Chapter 2:
/
His mom laughed at him. He just scowled at her, it wasn't funny!
He was covered head to toe in mud, it wasn't funny!
"I told you coming out to the park while it was still wet outside was a bad idea."
He crossed his arms, unwilling to admit that he was wrong. Coming to the park had been a great idea.
"Oh come on, sweetie, don't be like that."
He just strengthened his resolve, glaring balefully at the shimmery crystal skyline, refusing to look at her.
A hand touched his face, beginning to turn him around. "C'mon K-"
Greg woke up a minute before his alarm went off. He shook off the last bits of grogginess before getting out of bed. It was a big day, and he intended to meet it bright and early.
Today was the day he was finally getting his costume.
/
Costume design should have been easy for him. Invulnerability meant that he was beyond such petty concerns like his costume providing any meaningful protection. What was the point of breaking the bank on a set of kevlar-reinforced fabric when a random cotton t-shirt would offer just as much 'protection' for him?
Greg stared at the red wet suit.
He imagined wearing it.
Then he promptly spun around and walked out of the store, face almost as red as the suit.
Nope.
Bulletproof or not, he wouldn't be caught dead in such an outfit. Greg had to psych himself up just to come out to the store in his alternate form wearing jeans and a baggy hoodie, there wasn't a chance in hell that he'd ever be able to parade around the city in that.
/
The used biker's jacket was much more his speed. Though the color left something to be desired. Hero's wore bright colors, not such a drab faded brown.
He thought he remembered reading a forum ages ago about being able to dye clothes. Did that even work on leather?
He hummed in thought, weighing the pros and cons of making the purchase. It was a thrift store, so it wasn't like it was too expensive. His allowance money would be very unhappy, but as much as it hurt to say, this was a much better investment.
"Excuse me, miss?"
He wondered if he could maybe offset the dull brown by adding some other colorful clothes to the outfit.
"Ma'am?"
Maybe some gloves-
"Excuse me?"
With a start, Greg realized the guy had been referring to him when he said ma'am. Turning to find an employee of the store staring at him.
"Y-yes?" Greg stumbled awkwardly, he wasn't used to hearing the new voice.
"Did you need any help?" The guy smiled at Greg.
"Oh, no I'm fine. I found what I needed, thanks though." Greg smiled, plucking the leather jacket off the rack. He grabbed a pair of jeans that looked about the right size as well. For some reason he could feel the store worker staring a hole into his back as he made his way to the changing rooms. Greg just shrugged it off, he was clearly a very good employee, caring so much about his customers like that.
Greg carefully gripped and turned one of the stall handles, giving it a gentle nudge in both directions to see which way had the least resistance. He may or may not have broken a door earlier that day. How was he supposed to know it was a pull and not a push?
With his strength it was almost impossible to realize he was going to break something until after the damage was already done. Many glass cups had met a less than honorable end. His mom had yet to question why the shelves were suddenly less populated.
Changing was a novelty, he'd yet to need to actually do so in his superhero form. Always shifting when he was already dressed in his base form. The small stall had two big mirrors back to back facing each other, presumably so that one could see behind themselves. He'd tried his best to keep looking, but he just couldn't get over the feeling of wrongness, looking at the reflection made it feel like he was spying on someone else change through a window.
Feeling guiltridden about looking at his own reflection.
If it weren't so uncomfortable, he probably would have found it funny.
He rolled his shoulders a bit, the leather jacket was a little tighter than he had hoped, but there was still enough clearance for him to move without popping any stitches. The jeans were a size too big, but that was perfect, the baggier the better in his eyes.
It was only when he was walking out of the changing area and he met the wide-eyed stare of another customer that he realized his mistake. He'd used the guy's side. Oops.
As he was waiting in line to purchase his items, he spotted a beat up motorcycle helmet in a clearance pile near the cashier, it was a bright neon shade of blue with a mirrored visor, probably meant to be highly visible to other drivers. The blue kind of matched his new eyes actually. With a considering hum, he added it to the growing pile in his arms.
Greg cringed as the total was rung up, he wouldn't be able to buy any games for months.
/
A man nervously approached a group of drug dealers.
Greg hung over the city, eyes darting to and fro.
Asian characters were being graffitied onto a store window.
It wasn't that he was having issues finding crime. It was actually the exact opposite problem, he had too many choices to pick from.
With his senses, he could see and hear everything. It was overwhelming.
A crowd roared as two men boxed in a warehouse turned fighting arena.
He wanted his debut to be something big. Greg wanted to make a splash. How cool would it be if he took down a cape on his first night out? PHO would lose their collective minds no doubt.
So much crime, but none of it was worth his-
A girl cried out in pain, a muffled sob escaped pursed lips.
His entire body snapped towards the sound, air cracking with the speed in which he'd moved, eyes roving for the source, body stilling, the sound bringing up memories he'd rather not dwell on.
After a frantic search, he found it. A nondescript apartment complex, its basement lined wall to wall with cages.
Occupied cages. Girls from every age group filled the cages, sniffling, sobbing, some just staring blankly into space.
It took more than a few moments to realize exactly what he'd found.
His eyes began to burn and his vision turned crimson.
He'd found a Farm.