Worm
The Grimm
Chapter V
"He'll have a fever for several days, at worst and I would highly recommend you keep him resting." Grimm's at first blinked groggily inhaling lightly when blurred coloration a mix of blackened and white start giving away to clearer images. It hurt to move even an arm yet along sit up, but breathing in and out came close in nearly passing out. Stiffness started becoming quite apparently mainly due to some pristine white cast bracing a leg's entirety. Jesus, who got that plate number for the demon from hell slamming into me? Feel like absolute dog shit, what a way to wake up!
Liquid along plastic lines fed into above where an inner arm met underneath tattoos of chains wrapping themselves. Yet despite naturally wanting to move, Grimm barely managed in looking over tiredly seeing two people standing at his bed-rooms doorway. God damn it woman, don't you have a home to go too? Exhaling mainly annoyed for seeing Scorch patiently listening to advice presumably from some medical practitioner didn't alleviate concerns. Mainly in how in God's name he'd gotten back here without being dumped in some ditch outside Brockton Bay for starters, an absolute quandary for ages to wonder in his opinion.
"Kaiser appreciates your assistance, as I do too." Scorch's voice sounded unnaturally quiet yet a slight snort of sardonic amusement followed, "Consider it my contribution, girl. I used my time learning when I found my calling, but not all of us are capes." Wincing in trying to narrow eyes when near sighted vision cleared up momentarily was he seeing an elder man. He wore casual clothing save for several bags worth of what appeared to be medical equipment ranging from string, bundles of white clothe and numerous vials of god sent morphine in his hopes. That explains being on cloud nine, damn I can't say it beats cigars but holy shit am I cruising good here.
The unassumingly doctor, or nursing professional looked over finally noticing his exhausted expression, "Ah! Seems he's awake, perhaps it is not too surprising considering what you've told me." Grimm's lips twitched into a wry grin, "What's the butcher's bill, doc?" Cracking an almost painful attempt at humor didn't see to make either of them too well. Considering said man moved swiftly checking fluids in a half drained bag nailed overhead on a wall, it'd been a shoddy work place aside considering his smaller than average bedroom.
"You're lucky enough, mister Smith." An alias stilled remained in place when shrugging partially out of habit, "Some would call it divine bullshit." Scorch's expression hardly looked pleased when he lightly started getting onto elbows propping himself up against a wooden plank, "He seems marginally aware, if you consider circumstances. Your wounds maybe prematurely cauterized but your ribs were cracked in several locations, I'd recommending drinking lots of water and avoid habits thinning blood flow if you can."
Grimm's too innocent grin revealed a less than considerable thought, "When pigs learn to fly." The doctor's wry familiarity with stubbornness, or fool-hardiness didn't stop with a fair patience, "Before I leave, I do have to forge a medical report in case any work related contacts ask why your vacation is too sudden." That certainly wouldn't be too difficult, if omitting capes and potential work for a gang capable in burying him. And as such an excuse came too indifferently, if only out of sheer joy in seeing Scorch's eyes narrow exasperated.
"Fell down a flight of stairs drinking too much, cracked a few ribs and all that fun. Typical white man, right?" The supposed member affiliated with Empire allowed a grin to slip mainly from seeing too many lying otherwise, "Quite." Relatively going on a roll Grimm just quipped fairly knowing, "We've all been there doc, c'mon you, I or all done that and still do. I just got an excuse to avoid questions, it's too easy."
The man wrote down several notes on paperwork which had been filled out beforehand, "Honesty is rarity in my line of work, Grimm." He'd been let in on who he was to an extent unassuming, "But do not make me your primary physician, I do need to work for providing a family. Try not to get yourself too incapacitated in future endeavors, understood?" A doctor sounded modestly indifferent yet Grimm gave a cautious two fingered salute out of respect due to treating any personnel in medical fields with confidence in their work ethic along, consequences be damned even if it inflated egos in some who were questionable.
"Roger that, doc!" Paperwork got dutifully filed before he gave Scorch a passing nod, "He's unique, girl. I'll give you that much, take care of yourself." The blond gave a curt nod when his back turned a corner and presumably going to enjoy a day off. Wait for it, wait for it... Distantly the door closed down a flight of stairs as he finally chuckled to himself. Reaching over while pulling a draw loose where packs of reddish brown cigars lay wrapped left little imagination of addiction, or a lack of concern when seeing lighters freshly awaiting.
Unfortunately the woman's aggravated tone didn't bother him surprisingly, "Are you serious?" Grimm inhaled deeply grinning mainly out of woeful indifference, "Maybe." Smoke came out of nostrils filling a taste pallet of spice, "You start bitching me out about smoking in my house? I'm tossing your ass out that window, I'm not in any mood for hearing it." Was all he said leaning back while reaching over for a remote that still had been left in place. Flicking the television on gave little appeasement for rotting entertainment filled with critical nit-picking.
"So what happened, woman?" He questioned plainly enough in gesturing with a burning ember towards burnt flesh, "Why am I waking up seeing you, Doctor Lector and not face down somewhere getting skull fucked by a meth addict?" Scorch smiled despite putting on a show of rubbing both eyes almost trying to resist laughing. Not that I'm grateful, I'm just worried I'll be paying that guy out of pocket with shit insurance. Cost an arm, or a leg literally...should have asked if it was cheaper just letting it go.
Fortunately whatever made a bleeding heart inside him beat cracked an almost resigned thanks, "You try way too hard, woman. Call me a sinner, but you play devil's advocate too good." Chortling out of disbelief when leaning back did an arm throb from being angled awkwardly, "Fucking Christ, I think I'll be stuck playing half dead for a while. Good thing I got plenty of sick and vacation time, Harry's gonna murder my ass for being an idiot." Imagining one of his bosses telling him about drinking habits, it'd might as well been sitting in front of an old drill finding perverse joy in seemingly getting off on job satisfaction!
"John!" Scorch's voice tinged on whether humoring practiced expectation could be decimated, "Take one and enjoy it, woman. Stronger than what I usually smoke, it's good stuff." Reaching over he lightly tossed a package towards an almost tempted blond. She didn't say no technically when using a longer finger to light up an end, "Ah, I forgot." Leaning over while reaching along sides underneath his bedside did glass curl underneath fingers struggling to yank something. Someone's been touching my shit again, I fucking knew you were into whiskey! Brandy's a favorite, my fucking ass and all that good stuff lying crap.
Propping an incredibly half emptied bottle of orange near brownish liquid did Grimm glance up rather wryly, "You could have said, please. I know whatever I buy isn't top notch and whatever this brand of Fire Ball is sweet, but I have a budget." Scorch impassively raised an eyebrow while blowing out smoke of her own speaking unusually clipped, "Are you implying something? I'm all ears, John and I'm curious."
Grimm cackled without shame to admit, "You're shit with money, woman. You binge on my stock because you can't hide your own!" Blue eyes seemingly didn't leave his own despite fingers draping against his cast rather casually, "C'mon, it's fine! Not like I can't save, I just smoke and occasionally drink trying to find some good. And just because you get off on getting told how it is...FUCK!" Yelping that last word due a spark of fire bursting from his cigar's end didn't leave much of an imagination, someone got too heated for their own good.
Jesus woman, stop proving my point! Rubbing fingers aside glaring aggravatingly while placing throbbing flesh into his mouth cooling it off, "Bitch!" Frowning in favor looking towards the television where news reels were playing footage of an almost wrecked portion of Brockton, "So what happened last night? Kaiser and whoever that gook talk, or was I just thrown around for fun?" Getting back onto topic always seemed a hassle with this woman, now if anything he'd gotten better in cracking some supposed progress of handling indifference.
"Lung's not known for hearing anyone, but Kaiser and him did agree partially." She revealed clipped as if not entirely privy to what exactly went along, "But he's not going to forget you." Grimm glanced over giving off an almost relieved expression, "Wonderful. Should I buy him a drink for what exactly, calling him what he is? Or am I that hated?" The blond's eyes didn't match an equal jaded smile given her answer didn't do much, save for making his spine tingle since it wasn't remotely feasible to think twice.
"You survived." Hazel eyes rolled leaving little imagination in being targeted, if Grimm's appearance drew attention either way, "I got skewered like a damned pig. Guy don't leave witnesses?" Referring to whatever that damned thing last night which would haunt him for a present future considering he'd thrown an entire building and Lung just waltzed out in an inferno, "Fuck." He whispered a lone word sealing whatever expectation in being to slip by fading away, it'd be another long week or two without battling paranoia.
Scorch's hand remained on a cast despite him twitching away out of habit, "Empire has rivals, Lung's a newer one we knew little and..." Grimm waved it off not even willing to humor excuses, "I got thrown to the wolves, woman. I get the concept, it's just apart of the job and your cousin seems to get off thinking I haven't noticed." Inhaling slightly before leaning over to skimming for small metallic glasses which clinked together. He used a hand to pop off the bright red cap while tilting a glass grip over in neatly filling two shots worth.
After what I saw last night, I'm betting buzzed before noon! Casually motioning a wave did the small yet full object dutifully float right in front of Scorch's mild glaring. Giving her a crooked grin, "Live a little, it'd do you some good." He downed warming liquid which had a sweet spicy after tastes akin to cinnamon and naturally whistled absently at it's potency. Warm, or cold this stuff does it's job good. Might become an alcoholic before I know it.
"Keep pushing your luck, John." Smoke blew quickly making even a wounded para-human laugh daringly, "Door's right there! Don't let it hit you on the way out, alright?" Jerking his chin towards an opened doorway wasn't tempted, or considered given she downed whiskey rather swiftly. Though a metal cup rotated when he poured another, "That's what I thought. Things never go the way we hope unless it's made out to be, or just force it."
Drinking down three shots worth left him breathing out happily when leaning back onto pillows viewing a segment of news. He soon found out to just manage a placid smirk, "Channel twelve is live from western Brockton, 'According to reports earlier theories of seismic activity have been corrected into attributing towards suspected cape conflict. Little details are known, but eye-witnesses have told me that last night was simply not a minor earthquake.'" Apparently their little rumble had been mistaken for some minor, or barely audible quake which seemed rather humbling to be considering. Yet too many witnesses had crushed that narrative excuse, it'd been too flimsy and too obvious to be kept underneath red tape.
"How much are you hiding?" The television revealed an almost mimicked disaster zone of crumbling buildings and cars being literally in pieces all across a literal entire city block, "Enough." Absently replying in whistling when noticing some well off trucks crushed underneath rubble, "Damn, I really should consider getting me one of those babes. Think it'd be worth it, woman?" Eyeing Scorch who seemingly didn't react expect narrowing her gaze momentarily. Fine, I just wanted to plan ahead and maybe consider replacing a truck which might fail inspection. Tightening regulations in forcing people to go further into debt, all in the name of profit and tougher guidelines to milk us all dry one more dollar a day.
Aerial footage one building being doused by water hoses from numerous emergency services did little hiding damage, "Several hundred people are being treated for smoke inhalation, homeless and demanding answers as to where PRT sponsored heroes were during this incident. Channel twelve's interviews are first when a man earlier angrily stated, 'Fucking capes! My mother nearly had a heart attack, I've had it with this city and it's bullshit lip service.'" The man looked to be in his early forties while having a scruffy appearance waving hands as he wore some shirt that had an anarchic symbol covered in dust. Grimm's laughter couldn't stop itself when clapping in mock applause that even Scorch raised an eyebrow at curiously.
"Liberals." Looking up to a ceiling where one lone fan spun lazily, "Pushing when there's nothing left to push when they can't help but hate themselves, more section-eight housing and low-income mandates coming to you...next year." Groaning visibly to glance over at a blond whose silence gave some window of contextual humor, "Hometown eats itself away, stagnated and pushed gentrification. All the natives who loved their for a long time, mainly white get pushed out as rent raises up and it's cheaper to get a mortgage at the rate I'm dying, woman. And I just gave this city clearance to build newer up to date condos with thousands a mouth...give, or take."
Scorch smiled plainly revealing an upbringing that sounded too well off, "We had a lake in our backyard." Grimm's finger arose accordingly considering it'd been one of his private fantasies to swim daily, "Rub it in, rub it in woman." Glancing towards a meager book case which had about four, or five rows worth of books did he need distractions. Anymore television and he'd lose his mind mainly out of emotional narratives being utilized to demonize himself further either out of guilt, or maybe self loathing for surviving.
"Hand me that red one, third shelf and second from the right, please." She didn't seemingly respond to instead study a rather modest collection after months working and using sparing time to add into them, "Julius Evola?" Her frank interest when skimming pages in making his teeth grind out rather annoyed in being jerked around again. Of course she'd make more conversation out of his time, it'd only been twenty minutes since waking up to be that pain in his ass. She needs a new hobby, I'm getting really tired of playing nice guy.
Already preparing for either some sort of mixed approval, or fascination didn't quell age old stigma that refused to be let go, "Yes, lay it on me." He rolled his shoulders warding off an unpleasant sense of being viewed differently, "I read it because few friends dared me too, 'Fascism Viewed: From The Right.', I know!" Her curling smile didn't help a common subject that he'd made clear, "I tend to read what I didn't, or wanted to know. Old habit, kind of old fashioned despite growing up and for god's sake don't get any ideas."
That smile hadn't gone away much to a growing irritation when fishing out spare pairs of clearer glasses for clarity's existence. One word and people either lose their minds, or pretend to be your friends. Scorch's casual indifference did reveal a less than tolerable view, "A little too idealistic for my tastes, John. But we all have our little surprises, as you'd say." Grimm grunted loosely when starting to get comfortable despite whiskey tempting him otherwise. Debating this infernal pain in his ass never went away except into consistent reinforcement, it'd be a long day until things settled down much a growing problem arising.
Lung. That lone word spelled immediate problems, if last night's little arranged death match had been planned by Empire's members? Need to figure out that out, soon or else I'm a dead man if they see me again. And the only place I know, who'd know more? Eyeing Scorch's seemingly smug attitude didn't do himself any favors for playing nice guy. Everyone had their own troubles, everyone else had their own ways and unfortunately he'd been neither wise enough to back out. But taking responsibility did earn an integral sense of keeping true to his word.
"Listen up, we've got a lead pertaining to this latest cape showing up on our streets." Standing front of three selected other sponsored heroes whose records were a mixed bag of potential, or redeemable value for public trust still remained to be seen. All of them were assigned one area where this 'Grimm' is suggested to operate out of roughly. Thinkers finally got a rough estimate where this guy stands, it'll have to be seen whether our information needs adjusting. Inspecting at least possibly some who'd do their worth would be assumed suitable, or rather enough to drag out a cape who'd been causing an upheaval of panic.
Behind a power-point presentation showcasing the latest destruction of buildings burning with various people forced out onto streets, "Currently we've dubbed 'Grimm' as nothing short of a class-seven regarding, if you make contact to call immediate reinforcement of fellow heroes patrolling and avoid PRT personnel who respond accordingly." Hands were folded when three pairs of eyes either hidden behind masks, or were in full view sat in varying states attentively, "The nature in which his motives aren't unknown considering we've seen an increase of racial tension, fliers were seen down-town and numerous other online articles have been appearing in email addresses of general public in startling frequency."
An image of a Thinker appeared smiling in some high school photos were red circles zooming enhancing it effortlessly, "Jose Perez Junior, alias known as Rascal recently has gone underground possibly in correlation with an arrival of 'Grimm's' activity despite us suspecting he's an original instead of public scrutiny suspecting copy cat involvement." Heroes looked to one another muttering among themselves until a hand rose up belonging to one coated in a white skirt piece, "Why isn't he designated as a higher threat? We have a hundred dead that we know for certain about, plus more years ago since you sent us attachments to read over."
Their superior smiled merely as courtesy considering questioning Thinker think tanks had been notoriously working overtime, "Because of a lack of civilian deaths, it's either deliberate or chance which indicates otherwise, Glory Girl." A snort of disbelief arose from that even when facts clearly gave evidence otherwise, "You along with others here were first on scene, so your testimony and frequency place these two wanted capes underneath your responsibility. As team lead which is your first official capacity, I trust you'll learn that it's irrelevant to stomach atrocities."
Behind lines of bullet points flashed over Rascal's smiling face who hadn't triggered due to how youthful he seemed, "Because of suspected collaboration, class three mainly for safety's sake due to PRT agents dying presumably due to 'Grimm'. A wanted felon as warrants for his arrest are to be legally alive, hopefully uninjured and a possible rehabilitation is extremely suggested." Glory Girl hardly looked appeased save for nodding reluctantly in not breaking that face, it'd been just another reminder of what lay on the very next slide show.
Pictures of stilled shots from seven years ago which were blurred due to internal cameras and recent clearer ones showed similarities. Leaning back against a seat crossing legs which hid tapping motions, "From what we gathered, Grimm is under no circumstances to be killed due to his past exploits mainly for sake of strategic value underneath, 'End-Bringer' truces in place for all para-humans who assist in defending American interests. If you cannot capture, or injure him if he resorts to harming civilian populaces then you may take him down...as per higher up acceptance. This is all preliminary which is liable to change in accordance to Thinker probabilities."
Bullet points appeared in stark contrast to be visibly emboldened, "Classing his powers has been designated underneath a rare, but older term. Trihybrid, possibly in consisting of being a possible Mover, Shaker and Blaster considering footage recovered from Brockton Police department." Taking a pause where video started playing behind when blood splattered onto a windshield with said vehicle angled in seeing their intended target. And it abruptly ended when meeting another police cruiser with faces adjacent screaming as it cut to black.
"Likes to show off, don't he?" A younger voice grimly found disgusting as Glory Girl agreed, "He's killed many people, far too many to be given a pardon." But their third counterpart whose masked face took in every detail hardly giving away anticipation in being allowed to hunt. Yet their superior left little amusement in blatant disregard for orders, "Don't go out of line, or I will place you underneath an inquiry and revoke your hero status. We're spread thin throughout the country as it is, Grimm may appear rampaging yet Thinkers have noticed an oddity in his actions, movement and given lack of extreme showcasing humane indifference."
More information appeared furthest most from a video paused, "It's been theorized every action is methodical, it is quick and purposeful to end any combatant in prolonging an engagement indicating training of soldiers from overseas deployment." That caused all three to perk up in earnest surprise as a wry smile appeared, "Yes. Probable veteran with post traumatic stress disorder, or likely considering there's no lack of him flaunting, or prolonging suffering. Several other psychological experts have willingly offered their services, personally in determining otherwise and this is critical for any pardon levied against newly arriving capes on the wrong side of law and order."
Glory Girl sneered distastefully earning another frown come close into nipping that rebellious attitude immediately, "How does a soldier become like that who kills the very people he defended?" The younger voice came out in agreement, "Yeah, I'm with her. Fighting for freedom, why go nuts and kick start shit here? Isn't the war out there?"
They were far too young to never ask themselves a question which remained almost as old as time itself. Because what is freedom? Placing those platonic questions aside to instead return to more information provided by Protectorate think tanks, "Grimm's capacity for inspiring those who suffer from mentally ill beliefs would be a boon to recruitment, if it's possible. More so as a soldier, he'd been quite useful in following orders would he not while having experienced wars that most of you younger generations ignore even exist." There was a dry undertone of humor when Glory-Girl scowled not happy in any shape, or form.
"Murder is murder, Armsmaster." She thinly protested when an armored man's visor returned an equal measure of stern discipline, "Whether you care about something, it's all about you and why don't you volunteer tracking your fellow solider in wars that seem to exist only in your view?" The younger hero who'd been backing a well known figure seemingly avoided getting between whatever had just rear it's ugly head. But surprisingly in rare showing did their third counterpart finally speak up after getting annoyed in being denied information about prey they'd hunt.
"Shut your damned mouth for a change, Dallon." Leaning away while fiddling with a cross bow bolt's dulled tip seemingly bored by its lackluster fatality, "If you're going to have a pissing contest, do it on both your time but not mine." Glory-Girl laughed condescendingly almost tempted to do herself a favor it'd seem, "You're a real piece of work murderer. Thinking you're hunting animals, I don't see much difference why you'd be underneath me. I have half a mind to clean up gutter trash like you, it gives us all bad names being associated in public."
A mask's illuminated surface met eyes without fear when the bolt's tip tipped over leisurely, "Spread your legs more often, I'd be worried." The armrest started cracking into groaning metal when fingers dug in relentlessly, "What did you say? Say that again bitch." Armsmaster's growing ire at them reached new heights when the masked counterpart smug took it further, "Fuck him so his brown nosing rubs off more often then maybe your tongue, hell I'd be impressed with that dress showing where you..."
Their superior finally snapped dangerously raising his voice, "Enough!" Armsmaster glared through a visor when an audible click of weaponry flickered in making anymore discussion ended. An armored exterior glowering a pale bluish white coloration ceased due to internal components responding to a nervous system wired into it thoroughly, "Any more chatter not pertaining to this briefing, I will have your status revoked and put under investigation for private affairs about both of your conduct as Protectorate heroes. Get along, or I'll personally get off my ass to make you get along...Glory Girl, Shadow Stalker."
They remained staring while being warned consistently until their third eased Glory Girl down by placing a hand over her own, "Let it go, Vicky." Similarly built in armor akin to Armsmaster who looked over simply to give a nod of approval in taking an initiative, "We're going to places, but her don't waste your breath. You can't change everyone, so let it go." A hero who exemplified in doing good by those who'd seen her in action huffed out air yet listened regardless. It averted an internal conflict despite such conflicting fraternization that would be a rare case of improvement, if only through his own superiors throwing what spare capes worked jointly.
"Whatever, Gallant." She muttered while turning to face a screen schooling an expression even when fingers settled into interlocking with a smiling young man, "I apologize for our disregard, we're still learning to get along." Armsmaster gave a curt nod, "Don't let it effect you in the field, or civilians will be on your heads. This isn't school, this isn't a joke and this can effect your lives when approaching strategic assets who are feasibly salvageable. We need capes, we need more manpower and we cannot be picky when most turn away from a rule of law."
The man's face was fully covered yet none of them didn't need to see a perpetual scowling, "We're at war, get over it and stop thinking what you know in school. In there you're nothing but well taken care off kids, you're all inexperienced Wards trying to be trusted with power over those who'd kill you when you come into contact." Gesturing towards a still image of an almost comical example of Grimm's covered face looking up at the police cruiser's frozen video, "That isn't showing off. It's meaningful, it's clear and there is nothing in that less of a declaration of another cape whose no longer afraid of abiding by those who follow our laws."
Walking past where a holographic projector switched towards another slide were multiple areas marked in red, orange and green correlating active hot spots. Electronic blinking along an arm began footage of all known areas showcasing destruction, after-math and news footage spiraling out into near mass hysterics with PRT public relations on multiple channels. Most were either prerecorded, or from archived data dating back seven years. And they all centered around the groups prioritized target for capture centrally. None of them looked away except withholding tongues for various reasoning aside leaving Armsmaster's form glowing subtly.
"Villains, or to lesser extent rogues don't generally have goals ranging beyond selfish motive." Zooming in along footage of an older video seven years, "Your target acted as you see without hesitation, without doubt and obliterated exactly one hundred and thirteen legislators. Along with aides, advisors, or visiting political figures boosting that number to nearly two hundred in total." Glory Girl and Gallant visibly leaned back when footage followed a lone figure dressed in ragged clothing drop a literal note folded onto where session had been directed. It was a message quite literally and metaphorically to their understanding.
Bodies were arranged in their seating when metallic objects expanded considerably, "And he left them where they'd be sitting. Orderly, if not intentionally mocking law itself." Armsmaster's eyes shrewdly took in the younger heroes body posture noting only one seemed indifferent, "Grimm is a threat to an established power and by extension, to us...to you. Think before you act, I'm ordering you against orders to avoid conflict due to risking civilian causalities, more since political terrorism isn't covered by para-human protocol, in a few cases are on record in giving Protectorate think tanks time for an olive branch of cooperation."
Gallant hardly sounded convinced despite speaking for Glory-Girl who came close to bursting out disbelievingly, "Is he really approachable?" Armsmaster gave little indication to coldly make it clear, "Find out, if you can." Footage continued of seeing a younger Grimm walking out with hands in his pockets when stakes arranged rigidly into formation. Some corpses slid down poles before stopping due to premature miniature stakes extended a third of the way down. And it looked faintly familiar to them all.
"Crosses?" Glory-Girl whispered in utter revulsion when Shadow Stalker sounded mildly disappointing, "He's a religious zealot?" Again Armsmaster replied coldly considering that had yet to be proven, or not, "Maybe. We can reasonably assume he's more in-tune with spiritual habits, if only assuming he didn't desecrate the dead after he ended it quickly. Notice small details, a soldier ends any fight as fast they can without risking others, or themselves while defeating an enemy. It's a mentality the think tanks have assurances on."
It painted an ever increasing sense of caution when their superior crossed both arms firmly, "Use your brains." Looking over them slowly taking in doubt, indifference and loathing much to an inner most temptation to revoke their hero statuses. None of them deserved being responsible for their own flaws aside, "Work together, or die together. Stick to your orders, use your best judgement and remember what you're going up against. Professional soldiers are fundamentally different, they're trained and they're not civilians."
Pressing an activate light along a gauntlet did the projector fade away as lightning returned inside a conference room. Immediately phones buzzed with newer information, "Read what Thinkers have dubbed, 'Grimm's note.' You'll get better understanding trying to learn about your target's motives, so you all have home work. Study and maybe, I'll reconsider demanding our higher ups in not revoking your status's if you manage to not screw this up." He swiftly walked past them when their faces looked resigned despite having natural reservations in throwing tantrums. They would earn the right to become heroes, even if they hated doing what was required.
"Do we have to read a madman's manifesto?" Glory-Girl bitterly wished to avoid even wanting to know what made such capes think as Armsmaster gave no mercy to stonily intone, "Yes, you will and must since it provides an insight. Whether you stomach your own inability for pride, I could care less but if you're smarter? It reveals quite enough since he's already starting, if you can remember down-town Brockton recent surge of fliers showing up." One such half crumpled piece of paper lay on a table near them leaving little imagination as to what it'd said.
Shadow Stalker spoke visibly flipping a cross bow's bolt over and over, "That racist trash is connected to our target?" Armsmaster hardly sounded pleased but reluctantly gave little information, "You would call it racist, wouldn't you? Know the difference between subtly and awareness, it's a message meant for people to think otherwise regardless if you want too, or not. An attack on cohesion on an established order of power that the government doesn't like to admit without coming off as proving an extremist's point, whether it's racial intentions are obvious it's nonetheless effective in psychological war-fare for gaining notice."
Fingers began thrumming against arm platting when a masked cape met his visor, "Your target isn't stupid by any means of an imagination. He's been hidden from public view, until you get retinal or facial recognition behind his outfit? We're only using what Thinkers who've been assigned onto this case is the best you got, we're stretched thin if you recall." Checking a holographic clock momentarily did this debriefing almost come to an end, "Until then you have your target's information that is up to date until more is gathered. Don't screw yourselves over, or me...the Protectorate in this city will not tolerate your mistakes anymore."
He waved them to depart when Gallant and Glory-Girl all too happily in their own rights gave nods leaving nearly hand in hand. But Shadow Stalker's masked face remained sitting in a chair hinting possible words to be exchanged. Armsmaster waited grudgingly not entirely pleased humoring a vigilante originated cape who cared little in chains of command, "What is it?" He bit out sternly making a hero in all but name tilt their head tauntingly.
"I got caught at school and was threatened to by expelled by a staff member when I was having my fun recently." Armsmaster rolled both eyes, "They'll be dealt with this afternoon. I don't give a damn about your academic status, but PRT spokespersons will make sure you're still in attendance. Get your job done, or don't give me excuses." Shadow Stalker's soft laughter didn't find it too surprisingly yet got up after pressing patience with Brockton Bay's leading Protectorate cape who watched in a manner of hawkish posturing. Capes were safe-guarded regardless of private lives, it'd been maintained and would consistently remain in place as times moved forward.
Spoiled children, I'm getting sick of dealing with their insubordination. The man collected a piece of crumpled up paper reading the fliers simple black and emboldened words, "Forgotten, huh?" Scoffing mainly out of typical assumption he tossed it in a garbage can, "You'll be brought in like all the rest of them eventually. Whether they don't fuck it up, or I'll do it personally." Armsmaster never looked back when emptying out a conference room that once housed heroes who'd been worth his time and efforts, now it'd become a hollowed shell where kids thinking they capable in taking on an entire world without ever realizing what existed beforehand.
Jose Perez nervously waited when holding a lap-top he'd been fiddling with from various spare parts, wiring and walked into a room. It'd been an interesting week despite confining himself inside the basement of Grimm. Though least I'm getting glared at, or told off like that first night. Everyone whose come in, or out kind of leaves me alone and invites to play pool, cards or just drink. It'd been surreal when some people simply joked whether he'd jump the border in leaving, or mostly considered him an exception despite burrito commentary that mostly stumped him.
"I don't even eat that junk!" But every day more and more images of a para-human who lay with his camouflage covering his face popped up. Grimm seemingly appeared to be napping after being left alone with some Neo-nazi, "How the hell does he do it?" Mumbling when said person left after disdainfully ignoring him out a door, it'd been several minutes before mustering enough anxiety away to step past an opened doorway. It's been almost a week since we talked, god damn I'm nervous since I almost got strangled alive.
Television media news channels played repeatedly as a leg angled sharply above pillows which had been stuffed in easing recovery. What the hell happened? Looks like he got shredded by a can opener for fucks sake. White bandages wrapped around an exposed chest were tightly fixed into keeping ribs relatively in place, an entire leg was covered and numerous burns of skin peeling akin to sunburn sporadically became visible. Rascal's heart thundered when a face shifted underneath an intentional screen due to small holes along seams, "You can stop staring since I get enough of that from a damned woman, kid."
Lightly pushing it where it remained loosely as lazy columns of bluish smoke from an ash tray indicated the embers being used. The high school youth shrugged nervously when a lack of glasses exposed indifferent hazel eyes blinking not too convinced, "How old are you? Nineteen?" Rascal smiled placidly when sitting in an open chair which had been pushed closer than usual, "Seventeen. I got another year before I...well, I'd have graduated. Sorry, it's weird having too much time on my hands since I used to like school in not thinking too much."
Grimm whistled rather simply to give off an amusing fact, "I was seventeen when I enlisted right after high school graduation, kid. One of the youngest in my class, I got shit for that future since teachers in those places swore were viable." Reaching over he took a drag on tobacco contently while crossing an arm behind with an injured leg and foot tapping absently against wood, "You're already ahead of everyone else by simply surviving, so don't worry too much. School's just public indoctrination where they tell you everything is at your finger tips, or some go with bullshit policy about bullying is a natural way when you finally clock someone...to get expelled."
He cackled suddenly recalling on old memory in making Rascal blink a bit surprised, "Used to be some nerdy, lanky white kid and everyone loved binging work off me since I'd always get ahead. They'd always ask me, 'Mind if copy them?', I'd go with it...felt good." Expecting metallic objects to come from behind didn't settle well considering how friendly and casual the mass murdering para-human seeming gave off, "You must have been popular. Was it good?"
Grimm's sardonic smile turned quite knowingly pleased, "I got jumped for being a smart white nerd, Rascal. Bunch of puerto ricans, they don't like it when someone who isn't them make them look bad and word was...twenty dollars for knocking my ass out." Puffing out smoke exposing leering teeth that showcased smug fondness, "Knocked a fucker clean in his face with an afro, if you believe right that surreal image. Got him in his jaw and after that I went after people despite teachers being up my ass for fighting back whenever I got cornered. Got suspended, expelled and moved to a new school after freshman year back then."
He exhaled shaking his head, "Fun times, kid." Jerking his chin up at a Thinker who flinched when asked, "How about you, Rascal? Get tossed in lockers?" A queer look made even Grimm raise his own hand finding that question rather strange in itself, "That bad?" He only got a grimacing nod since he absently chortled before falling into silence. Eyes strayed onto a flat screen where channels got flipped back and forth mainly out of boredom, or simply keeping a remote's owner busy in passing time somehow.
"I'm a loner, Grimm." Using a laptop for comfort where information pertaining to what kept him alive remained constantly updated, "Can't fit in when everyone knows a gang." The man hardly seemed concerned considering he wasn't surprised, "Tell me about it! And people wonder why public education is a joke, it's watered down and meant to push numbers for 'efficiency' in keeping an entire populace intentionally screwed for reality. Case in point, finding a good job and excepting to live in some mansion with bitches on your dick."
Rascal didn't entirely disagree mainly for calling where he'd been attending a rotting bomb shelter, "Winslow High is a shit hole. Kids shoot up in bathroom stalls, fuck and every teacher looks the other way...we had suspected pedo's for gym teachers according to gossip." He revealed making Grimm whistle mainly out of impressive expectation, "There's always that one hot ass teacher, kid. Even you'd want to get a capital D on that report card, so don't try to say it's not a one way street. Cities are cesspools for mixed people trying to think they're hot shit."
Looking away trying to justify in thinking it'd been a decent place to attend didn't help his case, "Wonder if my friends have seen my face." Grimm's voice mildly tossed any hope of going back when flatly making it clear, "Don't even piss yourself a chance, kid. They'd have ransacked your locker looking for evidence, interrogated said friends who you'd know ratted your ass out and sent packing to a PRT education center. They'd think it would be awesome putting away a terrorist, or criminal who'd scare them."
The former student bleakly wondered aloud, "Are you always so bleak?" An eyebrow rose when hazel iris's gave a half ass glare, "Says the Thinker who jumped off a bridge? Least I had a gun to my head and thought about pulling a trigger, you just took the leap of faith and had someone looking out for ya to make you suffer more." Grimm possibly over stepped himself when absently muttering flipping onto another news channel, "You're a mess, kid."
Although he blinked several times in amending partially, "So far, I'd guess?" Shaking himself out of those thoughts asking about a laptop, "So what do you have? Any word on PRT busting down my doors, or sending your mother into 'protective' custody as bait?" An almost adult looked away despite opening a screen where dozens of chat rooms seemingly were active, "My mom's...fine, I hope. But word from the dark web is that Boston's Protectorate division has Thinkers looking up articles about you frequently. Lot of people are looking you up, or going into websites which had been strongholds for your...plans?"
It took a minute until Grimm cackled lightly finding that last word funnily respectful, "Is that they call it nowadays?" Rascal's eyes averted themselves when seeing an elder man crookedly speak up almost tauntingly, "C'mon, kid. There's always that friend you worry about, so who is it? Can't be a guy, or else I'd have kill you for swinging for guys since it makes me uncomfortable." The Thinker ideally wondered if this mass murdering terrorist appeared to be joking, or seemed to pick up on a phone which remained locked inside his pants pocket.
"It's not like that, Grimm." Said man rolled both eyes inhaling on a cigar shamelessly making rings and inserting one lone finger for exasperation's sake, "Christ help me! What kind of puppy love am I asking from a kid who can't even admit fucking is nature's way of singing happy new year? I am not drunk enough for this kind of shit...ah, fuck it!" Reaching over in grasping what Rascal winced in seeing some sort of partially emptied bottle of alcohol tilt leisurely into two floating metallic cups. One of them innocently hovered over into his disbelieving face that bordered on sheer surrealism. What in hell's name made the man think giving whiskey to him seemed remotely comforting?
Even if being underage didn't make it in having his heart race from being tempted, "You're taking shots kid, I'm too good in a mood right now." Warily inspecting brownish liquid as it were poison wasn't stopping a man who downed his own smoothly, "Seventeen's old and fine in my book, Rascal. Enjoy it, I don't share my booze unless I just do it. Someone's got to enjoy themselves a bit, be a rebel and have some southern pride boy!" His voice dipped into a rare slew of southern in making a high school student blink since it'd been completely unexpected.
Yet slowly he tipped contents before sputtering out an entire glass worth of fierce spice. Grimm howled clapping hands together unable to resist laughing aloud, "Easy boy, it ain't beer. That's fire and spice with nothing nice." Weirdly enough the young adult couldn't help but smile inimically finding an almost natural sense of acceptance from someone who'd been reluctant to lead, or even say anything to various people living inside his own home. Grimm is one strange bastard, but he's a cool bastard if he's offering me drinks.
"So whose the girl?" He didn't relent grinning when pouring both of them another round as a neck cracked audibly from stiffness, "Do I have too?" Muttering mainly embarrassed in making an elder para-human scoff loudly, "Uh? Yeah, if you're drinking more! Ain't no catch twenty two, but you're helping me pass time and avoiding you pissing your pants. I ain't gonna kill ya, if you give me no reason to ya know."
Groaning through gritting teeth did his phone come out where pictures uploaded from an older one had been saved during his exodus. Skimming through painful yet older photos did he show it, "Why is it everyone likes white girls?" He visibly deflated shaking his head considering it'd drawn a wince from the Thinker when he wryly mentioned, "Mixed kids don't fit in, Rascal. That's my opinion, but I doubt you'll be marrying whoever that is...so, I'll take you out one of these days. Might as well nip this bullshit now, or you'll get yourself fucked by that thing between your legs."
The photo revealed several people who either seemed to be smug in garnering attention, or preened underneath various grins. But the Thinker's brain paused abruptly trying to figure out, "What?" Grimm raised an eyebrow having a completely serious expression, "I'm taking you to a club. What else am I going to do, if I have to pretend you'll get yourself screwed by calling her? I ain't risking my neck for your dick...oh excuse me, loving crush."
Jose blurted out trying to stop anymore ideas given Grimm's news weren't entirely amused, "Madison and I...we, she isn't into...but we were friends!" The Thinker found himself sweating when a small piece of metal manipulated itself into one thinly visible stake, "Do not lie to my face, Rascal. You think I'm fucking joking right now? This isn't a school yard kid, I made that clear when you begged me for help and my help isn't good will...drinks aside."
Grimm's patience seemed to flip when Rascal looked down clenching fists when cold yet absolute advice in saving his skin wasn't comforting, "You contact her, or anyone? You're dead either by me, or by the PRT who will track that call. Cut all ties, you're a felon and wanted villain in their eyes by common sense alone...this isn't some giddy rainbow show you're in, kid. You think just because I act a little funny, or you know cool it's all for show?" He questioned by all rights an almost crushed kid who drank another shot without even coughing mainly for grim reluctance. It'd have to do when that stake returned into some half dented iron weight.
"Sometimes you have to put your foot down, grit your teeth and fucking accept nothing goes your way ever." Drinking a third while another cup was filled leaving little imagination in that Grimm's words weren't terrorizing enough. It only made sense which damned him further into grief, "I gave you my word, I'd help you. But there's always a price Rascal, you or I pay it everyday and it's not cheap considering I almost died last night. There's a lot of things you don't know about this city, neither do I know yet I'll keep on walking."
Every word brutally exemplified cold, hard and skin peeling honesty in simply keeping them out of hands who'd worse off. Why do I have say this to this kid? Oh right, he's an idiot and I'm none the wiser in not offing him soon. Exhaling smoke through both nostrils while leaning back resting provided little seeing an almost crushed down-ridden look from the kid. Oh, I'm so going to regret this, but you know what fuck my damned kindness!
Flicking ash rather roughly in making one paced embers exposing themselves for a faster burning, "Tell you what, if you can dig up information about some para-human calling himself 'Lung', or get things going into PRT's data base here in Brockton?" Rascal looked up literally with hope that wouldn't come without personal cost, "I'll take a look around wherever Winslow's at. If it looks clear, say your goodbye and call it a day. Or kiss the Great Whites when they bite your ass off, I'm half drunk for Christ's sake."
Raising a glass's final round as it went down far too numbly probably meant it'd been time to sleep it off. The young kid for all it's worth meekly thanked him, "Thanks...Grimm." A man's eyes closed scowling openly when gruffly retorting, "Thank me when I'm dead, Thinker. Fucking god help me, I don't know why I put up with you and the woman. Both of you are quickly making me think moving here was wrong, I should have went south and drove trucks for a living. God damn kids and all their sappy shit lives."
Tipping the hat's brim over a nose with an exposed cigar's tip burning gave enough away to get out before good will vanished. He's not a nice guy, but he's not as bad as he thinks. Looking towards a phone where one simple text had been sent validated enough. And as he fondly gazed at it, a pair of hazel eyes watched without him knowing. Embers burned when Grimm gave one last warning causing Rascal to freeze, "Remember kid, I don't give second chances and if you manage to get us both fucked for saying goodbye. Monsters won't simply stop until they do what they want, I'd rather not let that out for your sake."
End Chapter V
Author's Note: Anyone noticing a strange occurrence with Grimm putting up with Rascal? It's not that Grimm has a bleeding heart, he's well aware of what it takes to remain out of sight and a young school going kid is expected to know? The irony in making things seem plausible, is literally what it takes for a kid to get it through his head despite saying he'd be protected, or shielded. They'll always have that doubt, Grimm isn't the most amenable person when he's made it clear...this isn't a game, it isn't all fun and joy, there's a very good chance there's no happy ever after when a kid whose literally jumped off a bridge is asking someone who triggered similarly by suicidal considerations. They're not similar, they're very different but the fundamental question is there...why bother, if there's nothing waiting for you and as the guy above elegantly stated.
"Says the Thinker, who jumped off a bridge?" It's not a pretty picture, it's only what some do when they can't go on. And Rascal is a mess, Grimm's an ever bigger mess as he's capable to simply go with it and that's far more concerning, if you a moralist who can't stomach it. It's not whether whose more twisted, or pitiful...it's simply perspective of what drives people when they think they've hit rock bottom. And in this case? Rascal needs closure in his mind, but fortunately for the kid? Soldier's tend to look after their own, willingly or not.
Whose to say humoring delusion isn't funny enough. Next chapter, we'll find out. Believe me, I'm sure a lot will raise their eyebrows considerably as to how close things may appear without realizing whose standing front of who. Sometimes you never know, or rather one who looks often glosses over what just so happens to appear and not often think twice about it. This isn't just all fun and games, as I stressed, Rascal is going to get a hefty douse of reality when believing friendships in some school setting is enough to overcome the weight of being...a wanted man.
And in case you're getting a sense of amusement? It's more in line with digging at typical stories, settings and unrealistic jokes that some times believe they're able to take on a whole world. Throw in a guy like Grimm, and well? Let's just say he's not shy about 'moral' areas of being a bad influence, least in his own way and you'll get a kick out of it. Humor aside, it's not a nice world and those who think they can change it through reason, often are the most insane who cannot accept nature has it's way of showing them wrong.
The Thinker will progress gradually over time, in his own way as many do. But early in this story's tale, it's what you'd expect from a kid whose not even eighteen and as you can see. No fucks given about questionable ages of drinking, Grimm's quite the character. If you get a laugh out of it, good for all because you know damn well and he simply just flat out waved it off. Ironically, Rascal is being treated like an adult and that's far more stimulating when most would consider it a joke. He literally explained, brutally honest and yet still went through with it because it is his responsibility right, or wrong. Minus a few choice words, but you do get the impression it's not quite exactly paradise.
Nonetheless, leave a review, have a good day and be safe after all this virus hysteria. It's here, it shouldn't be but people wanted to bury their heads up their asses over common sense. I'll leave that up to you, if you can't admit but stay safe as I said. It's going to a long ride folks, both in this story and wherever you're at hold up waiting for this storm to pass.