Complications 2.16C
It didn't take long for Greg to come to terms with the odd situation he had found himself in.
Well, it took him roughly a minute or two of silent staring as he stood on the edge of the sidewalk.
Still, he didn't feel like that was too long, all things considered. The events of the last few minutes had been so unexpected and just plain weird that Greg just couldn't be sure he hadn't imagined it. It wasn't everyday that a Nazi supervillain returned your missing cell phone while giving you what could only be described as a love note before flying away.
Either way, the feel of the phone in his hands helped him to cement in his mind that he was definitely not dreaming despite how much he might have wished the opposite.
"H-h-holy…" the curse died on Greg's tongue as he paused to take a breath. As he let it out in a tense gasp, his eyes fell on the pink post-it on the ground again and he raised his eyes to gaze in the direction his mysterious visitor had vanished in.
No red-and-black robe fluttering in the wind. No hunk of metal floating in the air, blatantly ignoring the law of gravity at the whim of a teenage girl.
No cute, high-pitched voice more suited to a cheerleader at Arcadia than a neo-Nazi super-criminal.
There was no sign of her at all. Not that Greg really expected there to be in the first place.
Rune.
The red-robed telekinetic was one of the newer, more outspoken members of the Empire 88, and definitely the youngest, recently bursting onto the villain scene from who knows where. As a proud cape enthusiast himself, he had been part of the speculating crowd when she first started. Some people on PHO had thrown out ideas as to where exactly the E88 had found the underage girl, concepts ranging from Kaiser's illegitimate daughter to a homeless kid the Empire had picked up.
As XxVoidCowboyxX, Greg's thoughts were treated with as much derision as they usually were on the cape forums. Apparently, his speculation about some kind of neo-Nazi summer camp was just a bit too "overwhelmingly asinine" for the forums to take seriously. In all honesty, he felt that that insult was directed more to him than his opinions.
Not that he knew what he did to deserve it.
Still, unimaginative as the forums may have been, there was consensus about the teenage villain. She was a Nazi and, well, that was far from a good thing.
Sure, the ABB were technically worse, considering gang rape and sex slavery were two of the things they had a hand in, and that was only what some people knew about. Not only that, but they seemed to have no problems with kidnapping, or mass bombing, apparently. And Greg couldn't forget that Lung had the habit of rampaging around in the Docks whenever certain capes infringed on his territory.
The Merchants weren't exactly innocent either, as there were a lot of uncomfortable rumors that not all of the Merchants were there of their own free will. That was just the tip of the iceberg, considering the scum that filled the Merchant's ranks.
So, maybe the Empire might be the least of three evils but still… Nazis.
Greg looked down at the device in his hand again, the message on the note still bouncing around in his head.
Check your texts. Kaiser sent u some.
Greg ignored the involuntary shiver he felt making its way up his spine at the thought of exactly what that meant for him. The idea that the leader of the Empire himself felt comfortable sending him a message as well as the fact that the messenger felt comfortable enough to flirt with him by sending him what looked the girliest note in the history of mankind said far too much about exactly how little thought he had given to his interaction with the Empire.
Do they...Do they think I'm one of...them? I mean, I know I'm not but do they understand that?
This time, the blond couldn't ignore the shiver.
Greg shook his head furiously a moment later, as if the action would have any effect on his thoughts. He really didn't feel like dwelling on whether his Nazi card was in the mail already. Okay, enough weirding yourself out. Just check the phone.
With a touch to the power button, the white device in his hands activated, the screen showing the silver crown and crossed swords that served as the MedHall logo. The insignia rotated in place for a few seconds before fading away to reveal his phone's lock screen.
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
[Ding]
Greg felt his jaw slacken as notification after notification popped up on his screen with the same annoying [Ding] over and over and over again. "Nine…" he gulped, "Nineteen new voicemails?"
A low groan made its way out of his mouth as he imagined how furious his mom must be with him after calling his phone nineteen different times. Let's just get this over with.
Deciding to simply face the music, Greg placed his finger on his home screen and allowed it to unlock itself. As it did so, even more notifications appeared and Greg let out another pained groan as he read each of them in turn.
[Mom: Thirty-one Missed Calls]
[Mom: Forty-six Unread Messages]
[Unknown: Three Unread Messages]
Mom called me thirty-one times, left nineteen voicemails and sent me forty-six different texts…
Greg raked a palm down his face, all the while letting out a low hiss of air. Welp, there's no way that I'm not grounded.
With a quick tap on the voicemail button, Greg began to mentally prepare himself for what he expected would be nineteen voicemails worth of yelling.
[You have 19 New Messages. New Message]:
"Hello, Greg, It's Mommy. Just calling in to check on you. Axel's dad told me the two of you had a little thing planned for today. Hope you had fun. Give me a call when you get this, okay? Love you. Bye."
[To replay this message, press 1. To delete, press 7. To return the message sender's call, press 8. To save this message, press 9].
Okay...that one seems okay. Great, even. Time for the next one, then.
[Message Deleted. You have 18 New Messages. New Message]:
"Greg, it's Mom again. Did you hear the news?
There's been explosions all over the city. Promise me you're not going to get involved, Greg.
Promise me."
That one sounded kinda...nervous. With only the slightest of inhibitions, Greg tapped his phone to delete the message and hurry on the next one.
"Greg, sweetie, I need you to call me right now.
Right. NOW. Things are going crazy.
I need to know if y-"
That message ended swiftly and Greg hurried on to the next one, eagerness to hear from his mom overriding his anxiousness over the possibility of getting in trouble.
"Greg, call me. Send me a text! Anything! The hospital's overrun with patients!
The news says there's been bombings! The ABB are going crazy.
The news said they've been kidnapping people, Greg!
I need to know if you're okay! Please call me!"
The voicemails continued on in the same vein, his mother becoming less calm with each new message he listened to.
As he listened to his mother's voice growing more and more frantic with each additional message, Greg found himself nervously gnawing at his lip. I didn't realize she would be so stressed out. I'm so dead.
The last one only confirmed his suspicions as to how much trouble he would find himself in once his mother got ahold him.
"Greg Lucas Veder, if I f-find out that you're not half-dead in an alley somewhere, I swear that you're going to wish you were! It's been f-fourteen hours, Greg! Fourteen hours! I've been stuck at work since yesterday, having to deal with patients coming in burnt, bleeding and dying while I don't even know if you're okay, Greg! My own son can't even pick up his phone to call me! Not even a text, Greg! I don't care what I signed with Max! No more cape stuff! I thought Monday was going to be a one time thing, Greg! You promised me! If this is what you're going to keep doing, I can't deal with this! If I even hear you talk about your powers, I swear to God, Greg, I wi-"
Okay, I think that's enough. With a single tap, Greg shut off his voicemail, now fully aware of his mother's current mood. That last voicemail had been all too informative about his mother's state of mind, the teary, warbling voice somehow managing to convey furious yelling all too well. He had made sure not to read his text messages for two reasons, one being that he felt like he had a good idea of what they contained simply from the voicemails alone. The second reason had far more to do with the fact that those three unread messages from [Unknown] sent a shiver of unease through him when he even thought about them.
Maybe I should call now and tell Mom everything.
Greg's gaze landed on the pink note on the ground right next to the black, red and white boots he was currently wearing and he held back a grimace.
Maybe not everything, then. Everything...minus the Nazi stuff.
/Brockton Bay Central Hospital/
In a small, unlit room, a phone came to life, periodically buzzing from where it sat on the linoleum surface of the floor.
The screen lit up a moment later, showing a close-up picture of a six year old boy with a haircut that fit the utter definition of a bowl cut. In addition, the boy had a bright smile on his face, in no way diminished by his single missing tooth.
Below the picture was a single name on the phone.
Greg.
The phone continued to buzz, the constant droning noise accompanied by a soft snoring.
Lying on a cot just a few meters away, a long head of blonde hair shifted slowly.
"...shouldn't have done that. Sorry...again. Uh...I'll guess I see you when you get home. Love you, Mom. Bye."
With a sigh, Greg hung up the phone as he finished leaving a third message for his mom. "Maybe she won't kill me as soon as she gets home now."
Voicemails 1 and 2 had been more apologies than explanations and Greg wanted to at least give his mom a reason for not calling her instead of just saying "sorry" five different ways in thirty seconds. Hopefully, she would listen to her voicemails before she got home.
Phone in hand, Greg leaned back into the bus stop bench behind him only to stumble as his butt hit nothing but air. "Wha-ohhh." Greg turned around and winced at the alley wall behind him, the area around it scattered with pieces of the wooden bench he had been sitting on not too long before. "How did...when did...wait, did I even do that?"
Idly, the sound of a wooden bench crashing into tinder against a brick wall played back in his mind as he recalled the few minutes in which he had been introduced to Rune. Ah, crap.
Greg shook his head and let out a low groan, forcefully pushing all thoughts of possible vandalism to the back of his mind. I should just get out of here.
A hand went to his stomach right as the thought of leaving the scene crossed his mind, a low growling sound confirming his thoughts shortly after. Yeah, I definitely need to get something in there.
With that, Greg leapt into the air. His jump was powerful enough that his arc took him over the streets below, allowing him to look down on the smaller buildings in the commercial district.
A smile stretched across his face as he rose. The wind in his face, the rush of air flowing past his ears...it was the best feeling he could imagine. He couldn't believe that just three weeks ago, he could barely manage to clear more than a single story leap. Now, he could manage a height of almost five times that without trying too hard. Man, how did I live before powers?
The smile on Greg's face faded as he felt his momentum lessen and soon enough, gravity began to pull him back where he belonged. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being in the air. Never lasts that long, though. He aimed himself down away from the street itself and towards a nearly empty parking lot, doing his best to remain upright.
Guided by what he had seen from Shadow Stalker's videos on the internet, Greg bent his knees in the hope of absorbing some of the impact, creating a gentler landing this time around.
"...Crap."
No such luck.
Despite his best efforts to prevent it, the pavement beneath his feet still crumbled as he slammed down hard. Rising from his crouched position, Greg grimaced at the-admittedly rather miniscule-crater he had left in the asphalt. Crap. I made sure not to jump too high and I didn't have a running start so I definitely didn't come in too fast. I only fell for like...three? Barely three seconds.
God, he hated breaking things. At least, accidentally.
Minor property damage aside, this wasn't the worst case scenario. Had he been normal, a nearly sixty-foot fall would have turned him into a smear on the pavement. Yay for crappy silver linings.
He hadn't yet become accustomed to compensating for the massive leaps he would make through the air.
"Really have to get that under control." Greg let out a sigh at the thought of all the property damage he'd leave behind if he didn't. It certainly didn't help that he literally didn't know his own strength. "Ughh...guess it's running for now." Running wasn't anything as good as jumping, but at highway speeds, it was a close second.
Greg took off, the hunk of shattered asphalt under his feet flying from the force of his movement. The streets in this part of the city were empty, as expected. Few cars were on the street and those he saw were hardly in usable condition, what with the explosives and looters playing their part. The same could be said for several buildings as well, with emergency services most likely evacuating people from the commercial part of Downtown before the more serious damage had taken place. The streets would probably have people filtering back in under twelve hours. Brocktonians were relatively used to gang and cape issues anyway. He doubted this emptiness would last longer than a day.
The reasons for the emptiness aside, Greg couldn't help but be thankful for it. Cars and trucks were no longer obstacles to maneuver around. They were now pivot points for him to vault over, rocketing himself forwards over the ground at high speed instead of upwards.
Empty streets meant that he could move.
Before he knew it, Greg found himself skidding to a stop outside of his house. With a neatly trimmed lawn and a freshly painted white exterior, the house itself was pristine. "A cozy Dutch Colonial," at least that's what his mom always said. The Veder house was his mother's baby, her perfect dream house that she convinced his dad to buy despite the much larger ones for sale. His father always hated it for that. It may have been out of raw spite but that alone made Greg love the place even more.
His neighborhood, a short jaunt from the wealthier homes in Captains Hill, was always quiet and peaceful, free from gang and cape trouble. Even today, it still stood in perfect contrast to parts of the city. No one had their doors and windows broken open, no random fires, no cars missing tires, no gaping holes in the streets or walls of buildings.
Everything around him was almost perfectly untouched by everything that happened. Makes sense, I guess. Why riot in a suburb?
Greg opened the waist-high gate and made his way across the cobbled path towards his front door. He stepped forwards, his hand reaching for the doorknob when a noise across the street caught his attention.
He whipped his head around, catching sight of one of the neighbors peering at him through their living room window. A neighborhood mom stared back at him with wide eyes before quickly closing her curtains.
Greg shook his head, rolling his eyes as he did so. Of course.
Most of the people in his neighborhood had never exactly been friendly with his family, another thing he could blame his father for. After Monday, it seemed like everyone in his neighborhood was going out of his or her way to avoid him despite the moms doing their best to gossip about him behind his back. Greg turned back to the door, hand tightening around the doorknob before he paused.
What am I doing? It's locked. Where's my key?
A frustrated sigh came to his lips as he realized something, his hand falling away from the doorknob.
I don't have my key. Why don't I have my key? His hands turned out the pockets of his pants, desperately searching for his key for about half a minute until he realized something. Oh my god, these are the pants the Empire gave me.
"Damn it. I already took the spare key."
Greg looked down at the doorknob and pursed his lips in thought. "I mean, I could...but...well, I already broke it once. I can get it fixed, right? Right." Well, he was already grounded. Might as well.
Mind made up, he grabbed hold of the doorknob and twisted. It took less than a second, the weak metal and locking mechanism giving way to his superior strength. Greg walked inside and carefully closed the door behind him, shoving it into place as well as he could. With that done, he turned back to face the living room. Man, it's dark in here.
He could barely see his own hand in front off his face. Huh, where's the light switch?
Already inches away from the switch, his hand froze in the air. What's that smell?
Tilting his head back to catch the scent again, Greg frowned.
Ozone...ozone and battery acid?
The smell was confusing enough by itself. Still, Greg found himself ignoring it as his ears pricked up and his head tilted toward the sound that caught his attention.
Who is that? Can't be Mom. Her car's not outside and no one else has a key.
Blue eyes glinted with steel as the realization set in. Someone broke in but...how? The door wasn't busted and the windows look fine.
It didn't make sense to Greg but he knew what he heard. Someone had definitely broken in.
In his house.
His hand fell from the light switch to his sides where it balled up into a fist to match his other hand.
Empire. ABB. Merchants. I don't care. Nobody breaks into my house.
Before he could even enter the kitchen, he realized something. The noise, the clattering in the cabinets, the sound of the fridge opening, the squeak of sneaker sole on linoleum...they had all quieted.
What? He glanced down to his brand-new boots and took an experimental step. He winced as they let out an audible squeak of their own on the freshly waxed wood.
Crap.
As Greg finished the thought, something rushed by him faster than he could make out. A flash of blue and white filled his vision and what felt like a dozen hard taps struck his elbow. A cape!
Greg whirled to the side as fast as he could in an attempt to avoid whoever it was. The evasive movement was unnaturally sluggish as his right arm seemed stiff and slow to respond. Wha-
His thoughts were cut off as a burst of pain exploded from his right arm, centering on his elbow. Greg found himself stumbling forward, only to receive another hail of deceptively light strikes this time to his unguarded chest and face. Seconds later, the pain returned right where he had been hit just in time for the figure to deliver another hail of deceivingly soft strikes directly above his sternum. He felt the air driven out of his lungs, not by raw force, but simply by the sheer amount of impacts. How f-
"Ngggh!"
The third burst erupted just as the second one ended, causing a blinding combination of disorienting pain and actually forcing a scream out of him. Hacking coughs rocked his body as he tried his best to maintain his balance, despite his chest feeling like a used drum.
"Who-" An unusually hard series of strikes to his right knee cut off his words.
God, that actually hurt!
"Wai-nngh!" Greg stumbled forward as he inadvertently put his weight on his bad knee, right in time for the figure to strike him again in the face. The excruciating sensation exploded like fireworks in sequence, first up his leg then across his face, sending Greg down to one knee as he cradled the other one.
It just wouldn't stop.
Even though he was prepared, his eyes and ears hunting for the any sign of the person, it was all just...worthless. As fast as Greg was, this cape was faster and used surprise to his advantage. The sound of rapid tapping on the ground coming from a single direction, a flash of blue and white, both followed the same sensation of hard tapping somewhere on his body, before whoever was doing it would disappear back into the darkness. Greg wouldn't even have the time to take a step before random surges of raw PAIN would strike him, preventing him from even moving.
Hunched down on the ground, protecting his head was all he could think of doing as random bursts of pain prevented him from putting together a coherent plan.
Greg's conscious mind lost control for a second as pain blossomed up and down his spine, a series of strikes making themselves felt at the base of his neck shortly before. The pain was ignored as his eyes lit up, displaying his red-hot anger.
The tapping on the floor froze and Greg rushed upwards, one arm out as he roared in rage. The enemy cape tried to move back into the darkness but the movements were stiffer this time, unsure...slower.
A single outstretched arm caught the fast cape by the shoulder despite his attempts to backpedal, hurling the thin frame towards the opposite side of the room.
The figure struck the wall and fell to his feet before Greg surged forward, slamming one outstretched arm into the figure's midsection like an armbar. He heard a cracking noise and grinned. Greg didn't know it was from the wall or the figure in front of him. He really didn't care.
As his arm pushed into the attacker's sternum, he heard the cape let out another groan-this time louder-that Greg couldn't help but feel satisfied by. How do you like it?
The cape wasn't done. Hands wrapped around the back of Greg's head in the same amount of time it took to blink.
"Wh-"
A sharp blow caught Greg directly on his nose and he found himself stumbling backwards, blinking away tears as pain exploded across his face multiple times.
The other cape wasn't in the best of shape either as he was on all fours with shaky hands, barely managing to stay upright.
Greg stood up, anger allowing him to ignore the literally blinding pain once more, and walked over to the groaning figure still on the ground.
"¡Maldicion! How hard is your fucking head, you ugly fuck?"
Greg literally froze.
That voice.
What the- "Sparky?!"
The voice that replied was shaky but unmistakeable. "How do you kn-Wait, hold up. G? That you?"
Greg's hand immediately went for the light switch as the cape stood up. The figure dressed in all blue and white pulled down his bandana and pushed back the hoodie, allowing Greg to finally see who he had been fighting this whole time.
The face was just as familiar as the voice, long brown hair and all.
The two of them stood silently in the living room, simply staring at each other in awkward silence before Sparky decided to be the one to break it.
"So...the fucky eyes. What's with that?"
Yeah, it's been a while since I updated. I'm a dick, I know. Please, shower me with insults. I have failed you.
Life and family "priorities" just got in the way.
Those same priorities also got in the way of my classes, making me get dropped from one, fail another and get such a bad GPA in the third that I lost my Financial Aid for the semester. All my clients dried up because I was so busy I forgot to advertise my services so I had no money coming for the better part of two months because of those same goddamn priorities. Fun times, guys.
Fun times.
Anywho...I'm writing regularly again as I'm not taking any classes next semester to avoid having to pay out of pocket and I work from home so...yay for deadlines, I guess. So, I'm already done with the chapter after this. Should post it as soon as my beta is done. The chapter after that is being worked as you read this. No more writing one chapter after another. I'm working on shit in advance. Like the Boy Scouts always say "Get your Shit Together!"
Or was it "Be Prepared"?
I'm pretty sure it's the first one.
Also, special thanks to Mo1eculeMan on the "r/fanfiction" Discord server. Without him, I probably wouldn't have posted this chapter for another week.
Thanks also goes to Dino Goddess on the "Writer's Block" Discord server for agreeing to help me still beta this chapter.
Same goes for pug_empress on "r/fanfiction" and minusatwelfth on the "The Ghost Writer" Discord server for giving this chapter one final look-over.
