He hurtled downward like a meteor, intent on smashing right through the ceiling and making his displeasure known. Then, a mere dozen feet from his target, he slammed on the brakes, flipping in midair to land feet first. Knees bending to absorb the impact, even still he hit the roof hard enough to send gravel flying in all directions, it was a miracle the whole thing hadn't collapsed outright.
He wished he could have said it was because he was worried about hurting innocent people on accident or something equally noble. Really, anything would have been better than the truth.
Greg had been scared.
Knowing you were strong enough to take it, and knowing you were strong enough to take it were two entirely different things. In the moment, so high up in the sky, it had seemed like such a good idea, but then the ground got closer and he finally had enough time to process exactly what he was about to do. Greg's heart leaped to his throat and every instinct his body had screamed at him not to smack into the building face first at mach zillion, or whatever insane speed he'd been coming in at.
Even as he calmed his racing heart, he could hear movement down below. The whole apartment was a buzz with activity. His landing had shaken the whole structure. They had no idea what had happened, but they knew something was wrong.
Greg could hear frantic calls being made in various languages, he couldn't understand them, but by the tone of voice he felt certain they were calling for backup.
He shook his head, lifting off the roof and descending to the ground floor. Greg needed to hurry, he needed to get the victims away before the reinforcements arrived. If he squinted he could almost imagine this was an escort mission from one of his RPG's.
Get the NPC's out before the new wave of mobs started spawning.
He reared an arm back to punch the door off its hinges, only to pause halfway through, familiar fear tingling down his spine. With a curse, he switched gears and simply gave it a hard shove, the door all but exploding inwards.
Greg was quickly realizing that he should have spent more time desensitizing himself to his new capabilities. Having all this strength was useless if he kept thinking like squishy weak Greg Veder. He could effortlessly pick up his moms car one handed, punching a cheap wooden door wouldn't hurt him, but his mind disagreed, vehemently swearing he would break something fragile if he swung at the door.
As he crossed the threshold, with his X-ray vision he could already spot several armed gangsters rushing down the stairwell. No doubt, in response to the door being knocked in.
He rushed towards the stairwell entrance, mangling the handle then pinching the round parts of the hinges flat for good measure. That thing was not opening without a lot of struggle, and possibly not even then.
With the rest of the apartment complex essentially quarantined for the moment, he was free to continue.
Greg made his way to the door that said "maintenence only". It was noticeably sturdier construction, judging by how hard it was to see through, he guessed it was solid steel all the way through. The door had no place being in an apartment building, let alone as a measly maintenance door.
It didn't stop him, not in the slightest. He just pushed on where he spotted the locking bolt, stuck between his palm and the reinforced frame, the rod of metal had no choice but to shear under the pressure.
The door made a horrendous sound as he pushed the door in a direction it wasn't meant to swing in.
He was so laser focused on the cages he could still see, that when he floated down the staircase he was caught completely off guard by the hail of gunfire.
He screamed in fear, flinching backwards into a wall hard enough to embed himself halfway into it while his arms shot up to cover his head futilely.
It took a few moments for him to open his screwed shut eyes. His heart pounded a mile a minute in his chest, the unbelievably loud weapons fire still rang in his ears and he could still feel the muted impacts of the rounds.
They felt like foam darts.
He grinned, slowly relaxing under the deluge of lead, once the panic subsided it was sort of exhilarating. When they finally stopped to reload, he couldn't help himself.
"Is that all you've got? Because if so, you might wan-"
BANG!
Greg choked mid sentence, he grabbed at his throat with one hand while he bent over, coughing up a lung the whole way. Finally he dislodged the bullet that was stuck in his airway. Lifting his damaged helmet up slightly, he spat the foul tasting metal into his hand.
He stared at the round with wide disbelieving eyes. The pleasantly hot chunk of lead sat paradoxically heavy in his palm.
His gaze darted from the still cooling bullet to the stunned expressions of the gangsters.
"Surrender?" Greg said questioningly.
Guns almost immediately hit the floor in a clatter.
"All of you line up against that wall, with your hands behind your head, and face the wall!" He pointed to the right side of the hallway. "And don't move, or…or else?" He lost steam part way through, cringing ever so slightly under the combined gaze of all the gangsters.
The very buff, scary looking gangsters.
Greg bit his tongue, straightening his spine. He was a cape now, he needed to act like it. The hired help weren't a concern, he was above them!
A man with a particularly nasty burn covering half his face made eye contact with him. Greg had to stop himself from instinctively looking away.
With his heart in his throat, he walked past the lined up men, every errant twitch made his heart race.
When he got to the room with the cages, all thought of the men in the hallway left his mind.
They were in a truly sorry state, bruises and cuts abound. All of them were naked, only serving to further highlight the myriad of wounds that covered them.
Some were worse off than others.
Distantly Greg noted that the ones with the least amount of wounds were the ones who were still crying.
His throat felt dry, his stomach held a hurricane, and his heart pounded like drums. He didn't even know what he felt, he just knew that it wasn't good.
He stepped towards the closest cage, literally flinging the door over his shoulder. The violent action and thunderous crash caused many of the girls to start crying. The girls in the cage he'd opened whimpered.
Greg froze.
He hadn't meant to scare them…
Slowly he sank to his knees, trying to appear as none threatening as possible, a futile task after that show of force. With even more slowness, he reached up and pulled the featureless motorcycle helmet off, blonde hair cascading down his shoulders.
"I'm here to rescue you. I promise you, you're safe." He tried to speak as gently as he could.
The girls, -and they were girls, barely sixteen at the oldest if he had to guess- had stopped all movement at his words. They stared at him, something almost wild in their gaze. With glacier slowness a girl creeped forward.
Nobody moved beside the lone girl, everyone, including Greg watched in silence as the girl slowly crept across the mangled doorframe of the cage.
The girl's eyes darted about, as if expecting some sort of trick. When none came, her shoulder imperceptibly relaxed.
The others in the cage seeing this, followed her lead.
Trying not to damage the girls newfound confidence, he slowly rose back up, moving to each cage and removing the doors. This time in a much gentler manner.
Some of the girls needed to be coaxed out by their compatriots, but eventually everyone was freed.
"Alright, let's get you all out of here." Greg pulled his helmet back on before peaking out into the hallway, the gangsters were just where she'd left them, still facing the wall.
As they passed the group of men, the group of girls began to falter. Greg circled back, putting himself between the men and the passing girls. He glared menacingly at the cowed men, all the while keeping a wary eye on the floor above, making sure that the first floor was still clear of any threats to the girls. The gangsters in the stairwell were still pounding ineffectively at the stuck door and no back up had arrived yet.
Once the last girl had all made it up the staircase, he flew up and past all the girls, once more putting himself at the front. But not before bending the heavy steel maintenance door back into place, effectively locking the gangsters in the basement, he didn't want any surprises coming from the rear.
It was as he made it outside that he realized his error. In his anger, he'd completely forgotten to call 911. So now, there he was, with a group of defenseless naked girls, right in the heart of ABB territory.
He pulled a burner phone from out of his pocket and made the call.
"911, what's your emergency?"
Just as he opened his mouth to talk, a blacked out Mercedes pulled up. A shirtless man with an iron mask and a dragon tattoo winding up his chest stepped out of the back seat.
"Lung." Greg breathed, feeling faint. The phone slipping out from between nerveless fingers.