Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or Danny Phantom.

Title: Superhero's Foley

Author: unknown20troper

Rated: T

Warnings: established homosexual relationships

Pairing(s): Danny/Tucker, Virgil/Richie, possible Danny/Richie and/or Virgil/Tucker

Summary: Tucker and Richie have the same last name. Ghostwriter notices and decides to partake in some mischief. And tada – switch-around!

Notes: Constructive criticism welcomed. I am writing this as a Christmas gift for AnihyrMoonstar, though it was inspired by a piece of art known as Foley Swap by way2thedawn on dA. Making it the idea into slash is my idea, though. This is a no Phantom Planet fic, simply because I think it would be better that way.

Chapter 1: Sidekick Meets Superhero: Tucker and Virgil

"Time to get my superhero outfit back on," Virgil muttered. "Thought my superhero duties were done for the day, but if Richie's gonna disappear… Static's gotta save him."

He snatched his Static outfit, the clothes rustling in a mini-wind generated by the quickness of the motion. That escaped his notice, of course, since as he changed his shirt, snapped on his mask and did everything else necessary for his costume change, all his attention really focused on where Richie used to be. Richie. Gear. The one he loved. Gone. Why?

When the glow dimmed, revealing a guy, holding a weapon, Virgil reckoned that he had found the cause. The actual position of the ghostly weapon (by the guy's side, in a position that suggested that it would be sheathed if it could be) and the expression on the guy's face (reminiscent of a WTF icon) indicated that the guy meant no harm and was just as bothered as Virgil by this, yet the loss of Richie made him blind to such cues.

Static grabbed the guy's shirt, holding him against one of the walls of the gas station. "You have ten seconds to tell me where Richie is!"

Electricity coursed into the guy's black skin, making him flinch with the power of Virgil's fury.

"Uh, sorry but I really don't know where 'Richie' is, or who the heck he is, for that matter," he stuttered out. "If I did, I'd tell you. I am one of the good guys."

"Okay," Virgil replied. "Who are you? A Bang Baby? And how'd ya get here?"

"Tucker Foley or rather TF: Too Fine." He attempted a grin as he said it, in what Virgil recognized as an attempt to dissipate the tense atmosphere. "Not a Bang Baby; dunno how I got here, but it probably involved ghostly magic."

"Ghosts?" Virgil frowned, that word leading him onto a train of thought involving his dead mother. "Alright. So, there's a lot more in Heaven and Earth than I've seen so far."

Tucker, smirking, replied, "Bang Babies: guess there's more than I've seen, too. Who knows? Maybe all myths and stories are true." He sighed. "Yeah, there are ghosts. Lots of people hunt them, but there's only one or two guys that manage to catch them."

Virgil Ovid Hawkins, recalling someone who might be a ghost, wondered why anyone would hunt and catch the dearly departed. Were they the malevolent creatures of ghost stories, not the people loved in life? Did they scare the shit out of everyone and did that fear make people want to remove them from existence? Were they too strange, too odd? Too hard to understand?

He sighed, navigating his mind away from that mournful and probably rather useless tangent. "So, who are the successful ghost-hunters?"

"Danny Phantom, mostly. From the name, yeah… he's a ghost. Vlad's for-the-sake-of-PR ghost-hunting team was pretty successful, too, though a town full of ghosts is a lot better than having him in control." Tucker paused, as if to see if he was forgetting anyone. "The Fentons try, but their devices are rarely successful and often more whimsical than useful."

"So, there's Danny Phantom, Vlad's PR-hunting team and the Fentons," Virgil summarized. "Danny is a ghost, Vlad's looking for public support and the Fentons epically fail most of the time. Okay."

"Pretty much," Tucker affirmed, hesitant. "Except you kinda got Vlad's motivations wrong. He wants public support because it helps him manipulate people to get his plans to work, not because he's an attention whore. Not that it really matters, but yeah… just clarifying."

"Vlad's not an attention whore; got it! He's just… evil." Virgil rolled his eyes, figuring that getting to know about the hunting scene in the ghost place would easier and less ridiculous if he wasn't talking to an ordinary citizen that happened to be holding a high-tech weapon. That caused the Eureka lightbulb to go off in his head, the realization boinking his head apple-style. "Hey, why are you holding that gun? You probably don't need it. Are you involved in the ghost-hunting business, too?"

Tucker flinched, his expression showing the fear that came with the exposure or near exposure of secrets. His body tensed, and it took him a few minutes to reply. "Not really. I'm just the sidekick that spent – and spends – a lot of time not mattering much to people, but is adored by the hero when he has the time."

That was not really the information that Virgil wanted, but hey, at least, he knew what Tucker's role was. Logically (as Mr. Spock would say), the next question should be: "Whose sidekick are you?"

That question got Tucker flailing and sweating. "Sorry, but I can't tell you. Can't reveal the hero's secret identity, after all, and telling you who I help kick ghost ass with might really hint at it."

Virgil smirked. "I definitely get what you're saying, there. When people know someone's secret identity, they have quite a bit of power and not everyone can be trusted with it." He paused, sighing. "Back to Richie, since getting infodumped on ghost-hunting and all the epic failures in that field certainly isn't helping me get an idea of what happened to him. I highly doubt that a Fenton's ineptness was the cause of his disappearance."

He searched through his brain, looking for anything slightly relevant. What he found answered – or seemed to answer – nothing. Yeah, Tucker and Richie were both Foley's, but considering their differently colored skin, they probably weren't related or if they were, their genetic closeness was that of cousins. And Virgil doubted that any of Richie's relatives would randomly replace him with a differently hued cousin. If any of them were that crazy, Richie'd have already told him.

"Alright, Richie." Tucker sighed, hoping that his importance to Danny exceeded or was equal to Richie's importance to Virgil. He hoped that if Richie, whoever he was, appeared to replace him, Danny would interrogate him about Bang Babies, trying to discover what happened to him. He hoped that his friend and lover considered him worthy of finding, as awesome as this 'Richie' must be. He hoped, though thousands of girls had instilled an inferiority complex into him, though he used to be the mostly ignored and/or picked on one of Danny's trio. He hoped, because he had to get back to Amity Park, because he loved Danny and vice-versa, and because he knew that he shouldn't be neglected, rejected or forgotten by anyone he cared about. Things seemed kinda impossible and tricky to figure out, but he hoped because he'd better be saved.