Burgeoning Bladesmith

by bubbajack

What would you do to become a hero? Well Greg Veder is given that choice. The masquerade behind powers is dragged away and now he has to use all the skills he has learned to better himself to protect those he loves while also avoiding the horrors that live in his world. Maybe these new powers can help him get a girlfriend too? Who knows? Pairing: Greg Veder X Harem. Mature Themes

1. Chapter 1

Burgeoning Bladesmith

By: Bubbajack

Editors/Co-Authors: IcySnowSage, First Hassan

Special consultant: Heliosion

Obligatory First Chapter Disclaimer: We do not claim to own Bleach, Fate/Stay Night, or Worm.

Ch.1.1: Crucible

Being Greg Veder was hard. Not as hard as some people he knew of course, but hard in a different way. He was more or less invisible. No one noticed him or paid attention to him really. His parents worked two very difficult jobs just to keep a roof over their heads, so he, trying to be a good son, did his best to get good grades in school. He scraped by with a meager C plus. It wasn't great, but what could one really expect out of Winslow? The gang recruitment center of Brockton Bay Massachusetts. That was the lie he told himself anyway. Fact of the matter was, he wasn't all that motivated when it came to schoolwork. He's seen what it's like on the streets of Brockton, and even if he got good grades, it hardly mattered when the biggest hiring groups around were the gangs, and they only cared about skin color.

Walking home with his hands in his pockets he thought to himself, 'I could just go home and raise a stink on PHO, but that's getting kinda old… and it's a bit pathetic acting like an idiot on there just to get attention,' Sighing another thought struck him, 'I wonder how GstringGirl is doing? I haven't heard from her lately, not since we had that fight about showing in real life photos of ourselves to each other. I hope she's okay,' He liked her, and he may've been a bit pushy, but he didn't think she'd go no contact with him for over a week now. He checked his PHO account on his phone. No new messages. 'Well, I'll reach out to her after work,' He decided.

Work for Greg was a quaint shop on the Boardwalk called "The Dollhouse". Run by a Rogue called Parian, it was a clothes shop. Coming in through the front to the tinkling of a bell he called, "Boss, it's Greg!"

A giant stuffed bunny made its way out of the back and poking out from behind it like a skittish rabbit was a blonde-haired girl. Her tresses curled, and she was wearing a porcelain mask, garbed in the height of Victorian fashion. Of course, Greg had a pretty good idea that the hair was just a wig. So he had no idea what she really looked like, but she was nice and paid well so he didn't complain.

"Ah, hello Greggory. How're you doing today? How was school?" She asked, curious as always about his day.

"Eh, I'm alright. Didn't get pressed to join the Empire so, mission passed? I guess. I just wish I could do more, you know?" Not for the first time, he bemoaned his own weakness.

She nodded, "I do, unfortunately, sometimes even having powers isn't enough, and you need to do what you can," She replied as she motioned with a sweeping arm around her shop.

"Right, what do you need me to do today boss?" Greg asked as he headed to the back. Placing his backpack on a hook before he took a look around. The design room was shambles. As if a tornado had blown through and only made a mess of all of Parian's materials. All manner of fabrics and paper with sketches were strewn about, mannequins were draped in half finished designs, and even the mirror room where she would take measurements of guests had a trail of cloth leading from it. "Well, I see what I'll be doing today… I'll be getting this place back in order,"

"Oh, dear you don't need to worry about that, I-I um had something of a brainstorm and wanted to try out different styles and… I made a bit of a mess," She admitted.

"Well it'll look bad on you boss if the store looks like this, so let's get it cleaned up. What caused the frenzy anyway?"

"Well, a new show started airing from Earth Aleph called Project Runway and after watching the first few episodes I just felt so inspired!"

Greg nodded along, "Oh yeah, my mom watches that show when she can,"

"She's an RN at the hospital right?" Parian commented, "I think running this place is stressful enough," She shook her head, causing her curls to bob, "I couldn't imagine having a job where another person's life is in my hands,"

Greg grinned a little, surprised Parian remembered something he dropped in a casual conversation, he replied as he proceeded to clean off the mannequins, "Yeah, she is, and yes, it's a very stressful job. One that goes very underappreciated, doubly so when you can just visit Panacea and get treated by her immediately."

Cocking her head to the side "Panacea is something but even she can't treat everyone in the city Greg. She's only human like the rest of us,"

"True, I'm just saying most nights she comes home saying people are complaining they had to come see her rather than our resident healer, I'm starting to get annoyed on her behalf," He said in defense of his mother.

"Unfortunately that sounds like a symptom of the human condition, the desire for gratification as soon as we can get it," Parian mused aloud as she used her power to clean up a whole heap of the mess at once. At the same time, Greg made sure all the drawers were open so the various fabrics could be put into their proper containers.

Once the place was presentable again, Greg dusted his hands off and said, "Right, now to properly go over the inventory,"

"That can wait," Parian said with a bit of stubbornness entering her tone, "We haven't had our usual tea yet."

"Okay, okay, fine," Greg said, raising his hands in surrender. "Don't use the dommy mommy tone on me please,"

"Keep it up, and I'll wrap you up like a mummy," She promised him though her heart wasn't really in the threat.

"Don't threaten me with a good time honey,"

"Get out there and put the kettle on. Stupid employee of the month…"

"I'm your only employee," Greg called over his shoulder, "I'm employee of the month by default."

After he was gone, Parian sighed to herself, "How can someone be both heroic and an idiot at the same time?" She mumbled to herself. She quite vividly recalled the day she met Greg. It was a cold night in late December, all the schools having let out for the holidays a couple days prior and she was locking up her store for the night and some Empire foot soldiers were writing their filth on the side of her store. She froze. She disliked confrontation, and men even more, and these were both. With grins like a pack of wolves, they stalked towards her eager to do… something unpleasant when a voice called out from some distance away.

"Oh my God! Glory Girl! I'm such a huge fan! Can I have your autograph?!"

Their grins all but melted off their faces like hot candle wax, the goons fled into the rapidly descending night. She turned hoping to thank the young heroine from New Wave, but instead, she found yet another blonde boy standing not too far away. She tensed, as he slowly carefully approached and asked her, "Are you alright Parian? Those thugs didn't hurt you did they?"

"N-No, they didn't… You're not with them, are you?" She stated more than asked. She gave him a quick once over and didn't see any markings on him. No red, white, and black of the Empire, nor Nazi symbols. She metaphorically kicked herself, 'Here I am judging someone based on their appearance when the whole reason I dressed like this in the first place was to prove you shouldn't do that,'

The boy shook his head, "No, and don't worry I get that a lot," He told her as if reading her mind. He looked at the swastika they'd spray painted on the side of her store in disgust. "Racist bastards, I mean the manji is a symbol of peace and because of people like them it's been perverted into something evil,"

"Ah… A manji?" She asked.

"Oh… sorry, I read up on other religions and philosophies for fun. A manji is a symbol of both power, peace, and freedom in Buddhism. What the Nazi's did is turn it forty-five degrees and now most people who see it automatically think it means hate."

"I didn't know that," She said after a moment.

He gave an awkward laugh, "Yeah sorry, I went and blathered on without even introducing myself. I'm Greg Veder. Do you need me to call the cops for you, Parian?"

"I… No thank you," she replied, "I can handle it,"

He agreed readily, "Okay, well would you mind if I stay until the cops show up? The Empire are like Sand People. You scare them off for a bit, but then they return in greater numbers."

She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to laugh under mask, "I," she paused, she had no reason to say no other than the fact he was a boy. 'But he just saved my life. Am I going to let one bad experience with a boy color my outlook on all of them?' "I'd like that Greg," she then grabbed her keys and unlocked her shop. No reason for them to stand out in the cold. She then added, "Also, isn't the Empire more like… the Empire?"

"Yes but also no," He replied as he dialed 911 on his phone, and after reporting the problem, the police and PRT would soon arrive. Of course, by the time they did, she and Greg were in deep discussion on whether Brockton Bay's Empire was anything like the one from a galaxy far far away as they shared a pot of jasmine tea. It was the dumbest conversation she'd ever had, and she'd enjoyed every second of it. Particularly the part where she and Greg riffed on the Imperial Stormtrooper armor design.

"What's your favorite costume in Star Wars?" she asked, seeing his hesitance she guessed, "Princess Leia's slave costume?"

"I'm a guy, sue me," He said with a shrug. "And judge me how you will, but Carrie Fisher looked good in that metal bikini,"

"True," Parian agreed, "What about the men?"

"Vader," Greg replied easily, "The man was on life support but was built like a tank. Plus James Earl Jones as the voice? C'mon, it's a no brainer. You?"

"Padme Amidala from the first movie, for the ladies, and Obi-Wan Kenobi because Ewan McGreggor has a sexy beard."

"Ah, if we're including the Prequels then I'd also like to add Mace Windu.

"Samuel L. Jackson fan?" Parian asked.

"I'm sick and tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane," Greg said by way of reply.

"God," Parian said shaking her head, "That movie was so bad,"

The blonde boy scoffed, "Did you see the censored version? That was even worse," He proceeded to quote, "I'm tired of these monkey chucking snakes on this Monday to Sunday Plane,"

"Gah… you have got to be kidding me?! That's even worse than the actual swearing!" Parian said, unable to hold back a giggling fit this time.

"Oh yes, it's real, and rumor has it, the reason you never see his lightsaber handle well in the prequels is because Samuel had "motherfucker" engraved into it."

The cape shook her head, "That sounds like something he'd do," sighing contently she said, "Thank you Greg sincerely you've turned what would've been a horrible experience into a pleasant evening. I enjoyed getting to know you,"

"You too Parian," Greg agreed. "I enjoyed tonight, usually by now I'd be several pages deep in an argument on PHO and probably be banned by Tin Mother by now,"

'My hero, the common internet troll,' she thought. "If there is ever anything I can do to repay you for my timely rescue, just name it." She told him.

"Well," he said after a moment, "I could use a job. You wouldn't happen to be hiring would you?"

And that was the start of their working relationship and friendship. She had since that first night, been nurturing a small crush on her new employee who had been working for her since. Yet her own experience with men and the unknown of how he would react to what she really looked like under the mask, plus the six year age gap between the two of them held her back. 'Your a coward Sabah Nur,' She rebuked herself. 'Greg wouldn't care about what you looked like. If he did, he wouldn't have bothered saving you from the Empire in the first place,' She took a breath as she headed to the area designated the 'Employee lounge'.

It was a small but comfortable room she kept in her shop for when she had a slow day. She kept simple necessities back there, a hot plate, kettle, microwave, small fridge for drinks and precooked meals, and tea as well as a comfortable couch for herself. These days, she and Greg had many conversations on religion, philosophy, mythology, and books. Though he didn't act like it half the time, he knew about many things. The hard part was getting him to open up because he was often looked at as strange for his interests.

For example, while he did like capes, he often felt they weren't living up to the heroic ideals of their forebears. The likes of Cu Chulainn, Karna the hero of charity, Arjuna, Arash, Robin Hood, and King Arthur. Heroes of myth and legend. Heroes of the past fought, bled, sacrificed, and died for their beliefs, family, personal honor, and glory. Nowadays heroes die by the score and they aren't remembered at all. Was it because they fought for money? That they instigated as many fights as they ended up resolving? Greg didn't know, and they'd had many conversations on the topic and yet no conclusion could be reached.

Rogues by contrast Greg equated to the great crafters in myth. Masamune, Muramasa, Hephaestus, Weyland the Smith, and others besides. They usually weren't the types to become heroes but they offered heroes all important aid. However, there was some crossover to be sure. Siegfried, with his foster father's help, reforged the sword Nothung into Balmung. So he was both smith and a warrior.

The thick scent of jasmine hit her nose as she entered the break room. Greg was pouring two cups from the kettle, causing her to smile behind her mask. "You're getting better at that," She noted.

"I've had a lot of practice," the blonde called back with a smile on his face. "Between you and my sensei's I wasn't sure which one of you was going to kill me first if I didn't learn how to brew a decent pot of tea,"

"Sensei's?" She asked. 'This boy has more layers to him than Shrek,' she thought before she asked, "Have you been training in martial arts?"

"Yeah for about three years now," Greg affirmed. "A majority of what you pay me goes there for tuition fees."

Sipping her tea through the small hole in her mask, Parian said, "Goodness it must be expensive, considering I pay you every two weeks,"

"Eh, between this and my side job I make alright money," Greg shrugged.

"Side job, you are working a second job on top of this one?" Parian asked her tone implying incredulity at that statement.

"Yeah I work as a scanlator translating manga, manhwa, and mahua… what?" Upon feeling her glare, he asked, "I didn't like waiting for the translations so I taught myself how to read the original languages."

Still staring at him, Parian deadpanned, "Are you telling me that you know how to read Chinese, Korean, and Japanese, and you did it all so you could read their comic books?"

"Yeah pretty much why?" Greg asked after a moment.

Hanging her head, the cape fashionista chuckled, "You're just full of surprises Greg. I find the more I learn about you, the more I find myself wanting to know," As she spoke, she scooted closer to him across the couch.

"Oh yeah that's me alright, Greg Veder, international man of mystery," He laughed at his own joke, "But no, there's really nothing special about me. Anyone can do everything that I've done if they try hard enough Par," He shook his head, "No you're the real amazing one of the two of us,"

"Me?" She pointed at herself, "How'd you figure?"

"You can look at someone and almost immediately whip up a dress for them like some kind of fairy godmother right out of Cinderella. It's amazing to watch. I haven't seen you turn a pumpkin and some rats into a horse-drawn carriage yet, but I'm sure you'll pull it off somehow given enough time," he spoke with surety even as he gave her a playful smile.

Parian felt her heart melt at his kind words. Throwing back the rest of her tea like a shot and wishing it was something stronger, she took the plunge. She saw his eyes widen in surprise as she suddenly straddled him.

"Parian?" He asked.

"Greg," She said softly, as she stroked his face with one gloved hand, "There is so much I want to tell you about myself, my life, and my circumstances, but I can't!" her opposite hand reached up and touched her mask, "Because this is in the way,"

"You don't need to do that," Greg said hastily, He knew for a cape to unmask in front of someone was a huge show of trust and in some cases, a sign of love and affection. "I don't want you to feel you have to unmask to tell me anything. We're friends regardless, Par. No need to feel pressured,"

She shook her head, "I don't feel pressured… I just hope you can accept me for who I am beneath the mask," she said as she removed her hand from his cheek and pulled off the wig and porcelain mask at the same time, revealing her dusky features and raven black hair to him. She kept her eyes clasped shut, too afraid to see his usually warm expression turn to one of revulsion.

"Oh wow," He said, "You're so pretty," The shock of hearing the words she least expected caused her eyes to shoot open. Agate brown met sky blue just as heaven met the earth. He smiled at her a little awkwardly as he asked, "I know why you need to hide such a pretty face behind a mask, but why to show it to me, Par?"

"Sabah," She corrected, "My name is Sabah Greg, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, it's because I like you, you idiot." She told him before she leaned in and kissed him gently, timidly on the lips.

"Oh," He said when she pulled back.

"Do you… not feel the same?" She asked, her heart sinking like the Titanic.

"It's not that, I just had no idea you felt this way about me," He replied honestly. "I mean you're a strong capable woman who's been running her own business so… honestly I don't know what you see in me."

"Greg, you saved my life," She countered.

"You could've just as easily saved yourself Par, I just scared them off," Greg countered, "How hard would it have been for you to strangle them with their own clothes or if you wanted to be really nasty, flay the skin right off their arms and choke them with it?"

'Not very,' she realized, 'But I froze and couldn't think of anything to do,' She told him as much, but it didn't do any good.

Her blonde helper just shook his head and replied, "I'm don't consider myself a hero Parian, sorry,"

"Do you think you get to decide that all on your own?" She told him as she put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake, "You don't! If I want to consider you my hero, you can't stop me from doing so."

Greg grimaced, "You're right, I can't; but I really wish you wouldn't,"

"Why?" Calming down, she asked, "Am I not your type? Do you prefer men or…"

"It's not that, and you're a gorgeous woman Sabah and don't ever think or let anyone tell you otherwise," Greg told her, "It's just… me," Greg ran a hand down his face as he sighed, "Besides my self-esteem being in the toilet, the one time I should've saved someone I didn't, and now I just… kinda hate myself? Besides, we both know you can do better than me anyway."

"I don't want to do better than Greg Veder, I want Greg Veder," Sabah said glaring into his eyes.

Greg sighed again, "Look, how about you take a couple of days to cool your jets, it's the weekend anyway and if on Monday, you still feel the same way… we'll see how it goes okay?" He offered, "I'd like to think I know Parian pretty well, but I hardly know anything at all about Sabah, if that makes any sense?"

Sabah smiled in response, and Greg thought it was a nice smile.

She nodded, "Okay,"

"Great… So are you gonna keep sitting on my lap, or?"

"I-I kind of like my current seat, but if you insist," she replied as she finally got off of him and sat right next to him on the couch. 'Gah, I can't believe I just said that! If father or mother were here, they'd both be so ashamed,' she thought.

"You okay?" Greg asked after a moment.

Sighing herself, Sabah replied, "Yes I'm fine I just… you probably just think I'm crazy doing what I did. You hardly know me, and then I go and… do all that,"

"I mean I'm flattered don't get me wrong, I just don't think I'm worthy of your attention," He said as he pulled out his phone, opened the record function and said, "Note to self, begin learning Arabic,"

She turned and gave him a look, "Why are you learning Arabic all of a sudden?"

"Gotta know if you're talking shit about me in a foreign language," Greg replied with a cocky grin.

She slapped his arm, "Ass," She then rested her head on his shoulder, "Can we stay like this for a bit Greg?"

"Sure, as long as you like,"

"Thanks… and for your first bit of Arabic, try figuring out what mahbib means," She told him coyishly as she looked up into his eyes.

To which the blonde replied, "I'm going to assume it means something like honey, darling, dear, or sweetheart, considering our current circumstances."

"Perceptive as always, that's my Greg." She said smiling as she rested her head on his arm. She knew she needed to cool it, that she was falling faster than Icarus was from the sun but she hadn't felt this… content since before her mother passed. "Since you want to know more about me, do you mind if I talk about my parents?"

"Go ahead," Greg said.

"My mother died in Hadayosh's first appearance in Iran in 1992. The sheer tremors of his attacks caused earthquakes that leveled buildings in Basra, the capital of Iraq where I was born. I was only three at the time so I don't remember her very well." She said,

"I'm sorry Sabah," He said, putting his arm around her for comfort.

She appreciated the gesture but replied, "Don't be, I… want to feel bad but I can't remember her myself, unfortunately. After that, my father Abdul, like many others saw Behemoth as a sign of Allah's displeasure and moved us to America. Since we had to start all over he worked many long hours to pay for a roof over our heads and food while I went to school, then college,"

"He sounds like a great man," Greg said thinking of his own father, who had worked at the DWU for as long as he could remember. It inspired Greg's own work ethic.

"He was," Sabbah replied, "He died of a heart attack while I was in my sophomore year of college. I was getting an engineering degree."

Greg hissed through his teeth and tightened his grip around her into a hug, "And that caused you to trigger and want to become a fashion designer?" he guessed.

"Close, but not quite," she replied slightly subdued, "While at college there was this boy who would not take no for an answer,"

"Please tell me you didn't get assaulted in college?" Greg asked, his voice harsh and tight as he squeezed her closer to him protectively.

"What?! No!" She said quickly, "He simply spread a rumor that I was a 'bitch' and caused my grades to plummet because no one would study with me. During this time father passed and that caused my trigger, being alone and angry… Greg," she asked timidly after a moment, "If I had been assaulted would you consider me used goods?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" he replied instantly, looking down at her, "I was worried you had been hurt, Sabah. I know from my mom and dad what the reputation of colleges are like. Women need to be careful, unfortunately."

"Thank you Greg, but no, he did put me off men for a very long time… until I met a certain someone, that is," She replied, happy to finally be able to share these painful but important memories with someone she felt she could trust.

"No problem, I dunno about you, but all this talking is leaving me parched. More tea?" He offered.

"Yes please," She replied, thankful for once it was a slow day on the Boardwalk. There was so much to discuss after all.

(...)

Leaving Parian's with her waving at him from the entrance, Greg jogged towards his sensei's dojo. It was deep in ABB territory, but he'd been seen around there long enough with the residents of the dojo that he silently hoped they knew he was off limits by now, but he was cautious all the same. His head on a swivel, he noticed many ABB members glaring and spitting when he passed, but none of them did more than that, for which he was grateful. He soon came upon the wood and iron-bound gates of the dojo Ryozanpaku. It wasn't pretty, but appearances could be deceiving. Pushing the old gate open, Greg let himself inside.

"Sensei, I'm here!" Greg managed to get out moments before he was hit in the stomach by a light brown missile.

"Onii-tan!" the missile said as it latched onto his stomach as he caught her

"Shizuha, how many times do I have to ask you not to do that?" Greg asked, a five year old girl, the child of one of his sensei's.

"Buh Onii-tan, Shizuha is always so happy to see you!" The little girl replied looking up into his face, her brown eyes shining happily.

"I'm happy to see you too Shizuha, but you could get hurt if you're not careful you know?" He gently chided. "Just be careful ok?"

She nodded, "O-tay,"

"Okay," He corrected.

"Dat too," she said, "Looking for Shigure-nee?"

"Of course," Greg replied, "She in?"

The little girl took two of his fingers in her small hand as she led the way to the dojo, "Inside, waiting for you, c'mon!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Greg laughed.

The two made their way inside, and the scent of tea brewing hit his nose once again, 'I'm going to get tea poisoning at this rate,' Greg thought to himself as he entered the dojo proper.

"Mama! Jiji's! Nee-sans! Ojisan! Oni-tan is here!" Shizuha called out boisterously as they entered the main room.

The group of martial arts masters perked up at Greg's entrance. They don't get many visitors nowadays with all the shenanigans with capes, gangs, and other drama. The city was rambunctious but not as bad as their previous location in Japan.

Greg bowed politely to the masters present, "Greg Veder humbly greets the masters of Ryouzanpaku."

He got a slap on the back that made him cough from one of the masters present. His name was Shio Sakaki and Greg had to admit the man could probably throw down with just about any gangster or cape in the city and at least give them a good fight. The one who could defeat any cape was further in the dojo.

"Enough with the respectful crap kid. You have been Shigure's student for almost three years now. All this respectful shit makes me feel old."

"Yes master Sakaki."

"I ain't your master kid. Sakaki is fine. Now go have a seat. It's poker night and I want to see if my poker face has gotten any better."

"Apapapapapa. You need to save your poker face when we go to the fighting ring," spoke the gentle but exuberant giant of Apachai Hopachai. He had scars and scrapes over his body. More due to recent bouts in the fighting ring he just mentioned. Greg would equate his childish and friendly personality to that of a tiger cub. Adorable, precocious but deadly oh so deadly. One of the reason's Greg hated the Empire is not only their racist attitudes but also their mistreatment of Hopachai. However, Greg heard snickers from Sakaki about how one of the ring fighters was sweet on Hopachai. Apparently she got a crush on the dude for learning sign language and teaching her so she wouldn't have to use her electrolarynx to talk. They still tried to stiff him from his winnings every time they went to fight.

"That means Apachai Sakaki has to train his mentality to show he isn't stressed. Poker is a mind game unlike your fighting ring where if he is pissed he can just punch the offender in the face," spoke up the tired and exhausted looking Kensei Ma.

Greg understood that Master Ma used to be a heavy pervert but it lost its luster after a run in with the Yangban in Japan. It seemed a lot of things happened in China with the growth of capes. He never found out what made the old master depressed but he always seemed a little broken inside when talking to him. Even years after meeting him.

Greg felt a presence behind him before he felt two soft and warm things squish on his back. He tensed up, knowing who it might be, "You must forgive papa. He is still wistful especially after your former sensei disappeared,"

Greg turned and saw the youthful and peach shaped face of his teacher in Chinese Kenpo, Renka Ma. She had a flair for dramatics whether it be actions or outfits. Once again today she was wearing another brilliant qipo, this one a light shade of pink trimmed in gold with imagery of cranes throughout its length, it also had a diamond-shaped boob window that showed off a tantalizing bit of cleavage, not that he'd ever comment on that, he preferred having his insides inside thank you very much.

"Renka-sensei, how're you today?" He asked politely as he disentangled himself from her embrace as gently as he could.

Renka just smiled at him, "Well now that my favorite apprentice is here,"

"Aren't I your only apprentice since you've come to America?" Greg asked.

Renka winked at him, "Exactly! Which is why you're my favorite Greg," she motioned for him to sit down as she poured him his third cup of tea that afternoon. "So, how was work?"

"Good, it was a slow day so Parian and I just talked for the most part," He took a sip of tea, not because he was thirsty, but rather because he needed a moment to steal his nerves to ask, "Has there still been no word from Shirahama-sensei?"

Akisame Koetsuiji, the kitsune-eyed Jujitsu master, and doctor from hell in some circles answered, "No, unfortunately not,"

Greg sighed, "This sucks, guy just disappears for six months and goes no contact? The hell?"

"Ken-chan left behind a letter asking us to keep up your training in his place," Master Ma said after a moment. "We have kept up with your physical conditioning at least. Since we had no idea what he planned to teach you or when,"

"Well, the last thing he taught me before he left was the basics of that Seikuken technique,"

"Greg is… skilled… to advance… so quickly," a stuttered whisper came from above him. Glancing up, he found his other sensei, the alluring and mysterious Shigure Kosaka leaning against the rafters. As usual she was wearing a sinfully short pink kimono that just barely covered her hips, and underneath that was a mesh shirt and bra.

But Greg shook his head, "I'm nothing special compared to Shirahama-sensei, he learned Seikuken's advanced form in about a year right? For me it's been three and I'm just now learning the basics, I must be a terrible apprentice,"

"Don't sell yourself short!" Renka and Shigure said simultaneously, Shigure dropping down from the rafters as she spoke.

"Greg… Kenichi… had to fight… for his life," Shigure commented, "For him it was learn or die. You… are still learning… at an incredible rate,"

Renka nodded, and grabbed his arm, "Yeah! Most people have to be in a High Class Disciple which takes six to ten years to be able to learn a skill like Seikuken. The fact you've managed to do it in three is a testament to your aptitude for martial arts."

"If I have the aptitude, then what did Shirahama-sensei have? Was he Neo from the damn Matrix?" Greg questioned.

Sakaki laughed, "Kenichi had no talent or aptitude at all for martial arts,"

"Nope, apapa! None!" Apache confirmed.

"Hohoho none at all," Master Ma laughed.

"Bubkiss," Shigure agreed with a nod.

Greg looked around at all the masters agreeing his own sensei had no skill nor aptitude with martial arts, yet he learned a skill he was just now learning in one third the time. "But that doesn't make any sense, Masters. Shirahama-sensei learned the Ryusui Seikuken, which is even more advanced than what he's already taught me, so how can you say he has no skill at all?"

"Ohoho! That's because what Ken-chan lacked in skill, he made up for in determination and grit, combined with a body that wouldn't give up till his will did," A mountain of a man in a green robe, the very tips of his long blonde beard turning a frosty white replied.

"Elder," Greg bowed from his sitting position. "That reminds me, where is Miu-san and Master Saiga?"

The Elder smiled kindly, "Miu went shopping, and Saiga left to accompany her. We think it best to travel in pairs these days, what with these Azn Bad Boys going around kidnapping people," Seeing Greg's hesitation the Elder prompted, "You have a question, young one? Go ahead, ask. Curiosity is not a sin,"

"Elder… Why do you allow Lung to keep doing what he's doing?" Greg finally asked, "I know what you're capable of, Shirahama-sensei has told me as much, so why are you, the Invincible Superman, letting him, or any gang in this city for that matter, do as they want?"

The Elder sighed, "The world is no longer what it once was. Before… Before parahumans outnumbered the modern man, the only thing one had to worry about were guns, and the strength of one's fists. I… the destruction Leviathan wrought on Kyushu was unlike anything you could ever imagine Greg. Even I could not do much to harm that sea beast, and Lung did all he could just to fight it to a draw. Even then, the destruction it caused was felt all across the country, its rampage setting off no less than eight nuclear power plants in a devastating chain reaction the likes of which has never been seen before or since. You ask why I do not stop Lung? The short answer is, I am unsure if I would be able to… the long answer is, if it weren't for him, none of us might be here right now. So a part of me feels I owe him a debt of gratitude. Not for the monster he's become, but for the heroic warrior he once was."

Greg grimaced, "People are getting kidnapped Elder, sometimes right off the street! And you don't do anything because you don't know if you can take Lung, and you feel you owe him one so you're fine with looking the other way as long as it doesn't happen to someone you care about?"

"Greg!" Shigure said, "Apologize."

But the blonde shook his head, "No, you're Hayato Furinji, the goddamn Superman of the Martial Arts World! And you're telling me, you're scared? What the hell happened to you, man? If that's the case you might as well retire and hang up the cape, cause newsflash, Heroes don't quit!... and I thought you were one," He got up and made to leave.

"Where are you… going?" Shigure asked.

"Home," Greg said not turning around, "I don't know when I'll be back,"

(...)

"Onii-tan! Come back!" Shizuha said as she clung to his leg, halfway across the yard.

"Shizuha, let me go please," Greg said, trying to peel her off of his leg to no avail. The Furinji genes bred strong and true apparently, for she had amazing grip strength for a child her age.

Yet she shook her head, "Nuhuh, Shizuha don't understand Onii-tan! Shizuha don't understand at all! Why are you and Ojisan mad at each other? If you both just pologize then every'fing fine right?"

Patting her head, Greg replied, "It's not that simple, Shizuha. Not everything can be fixed with an apology,"

"Why not? Mama says I should ahways say dat when I do shum'ting wong," She said, looking up at him with big, earth brown eyes.

Greg rubbed his head, he didn't know how to explain something like this to a small child, or if she could even grasp the concept in the first place. "You should but… adults have it harder I guess?"

She pointed at him, "You no adult dough. You just big kid. Like Shizuha, but bigger."

"I am?" He was more amused than offended.

"Yep," She said, "Onii-tan just big kid. Kinna like Apapapa-Jiji but Greg… Greg, Greg." the small child said by way of explanation. She smiled up at him, "Shizuha like Greg,"

"I like you too Shizuha," He said, "Your a very good girl,"

"It's nice to see you two getting along,"

"Mama!" The girl said, running into her mother's arms, who bent down to collect her in a hug.

Miu Shirahama was a pretty woman, she had long blonde hair, blue eyes and typically wore a purple kimono under a pink apron. Though since Shirahama-sensei went missing, he had taken to wearing a buddhist nun's habit that concealed her hair. When he asked about why she told him, "It is my way of waiting patiently for Kenichi-san to return,"

Once in her mother's arms, Shizuha said, "Mama, Onii-tan and Ojiji had a fight!"

'Ah crap,' Greg thought to himself. 'I'm gonna get an earful from her now,'

"They did, oh no!" She said in a playful manner a parent would say to their child. "Well, why don't you go with your grandpa and help him put away the groceries while I talk with Greg-san okay?"

Saiga easily took his granddaughter from his daughter's arms, "Yeah come on, I think I got a popsicle in here somewhere with your name on it,"

"Yay!"

Once they were gone, Miu turned to him and smiled sweetly as she said, "Come Greg-san let's go talk." she said as she walked past him.

"Actually, I was just leaving Shirahama-san, another time perhaps?" He said as he tried his best to creep to the door.

She giggled, "Silly boy, I wasn't asking, now come,"

Grimacing, Greg nodded, "Yes, ma'am, just no more tea please. I've had three cups already today and if I have to drink one more, I think I might just vomit,"

"We bought some of your favorite soda at the market. You can have one while you explain what brought on this argument," She replied with a no nonsense atmosphere about her.

Greg gulped, he might just be the next person who frequented Ryozanpaku who went missing.

(...)

Greg's cranberry soda tasted like bile in his mouth as he explained the argument between him and the Elder to Miu as they sat on the back porch. Once he'd finished, Miu sighed and gently rubbed his head in an elder sister-like manner, "Greg-san is still so young, and can only comment on the evil he sees in front of him. I traveled all over and saw many things. Poverty, starvation, greed, anger, and selfishness. People show their truest selves in their most desperate moments," She went from looking out into the yard to looking at him, "Grandfather for the first time, was pushed to that point, when his strength was not enough to stop the living natural disaster that was Leviathan. I think you'll have your answer as to why he refuses to fight when you are put in a similar position. Though I pray it never happens,"

"Was I in the wrong then?"

"You were neither right nor wrong, merely inexperienced in worldly matters," Miu replied. "Wisdom comes from experiencing the world, and it is something you lack."

"Should I travel the world for a decade in an attempt to find myself or something?" Greg asked, "Seems to have worked well for you,"

Miu giggled a little, "I wouldn't advise it, I don't think you'd last a year much less a decade."

"Oh, ouch, my manly pride… if I'm not right, or wrong should I apologize?"

"Do you think you should apologize, Greg-san?" Miu asked him.

"For what I said, no. For the way I said it, yes." He said after a moment of contemplation.

Miu nodded, "That is a very mature response, I'm going to go make dinner, you will be staying of course,"

"You know, you could at least give me the option sis," Greg called over his shoulder as she walked away.

"Mouthy little brothers don't get options, they get orders," Miu called back as she made her way into the house.

The blonde student was by himself for a few minutes when he felt more than heard a presence approaching. He didn't need to look to know who had sat down next to him. "Elder," He acknowledged.

"Greg-kun," He replied in kind.

"Sorry," Greg said at last, "While I regret the way I said it, I don't regret saying it. People are either disappearing, dying from a drug epidemic, or randomly getting assaulted due to their skin color all over this city. We've got four different gangs and rumors of a fifth or a sixth on the rise, depending on what you believe about that Coil guy and if the Undersiders stop being small-time or not. Point is, we need someone to stand up for the little guy around here. The people of this city."

"You said four gangs, do you consider the PRT a gang?" The Elder asked.

"They might as well call themselves the Parahuman Press Ratings Team. Cause from where I'm sitting they do a terrible job of actually keeping the villains in jail, the only thing the manage to do consistently is stop people from forming lynch mobs and killing any cape they can find due to weaving good press. Other than that, they're pretty much useless at actually keeping the crime rate down."

"On that we can agree. Did I ever tell you about the time I fought in a seven day deathmatch against my equal Oganosuke Yogi? It was a fierce battle that lasted an entire week, neither of us slept and we only subsisted on what we could forage in combat in that time. It was only because I chose to spare the life of a fox that I managed to defeat him. It came back to aid me, biting Yogi and distracting him long enough for me to injure him with one of my techniques."

"Wow… umm that's another thing I've been meaning to bring up actually. Do you think the philosophy of Katsujinken can survive in a world like this? I mean don't get me wrong, I'm all for protecting and helping people, but Capes for the most part seem hyper aggressive and violent. So can we as martial artists afford not to fight potentially lethally against people who can regenerate, have super strength, fire lasers, control minds, create future tech, turn invisible and reshape the landscape to their whim?"

"Again, you are not incorrect Greg-kun. However, the philosophy of our style of Katsujinken is the life giving or protective fist. To kill or maim our opponent is not our style. However just because our view of it does not mean we cannot work in tandem with those of the killing fist. Sakai's friend is a killing fist practitioner but they are still close. I do not condemn the other style. There are those who kill and those who preserve. I feel that it is easier to kill a threat then subdue. I do not look down on my fellow masters but respect them for their idealism in their philosophy.

Greg felt his respect for the Elder rise several notches. He then asked, "So if I chose to follow Satsujinken you wouldn't think less of me for it?"

"Of course not, though I would hope you would endeavor to try and save life first and only kill if you absolutely had to," The Elder told him. "Life is a precious thing, and each person only gets one,"

"Tell that to the Butcher out in Boston, that bastard will never die," Greg scoffed. "And some other Brutes too,"

The Elder gave an awkward laugh, "Yes well, I suppose a lot of philosophy on life loses its impact when people really can come back from the dead,"

"You're telling me," Greg said as he looked at the sky, it was overcast like it often was in april, and it looked like it could rain any minute. But the near temperate climate year round was why Brockton had so many capes. Not many people wanted to go out in skin tight suits when it was below zero out.

"Greg-san, Grandfather, dinner is ready!" miu called, calling the two blonde's in from outside.

The younger of two sighed, "Well time to face the Ryozanpaku Inquisition, but at least I expected it, unlike the Spanish,"

"Hohoho," The Elder said clapping him on the shoulder, "Greg-kun, I don't think it'll be that bad, just you wait,"

'And he's just jinxed it,' Greg thought sourly, 'Fan-fucking-tastic,' he thought as he entered the dining room with low expectations.

(...)

The dinner table was tense. Greg picked at his bowl of rice and sighed to himself even as he flicked away Appachi from trying to steal his food with a poke to his wrist with his chopsticks. Finally, as if trying to break the tension Shizuha asked, "Onii-tan, did you and Ojiji talk?"

He smiled at the young girl, "Yes we did Shizuha, and you were right we just needed to apologize to each other,"

"Shizuha told you! Dumb-dumb Onii-tan!" She said, smiling as she held up a peace sign.

"Be nice Shizuha-chan," Miu chided even as she giggled. "Boy's are as stubborn as mules after all."

"Hey!" He complained, causing the entire table to laugh. The tension eased after that.

Shigure, who was sitting on his left, nudged him with her elbow and said, "I expect you… to train… extra hard…tomorrow. Since nothing got done… today,"

"We can at least spar a bit after dinner before I head home at least," Greg offered. "If you're up for it anyway sensei?"

"Your… on," Shigure replied, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips before she looked across the table and asked Renka, "You want in… on this?"

"A true warrior must be capable with both his fists and weapons," Renka said after a moment, "I would be a failure as a Master if I didn't spar with my pupil I think," She said this as she sported a catlike-smile. All it did was make Greg nervous as he finished his meal.

(...)

The two masters and apprentice stood in a triangle formation in the backyard. The masters an equal distance away from their apprentice, who was holding a wooden bokken off to the side in his dominant hand, before he assumed a typical Bajiquan stance. Knees bent, left arm pulled in, right arm raised, and he allowed the bokken to rest on his shoulder.

"You're going to try and combine armed and unarmed techniques at the same time?" Renka said, intrigued. "Your similar yet different from Kenichi-sans,"

"The creed of Shirahama-style mixed martial arts is thus: There is no one path to victory, use what works, and above all, our maxim is hesitation is defeat!" Greg said from his modified Baji stance.

"Ohh… did Kenichi-san tell you that? Or did you make it up just now?" Renka asked as she took a loose fighting stance.

Greg replied, "Kenichi-sensei told me that the day before he left. I don't know where he went or what he's doing, but I'm not gonna let him down. When he comes back, I'm going to show him I've improved."

He could see in her eyes that Renka was getting fired up. "Alright, let's go! I like a driven man!"

"Cool it," Shigure advised, "Something… about our student… is diff…erent today,"

"Onii-tan," Shizuha yelled, "Did something good happen today?"

"Uh, I don't know if I'd call it good exactly, but my boss confessed to me at my job today and that's never happened to me before, what?" he asked when he felt Renka and Shigure's ki spiking at the same time, "Did I say something wrong?"

Then suddenly without warning, the two attacked him at the same time. Greg just barely managed to ready his defenses as Renka all but barreled into them with an open palm strike. The moment she passed through the range of his Seikuken, he smacked her palm aside only to use his momentum to to deliver a strike to her opposing shoulder which turned into a leg sweep from the girl that he countered with his own kick just to spin with the momentum and add it to a sword swing that she avoided by leaning back out of the path of the blade. Renka backed off a moment studying him before she said, "You've incorporated Seig-san's counter method into your fighting style."

"Yes and no," Greg agreed, as he bent at the knees to avoid a blow to his neck from Shigure. He then rose, the point of his bokken leading the way as she shot up like a spear. Both Kepo and the swordmistress attacked their student while he was momentarily suspended in the air by his own jump. He managed to block Renka's punch using his own fist, sending her blow downwards while the very same hand suddenly shot up and hit her on the chin. Her also managed to loop his sword around and shove Shigure's stab at his chest off to the side before landing on his feet.

The rest of the masters were watching this fight with interest. Akisame stroked his mustache as he mused aloud. "Greg's tactics are quite interesting, I never would've thought someone would use Aiki in such a manner,"

"What's Aiki Same-jii?" Shuzha asked with childlike curiosity.

"It's a jujitsu technique where you take and then redirect the power of your opponent's strike. Take for example Renka's front punch just then, Greg defected it down and his palm up into an attack. It is a move meant to count attacks that rely on pure power or force. I wonder where he learned it?"

"I read about it in a manga!" Greg yelled as he deflected another strike from Renka. "Then I combined that with stories Sensei told me about Sieg and the Seikuken and came up with the best defense I could,"

The master's blinked collectively, and the Elder whistled appreciatively, "Aiki, combined with Sieg's counter method and Sekikun? That's… a damn near impenetrable defense, provided Greg-kun can master it,"

"Against a martial artist anyway," The hundred dan master, Shio Sakaki commented as he took a swig from a sake jug. He'd been drinking a bit more since Kenichi went missing. "No idea how that'd hold up against a cape,"

"Hmm, still for him to be holding up this well against a half-serious Shigure and a serious daughter of mine, it is impressive even in its infantile stages," Master Ma mused to himself.

"Wait… Shigure-sensei is only being half-serious right now!?" Greg yelled, his hair matted to his head with sweat and stinging his eyes as he continued to try and fend off the female assault. He still felt like he'd done something to piss them off. 'Probably still mad about me yelling at the Elder earlier,' He thought to himself.

Yet the second he allowed his thoughts to waver, Seikuken failed. The kick Renka had aimed at his stomach broke through his guard, doubled him over, she then swept his legs out from under him and delivered a double open palm strike to his chest. Before he could fly too far, two chains wrapped around his ankles before slamming him into the earth, knocking the air out of his lungs. Before he could react, a wooden sword was at his neck, courtesy of Shigure. "Yield?" She asked with a slight frown on her face.

"I yield," Greg said breathlessly. Groaning in pain for a minute, he said, "I think you both took it a little too far for a spar, don't you?"

Joining Shigure and looming over him with her hands on her hips, Renka said, "We merely wanted to test out the limits of your new technique. Does it have a name?"

Greg was trying to focus on her words and not on the view that both girls incidentally were giving him up their skirts. 'Don't react, don't react! Please! Boner! Not now! Not unless you don't wanna be put to use in the future!' Hoping not to get a certain part of his anatomy chopped off, he asked, "Can I get up please?"

"Oh, right, sorry, good match." Renka said, taking a step back, saving his sanity in the process as she offered him a hand.

Taking the hand, he pulled himself to his feet, thankful to no longer be in such a dangerous position. Heaving a mental sigh of relief, he wiped the sweat from his brow and bowed to the two women, "Good fight, how'd I do this time,"

"Much better… than usual," Shigure praised, "That technique… has promise. What's… it called?"

"It doesn't have a name yet," Greg replied gratefully, taking a water bottle from Shizuha who then blew a raspberry at Shigure and Renka before saying, "Don't be mean to Onii-tan!"

"We were just sparring, Shizuha. No need to be like that," He said after downing half the bottle in one go,"

The little girl shook her head causing her hair to fly about wildly, "Nuh-uh, Ren-nee and Shi-nee were bullying Onii-tan after he said his boss confessed… confessed what?" she asked, looking between her big brother in all but blood and unofficial big sisters.

"Shizuha-chan, don't meddle!" Renka told her her cheeks were flushing the same shade as her piquo.

"This is a… conversation… for adults… to be had… in private," Shigure said pointedly, not meeting his eyes.

'Nope,' he denied, shaking his head, 'There is no way on God's green earth or the hell underneath it that these two sexy amazons and Parian have a thing for me. It's just statistically impossible,' he thought to himself. Running a hand down his still sweating face, Greg muttered, "I don't want to deal with this right now. I am going home. When I come back, on Monday, if you two have something you want to tell me, I'll hear you out then. Think long and hard about if you have anything you'd like to bring up with me in the meantime," He bowed respectfully to the masters. "Thank you as always for having me for dinner, Miu-san,"

"Greg, your practically family, being Kenichi's first disciple," She replied waving him off, "Your always welcome here,"

"Onii-tan!" Shizuha said, clinging to his leg for a moment, before she looked up and grinned at him, "Bye-bye!"

He ruffled her hair, "Seeya later Shizuha. You keep your nose clean alright?"

She giggled and replied, "Nope!" Before she let him go. He then collected his bag off the porch and made for the gates of Ryozanpaku.

"Well, you two could've handled that better,'' Miu said into the awkward silence left in the wake of Greg's departure.

"I don't want to hear that from the woman I lost my first crush to," Renka sulked.

"Ditto," Shigure replied just as sullenly.

Giving an awkward laugh, the young mother said, "What I meant was you never bothered to find out how he responded to Parian's confession. You just assumed he said yes and that they are going out, and took your anger out on him in a spar."

"I did not," Shigure countered, "if I… was taking my anger… out on him… He'd be leaving… here naked."

"Shigure, you were going at him harder than you should've for someone of his skill level and you know it," Akisame chided, making the Mistress of All Weapons nod, humbled by the rebuke.

"That said," The Elder began, "His new defensive technique is quite something. To be able to hold of both of you is quite a feat, even if Shigure wasn't going all out,"

"Appa wants to see if he can get past it next time!" Appachi said, pressing his knuckles together in excitement.

"NO!" every other master said at the same time making the God of Death of Underground Muay Thai sulk.

"Apa knows how to hold back!" he protested, only to fall silent under the collective glare of his fellow masters.

(...)

'What a day, what a day, what a day,' Greg thought to himself as he walked through his front door before he headed directly to his room which was just off to the left as coming in from the front led directly into the living room.

He turned on the light and stopped, because an older woman in a nice suit and fedora was pointing a gun at him. Slowly raising his hands in a show of surrender and non-agression Greg said, "So, what can I do for you, pretty lady? Did you need to borrow a cup of sugar or something? There are nicer ways to ask, you know?"

The woman smiled at him, "Thank you for the compliment, Greggory, but no. Please, come in and sit down, we need to have a talk, you and I."

"Ironic, you telling me to come in and sit down in my own room don'cha think?" He asked even as he walked into the room and pulled the door shut, sitting in the recliner just behind the door. "I'd offer to get you a drink, but I'm gonna assume while you were here that you helped yourself,"

"I… apologize for the rough treatment," She began, "But I assure you it is necessary,"

"Is this the part where you make me an offer I can't refuse?" Greg inquired. He knew he shouldn't be shooting his mouth off, but he couldn't help himself, it was a nervous tick of his.

"Yes actually, and don't be so nervous. I won't hurt you as long as you do what I say," The woman promised him as she steadily trained her gun on him.

"Says every rapist and murdered ever, right before they get down to the rape and the murder," Greg fired back.

She raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Would you really be complaining if I raped you?"

"Yes! Cause rape is still rape, it doesn't matter how attractive the other person is, or if there a woman!" Greg shot back.

"That… was actually refreshing to hear," She admitted, "You'd be surprised how many times people say no when I ask,"

"Plenty I imagine, your what, twenty?" Greg asked.

"You're sweet, and no, I'm forty-four," She replied, smiling at him a bit.

"Your lyin'." he said. "There's no way a woman can literally look half her age."

She smiled at him again, 'And he wonders why he already has so many women chasing him,' She thought. 'Such an earnest sweet boy,' Clearing her throat, she said, "My name is Contessa, and though this may come off as a little odd given our current circumstances, I need your help,"

"And you thought pulling a gun on me was going to garner my goodwill why?" Greg asked.

Contessa shrugged, "Force of habit mostly, sorry." Yet she didn't lower or move to put the gun away. Instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a sealed metal vial. Tossing it to him, he caught it, and she said, "Drink that,"

"Why?" Greg asked as he unscrewed the lid and gave it a sniff. It smelled like Durian Fruit, which is to say, dead, decaying flesh and probably tasted just as bad. Resisting the urge to gag, Greg held the unknown tincture at arms length and asked, "What the hell is this?!"

"Do not drop it! Contessa said firmly, frowning as she pointed the gun at him, "And to answer your question, if you drink that vial, you'll become a Cape,"

"I believe you," Greg replied.

She blinked, "Most people are skeptical when I tell them that,"

"As bad as this smells, drinking it would be the most traumatic thing to ever happen to me," Greg assured her.

This time, Contessa couldn't help herself, she laughed, if only just a little. "You are the most interesting person I've ever had to deal with, Greg. Most people would be terrified of me,"

"Most people haven't sparred with Appachi Hoppachi, the Death God of Muay Thai's Underground." Greg hard countered.

She nodded, "Point, drink the vial please,"

"What kinda powers will I get?" He asked. "And why do I need powers all of the sudden?"

"According to our sources it will likely be a Tinker dominant power with Thinker sub-abilities, and a minor self-trump effect." Contessa replied calmly. "When you drink the vial do it as fast as you can and whatever you do, don't spill it. It's best to do it all in one gulp."

"Right… Why me though? Also I have a request,"

Contessa sighed, "I am a part of an origination that can give people powers as you may have guessed. What you don't know is that the source of these powers is a threat to this and every variation of Earth that exists,"

"Okay… is it aliens?" He asked.

"Yes," Contessa replied, "And I must say you are handling this remarkably well,"

He shrugged the shoulder of the arm that wasn't holding the power granting formula. "Well, there wasn't a mass nuclear genocide, no event that caused a mass of cosmic radiation to sweep across the planet, and no sudden resurgence of old faiths so it wasn't magic either. The only remaining possible reason was aliens," after a moment's pause, he said, "Ah,"

"Ah?" Contessa echoed.

"It's the golden guy isn't it? The Alien I mean?"

Contessa smiled, "Take your medicine Greg and afterwards we'll go somewhere and and talk properly," She then added, "Oh, and what favor did you want to ask me?"

"Stay with me till I wake up… please? In case something goes horribly wrong?" He asked, trying not to sound whiny nor afraid as he choked down the vial in one go.

"Of course, I'll be right here, when you wake up," She promised him. She could do that much for the intelligent boy.

For a moment nothing happened, then his insides started to burn, starting from his guts and working its way up his spine to his head where it felt like his skull was in a vise that someone had heated up with a blowtorch. Locking eyes with Contessa, Greg tried to scream, but the pain overrode even that response and he passed out in the chair. Getting up, Contessa quickly moved to check the boy's pulse. It was there, thundering strongly in fact, and she released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. 'You may not've had powers before now, but with your natural charms alone you should be considered a Master Zero,' She thought to herself as she wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow.

Asking her power the next step, she was told to take the boy and Door back to Cauldron base as his parents would be home soon, and she'd have far too much explaining to do should they arrive and find a mysterious woman looming over their unconscious progeny. Firmly gripping his wrist in hers she said "Door me,"

(...)

The two were instantly transported to a place of cold steel, and even colder hearts. She found a none too happy Doctor Mother waiting for her at the usual landing site. "What on earth were you thinking Contessa, going against the plan?"

"He is part of the plan," She replied, picking him up in her arms and carrying him towards the medical bay.

"Which one? I certainly don't recall approving this one,"

"And I do not recall requiring your express approval for every possible plan we execute, Doctor." Contessa replied crisply. "Nothing matters, as long as the end goal is reached,"

She stopped and stared as Contessa walked away momentarily before rushing to catch up. "You're right, you don't need my approval but I would like to be kept in the loop at least. So why him? He seems quite ordinary,"

"Greggory Wilhelm Veder seems ordinary at first glance," She agreed," but when I was combing through potential recruits from Winslow I stumbled across his file. According to our sources, he can read and speak several languages, is learning martial arts, and has a drive to prove himself,"

"And?" Doctor Mother didn't see what Contessa was getting at.

"He did all this as a normal human. He learned Chinese, Japanese, and Korean simply because he wanted to read comic books, and martial arts because his city was obviously dangerous. So what do you think will happen when we tell him the very multiverse is in danger and we need his help?" Contessa replied entering the med bay and laying the boy down gently on one of the gurney's. "If that is not enough to convince you, every scenario I've had the Numbersman run where Greg Veder is given powers, the chances of Scion's defeat rises to sixty-one point two percent."

Doctor Mother blinked, "That's well over half, the closest we've ever gotten before is forty-two point nine I believe?"

Contessa nodded gravely, "Yes, something about him being hands on and involved in the world of Capes dramatically increases the defeat of our enemy. Though I do not know the reason as to why as of yet,"

"Interesting," Doctor mother said to herself, "So he is your and Numberman's little side project?"

"If you want to call it that, though, I am nervous about placing all our hopes on one so young," Contessa said as she looked down at Greg's sleeping form.

"Don't be," He said, suddenly sitting up, "I can handle it, damn that tasted like shit!"

For the first time in a long time, Contessa was surprised, "You were awake? How much did you hear?"

Rubbing his eyes, the boy replied, "Enough to know that I really don't want to try doing the whole White Saviour bit, cause at the very least the internet trolls would call me racist,"

"Internet trolls will be the least of your worries if Scion isn't stopped Greggory," Doctor Mother replied.

"Meh, what's up Doc?" He replied before he continued, "Also, don't suddenly try to act like you're the boss. We both know you had no idea what Contessa was doing because she was going off the reservation when it came to me,"

"Smartmouth," Doctor Mother quipped. "And I am the boss,"

"I'm a smart kid. I've earned it," He fired back. "So what's going on here?"

Contessa looked to Doctor Mother who shrugged as if to say, 'He's your project, you handle him'

Contessa then replied, "Welcome to Cauldron Greg," she motioned to the door, "Come and I'll give you the grand tour,"

"Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble," Greg said under his breath as he hopped down from the gurney.

(...)

The halls of Cauldron were… dreadfully boring and samey in Greg's opinion. All metal with generic signs telling people where to go. 'Like, would it kill them to put up a couple of motivational posters? I mean they're only trying to kill an alien god who's hellbent on destroying every version of Earth in the multiverse. You'd think they could use all the motivation they could get. Or at the very least some pictures of cats,' Greg thought himself as he came to an area labeled "Budgeting and Chaos Theory"

The inside of the room was a mess of cables running across the floor. A giant server farm was taking up nearly all of the walls and in the center of the room was the most badass computer rig he's ever seen. Several tv monitors were stacked on top of each other, a trio of backlit keyboards were set up on a semi-circle desk and an average looking man with shaggy blonde hair wearing a suit and rectangular glasses peered up when they entered. "Ah Greg Veder, we meet at last,"

"Nice rig dude. Just how into COD are you?" Greg asked.

"I got banned from Call of Duty for having an 'aimbot'," the man replied with an eye roll, "Just because I know how to calculate the trajectory of a shot and shoot properly doesn't mean I'm using an aimbot,"

"Numbersman I'm presuming?" Greg asked, holding out a hand.

A hand which he shook, "Pleasure is mine, nice to have you aboard."

"Thanks. I think, though I have no idea what I can do yet." Greg replied.

The super mathematician shook his head, "Don't worry, that will come in time. Just having you here with us increases our chances of victory by twenty-one percent."

"Cool, but I have a question… well several questions, but this one is the most pertinent,"

"Go ahead," the Numbersman said.

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Greg asked, "How do you know you can take Scion out?"

"Well, I can calculate numbers really well, and Contessa's power lets her complete any task perfectly, together we go through possible scenarios," The man replied.

"So you're using powers… Powers you got from the very alien you're trying to kill. An alien who might be using and even have similar if not more powerful versions of the same power that you don't know will work on him?"

Contessa looked at Numbersman, and then he said, "Fuck, why didn't we think of that?"

"You guys really need a twelve year old around here," Greg commented. "What's next? The vents are gonna be big enough to crawl through too?"

"What?" Contessa asked, "Is he talking about?"

"The Evil Overlord List," Number Man said rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Also to answer your question we have a custodian who is made of only air that can watch the whole facility. So no, the vents are not large enough for people to crawl through."

"What if they have a breaker state or have Stranger powers that let them shift their form like Shadowstalker for example?"

The Number Man paused then muttered under his breath, "Note to self employ master/stranger protocols on the whole facility and edit vents to prevent said infiltration."

He then looked at his computer screens and pulled up a list. Contessa saw the title as the Evil Overlord List and saw how many strange but reasonable things were put on it.

"Well that is interesting. It seems the internet can help us more than I first thought. Greggory, are there any good ideas you would want to suggest?" she questioned the teenager.

The teen scratched his head, "Umm don't do something stupid like you know, kidnap people and forcibly transform them into capes? Cause that'll start the whole cliche revenge plot…" Seeing the looks on their faces he said, "You've already been doing that haven't you?"

"We're trying to save the multiverse Greg," Contessa said, "We can't be expected to not get our hands dirty,"

Greg grabbed a paper off of Number man's desk, rolled it up and then booped Contessa on the head with it, "No, bad! Bad clandestine organization!"

Contessa was surprised mainly because her powers didn't tell her to dodge, 'Curse you pavlov!' she thought to herself. "Now Greg,"

"No!" He said smacking her again, and again, her power did not react.

"Can't I just explain?" She tried, only to get smacked again.

"Can't I just send you to Jesus?" Greg shot back in a very bad chinese accent as he wiggled the newspaper threateningly.

"Ooh, emotional damage!" Number Man said while snickering behind his hand. In all his time working for Caludon he's never seen Contessa so shaken out of sorts. He liked Greg already.

Sighing, she raised her hands in defeat, she said, "Fine, what do you suggest?"

"Pay a hobo, drunkie, wino, or homeless person five bucks to drink a vial? They're desperate for cash, they'll do anything for money… though maybe not the druggies. Last thing we need are more drug addicts with super powers like the Merchants running around."

"Not a fan of hard drugs, I take it?" Numbers Man questioned.

"Lost an Uncle with a heart condition cause the Merchants spiked drinks at a club with coke one night, so no," Greg replied coolly. "Also, how the hell are you paying for all this stuff?"

"I manage bank accounts for capes and take a percentage, and we also sell powers starting at fifty-thousand dollars." Number Man explained.

"That's it? Greg asked, sounding disappointed, "There are easier ways you know?"

"Such as?" Numbers Man asked as he produced a pen and notepad.

'Seriously? I need to be the idea guy around here? I just showed up,' Greg thought to himself. "You could make a Gacha game based on Capes for example. We already have the classification system, so go with that, take famous Capes, heroes and villains alike, come up with a story of some kind and get people to spend money on it. Like maybe there's a new endbringer that spawns mini-endbringers or something, I dunno." He was just spitballing, but he saw Numbers Man writing at a frantic pace.

After a moment, he said, "Should we go with his idea, I approximate that our revenue would increase by fifty-two percent,"

"That much?" Contessa asked, surprised.

"I estimate it would become quite the craze," Numbers Man confirmed, "I can get started on programming right away if we're finished here?"

Contessa held out a hand, "Just a moment, I need you to set Greg up with an account and safehouse in Brockton Bay,"

"Is that all?" The Numbers Man replied seemingly unconcerned with her request, "I'll have something nice setup and ready by the time you leave here. You still need to take him down for testing don't you? To see what he can really do?" Seeing Contessa nod, the Numbers Man shooed her out of his domain, "Then go do that while I get things set up on my end,"

"Alright, come along Greg, time to find out what your power can do," Contessa said as she led him out of the messy room.

(...)

The exam room Greg found himself in had several things. A table full of random junk. A weight press, a treadmill, several cameras set up all over the place, and other devices meant to suss out just what his power did. Yet he felt the urge to ask, "Shouldn't I innately know how my powers work,"

"That's only for natural Triggers," Contessa explained, "For artificial ones like yours testing is required."

"You know," Greg said, looking over the equipment, "This looks a lot like the equipment used by the PRT in cape testing… don't tell me you guys are secretly behind the PRT too?"

"Okay, I won't tell you, now, shall we get to work?" Contessa offered.

"Fuckin' cabals gotta have their hands in everything… is Legend even gay?!"

"Yes, why ask that of all things?" She questioned sounding amused more than anything.

"Figured I might as well question everything." He said with a shrug, "What do you want me to do first?"

"Let's start with Mover," Contessa hit a button on a remote and suddenly the room shifted around, square pillars rising out of the ground at various heights, with the top of the uppermost one glowing a luminous green. "See if you can get up there, anyway you can,"

Greg blinked, "Yeah okay, but I could've done this regardless. I've been trained in parkour by my sensei. This doesn't look too difficult." Greg was already picking out a path and running off. He didn't notice how fast he was moving nor how easy it was for him to do an upwards spider crawl between the walls, and even do a backflip to land on the pad properly. He didn't think much of it because the Shirahama-style espoused both flexibility and power and he was quite flexible already after three years of training. Though his muscles were burning a bit due to the spar earlier.

Contessa however was making notes on her clipboard 'Mover: 1?, Brute: 1?, Thinker: 1?' she then called, "Alright stay right there and we'll continue with the tests,"

(...)

By the time the tests were over, Greg was sore and sweating, and if he really wanted a shower before, he desperately needed one now. The next two tests had him push as hard as he could against the weight press and run for as long as he could on the treadmill respectively. He was able to hold up five hundred kilograms or eleven hundred pounds, and he could run full tilt at thirty miles per hour. He was basically at peak human condition. And again, he pointed out that his intense physical training after school could also give him the same results.

The real interesting bit came when they tested him for a Thinker and Tinker ratings. When it came to Tinkering, as he approached the table full of junk, his mind became filled with ideas and blueprints… for swords, spears, daggers, halberds, shields and armor, of all things. Not the typical sci fi swords, but the stuff of myth legend and, of all things, anime? But even weirder than the subject material were the items required to create some of these weapons, and he said as much to Contessa.

"These recipes are weird," Greg complained, "Like take Gae Bolg, cu chulaain's spear for example. It needs the vertebrae of a whale, to be quenched in dog blood, and to be sprinkled with irish spring water while speaking some crap in gaelic."

"That's… strange," Contessa agreed, "But at least we know what kind of Tinker you are now. Your a combination of Combat x Material Tinker,"

But the fun times didn't stop there, to see if he had a Thinker rating, which was a common combo with Tinker powers, he had to do something simple. Play poker against Contessa.

He lost the first hand, and the second, and he was starting to get irritated when he thought, 'I'd like to beat her just once.' That's when something odd happened. When she shuffled the deck she got the exact same hand, and kept getting the exact same hand the next five times in a row.

On the sixth go round. Greg finally realized what was going on and raised his hand. "Your going to deal me two eights of clubs, an ace of diamonds, and a two of hearts. The flop is going to be the seven, eight, nine, and ten of diamonds, and the river is going to be the ace. You have a royal flush."

Blinking Contessa dealt the cards and to her shock, it was exactly as he said. Her power said nothing. "Precognition?"

The blonde shook his head, "No we've been stuck in a time loop for the past five hands now, you didn't seem to be aware of it though," Greg continued, "At first I thought you were just using your powers to fuck with me so I didn't realize what was going on,"

Contessa shook her head, "No, a time loop Thinker power? Combined with your fighting based skill set this could be quite useful," She hummed to herself.

"How'd you figure?" He asked.

'It's actually nice to see he isn't all knowing… yet,' Contessa thought to herself. She explained, "Think about it, you start a loop at the beginning of a fight then if it goes bad,"

He caught on fast finishing for her, "I reset the fight and keep trying the scenario until I get it right," Greg said, "I mean yeah I guess that works, but i don't know how to turn it off and on,"

The Woman in the Hat asked, "What were you feeling when it started?"

"That I wanted to win," Greg said, only to shake his head, "No, that I didn't want to lose,"

She nodded, "A strong desire to succeed might be the trigger for it to start but I can't say for sure," She looked at her notes. At the moment, I would rank you as a Brute: 2, Mover: 2, Thinker: 5, and Tinker: 9.

"Tinker Nine?!" Greg asked. "Kinda high don't you think?"

To which Contessa deadpanned, "Greg, can you make the Yamato from Devil May Cry?"

The blueprints immediately jumped into Greg's head, "Yes… wait, how do you know about DMC?"

"This job is very stressful and I need an outlet," She said by way of explanation.

"Wow… I bet you just perfectly nail every level huh?"

"Yes, but it's enjoyable," She replied.

He nodded, "That is the point of video games. I think we've covered everything right?"

The older woman shook her head, "No, not quite, we have yet to cover the Striker designation," she motioned to the junk table again, "Go ahead and try picking something up and doing something to it,"

He did so by picking up a ball peen hammer. Suddenly he knew how to use the hammer as if he were a professional construction worker or a carpenter. He was so surprised he dropped the hammer back on the table. "Woah,"

Notice his distress she asked, "What happened?"

"I could… I just knew how to use that hammer after I picked it up,"

"A skill based touch ability? Interesting," Contessa noted, "Let me know when the knowledge starts to fade away will you? As I doubt, it'll stay permanently. You aren't Victor from the Empire."

After five minutes Greg said, "It's fading… that was weird,"

"So it only lasts for five minutes after initial contact," Contessa made a note. "Anything else?"

"Uhh?" He picked up a wrench and besides knowing how to use it like a veteran grease monkey he could feel… gaps, holes, spaces, in the item like cracks in a vase. Curious he pushed gently at the gaps and they began to fill. Greg could tell the wrench was more durable and able to fulfill its purpose now. Yet he wondered about that energy. 'What is it, how is it working like that?'

Upon explaining the phenomena to Contessa she said, "You seem to be able to enhance or reinforce an item on touch. Picking up a diamond tipped drill bit, she tried to scratch the wrench with it, to no avail. "You just made a steel wrench as hard as diamond."

"I'm not sure if I have any other powers," he added, "Plus what if some of them work on a timer like Dauntless'? Some might only work once every few hours or something and i just got them,"

"True," She agreed. "Is there anything else though? Do you feel off at all or an odd pull?"

"Well," he paused.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Ever since I woke up I felt a sort of… pull towards you… at first I just thought it was because you were pretty," He admitted.

"Again, thank you… and you weren't at all intimidated by the gun?" She couldn't help but ask.

He shrugged, "If anything that just kinda made it hotter? Scarousal is a thing you know?"

Contessa dropped her head so he wouldn't see her trying not to laugh, nor the pink tinge on her cheeks. 'This boy is 'far' too honest with his words,'

He continued, "But then I felt that very same tug towards Numbers Man, and I am a lot of things, but I'm not into guys so I think this might be another power."

"I… see," She said with a half chuckle. "How do you think we should go about testing this?"

"Uhh, I dunno, maybe I should try making something with you in the room?" He offered.

The Boogeyman of the Cape world nodded, "Go ahead, something simple, since this is just for practice,"

He found a blowtorch, picked up the hammer from earlier, and some brass which he proceeded to heat up and beat into the shape of a simple ring. As he was doing that, Contessa slowly and carefully backed away from him as he worked. Once she was more than halfway across the room he called back, "Hey, the tether snapped, come back here,"

'Range is one hundred meters or three-hundred-twenty-eight feet,' Contessa noted as she moved back into his area of effect and let him finish his project.

Pouring a bottle of water over the simple bronze ring, Greg held it up, between his finger and thumb. "There, I think, it's done," He looked at Contessa. "Should I try it on?"

"I should think so, I don't think anything would happen if I put on a ring that is mimicking my powers," She said teasingly. "Afterwards however give it to me, such a thing is too dangerous to leave laying around, and it will need to be disposed of properly,"

"Right," He slipped the ring on his finger… and felt nothing. "Nothings happening,"

"Ask yourself a question, hell ask yourself about your powers," Contessa suggested.

"Okay, what are all of my powers?"

[Grab a pencil and a piece of paper.]

"Woah that's weird," The teen commented.

"Did random instructions just pop up in your head?" Seeing him nod she said, "Welcome to my world,"

Taking some paper and a pencil, some new instructions popped into his mind's eye. [Write down the following]

Greg did as the instructions said and once he was finished he handed the paper and the ring to Contessa. She pocketed the ring and looked at what was written on the paper.

Twinsies: You possess a copy of a parahuman's power. Your power is just as powerful as the Parahumans with that power. You got Dauntless.

(Tinker) Mythical Blades: You can create swords, halberds, spears, and other melee weapons from myth, legend, anime, manga, and video games. A sword made by you might be able to truly damage an Endbringer. If used by a Brute, it might even kill one... with a lucky hit. You may only create one of a single weapon however, lest the copies have continually diminished returns in terms of power and effectiveness compared to the original. This can be avoided somewhat by changing the design of the weapon during the forging, but will still result in a loss of forging materials.

(Tinker/Trump) Enchantment: You can enchant weapons with non-Tinker powers as long as you're within 100 meters (328ft) of the person with the power you're using for the entire duration of when you're making the weapon or item in question. If they leave the area you can continue with it later without losing progress. You can choose whether the weapon grants the wielder use of the power, or has a variant of the power itself.

(Thinker) Skilled: You are as skilled in the use of any tool or machine you've touched within the last five minutes as a professional, though not quite as much as a master.

(Striker) Reinforcement: You can make an object stronger, more durable, and better at its purpose than it was before. However, you need to be careful when doing this, doing it improperly can result in damage to the object. You can use this on yourself, though it could kill you if you do it badly.

(Brute) Unlimited Potential: As you train, your body adapts. While you will always look human, you no longer have a glass ceiling stopping you from becoming stronger. As long as your training is strenuous, you will always get stronger. The training has to be enough to make you sweat, and your muscles need to hurt at least a little from lactic acid build-up. If you go more than a week without training, you will start losing 25% of your increased power per day. Not training will not decrease your strength to below what it was naturally. Fighting will get you significantly more gains than just training.

(Thinker) Time-Loop: You can set yourself into a time loop whenever you want. You can set the start and end time of the loop, and if you die the loop restarts. You can not set the start of the loop earlier than the time the loop was created. This power has no blindspots.

Contessa read it a couple more times just to make sure she wasn't misreading any information. [All information is correct.] Her own power informed her. "Well, you seem to have won the lottery in terms of powers Greg,"

"Awesome… now can I please go home, I'd really like to take a long hot shower," He grumbled.

"Of course, by the looks of things, you'd be best off as a Rogue, though if you want to act as a vigilante we can't stop you I suppose, just know that we reserve the right to ask for at least three favors since we granted you these powers," She informed him.

"Favors? Contessa you forced me to drink the vial at gunpoint! Now you have the gall to ask me for favors?" Greg said, scowling at her. He was in a sour mood by this point and really just wanted to go home.

"That can be worked out another time," Only for him to raise his hand.

"You're forgetting something," He sighed in annoyance, "How am I going to explain suddenly getting powers without a trigger event?"

"Ah… what do you propose? She asked.

'This is gonna suck,' he thought, 'All I wanted to do was go home and take a shower! Now it looks like I'm gonna be visiting mom at work,' He said, "Well, I've got one idea…"

(...)

Greg limped into Brockton Bay General Hospital, teeth clenched so hard he felt that might shatter at any moment as blood ran down his left leg from the bullet wound in his knee cap. 'Why did I tell her to kneecap me again? Oh yeah, cause I thought it'd be convincing!' He thought as he stumbled up to the front desk to Joyce who was on duty and asked, "Hey Joyce is my mom in, I… I kinda need to see her, but if she's busy, I can wait."

"Greg honey what the hell happened to you?!" She said, rushing around the desk.

"Stray bullet from a shootout, no idea where it came from, got me right in the kneecap… Fucking magic bullet, it had to be," he grunted through the pain.

"You just, you sit down, and I'll go get your mother and Panacea too!" she said, rushing away after she got him seated in one of those low to the ground uncomfortable plastic chairs they had in hospital waiting rooms.

"Thanks Joyce, no hurry or anything though! I mean it's not like I'm bleeding out or anything!" He called after her.

"What happened to you?" A vaguely familiar voice asked. The voice belonged to Glory Girl who had just floated into the hospital. She was looking at his bleeding wound worriedly.

"Someone thought I didn't have enough lead in my diet and was kind enough to give me an injection via a speeding bullet,"

She put her hands on top of his own, trying to staunch the bleeding, "Umm, don't worry I'm sure Aims will be here any minute and patch you right up," She looked down the hall for her sister, mentally yelling for her to hurry up!

"Can't wait," He said through gritted teeth, "Maybe I'll dance a jig while I wait, break dancing seems appropriate since my leg is already broken, what do you think?"

Despite herself, Victoria found herself laughing, "Maybe not? Still you got guts bearing it like that, props man, I broke my arm once and it sucked. I can't imagine the amount of pain your in right now,"

"It hurts like a motherfucker," Greg swore, "Greg Veder, wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances… Then again, if we were, I'd probably be fanboying and making an idiot of myself so this is probably for the best," He said through the pain.

Again Victoria laughed, "Well, you're honest which is refreshing. You know who I am of course,"

"So what brings you by? Picking up Brockton's Angel of Mercy?"

Vicky snorted, "Aims would skewer you with her gaze alone if she heard you call her that,"

"Like a care Collateral Damage Barbie,"

"Watch it bub, or you'll have a concussion to go with your busted knee, and Amy doesn't fix head trauma," She said half threateningly, shaking a fist under his nose.

"Yes nurse, but I must say your bedside manner needs work, I will be pointing this out in my yelp review."

"You're not in a bed, you're in a chair, and my chairside manner is just fine," She retorted, putting more pressure on the wounds as blood seeped out, and onto her gloves, or it would've if her aura wasn't up.

"So any chance of me seeing you in a nurses outfit?" He asked.

She flicked him on the nose, "In your dreams and there alone,"

"Damn and here I was about to ask how things were going with Gallant, if they were sour I was gonna throw my hat into the ring,"

Vicky laughed despite herself, "You are a bold boy! I'm pretty sure my mom warned me about guys like you,"

He grinned at her, "Drop a hero, get with a zero?" He joked.

She chuckled lightly, "I'll keep you in mind, how bout that?"

"Great, yeah awesome," He said, his words coming out slurred, his chin falling to his chest, and eyes beginning to droop.

"Greg… Greg, hey Greg come on stay awake! Stay with me Greg!" Victoria said, smacking him lightly in the face. 'Where the fuck is Amy?' She thought. It had been several minutes and she still hadn't arrived, "To hell with this!" She decided to pull off one of her gloves; she wrapped it as tightly around Gregs knee as she could as a makeshift tourniquet before she picked him up in a bridal carry and flew off intent on finding her sister and making sure she saved this goofy blonde boy. She didn't know why she cared so much for someone she just met but she chose not to think about it. She was a hero and he was in danger. It was her job to help him.

(...)

For the second time in under twenty-four hours, Greg found himself waking up in a hospital bed. This time however, his mother was the first face he saw when he woke up. The second thing he noticed was the goofy high feeling of morphine. 'Why am I on morphine?' he asked himself. As he smiled at his mom and said, "Hey mom,"

"Hey Sweetie, how're you feeling?" Jessica Veder said gently, running her hands through her son's hair.

"Kinda high honestly," He replied, trying his best not to giggle.

"That's the morphine dear, trust me you'll be thankful for it after having reconstructive surgery done on your leg,"

"Surgery, was Panacea out sick today or something?" He asked, sitting up in bed.

"Twelve car pileup on the highway caused by Squealer attempting a getaway from Armsmaster," His mother informed him clinically in her detached nurse voice.

"So she was too busy to look at me and I had to go under the knife huh, shit," He swore. "That's just my luck. The one time I actually need to see our resident white mage for something serious she's busy,"

Jessica shook her head, "It's not that she didn't want to heal you but… you're in such good shape that she didn't have any fat cells to work with. Usually when she heals someone she uses their fat stores to heal them and you… don't have any. In order to heal you she would've had to destroy your muscles. She didn't know how to feel about that honestly. She seemed torn between being impressed and upset that she couldn't help you."

"Ah… I'm sorry?" He said.

"Don't be… but even I was surprised you were in such good shape. You always come out of your room dressed and wear such baggy clothes…" His mother said, "You really are something, I'm glad you're alright dear,"

"Dad at work?" Greg asked after a moment.

"He's on his way… it's just there was a twelve car pile up," His mother reminded him.

Greg nodded. "Right. I didn't know if he'd be able to get off work or not,"

"Greg!" His mother chided, "Your father and I love you! We'd fight heaven and earth if we heard you were hurt."

"I know, it's just I know the DWU is in dire straits. I didn't mean anything bad by it,"

Patting his hand, Jessica reassured him, "I think they can survive a day or so without him,"

After a moment of silence, Greg asked, "So how messed up was my knee? Give it to me straight mom," He said when he saw her hesitate.

"The kneecap shattered on impact, the bones in your joint were partially destroyed and the ligament were shedded. Thankfully we do have good surgeons at this hospital Panacea or no and Dr. Pellham was able to fix your hamstring by stretching it out a bit, and your kneecap was replaced by a metal cap,"

"So if we go flying, I now have a legit excuse for setting off metal detectors? Panama here I come," He said.

"Let's hold off on prescribing weed for pain shall we?" Jessica sighed. She knew her son's humor and that he was doing his best to cope right now.

He quickly retorted, "Would you prefer I get addicted to painkillers instead?" Greg looked at the ceiling, "I should head back to Ryozanpaku as soon as possible. Master Ma probably knows some crazy chinese medicine that'll get me back on my feet in no time, and master Akisame will probably want to take a look at my knee too,"

"This is the first time you've ever talked about that place. What are they like?" Jessica knew the drugs might be loosening his tongue a bit, but whenever she asked about how his martial arts training was going, he'd just say 'fine' and change the subject.

"Batshit insane," Greg said with a laugh, "But they push you to be the best you can be, they expect the best you can give, but never more than they know you can handle. They're good people."

She was glad to hear that. Thinking they deserved to hear about their student's condition she asked, "Do they have a phone number you'll be in here for awhile and I can let them know what happened to you,"

"It's on my cell, they have a house phone," Greg yawned tiredly the drugs quickly sapping what little strength he had at the moment.

"Rest," She said kissing his forehead, "I'll take care of this,"

"Thanks mom," Greg said before he closed his eyes.

Getting his phone, Jessica went through her son's contacts. She blinked when she noticed one that said "Work" directly below Ryozanpaku. 'Greg has a part time job?' She also noticed that his contact list was woefully short. Other than herself and her husband, his mysterious workplace and his equally mysterious dojo, the only other number he had in his phone was Sparky. It made her a little sad that he seemingly had so few friends in his life. 'Then again he does go to Winslow,' She thought as she dialed the number for the Martial Arts school.

It rang twice before someone answered, "Hello Hopachi is here!"

"Appachi we've told you not to do that!" a young lady's voice chided before she came on the phone proper, "Hello, this is the Ryozanpaku Dojo and Furinji/Shirahama residence. Shirahama Miu speaking, how may I help you?"

"Yes hello my name is Jessica Veder, Greg Veder's mother?"

"Oh, it's so nice to finally speak to you ma'am!" Miu said beaming. "Greg is practically family, like a little brother I've always wanted."

Jesica smiled when she heard that, it seemed her son had more friends than she realized. "I'm happy to hear that Miu. Unfortunately, I called today to inform you that Greg might be unable to come over for awhile,"

"Why? Did something happen?" Miu asked worriedly.

"Well Greg was shot on his way home from your dojo last night," Jessica replied, quickly adding, "I don't blame anyone there, and he's not in any life threatening danger, but he will be in the hospital for a while."

"I…I see, what happened?" Miu asked, her voice filled with a mix of restrained worry and anger.

"He took a stray bullet to his knee cap, it shattered it and he had to go through reconstructive surgery since Panacea was busy due to a pileup on the highway,"

"Oh, I'll let the Masters know… Um, Verder-san excuse me if this is presumptuous of me but would it be too much if we visited Greg while he's in the hospital? I assure you the others will be worried once I tell them,"

"That's fine," She said, pleased that her son's teachers were so worried about him. "Just try to not be too rowdy and remember this is a hospital, please?"

"Of course," Miu replied, "Let Greg know we'll be over to see him at some point and that we're all thinking about him won't you?"

"I will Miu, it was nice speaking to you,"

"You as well, have a pleasant rest of your day," She replied before she hung up the phone.

'She seemed nice,' Jessica thought to herself before calling his workplace and letting them know he might not be in for a while. It rang three times before it went to voicemail, and Jessica was surprised to hear Parian's prerecorded voice come on the line.

"Hello you've reached the Dollhouse. We are currently closed and our hours are 9am to 10pm Monday through Saturday. If you'd leave your name and number I'll get back to you as soon as I can, thank you,"

At the tone, Jessica told her the same thing she told Miu that her son was injured in the hospital and he likely wouldn't be coming into work for awhile. The only thing she added was that she was welcome to visit anytime and her son's room number was 304 before she hung up. "There that's done, now all Greg has to do is focus on getting better,"

The poor woman had no idea what kind of Pandora's Box she had just opened…

(...)

Word Count: 17,500 Number of Pages: 39 Date Completed: 5/31/2023

(...)

AN: Welcome everyone to yet another Worm fic! I have recently been informed that by the virtue of writing a Worm harem fic that automatically makes it a crack fic… well all I have to say to that is… "Yes, yes, let the Crack flow through you!" No but seriously, while crack 'is' my humor, but that doesn't mean it lacks a serious plot. This, like all my fics, will have both in abundance. That said, here are the other two Stooges of this group Mo and Curly, I mean, Snowy and First Hassan.

Snowy: Neh neh neh. We got it, boss. I will make sure this chapta is dah best one eva dontcha know. I will clean it up and give it a good spit shine! Now then I know another worm fic right? Don't worry I am making sure Bubba stretches his mental muscles and beat his muse into submission. So don't worry we got this covered. This I swear. Enjoy the story and let's see if you can spot the threads we have spread throughout the story.

First Hassan: Huzzah! Bubba has done it again! He filled out another collection into his den of woe! And its not just a story, its a CYOA Worm interactive the mad author used!...Hello everyone First Hassan here and today we are bringing you another story into the Idea Vault! Like I said before this story is a CYOA Bubba used to fill in the interactive sheet suitable for Greg, I proposed this idea to the Inkblot Bros production, had a long talk(Which took at least all day) before suggesting the CYOA elements to the production crew. Knowing Bubba, he has his own unique ways of writing a CYOA story, so buckle your seatbelts cause Bubba is gonna bring in the motherf*cking pain! Thank you guys for reading our story, if you want more or want to be a chapter ahead, head to Bubba' account where it hasn't been edited by yours truly. I'll see you guys later! (Turning around while blue flames surround Hassan before disappearing)

Thank you all for reading, and till next time this has been an Inkblot Bros Production, Peace!