Wild Surge/The Dramah Part 1
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Eric stared at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster with his eyes as he fan gave him little relief from the summer heat. He lay on his bed, only wearing boxers, the same thought running in his head over and over. “I didn’t do anything wrong, why do I feel so bad?”
There was a sharp rap at the door and Pops Romero poked his head into the room. “’Ey Junior, you gonna help me in the bodega today or you going out heroing?” The balding man’s teeth flashed from under his walrus mustache as he smiled at his son. Both of his boys had been able to avoid trouble and keep out of the gangs. Tomas had been shot and killed a year earlier when he accidentally walked into a turf war between Skulls and Hellions. Now his younger son was a card-carrying hero in the city, and the elder Romero couldn’t have been happier.
“I’m not feelin’ well, poppa.” Eric rolled onto his side and faced the windows. “I think I’m just gonna stay in bed.”
“You sure, Junior?”
Eric faked a cough. “Yeah. It’s cool pops.”
The smile fell from the older man’s face. He knew his boy. Something was wrong, but he didn’t want to talk. Eric could be as stubborn as his mother sometimes (God rest her soul). “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs in the shop, okay?” he watched his boy shrug an answer, nodded and left the door. Tying his apron, he mused to himself words of wisdom his father once told him.“Sometimes a man needs to be his own council.”
Eric sat up and rested his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. Two days ago he had left the Young Champions and joined Urban Development. The words still stung in his mind as he replayed the conversation over and over.
“Surge?” Verte Virtue’s voice cut in over the shared channel that Urban Development and the Young Champions had set up. “I'm sorry if you thought I was being a pain. But I'm not sorry you've left if you can’t learn to play well with others. You just outran your healer, and I hope you don't faceplant too much.”
The odd staccato of Asteroid Girl’s voice chimed in immediately after Verte’s. “Good bye, Surge. You will not receive your present now.”
Wild Surge crushed the beer can he had just drained, and tossed it over his shoulder. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wow. So it's like that, huh? I find some homies that I work better with, and y'all just wanna turn face on me. It's all good. I know where I'm at.”
“'Ell, Surge, yeh know tha's no' it.”
Eric smirked as several of the UD boys jumped in with the affirmation of how it sounded before speaking. “It's all good Torch. I know you an' me are straight. It's all good dawg. It's all good.”
Most of the UD Boys had shut off their receiver, considering the matter dropped, then Verte jumped back on the comm. “I am a Defender. I don't take sides. But you have to stay where I am to get healed.”
“Not I.” Surge figured Asteroid Girl wasn’t the type to let anyone else have the final word. He was right. “Unless you are a Kheldian with a blood claim to my help, you may not count on any support from me. You are foolish, selfish, and self-aggrandizing.”
They didn’t get it. They just didn’t get it. This wasn’t about them, this was about him. What he needed. What he wanted out of life. He shook his head. He felt stupid for thinking his friends would be happy for him. “Verte, this ain't bout faceplants. Sorry you can't see that.” The buzz rose in his ears and he felt his temper swelling. “And AG, sorry you feel that way chica. I almost thought you were cool. Sorry to see I was wrong.”
“And I almost took you to my nest for erotic diversions. I am relieved that I did not.” Eric gave an angry shrug at the looks from Torpe, Wicked Boy and Fire-Falcon in response to Asteroid Girl’s retort. His ears were getting hot.
“Well it sure is funny that we haven't faceplanted once and you aren't here.”
Enough was enough. He wasn’t sure what Verte’s problem was, but she was out of line. He wanted to slap her, knock her to the ground, shove her accusatory tone and words down her throat. All Eric wanted was to be hurtful. He dug as low as he could think. “And it's funny that the peeps I'm hanging with have, and not a one of them have broke into tears “
Asteroid Girl immediately spoke, adding fuel to the fire. “You are mocking Verte? That is unacceptable. Please meet me for a duel.”
“Surge. You can kiss my ass.” There was a pop as Verte snapped off her radio.
Eric felt a twinge of vicious satisfaction from the affronted tone in Verte’s voice. He imagined she was crying again. “Sweet. I win.” The elation was short lived.
“WHAT?” The normally calm voice of Mercury Prime broke in on the channel.
“Yo Xan! Dude! You gotta come to the Row man, party goin' on!”
Eric felt his stomach turn as Xander’s voice became accusatory in tone. “Surge... you're GONE...?”
The laugh in Eric’s voice was fading quickly. “Dude. I'm not gone, just wearing different colors.”
“Really?” There was a sarcastic snarl in Xander’s voice Eric had never heard before. “Tell me, what's a turncoat’s colours these days?”
Xander had been his boy, his homes. Eric thought they had each other’s back. He had left a dozen messages on Xander’s cell, none had been returned. He had checked his email and instant messanger a few times, but there had been nothing, save a note from Waitron the day before.
It contained a series of pictures, with Verte taking care and comforting Joey. Damn, that kid was messed up. Surge felt bad for him. Hard to believe how ill he really was. Attached was a note from the freakish robot.
Wild Surge. This unit reads in the records that an accusation was leveled at Young Champion Verte Virtue of cowardice and quote "acting like a baby." This unit suggests that there are different levels and kinds of courage, and suggests that in the face of what is depicted in these scenes, you yourself would be found wanting. Waitron9000.
PS. Your lamentable record of falling in combat and hospitalization continues. Ths unit suggests finding a dedicated defender to attend to you and only you is the only viable strategic solution to this problem. This unit is assured that with your vibrant personality this should be an easy task.
He had crumpled the readout and deleted the mail. The weight of his words must have struck home. The quote wasn’t his, but it sounded like people had expanded on what he had said. Whatever. It’s not like he gave a damn what a pile of bolts and junk metal thought, or assessed, or…whatever.
He laid back again, still queasy. Ash had called a meeting between the Champs and Eric the night before. Verte used it as an excuse to dis him openly and viciously. He tried to blow her off, but eventually the buzz rose, and he spoke his peace. They stood in front of the train station in Kings Row, screaming at each other, finding any excuse to insult or belittle the other. When the dust settled, Eric felt like an ass for lowering himself to her level. She wanted this to be a fight, she wanted this to be about her…and he wasn’t having it.
Once again she ran off in tears, and once again, he was the bad guy. What the hell had he done to deserve this?
Torch retrieved him, and she yammered at him, no longer angry, but for some reason needing him to understand why she had done it. Days on edge made him rage just at the sight of her. The buzz was everywhere, and he just wanted her to apologize so it could be over with and he could be on his way. She finished her explanation, mournful for what she had done and how out of hand it had gotten. Everyone there assumed it was all good.
But it wasn’t. Explaining yourself and apologizing for being wrong were two different things in Eric’s book. She was upset at how far it had gone, but Verte showed no remorse in her actions. How was he supposed to forgive her when she hadn’t even been strong enough to own up to her deeds?
So for the third time in two days, he had reduced her to tears. The buzz had been so loud in his ears, so consuming and fueling of his emotions, that he missed her apology. She had said sorry, but he hadn’t noticed.
Once he understood that, he tried to make it right. He even apologized himself, trying to explain that she wasn’t the only one that had powers that didn’t agree with the body that hosted them. She wasn’t trying to hear it.
He watched a fly lazily drift across the room. A thread sized arc of lightning shot from his hand and fried it instantly. If only every problem was that easy to deal with.
Verte had flipped on him, Tharvia had gone psycho and Xander… Xander had abandoned him. His boy, his homie, his bud. Turned his back, for no damn reason. No explanation, no excuse.
“Screw it!” He got out of bed and headed for the shower. Maybe a few rounds with the thugs in Perez, alongside of his real homies would get him out of this funk. He knew where they stood, and that was alright with him.
Originally written by Adrian Drake User:AdrianD on August 2, 2005
