed. I hunched my shoulders and tried to look small in my puffy coat.

Quinn stood under a greenish florescent light shining down from the roof of the out-building. It seemed like the whole world, even the rush of the waves and the buzzing of the light, went quiet when he opened his mouth.

"The Kids are hitting this warehouse tonight. We figure they found something heavy in there and we gotta keep it from falling into the wrong hands. We'll put it in our hands if we can, but better no one's than the Kids' or the cops'," Quinn said, the S's whistling through the gaps in his teeth. It took me a second to figure out who he meant by the Kids. The Fuhrer's Children. A white supremacy group with branches all over the country.

Maybe I'd read too many comic books that week, but my brain played out a scene for me where I pulled a Batman, infiltrating the Kryptonites and using them to get close to a giant mecha hidden inside the warehouse. Batman-me then took control of the mecha and proceeded to wipe the floor with both the 'Nites and the Kids before flying the robot to where it belonged in the Justice League's HQ. Though I guess it was more likely there were guns in the warehouse than giant robots.

I struggled to pay attention as Quinn described their—our—plan of attack. The Kids were gonna cross over from Pier Thirteen, break into the warehouse and load the goods into a boat down on the lower dock. But before they could do that, the Kryptonite cells were gonna hit the Kids on guard duty and in the boat five minutes after the first of their guys broke into the warehouse. If their break in crew didn't come out with the goods, the 'Nites would send in their best guys to flush out the the Kids and take the goods for themselves. If they had the Kids' boat by then, they'd take that, if not, there were trucks waiting outside the pier for pick up.

I swallowed, thinking of Richie by the payphone and the trucks we'd seen circling the block.

We waited in silence for five minutes, ten, half an hour. I resisted the urge to look at my watch as much as possible, but couldn't help it. The midnight deadline was getting closer.

Finally, Quinn's cell phone rang once and went quiet. That was the signal. Quinn motioned for us to go and I followed Wade as we trotted across the dock. I lagged behind as much as I could. Between the buildings I could see dark figures in the distance, glowing orange under the industrial lights.

Then the figures caught sight of us. Someone shouted and the next thing I knew the air was filled with gunshots. An alarm went off inside the building, adding a nauseating shriek to the din. I flinched and looked behind me. Now was the time to run, get out of here.

But Quinn was right behind me, cold, dull steel aiming more or less my way. He had a crazed grin on his gap-toothed face and looked more than ready to shoot somebody, no matter how flimsy the reason.

We closed in on the warehouse and I realized there were way more guys here than Quinn had said there'd be.

"Down!" Quinn shouted and Wade pulled me to the ground with the rest of his crew. Something hot and bright shone through my closed eyelids and screams erupted from the gangsters who had been running towards us. I looked up and saw smoke pouring out of busted warehouse windows. The gangsters up ahead looked like they'd been in an accident in a lightsaber factory, half crisped and half chopped to pieces. I almost threw up then and there. What was in that warehouse?

Quinn was running ahead, shooting almost at random and I decided now was the time to go. I hadn't been lying when I'd told Quinn I was fast. I found my feet and sprinted back the way we'd come. The only other way off the pier was to jump in the water, and there were a hundred fighting gangsters between me and the edge. No thanks.

Another flash flared again and I tripped, blinded for a split second. Somewhere behind me something exploded. My ears rang from the explosion, painfully loud.

A third explosion followed, bigger than the others. The shock wave felt like someone had dropped a king-size mattress on me from a second story window. I coughed, unable to see, hear, think.

Fortunately my brain is smarter than me sometimes, and it told my hands to push me up, ordered my legs to stand and my feet to start shuffling away from the chaos. There were lights and noises and awful acrid smells all around, but it was too much for me to try and figure out what they all meant. I stumbled along as best as I could, then started walking, then full out running.

Just in time I remembered the gun, grabbed it and hurled it back towards the fighting, hoping against hope it couldn't be traced back to me.