When Greg Veder woke up, he felt numb, his muscles ached, and his chest burned, especially in the stomach area. He got up, removing the debris on top of him, wincing from the effort.
He tried to remember what had happened to him and why he was waking up in so much pain all over his body, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall the last thing that happened to him. He got up shakily, feeling a strange sensation in his stomach as if he were about to vomit, yet not quite, just discomfort.
What happened? Why do I feel so strange? Did a cape attack me?
Greg opened his eyes once he realized he couldn't remember what had happened to him but knew how it all began to end up in so much pain. Now that he thought about it, he opened his eyes while looking around and realized he didn't know where he was at the moment, only that he was in a part of Brockton Bay.
He stood up with unsteady feet, momentarily staggering, letting out a shaky sigh. He remembered leaving Winslow High to walk home, but due to some bullies following him—probably to intimidate him again—he had to take several detours to get home because he certainly didn't want them to know where he lived.
Some Empire kids had tried to recruit him, falsely assuring him that they would protect him in exchange for doing what they wanted. Despite all the teasing and threats, he stood firm, always rejecting.
Greg could endure being mocked, called immature, stupid, an idiot, lacking tact, among other things that certainly hurt, but he wasn't foolish. He knew that joining the Empire would only ruin his life even more (even if it was partly his fault, he felt resentful towards people because they couldn't understand him).
He tried everything to stand out, and to make friends. He talked about various topics: capes, video games, movies, music, and PHO news, and even tried discussing school subjects to make friends. But nothing he did satisfied anyone. He tried to please people to make friends, but he always failed.
Sure, he had Sparky, but he was sure they were more acquaintances than friends. Greg suspected Sparky didn't distance himself from him because Sparky was indifferent to life, except for music. To be able to have a conversation with Sparky without Greg feeling like he was talking to himself and becoming more uncomfortable due to Sparky's lack of response, he dedicated himself to learning and listening to various types of music. Only for nothing to change between them.
He was the one who always sought him out. He was the one who always started a conversation. Never Sparky (he was angry that no one appreciated his efforts, his dark thoughts wondered if he was a nuisance existence for anyone).
He couldn't even consider Taylor a friend because she had her problems. No matter how much he tried to help her with bullying, it only resulted in her looking at him with disgust, and him getting bullied for helping her (the worst part is that she didn't even help him once when he was being bullied by others, or at least pretend to help him to return the favor when he had helped her).
And GstringGirl was his only "friend" on PHO who didn't judge him for his behavior as XxVoid_ComboyxX. She was someone he felt comfortable with, but they weren't close, and they didn't know each other's lives. So, she might as well be just another stranger.
And if Greg were honest, he was tired of his life. It was boring and monotonous. Sometimes he fantasized about being a parahuman to be relevant and be someone in life. Greg Verder, a nerd with no friends, who would probably die alone, because they also made fun of him for not grasping social norms.
And speaking of death.
Greg walked shakily out of the destroyed place before stealthily walking, avoiding being seen by anyone. Sneaking perfectly until reaching a window without making any noise.
When he looked at himself in the mirror of an apartment window, he felt a lump in his throat.
He didn't recognize the look that stared back at him in the mirror, but despite that, his face was very similar to how it was before.
His face, once full of baby fat in the cheeks and somewhat chubby, had changed. His jaw was now defined like that of a man entering adulthood, as well as his chin. The fat and pimples on his cheeks had disappeared, leaving only smooth, soft skin with few flaws. His once perfectly bowl-cut hair was now long, reaching just below his neck, the dull blond color from years of neglect turned into a shiny blond.
But what stood out the most and terrified Greg were his eyes. Those bright blue eyes, like the sky he was so used to, had changed to a deep and vivid light purple, to the point where it could be confused with violet. Even though his face had changed so much, it wasn't the only thing affected.
His body was larger, taller. It's not that he was short for his age, it's just that now he seemed to have become much taller than Taylor. And she was tall, and that says something; he probably now measured almost two meters in height, but Greg wasn't sure until he stood completely upright and had something to compare it to, but at the moment, he was too unstable to try to figure out his new height.
The shirt he had worn to school was destroyed or torn along with his sweater. The most confusing thing is that there would be a hole large enough throughout the shirt, not to mention that it was starting to annoy him because the shirt was now smaller than his body. It was truly a miracle that he hadn't been there for his abrupt "growth."
There was dried blood on his body and shirt. He really didn't want to know whose blood it was; just thinking about it made him tremble in fear and feel nauseous.
Now Greg was really regretting taking a detour to get home and losing the bullies. He let out a shaky sigh before slowly taking off the torn and blood-filled sweater and then tearing the shirt because it wouldn't come off his head. Taking advantage of that same shirt to clean the dirt and blood that stained his body.
Before looking at himself in the mirror with disbelief. What was once the body of a skinny and somewhat chubby teenager with some fat in his stomach now had muscles all over his body. His arms, forearms, he even had pectorals and a six-pack now. This impressed him and excited him before realizing the implications of what had happened to him.
He was a parahuman. One who was physically affected, and it was probably impossible to hide the drastic physical change that had happened to Greg. Everyone would notice that he probably had a Trigger Event. Which was very bad. Not that Greg complained about his new body shape, but he certainly would have preferred something discreet, something that would have been blatantly obvious.
But how did he get powers? He remembered taking a detour before accidentally bumping into one of Purity's crusades while attacking ABB. Again, he didn't remember what happened, but Greg came to think that he got too close trying to record it and get some relevance on PHO but bit off more than he could chew. He remembered the pain in his stomach (it was unbearable agony), he remembered the lack of oxygen, he remembered feeling dizzy and cold.
Something had pierced his body, and looking at the destruction of the nearby buildings, he came to assume that debris or several had hit and impaled him. He touched his stomach, grimacing in pain at that fact, and now that he thought about it, he didn't have a scar or any trace of injury he could have inflicted on himself.
He looked at himself again in the window; his purple eyes shone brightly, illuminating the window in which he was seeing himself. He looked at his stomach and checked his whole body, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Even pressed his stomach to see if he found anything wrong with it, but the only different thing was that his stomach now had muscles and was hard, not soft and chubby.
He was pale. Very pale, as if blood didn't circulate inside his body. And he was also cold. Very cold, almost like a corpse.
He was white-skinned, but not to the point of almost looking like a ghost, not to mention that he never had icy skin; he always wore sweaters or coats to protect himself from the cold, and they had heating at home, so it wasn't a problem. Not to mention the disturbing fact that despite having icy skin, he didn't feel cold, and that was weird considering he was shirtless.
Damn. Why couldn't he remember what happened to him in his Trigger Event? And the assumptions his mind was coming to scared him. Besides, how long has he been unconscious? Greg clenched his fist to try to calm down as he tried to remember, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what had happened.
Greg sighed, touching the bridge of his nose; clearly, what he was doing was a waste of time. Putting that problem aside, he was now in an even bigger one. "What should I do? If I go back home as I am, my mother will ask me a bunch of questions, not to mention that I don't know how long I've been unconscious in this nasty place." He frowned.
"A week."
Greg jumped, hitting the window with his head, grimacing before turning around in panic to look at the person who had answered him. Before freezing at what he was seeing and letting out a confused "Huh."
"A week. That's how long you've been dead in this shitty place. Kiddo."
What was talking to Greg was not human or at least not anymore, he could feel it. The man's skin was pale, sickly, and of an unnatural gray color. The man's clothes were strange, very similar to those of a security guard, only the color purple decadent, not to mention the blood that stained almost all of his clothes. And the hole in his clothes was so similar to the one Greg had in his, but at the same time so different.
Greg swore that for a brief moment, he could see a massive hole in the man's chest, showing that he was without organs, and his ribs poking out before he shook his head and that horrible vision disappeared. But what stood out the most, apart from the fact that the man himself was floating as if he were a ghost, were his eyes. They were a purple color exactly like his, only the man, instead of having white sclera, had deep black, tears or a blackish liquid (very similar to tar) that simulated tears falling down his cheeks but not off his face.
"Who are you? I swear I don't have lunch money. School bullies stole it from me, and they've probably already spent that money on some drugs, or wait... are you going to eat me? Please don't eat me; I'm not very tasty." Greg let out a nervous laugh before realizing something.
"What?" The man asked, puzzled by Greg's reaction.
"Wait, now I'm a parahuman. Haha." Greg smiled triumphantly. "I'm sorry, but today I don't plan on dying." Greg's smile disappeared as he realized what the man had said earlier and didn't catch it due to nervousness. "Wait... what do you mean I've died?"
The man gave him a strange and unbelieving look before shaking his head. "That's what I said, kiddo. You died... well, you should be dead, but you're not. Like me, but you're better off than me." The man gave him an envious and jealous look before shaking his head with guilt and letting out a sigh of resignation. "And I am what you would call your Parahuman power. I guess..." Then the man put on an expressionless look. "Seriously, who was the idiot who came up with that name to classify people with powers?"
"Hey," Greg was offended. "Parahuman powers are incredible. I always dreamed of having one, and now that I finally have one, I can be a superhero." He paused before staring at the man intently. "Now that I think about it, Parahumans instinctively know what their powers do and how to use them. So why don't I know anything about them?"
The man shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe it's because you died, and your body rotted completely before coming out as a new kid. I mean, your body was that of a geek who never exercised, and most likely you just stayed locked up doing nothing, but now you look the same physically and the same height as when I was alive. So it makes me suspicious that it has to do with my Remnant in your body."
Greg furrowed his brow, confused about what the man was telling him. He didn't know what he was referring to with Remnant, but there was something much more important than that. "That doesn't make sense; if I had died, I wouldn't have been able to trigger an event. And even if I had triggered before dying, my powers should have stopped working the moment I died. Unless my power makes me immortal." Then Greg smiled, realizing. "So I'm not only immortal, but my power has put me at the pinnacle of humanity. That's cool."
"Weren't you listening? Your corpse was exposed for a week, entering a state of decay. I'm pretty sure all your organs rotted, including your brain, not to mention all the disgusting insects inside your body. That was before my Remnant entered your body and completely restored you to an astonishing level that I didn't think was possible."
Greg strangely fell silent for a few moments. If that was true, his Trigger Event is quite strange. Unless it's not a Trigger Event and it's something else. Honestly, he should have been scared, but he was strangely calm as if there were some kind of familiarity in this, but when he wanted to know why, that feeling went away. Almost like déjà vu.
Another thing he noticed was that his mind was more organized. There were almost no random thoughts, well, he still had a few, but now it feels like he had installed a filter that was broken before. As if he could think carefully and calmly and in an orderly manner. Whatever this Remnant was, not only did it improve his body to an incredible level, but it also improved his mind to a disturbing level, but Greg wasn't upset. Instead, he was strangely satisfied.
He was no longer a nobody. Now he could be someone in life. Someone more than the Greg Verder everyone hated. He no longer wished to attract people's attention to make them his friends. Of course, he would still try to make friends, but he wouldn't be so insistent; now that he could think more clearly, he could see the signs telling him to stay away.
That made him wonder if he had a form of autism or if he was just an idiot who fell off the bed when he was little. Anyway, continuing with the problem of his strange transformation, other problems were coming.
His mother must be very worried if he disappeared for a week. They probably think he was kidnapped or murdered. A normal thought considering the city they lived in. And the other problem was his appearance.
Greg looked into the man's creepy eyes seriously, something that would have surprised even himself. "Who are you? Are you really my Parahuman power? Also, what is this Remnant you keep talking about, not to mention the fact that you talk about it as if it were something common for you, but I have no idea what you're referring to."
The man looked at him amusedly, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were an idiot—"
"Hey."
"—But it seems like you have a good head on your shoulders to some extent. Besides, even if they separate your head, you can always stick it back." The man somersaulted in the air before gesturing to himself. "If you thought you were going to have a boring and normal life, erase that thought. Because now you will experience a completely different life than you have imagined. And on this journey, I will be your companion and guide." The man made a gesture of guns with his hands. "My name is Michael Afton, but I prefer you to call me Mike. And I welcome you to the world of the supernatural, Greg Veder." The man smiled in a terrifying but at the same time gentle and warmly affectionate way.
Greg was bewildered but strangely excited by the strange introduction. "Supernatural world?" He could only hope that what the man named Michael Afton was going to explain wouldn't be a headache.
He was wrong.