"My reflexes have been honed by years of videogames!"
Art by Vikconder
Greg Veder /...
Art by Vikconder
Greg Veder /...
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Greg Veder vs The World (Worm/The Gamer)
- Thread starter ZFighter18
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Tutorial 1.1
ZFighter18
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"My reflexes have been honed by years of videogames!"
Art by Vikconder
Greg Veder / The Gamer Cross. Inspired by Perfection, We are number one but it's Greg and he's a Superhero, and A Bad Name.
Beta-ed by Mannymcdude, BlueRose, dzk87, and kenmadragon
Greg Veder vs The World
(In which Greg Veder's super nerdy gamer dreams come true)
Tutorial 1.1
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
It was still there, to his frustration.
Mocking him as it hung there, ignoring gravity.
It wasn't the first one, either.
One had been there when he woke up.
It remained there when he took a shower.
It didn't vanish when he brushed his teeth, either. Even after spitting a mouthful of water at it, it didn't magically disappear, the frothy spray passing through it and splashing all over his mirror and back onto his face. Oddly enough, it did seem to jump back when he tried to lick it. Greg wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult or not.
It did finally disappear when he prodded it with his toothbrush, so that was something.
Even now, as he sat at the kitchen table, all this new one did was hover in the air a few inches over his mother's blonde head of hair, mocking him and generally being an annoying distraction from his Frosted Flakes.
Susan Veder
Nurse
Lv 9
Odds that I'm hallucinating? Greg paused to think about it, raising a spoon of his favorite cereal to his mouth as he continued to stare at the semi-translucent words hanging in the air across the table from him. Words floating in the air that Mom can't see makes me wanna say yes but...
Greg thought back to the blue screen that had greeted him in his bed when he woke up.
Okay, that one had been super weird too. But at the very least, it had the decency to vanish when he poked it.
Greg wrinkled his nose, slightly annoyed. Already tried poking the one above Mom's head when she sat down. All that got me was a weird look and a bunch of questions.
Although in hindsight, maybe trying to excuse his actions by telling his mother he was "looking for lice in her hair...uh... like a monkey!" was not the best idea he'd ever had. No Mom, I didn't go in your medicine cabinet again.
It's like she thinks I'm five or something. With a mental shrug, Greg glanced around the kitchen, not noticing anything out of the ordinary apart from some terrible wall art someone had gifted his Mom with recently. Okay, no dancing technicolor elephants. I might not have lost all my SAN points just yet.
So, if I'm not crazy, Greg's gaze flicked back to the glowing blue lettering, then how do I explain you? Unless this is some cosmic prank or something...
After a moment, Greg blinked, dropping the spoon back into the bowl as his eyes widened. This a prank, isn't it? Of course, that makes perfect sense. I'm being pranked… by a cape! His eyes widened further as he pieced together the game-like quality of the pop-ups and which cape would - or could - go to that extent for a prank. It's Uber & Leet. It's Uber & Leet!
Blue eyes lit up with barely-repressed glee as Greg forced himself not to let out a happy squeal. As a long-time watcher of their web show and periodical editor of their PHO wiki page, Greg was naturally a huge fan of the gaming and pop-culture themed cape duo. Oh my God, this is the best day ever!
After taking several excited breaths, Greg managed to calm himself down, eyes lowering somewhat as his mouth curled upwards into a self-congratulatory grin. "Okay, come on out, guys!" Greg shouted out. "Joke's over! Love the idea, by the way."
"Greg, sweetheart, who are you talking to?"
Greg snapped back to reality, suddenly aware that this might not be a prank at all and that his mom was still in the kitchen, sitting right in front of him.
"...Uhh, nothing, Mom. Just practicing for Drama club."
"Wait," His mother frowned slightly, a few strands of blonde hair falling into her face as she cocked her head to the side to fix him with a curious stare. "You're in Drama?"
"...no."
Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, pinning him to his seat.
"I-I mean, no... Wait, Drama, yes! I m-meant, yes! Yes!" Greg mentally slapped himself as he finished stumbling through the sentence, his mom's expression already flashing between confused, annoyed and suspicious. The worst combination.
Raising his arms in a weak shrug, he gave his mom a sheepish expression and tried again. "...no?"
"Greg Lucas Veder," his mom paused, her eyes still pinning him to his seat with the glare all moms seemed to perfect, "what have I said about lies in this house?"
"Aww, M-mom, it's not…" his voice was already cracking as he tried to explain away the weirdness of the last thirty seconds.
"I swear to God, Gregory," Mom didn't let him finish, finger raised and pointing right in his nose. "If you lie again, no games for a week."
Greg sunk down in his seat, a groan on his lips.
Crap on a cracker.
Tutorial 1.2
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
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Tutorial 1.2
He had avoided a grounding.
How?
Greg really wasn't sure, to be honest.
He would like to say that it was most likely his well-reasoned arguments about how being punished for a little white lie was cruel and unusual. It was nice to think that his logical points had spoken to his mother and gotten her to realize how unfair she was being.
However, it was most likely due to the fact that his mother didn't like to see him cry.
Not that he did.
Cry, that is.
No, Greg Veder does not cry.
He begs.
"Please, mommy, don't take my games."
"Greg…"
"I'm sorry for fibbing. It was a joke. Pleeeeease."
"Greg."
"Mom, it's not fair. You can't do this. I wasn't lying. I was just joking around, Mom."
"Gre-"
"Pleeeeeeeeeease."
"Gregory!"
As she barked his name, Greg flinched and relaxed his grip on his mom's mid-section, pulling back from the one-sided hug. As he stepped away from his mother, he gave her his best smile, the visual spoiled by the wetness all over his face. "Yeah, mom?"
Susan Veder let out a deep sigh, the sound coming from a place of deep frustration. A hand went down to her scrubs to brush off some imaginary dirt before she raised her head again to fix Greg with a tired stare. "Just keep your games, Greg."
Greg lit up, his downtrodden expression replaced with a bright grin in an instant. "Thanks, mom!"
Greg moved in for another hug, only for his mom to stop his forward movement with a palm to his forehead. "Greg, just...." Susan let out another sigh.
"Enough with the hugs, sweetie. Just... go do something. I'll see you when I get home."
Ugh, that was close.
Greg let out a heavy sigh as he collapsed backwards onto his computer chair, the old thing creaking slightly as he dropped all one hundred and thirty-five pounds of himself onto it. Almost got grounded 'cause I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
That's nothing new, though. Greg scrunched up his face as he thought back to all the times his mouth had gotten him in hot water. At least, I got out of it this time. He paused, leaning back in his chair as his face turned down into a frown. Still, this one wasn't even my fault.
Greg spun around in his chair, turning to face his unmade bed as he dropped his chin to rest it on a raised palm. "And I still don't even know what the frick that screen thingy was. Seriously, what was that thing?"
Another one.
Greg leaned forward in his chair, his jaw slowly falling open as he read this new pop-up. Neurons fired off in his head as realization slowly dawned on him as to what this could be. Swallowing a mouthful of nothing, Greg let out a slow, shaky breath. "H-h-ho my God."
Does this mean what I think it means? As carefully as he could, Greg raised a finger to poke the blue screen, the sensation feeling somewhat like a thin plastic film on his finger before it vanished a moment later. I think this means what I think it means.
Greg let out another uncertain breath, picking himself up from his seat slowly. His eyes were wary, but even then, he couldn't suppress the eagerness that he was radiating. I swear to God, if I find out this is a prank, someone is going to die.
Shaking in raw excitement, Greg Veder let himself say the word.
"Menu."
Greg rapidly inhaled as a screen popped into existence right in front of him, the words in front of him sending a feeling of raw excitement through him.
"Holy..."
Jaw still hanging open, Greg raised a hand to rub at his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing this. "Please don't be a prank. Please, don't." The whispered words were both eager and desperate, Greg's blue eyes widening as he read each of the words in turn.
"St… stats," Greg muttered, voice suddenly dry.
After a moment, Greg blinked again, his head moving backwards slowly before dropping back down to stare at his hands. "...uh-huh."
Without even looking behind him, he sat back down in his chair with uncharacteristic listlessness, the blue stat screen moving along with him. Thoughts and ideas rushed through his mind, each and every one of them related to the revelation that he had just experienced.
After a few long moments, Greg glanced back up to stare directly into the screen again. As he tilted his head, a gleam of excitement was visible in his eye and his mouth flashed into a grin.
"God exists and he's a huge nerd."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
He had avoided a grounding.
How?
Greg really wasn't sure, to be honest.
He would like to say that it was most likely his well-reasoned arguments about how being punished for a little white lie was cruel and unusual. It was nice to think that his logical points had spoken to his mother and gotten her to realize how unfair she was being.
However, it was most likely due to the fact that his mother didn't like to see him cry.
Not that he did.
Cry, that is.
No, Greg Veder does not cry.
He begs.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Please, mommy, don't take my games."
"Greg…"
"I'm sorry for fibbing. It was a joke. Pleeeeease."
"Greg."
"Mom, it's not fair. You can't do this. I wasn't lying. I was just joking around, Mom."
"Gre-"
"Pleeeeeeeeeease."
"Gregory!"
As she barked his name, Greg flinched and relaxed his grip on his mom's mid-section, pulling back from the one-sided hug. As he stepped away from his mother, he gave her his best smile, the visual spoiled by the wetness all over his face. "Yeah, mom?"
Susan Veder let out a deep sigh, the sound coming from a place of deep frustration. A hand went down to her scrubs to brush off some imaginary dirt before she raised her head again to fix Greg with a tired stare. "Just keep your games, Greg."
Greg lit up, his downtrodden expression replaced with a bright grin in an instant. "Thanks, mom!"
Greg moved in for another hug, only for his mom to stop his forward movement with a palm to his forehead. "Greg, just...." Susan let out another sigh.
"Enough with the hugs, sweetie. Just... go do something. I'll see you when I get home."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Ugh, that was close.
Greg let out a heavy sigh as he collapsed backwards onto his computer chair, the old thing creaking slightly as he dropped all one hundred and thirty-five pounds of himself onto it. Almost got grounded 'cause I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
That's nothing new, though. Greg scrunched up his face as he thought back to all the times his mouth had gotten him in hot water. At least, I got out of it this time. He paused, leaning back in his chair as his face turned down into a frown. Still, this one wasn't even my fault.
Greg spun around in his chair, turning to face his unmade bed as he dropped his chin to rest it on a raised palm. "And I still don't even know what the frick that screen thingy was. Seriously, what was that thing?"
Another one.
Greg leaned forward in his chair, his jaw slowly falling open as he read this new pop-up. Neurons fired off in his head as realization slowly dawned on him as to what this could be. Swallowing a mouthful of nothing, Greg let out a slow, shaky breath. "H-h-ho my God."
Does this mean what I think it means? As carefully as he could, Greg raised a finger to poke the blue screen, the sensation feeling somewhat like a thin plastic film on his finger before it vanished a moment later. I think this means what I think it means.
Greg let out another uncertain breath, picking himself up from his seat slowly. His eyes were wary, but even then, he couldn't suppress the eagerness that he was radiating. I swear to God, if I find out this is a prank, someone is going to die.
Shaking in raw excitement, Greg Veder let himself say the word.
"Menu."
Greg rapidly inhaled as a screen popped into existence right in front of him, the words in front of him sending a feeling of raw excitement through him.
"Holy..."
"...crap on a cracker."
Jaw still hanging open, Greg raised a hand to rub at his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing this. "Please don't be a prank. Please, don't." The whispered words were both eager and desperate, Greg's blue eyes widening as he read each of the words in turn.
"St… stats," Greg muttered, voice suddenly dry.
"...uh-huh." Greg blinked.
After a moment, Greg blinked again, his head moving backwards slowly before dropping back down to stare at his hands. "...uh-huh."
Without even looking behind him, he sat back down in his chair with uncharacteristic listlessness, the blue stat screen moving along with him. Thoughts and ideas rushed through his mind, each and every one of them related to the revelation that he had just experienced.
After a few long moments, Greg glanced back up to stare directly into the screen again. As he tilted his head, a gleam of excitement was visible in his eye and his mouth flashed into a grin.
"God exists and he's a huge nerd."
Tutorial 1.3
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
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Tutorial 1.3
"I mean," Greg began, raising an eyebrow as he reread his stats for the fourth time, "I know I'm only level two but what kind of stats are these? I mean, my HP looks like it's… decent, I guess."
80 for a level 2, though? Talk about an arbitrary number. Why not start off with 100 HP at level 1? Whoever designed this needs to go back to the drawing board?
"Wait," Greg blinked, raising a finger to his chin. "It's my power, right? So… did my unconscious design this?" He mulled the thought over for a bit before shaking his head.
"Ughh, that's just weird." Greg shuddered, "I really don't want to think about that. "
Stepping back from the screen, Greg turned his gaze down to his left hand. "Let's just test this HP thing out." Letting out a quick breath, he curled his fingers into a tight fist.
Before he could chicken out, Greg drove his fist into the side of his face as hard as he could. A starburst of pain erupted in his left cheek, right above his jawline. "Motherf-! ...huh." As quickly as the pain appeared, it vanished, leaving Greg cradling his jaw for no reason.
"Cool! No pain… less pain?" He shrugged. "Still cool. Uhhh... sta- wait, do I have to say stats every time? Can I just say [HP]?"
In response to his words, a smaller screen appeared.
"W-wait? Two damage from one punch?" Greg whined, poking at his fist as if seeing it for the first time. He glanced at the mirror, marvelling open-mouthed at the fact that he didn't even have a bruise marking his face. Not even a hint of soreness or tenderness on his face, either. "That's super weak… right?"
In a small blink of blue, the HP screen vanished to be replaced with a larger, wider one.
"I can make skills?" Greg froze, eyes going wide as he began to process this new bit of info.
"Oh, I'm sooooo going to abuse the crap out of this," Greg added, his head bobbing up and down excitedly.
"You know, I swear these game powers are making it way too easy. I might not even have to bother min-maxing." After a moment, Greg burst out laughing, clutching a hand to his stomach at his own joke. "Yeah, right. OP-ness, here I come! But first, let's get back to that stat screen again. [Stats.]"
Greg's eyes fell all the way to the bottom, towards something he hadn't paid much attention to before, with his attention too focused on his - stupidly low - numbers and what they meant. "The frick is this stat? C. T. D? Cat D. Ketid? And why is there an ellipsis there?"
"C. T. D? CTD?" Greg blinked for a moment and leaned in, to get a closer glance at the box. Sighing, he brought a palm to his forehead. "I'm so stupid. Continued."
Poking the shortened word, Greg blinked again as a new box took the old one's place.
"...crap on a cracker."
Greg stared at the newest screen in front of him, his mouth turned downwards into an impressive frown. His hand came down on the blue box with an open palm, literally slapping the screen away. As it vanished, Greg let out an angry sigh, turning a pissed-off gaze towards his computer.
"...okay. Now, I'm mad for multiple reasons."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Still running off the high that finding out he had powers had left him with, Greg continued to pore over his stat screen, interested in learning everything he could.
"I mean," Greg began, raising an eyebrow as he reread his stats for the fourth time, "I know I'm only level two but what kind of stats are these? I mean, my HP looks like it's… decent, I guess."
80 for a level 2, though? Talk about an arbitrary number. Why not start off with 100 HP at level 1? Whoever designed this needs to go back to the drawing board?
"Wait," Greg blinked, raising a finger to his chin. "It's my power, right? So… did my unconscious design this?" He mulled the thought over for a bit before shaking his head.
"Ughh, that's just weird." Greg shuddered, "I really don't want to think about that. "
Stepping back from the screen, Greg turned his gaze down to his left hand. "Let's just test this HP thing out." Letting out a quick breath, he curled his fingers into a tight fist.
Before he could chicken out, Greg drove his fist into the side of his face as hard as he could. A starburst of pain erupted in his left cheek, right above his jawline. "Motherf-! ...huh." As quickly as the pain appeared, it vanished, leaving Greg cradling his jaw for no reason.
"Cool! No pain… less pain?" He shrugged. "Still cool. Uhhh... sta- wait, do I have to say stats every time? Can I just say [HP]?"
In response to his words, a smaller screen appeared.
"W-wait? Two damage from one punch?" Greg whined, poking at his fist as if seeing it for the first time. He glanced at the mirror, marvelling open-mouthed at the fact that he didn't even have a bruise marking his face. Not even a hint of soreness or tenderness on his face, either. "That's super weak… right?"
In a small blink of blue, the HP screen vanished to be replaced with a larger, wider one.
"I can make skills?" Greg froze, eyes going wide as he began to process this new bit of info.
"Oh, I'm sooooo going to abuse the crap out of this," Greg added, his head bobbing up and down excitedly.
"You know, I swear these game powers are making it way too easy. I might not even have to bother min-maxing." After a moment, Greg burst out laughing, clutching a hand to his stomach at his own joke. "Yeah, right. OP-ness, here I come! But first, let's get back to that stat screen again. [Stats.]"
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 2
XP: 0/500
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 79/80
MP: 50/50
Will: 30
STR: 2
SPD: 3
VIT: 2
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-4)
CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)
Unspent Points: 2
Ctd…
Student
Level 2
XP: 0/500
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 79/80
MP: 50/50
Will: 30
STR: 2
SPD: 3
VIT: 2
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-4)
CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)
Unspent Points: 2
Ctd…
Greg's eyes fell all the way to the bottom, towards something he hadn't paid much attention to before, with his attention too focused on his - stupidly low - numbers and what they meant. "The frick is this stat? C. T. D? Cat D. Ketid? And why is there an ellipsis there?"
"C. T. D? CTD?" Greg blinked for a moment and leaned in, to get a closer glance at the box. Sighing, he brought a palm to his forehead. "I'm so stupid. Continued."
Poking the shortened word, Greg blinked again as a new box took the old one's place.
"...crap on a cracker."
Greg stared at the newest screen in front of him, his mouth turned downwards into an impressive frown. His hand came down on the blue box with an open palm, literally slapping the screen away. As it vanished, Greg let out an angry sigh, turning a pissed-off gaze towards his computer.
"...okay. Now, I'm mad for multiple reasons."
Tutorial 1.4
ZFighter18
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Tutorial 1.4
"...ow."
As he lay there, lying face-first in the untrimmed grass of his backyard, Greg began to ruminate over everything he had learned over the last three hours.
First, he could earn stat points through actual training. He had learned that after punching a tree who knew how many times in row trying to create some sort of super punching skill. It maybe also have been a way to work out his anger after seeing those crap-tastic Stat Modifiers.
Just maybe.
Either way, he was willing to grind to kickstart his path to greatness. Any true gamer would, of course.
Anyway, after about three hours of strenuous effort, all he had to show for it was twenty-five lost health points, seven levels on [Blunt Force Resistance] and 1 brand-spanking new VIT point.
Secondly, each new VIT point made his HP go up by 10 and his Will go up by 3. Greg could only imagine the same thing applied for his MP. So, either INT or WIS controlled that, most likely.
Thirdly, just because actual pain went away really quick, it didn't mean he couldn't get tired. Apparently, one of his stats, Will, measured his level of tiredness or something. Right now, that was sitting at a big fat zero.
It took almost ten minutes for his Will to regenerate all the way back to full, which sucked so hard. For Greg, that basically meant ten minutes of sitting around and waiting until his entire body didn't feel like crap.
Last but certainly not least, skills were super-duper hard to make.
Like, harder than the first boss of Ninja Gaiden hard.
Greg lifted his head and let out another small moan, pausing at the end to announce, "[Skills.]"
"Who designed this RPG system?" Greg moaned, still face-down in grass. "It couldn't be me because my subconscious cannot be this much of a butthole!"
Scratch that. This was harder than a level of Demon's Souls.
Why, you ask? Why did Greg think that making a skill was so impossibly frustrating?
It was because after three hours of effort, - three long, painful hours - Greg had managed to managed to make two new skills. The [Observe] skill and the [Power Sprint] skill, both created in the first few minutes.
Apparently, looking at a bug and wondering what it's species was enough for this stupid system to fart out a skill. Running away in fright when that same bug tried to hop onto his face was worth a skill, too, for some odd reason.
However, working his butt off for a couple hours was not skill-worthy!
Greg groaned again, his voice gaining more energy as the drain on his muscles began to lessen. Greg let out a relieved sigh, his recovery a sign that at least one of his stats was recovering. "[Will]."
"Three minutes down here and we're still at 15. That's some crap regen," Greg muttered. "The frick is will, anyway? Ughhh," Greg spat out blades of grass from his mouth as he lifted his head, pushing himself off from the ground. "What kind of system is this?"
He had tried to make telekinesis. For ten long, embarrassing minutes, Greg had held a hand to his head like Professor X while his other limb made gestures at a tiny rock. All for nothing.
He had tried to use energy blasts. Nada.
Super-speed. Nope.
Even a skill to do something as simple as jump higher hadn't worked, leaving him doing jumping jacks for a good twenty minutes like an idiot.
None of them worked, despite what he tried and it was getting on his fricking nerves. Why would his powers make him an RPG character if there was no way for him to actually achieve unlimited power?
Pulling himself to his feet, Greg focused his eyes on the tree he had spent the last hour pummeling. This isn't fair.
Stepping closer to it, he brought his fists up again. This is not fair. Why won't this work? What do I have to do?
His face began to redden as Greg worked himself into a mood, angry thoughts bouncing around his head. "Why won't you work?"
Running forward, Greg threw a cross, slamming his fist into the thick tree with all his might. To his surprise, his fist glowed yellow as it struck the tree like a hammer. His eyes grew wider as slivers of bark basically exploded from the point of impact, flying back into his face as nothing more than wood chips.
Greg gaped at his unhurt fist, before turning back to face the tree. Blue eyes went back and forth between the damaged tree and his hand several times before the blond boy threw both of his hands in the air, letting out a frustrated scream as he did so. "What!? How!?"
When no floating box appeared to explain this phenomenon to Greg, the teenager let out another frustrated groan. "Why did it work this time? This system sucks!"
Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened them, he sent a frown at his fist. "At least I got one combat skill, right?" After a moment, Greg nodded slightly, happy that he had gotten at least one thing right. "Although, I don't really want to risk getting up close to bad guys that much."
"What the heck?" Greg's blue eyes widened as he took a step back in pure shock. "I'm only level 3. I can't fight criminals yet." Greg let out a groan, his hands clutching his hair in frustration. "It's like this system hates me or something!"
After coming to an important realization, your WIS has increased by 1.
"...oh, haha."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg fell face-forward, his body hitting the ground in a heap of pale skin and lanky limbs.
"...ow."
As he lay there, lying face-first in the untrimmed grass of his backyard, Greg began to ruminate over everything he had learned over the last three hours.
First, he could earn stat points through actual training. He had learned that after punching a tree who knew how many times in row trying to create some sort of super punching skill. It maybe also have been a way to work out his anger after seeing those crap-tastic Stat Modifiers.
Just maybe.
Either way, he was willing to grind to kickstart his path to greatness. Any true gamer would, of course.
Anyway, after about three hours of strenuous effort, all he had to show for it was twenty-five lost health points, seven levels on [Blunt Force Resistance] and 1 brand-spanking new VIT point.
Secondly, each new VIT point made his HP go up by 10 and his Will go up by 3. Greg could only imagine the same thing applied for his MP. So, either INT or WIS controlled that, most likely.
Thirdly, just because actual pain went away really quick, it didn't mean he couldn't get tired. Apparently, one of his stats, Will, measured his level of tiredness or something. Right now, that was sitting at a big fat zero.
It took almost ten minutes for his Will to regenerate all the way back to full, which sucked so hard. For Greg, that basically meant ten minutes of sitting around and waiting until his entire body didn't feel like crap.
Last but certainly not least, skills were super-duper hard to make.
Like, harder than the first boss of Ninja Gaiden hard.
Greg lifted his head and let out another small moan, pausing at the end to announce, "[Skills.]"
"Who designed this RPG system?" Greg moaned, still face-down in grass. "It couldn't be me because my subconscious cannot be this much of a butthole!"
Scratch that. This was harder than a level of Demon's Souls.
Why, you ask? Why did Greg think that making a skill was so impossibly frustrating?
It was because after three hours of effort, - three long, painful hours - Greg had managed to managed to make two new skills. The [Observe] skill and the [Power Sprint] skill, both created in the first few minutes.
Apparently, looking at a bug and wondering what it's species was enough for this stupid system to fart out a skill. Running away in fright when that same bug tried to hop onto his face was worth a skill, too, for some odd reason.
However, working his butt off for a couple hours was not skill-worthy!
Greg groaned again, his voice gaining more energy as the drain on his muscles began to lessen. Greg let out a relieved sigh, his recovery a sign that at least one of his stats was recovering. "[Will]."
"Three minutes down here and we're still at 15. That's some crap regen," Greg muttered. "The frick is will, anyway? Ughhh," Greg spat out blades of grass from his mouth as he lifted his head, pushing himself off from the ground. "What kind of system is this?"
He had tried to make telekinesis. For ten long, embarrassing minutes, Greg had held a hand to his head like Professor X while his other limb made gestures at a tiny rock. All for nothing.
He had tried to use energy blasts. Nada.
Super-speed. Nope.
Even a skill to do something as simple as jump higher hadn't worked, leaving him doing jumping jacks for a good twenty minutes like an idiot.
None of them worked, despite what he tried and it was getting on his fricking nerves. Why would his powers make him an RPG character if there was no way for him to actually achieve unlimited power?
Pulling himself to his feet, Greg focused his eyes on the tree he had spent the last hour pummeling. This isn't fair.
Stepping closer to it, he brought his fists up again. This is not fair. Why won't this work? What do I have to do?
His face began to redden as Greg worked himself into a mood, angry thoughts bouncing around his head. "Why won't you work?"
Running forward, Greg threw a cross, slamming his fist into the thick tree with all his might. To his surprise, his fist glowed yellow as it struck the tree like a hammer. His eyes grew wider as slivers of bark basically exploded from the point of impact, flying back into his face as nothing more than wood chips.
Greg gaped at his unhurt fist, before turning back to face the tree. Blue eyes went back and forth between the damaged tree and his hand several times before the blond boy threw both of his hands in the air, letting out a frustrated scream as he did so. "What!? How!?"
When no floating box appeared to explain this phenomenon to Greg, the teenager let out another frustrated groan. "Why did it work this time? This system sucks!"
Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened them, he sent a frown at his fist. "At least I got one combat skill, right?" After a moment, Greg nodded slightly, happy that he had gotten at least one thing right. "Although, I don't really want to risk getting up close to bad guys that much."
"What the heck?" Greg's blue eyes widened as he took a step back in pure shock. "I'm only level 3. I can't fight criminals yet." Greg let out a groan, his hands clutching his hair in frustration. "It's like this system hates me or something!"
After coming to an important realization, your WIS has increased by 1.
"...oh, haha."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 3
XP: 100/1800
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 100/100
MP: 60/60
Will: 36/36
STR: 2
SPD: 3
VIT: 3
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-5)
CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)
Unspent Points: 4
Stat Modifiers
Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80's/90's pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.)
Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you've always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you're a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you're fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.)
Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don't hurt either. It's how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that's what he always told you - even when you didn't ask - all the time. (+ 5 CHA, 50% bonus to CHA)
Student
Level 3
XP: 100/1800
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 100/100
MP: 60/60
Will: 36/36
STR: 2
SPD: 3
VIT: 3
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-5)
CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)
Unspent Points: 4
Stat Modifiers
Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80's/90's pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.)
Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you've always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you're a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you're fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.)
Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don't hurt either. It's how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that's what he always told you - even when you didn't ask - all the time. (+ 5 CHA, 50% bonus to CHA)
Tutorial 1.5
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2016
- Messages
- 319
- Likes received
- 13,953
Tutorial 1.5
"Huh, let's try this one out. [Observe]."
Greg let out an annoyed groan, shoulders slumping as he tossed the pair of shoes over his shoulder without even looking. It landed with a clattering noise on the other side of the garage, landing near a pile of other rejected items.
"Okay, that was another bust," Greg muttered, running a hand through his bowl cut. It had been a while since he left the backyard. Slamming his fists against the tree had started getting boring after the leveling of his [Angry Straight] began moving at a crawl. Gaining three extra levels wasn't bad, though. The constant notification in the corner of his vision of his HP dropping every time he forgot to say the skill name did start to get annoying, though.
Anyway, Greg had been in his current position for a good thirty minutes, on his knees in the garage searching through storage boxes for some useful stuff to equip. After making up his mind to go on a mob hunt, Greg had decided to find something to give him an edge. After all, if he was an RPG character, he needed battle equipment, right?
You'd think so, at least.
All of this is random crap. Boosts to ballroom dancing? Hockey? Swimming? It was a little annoying that after all of this work, he had barely found anything useful, with only three items giving him any sort of combat-related boost. Greg needed some more clothes that would give him something combat related because he had no intention of using up his extra stat points until he was at least level five, with at least eight points in reserve. I want to fight some guy, not beat him in a dance-off or a triathlon.
Shaking his head, Greg turned his attention back to the massive set of boxes in front of him with various words written on the side of each. "Why did Mom even buy this stuff? I never even got into any of these clubs."
Rolling his eyes, he thrust a hand into the box closest to him, his other hand pushing random items to the side as he continued to search the storage container. He let out a sigh as more miscellaneous items spilling out as he did so. "And Mom told me she organized all this last month. How am I supposed to find anything when she doesn't clean up?"
Greg continued rooting around in the box, barely noting the various items he pulled out. "Huh, what's this... ewwww?"
Hanging from his fingers like a used napkin were a pair of purple leg warmers, obviously not brand new. Greg grimaced at the items for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. "Uhhh… [Observe.]"
Greg stuck his tongue out as he finished reading the box, dropping the pair of used leg warmers with a disgusted shudder as his mind went wrong places with the [Flexibility] skill and his mother. "...I'm never sleeping again."
Forcing down the bit of bile he could feel creeping up his throat, Greg turned back to his search, albeit with much less enthusiasm than before. After a few minutes more, he grinned as his fingers grabbed hold of two very familiar items. Pulling them out with a victorious grin, Greg let out a self-satisfied chuckle. "Observe."
"Awesome!' Greg let out an excited cheer, finally finding something useful to add to the rest of his equipment, as well as the two ready-made skills that came with it. "Man, it's been a long time since I wore these bad boys. Better late than never. [Equip.]"
The black gloves and shoes vanished in a blink of blue light and appeared on Greg's body, his current shoes disappearing off his feet in place of the kickboxing shoes.
"Whoa, this is awe- uggggghh," Greg raised a gloved hand to his forehead as a sudden burst of information suddenly rushed into his head. Information like how to make a proper fist, how to throw a correct cross, how to move quickly on his feet, etc.
He shook his head, blinking rapidly.
"That was just plain weird," Greg mused to himself as he shook his head, trying to regain his bearings.
The sensation hadn't hurt, not really. It had just been uncomfortable and… weird. It was basically the mental equivalent of getting slapped in the face with a fish.
"At least, I got some new skills," Greg crowed, a smile on his face. Curling his hands into fists, Greg struck a karate pose to test out his new knowledge, his body instinctively correcting his positioning and foot placement to something much more plausible to use in a fight.
Greg's smile faded a little at the sudden shift in his body, weirded out by how he hadn't really meant to move that way. "Huh… that's really gonna take some getting used to."
Glancing down at his new equipment, Greg shrugged off the weirdness, deciding on a whim to try out a new trick he had discovered about half an hour ago. "[Send to Inventory.]"
His newly equipped-items vanished in another tiny flash of blue, leaving his feet and hands bare. As soon as the items vanished, Greg shook his head again, suddenly feeling somewhat more awkward in his own body. He moved into a fighting stance again and frowned as he felt a bit less steady on his feet this time, his fists a bit less firm. Greg frowned, pursing his lips. "...weird. [Inventory!]"
Two separate boxes appeared in front of Greg, one with a somewhat three-dimensional image of him with his arms and legs spread out like that Leonardo da Vinci sketch.
The Vesuvian man? Greg shrugged, not really caring that much. Yeah, something like that.
The second box was a simple grid with five of the boxes already filled up. "Looking good, me." Greg snapped his fingers at the image of himself that simply stared forward blankly.
Shaking his head again, Greg pulled himself to his feet, a slight smile on his face. "Okay, just gotta take care of one more thing before it's time to go kick some butt."
His eyes roamed the garage until they landed on what he was looking for. Grimacing, he let out a sigh. "Let's go get this over with."
"Ow!"
-5 hp
"...ow!"
-5 hp
"...ow!"
-7 hp
"...shi-ow!"
-5 hp
"...ow!"
-9 hp
"...shit! Shit! Shit! Ow!"
Hissing in pain, Greg waited for the throbbing sensation to dissipate one more time before he raised the object in his hand high. His other hand remained where it was, splayed out flat as it rested on top of the garage workbench.
A part of Greg felt like this wasn't worth it.
The other part didn't care.
Winding back his arm, Greg Veder literally brought the hammer down, the head slamming into his wrist with all the force he could muster.
-12 hp [Critical Hit!]
"Motherf-! Goddamn it!" Cradling his wrist, Greg held back tears, waiting for the pain in his hand to fade. Eyes closed, Greg began to groan as he rocked back and forth on the stool he was sitting on, insulting himself in his head for this stupid idea. He was so caught up in cursing his own dumb idea, he barely heard a soft 'ping!'
In fact, he didn't hear it until it repeated a second time.
Greg opened his eyes, all his pain forgotten as a bright grin spread across his face.
Through enduring physical punishment, your VIT has increased by 1.
"Worth it."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Huh, let's try this one out. [Observe]."
Greg let out an annoyed groan, shoulders slumping as he tossed the pair of shoes over his shoulder without even looking. It landed with a clattering noise on the other side of the garage, landing near a pile of other rejected items.
"Okay, that was another bust," Greg muttered, running a hand through his bowl cut. It had been a while since he left the backyard. Slamming his fists against the tree had started getting boring after the leveling of his [Angry Straight] began moving at a crawl. Gaining three extra levels wasn't bad, though. The constant notification in the corner of his vision of his HP dropping every time he forgot to say the skill name did start to get annoying, though.
Anyway, Greg had been in his current position for a good thirty minutes, on his knees in the garage searching through storage boxes for some useful stuff to equip. After making up his mind to go on a mob hunt, Greg had decided to find something to give him an edge. After all, if he was an RPG character, he needed battle equipment, right?
You'd think so, at least.
All of this is random crap. Boosts to ballroom dancing? Hockey? Swimming? It was a little annoying that after all of this work, he had barely found anything useful, with only three items giving him any sort of combat-related boost. Greg needed some more clothes that would give him something combat related because he had no intention of using up his extra stat points until he was at least level five, with at least eight points in reserve. I want to fight some guy, not beat him in a dance-off or a triathlon.
Shaking his head, Greg turned his attention back to the massive set of boxes in front of him with various words written on the side of each. "Why did Mom even buy this stuff? I never even got into any of these clubs."
Rolling his eyes, he thrust a hand into the box closest to him, his other hand pushing random items to the side as he continued to search the storage container. He let out a sigh as more miscellaneous items spilling out as he did so. "And Mom told me she organized all this last month. How am I supposed to find anything when she doesn't clean up?"
Greg continued rooting around in the box, barely noting the various items he pulled out. "Huh, what's this... ewwww?"
Hanging from his fingers like a used napkin were a pair of purple leg warmers, obviously not brand new. Greg grimaced at the items for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. "Uhhh… [Observe.]"
Greg stuck his tongue out as he finished reading the box, dropping the pair of used leg warmers with a disgusted shudder as his mind went wrong places with the [Flexibility] skill and his mother. "...I'm never sleeping again."
Forcing down the bit of bile he could feel creeping up his throat, Greg turned back to his search, albeit with much less enthusiasm than before. After a few minutes more, he grinned as his fingers grabbed hold of two very familiar items. Pulling them out with a victorious grin, Greg let out a self-satisfied chuckle. "Observe."
"Awesome!' Greg let out an excited cheer, finally finding something useful to add to the rest of his equipment, as well as the two ready-made skills that came with it. "Man, it's been a long time since I wore these bad boys. Better late than never. [Equip.]"
The black gloves and shoes vanished in a blink of blue light and appeared on Greg's body, his current shoes disappearing off his feet in place of the kickboxing shoes.
"Whoa, this is awe- uggggghh," Greg raised a gloved hand to his forehead as a sudden burst of information suddenly rushed into his head. Information like how to make a proper fist, how to throw a correct cross, how to move quickly on his feet, etc.
He shook his head, blinking rapidly.
"That was just plain weird," Greg mused to himself as he shook his head, trying to regain his bearings.
The sensation hadn't hurt, not really. It had just been uncomfortable and… weird. It was basically the mental equivalent of getting slapped in the face with a fish.
"At least, I got some new skills," Greg crowed, a smile on his face. Curling his hands into fists, Greg struck a karate pose to test out his new knowledge, his body instinctively correcting his positioning and foot placement to something much more plausible to use in a fight.
Greg's smile faded a little at the sudden shift in his body, weirded out by how he hadn't really meant to move that way. "Huh… that's really gonna take some getting used to."
Glancing down at his new equipment, Greg shrugged off the weirdness, deciding on a whim to try out a new trick he had discovered about half an hour ago. "[Send to Inventory.]"
His newly equipped-items vanished in another tiny flash of blue, leaving his feet and hands bare. As soon as the items vanished, Greg shook his head again, suddenly feeling somewhat more awkward in his own body. He moved into a fighting stance again and frowned as he felt a bit less steady on his feet this time, his fists a bit less firm. Greg frowned, pursing his lips. "...weird. [Inventory!]"
Two separate boxes appeared in front of Greg, one with a somewhat three-dimensional image of him with his arms and legs spread out like that Leonardo da Vinci sketch.
The Vesuvian man? Greg shrugged, not really caring that much. Yeah, something like that.
The second box was a simple grid with five of the boxes already filled up. "Looking good, me." Greg snapped his fingers at the image of himself that simply stared forward blankly.
Shaking his head again, Greg pulled himself to his feet, a slight smile on his face. "Okay, just gotta take care of one more thing before it's time to go kick some butt."
His eyes roamed the garage until they landed on what he was looking for. Grimacing, he let out a sigh. "Let's go get this over with."
- o - o- o – o – o – o – o -
"Ow!"
-5 hp
"...ow!"
-5 hp
"...ow!"
-7 hp
"...shi-ow!"
-5 hp
"...ow!"
-9 hp
"...shit! Shit! Shit! Ow!"
Hissing in pain, Greg waited for the throbbing sensation to dissipate one more time before he raised the object in his hand high. His other hand remained where it was, splayed out flat as it rested on top of the garage workbench.
A part of Greg felt like this wasn't worth it.
The other part didn't care.
Winding back his arm, Greg Veder literally brought the hammer down, the head slamming into his wrist with all the force he could muster.
-12 hp [Critical Hit!]
"Motherf-! Goddamn it!" Cradling his wrist, Greg held back tears, waiting for the pain in his hand to fade. Eyes closed, Greg began to groan as he rocked back and forth on the stool he was sitting on, insulting himself in his head for this stupid idea. He was so caught up in cursing his own dumb idea, he barely heard a soft 'ping!'
In fact, he didn't hear it until it repeated a second time.
Greg opened his eyes, all his pain forgotten as a bright grin spread across his face.
Through enduring physical punishment, your VIT has increased by 1.
"Worth it."
- o - o- o – o – o – o – o -
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 3
XP: 100/1800
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 110/110
MP: 60/60
Will: 39
STR: 2
SPD: 3
VIT: 4
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-5)
CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)
Unspent Points: 4
Student
Level 3
XP: 100/1800
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 110/110
MP: 60/60
Will: 39
STR: 2
SPD: 3
VIT: 4
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-5)
CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)
Unspent Points: 4
Tutorial 1.6
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2016
- Messages
- 319
- Likes received
- 13,953
Tutorial 1.6
"Hey, Fingers, you seeing this?"
Dexter "Fingers" Clark glanced up from where he sat, slumped against an alley wall, and looked in the direction his friend, Knives, was gesturing in.
The sight was enough to make him raise an eyebrow.
Fingers had seen his fair share of odd-looking figures. It kind of came standard once you became a Merchant. You saw weird shit all the time. Sometimes, it was cape shit. Capes were always a little bit off.
Everyone knew that.
Sometimes, it was just regular people being weird as fuck.
In this case, it seemed more like the second.
As Fingers spotted the person walking towards them, he was already suspicious. This side of the Trainyard belonged to a few specific types of individual. Namely, the homeless, drug addicts and gang members. Unsurprisingly, members of the Archer's Bridge Merchants were usually all three.
It was well understood that people in this part of Brockton Bay had certain common identifiers. No one that clean and in clothes that new was in this part of town because they belonged here, no matter how weird they looked.
Fingers snorted. "Yeah, I'm seeing this. It ain't just you."
"Whaddya think it wants?"
"It's a he, Knives."
"The fuck I care? I want his hoodie." Knives punctuated his sentence by spitting up a thick wad of phlegm right at Fingers' feet, causing the larger man to send his partner a dirty look. "And his pants too."
"I mean, he doesn't look like your size," Fingers muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "Probably outweighs you too."
"You think I wanna wear that GAP-looking shit?" Knives shot back, baring stained and dirty teeth in an annoyed grimace.
Fingers snorted at Knives attempt to look threatening, fixing the black man with a glare of his own. "You got on a ratty-ass wife-beater that stinks like shit. those jeans are dirty as fuck and your shoes are torn all to hell. You need clothes more than I do."
It wasn't even an exaggeration. What they both had on, ratty and stained as it was, was par for the course when it came to most of the Merchants. Oversized, or undersized, stained or mismatched, it didn't really matter. They wore what they could.
"Who the fuck asked your horse-looking ass?" The tiny man raised a hand to scratch at his patchy beard, clearing his throat roughly as he did so. "Fuck it, I say we find out what this fuck wants, then we jump his ass, take his wallet and sell the rest of his shit."
Fingers shrugged, uncaring.
"Sure, why not?" It's not like he was the type to turn down a chance to make money.
The bundled-up figure walked closer to the two Merchants, allowing Fingers to get a good look at him. With him wearing a hoodie, a pair of goggles, and a scarf over his face, not to mention the odd gloves, shoes and sports pads he had on, it was hard to tell what the person actually looked like. For a moment, Fingers was wary. The thought that this could be some new cape looking to pick a fight flashed through his mind and his fingers clenched into a fist.
*...uh, Hey."
With dawning surprise, Fingers realized that the figure huddled up in these clothes was a kid.
Then, the kid spoke again.
"Uhhh… um, do…" Fingers raised an eyebrow at the cracking voice, expression growing more incredulous as he saw the kid's hands tapping at his sides in a nervous tic. "Do… do you guys know where I can… uhh… get some… uhhh… get some... some drugs?"
The last word came out in a conspiratorial whisper, the boy leaning in slightly as if anyone in the Trainyards would bother listening in.
Fingers snorted again, turning his head down to laugh into the back of his hand. "Fuckin' first-timers, man," the gang member muttered to himself, wiping his nose with wrist.
The tattooed man shot a glance over at Knives, raising an eyebrow at the way the tattooed man eyed the boy in front of them. He could tell his friend was getting ready to pounce, just by the way his thin fingers trailed over his switchblade as if petting a small animal. Putting a hand on his partner's shoulder to get his attention, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, giving Knives a signal to hang back while he did business.
Knives shot him a dark look, his eyes flicking back to the kid for a second, before finally nodding and turning the corner, stepping deeper into the alley.
Shaking his head, Fingers turned back to the kid, flashing the twitchy-looking brat his nicest smile before he got it in his head to run away. He leaned forward, still smiling as warmly as he could. "So, kid, what are you loo-"
"[Angry Straight!]"
Before Fingers could finish the sentence, a gloved fist slammed into his stomach.
Dexter "Fingers" Clark
Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie)
HP: 90/120
Greg blinked in surprise as he watched the gangster's HP fall. 30 points! Awesome!
After equipping a thick hoodie that granted him an extra ten HP, a pair of sports goggles that unlocked his [Reflexes] ability, and a scarf that gave him +2 to [Feinting], all in addition to his kickboxing equipment, he had decided to go hunting for a bad guy to punch.
Setting out towards the Trainyards was a great idea for anyone looking to get into trouble and a perfect place to beat up some gang members. Once the system has confirmed his great idea by granting him a free WIS point, Greg was dead set on heading down there.
Setting out to the Trainyards around three o'clock in the afternoon was less of a great idea, considering Merchants tended to be nocturnal creatures. Despite all that, after walking around the Trainyards for a bit, it didn't take Greg all that long to find a couple of them.
After confirming with his [Observe] that these were actually Merchants, and not just two guys down on their luck, Greg struck.
Specifically, with his [Angry Straight].
The man stumbled back, a look of pained shock on his face as he clutched his stomach. Greg brought his fists up, ready to react if he moved at him. Yeesh, I thought that would at least knock him down!
The taller, lankier man didn't fall, instead collapsing back against a wall with an audible groan.
His friend, the smaller man barely up to Greg's shoulder, rushed out of the alley. His eyes flickered to his fallen partner before those same twitchy, bloodshot eyes darted over to Greg. In a burst of motion, he lashed out, a visible glint in his right hand.
Greg recoiled in pain, hissing as he felt something slash the arm of his hoodie. Despite the heavy blend hoodie supposedly granting him +10 to health, that extra ten points didn't seem all that useful right now. He bit down another shout as the man lunged forward again, the blade jabbing him in the stomach.
-8 hp
-12 hp
Greg's eyes widened as he felt the familiar warm, sticky sensation of blood as it hit his skin. The teen scrambled backwards, screaming out "Power Sprint!" at the top of his lungs. In a burst of yellow, he ran back a few meters, surprising the short man in front of him with both the surge of speed and the flash of light.
"Knives" Freeman
Lv 6 Merchant Slasher (Junkie)
HP: 170/170
Crap! Crap! Crap! Greg's face paled. I don't have enough Will to Angry Strike them both to zero.
"You little shit! Fuck you think this is?" Knives rushed forward again, cursing up a storm as he bared his rotten teeth at Greg. "I'll fucking cut you! I'll rip your fucking guts out!"
Greg dodged the first lunge, but let out a small shout as the second managed to scrape his side.
-5 hp
His breathing coming rapid and quick, Greg jumped back and shouted out "[Inventory: Hammer!]"
Said hammer flew from Greg's hand, appearing out of nowhere, straight toward the head of the Merchant. Simply out of raw luck, the man dodged, his head whipping to the side as the heavy tool rushed by his unprotected cranium. Greg winced as his attack missed. Crap on a cracker. I mean, I didn't think that would even work but still… crap. Why did I only bring one?
The gangster whipped back to Greg, surprise and a hint of fear mixing in with his anger. "What the fuck? The fuck is this shit?"
Greg didn't waste a single moment to even glance at the pop-ups. "[Power Sprint!] [Angry Straight!]"
His body and fist glowing a bright yellow, Greg rushed forward. Enhanced by his momentum, his hand plowed into the man's chest, knocking him back with a powerful blow.
"Knives" Freeman
HP: 120/170
Knives bared his teeth and grunted as the hit rocked him, the tiny man powering through the strike with a rabid fury. With a snarl, he lunged forward again, swinging wildly at Greg with his switchblade.
Greg's wrist snapped up, the back of his hand catching the underside of the gangster's wrist and striking it downwards. The black man's eyes widened as his knife fell from his grip and clattered down the street.
Breathing heavily, Greg didn't let up, driving his fist into the man's face and doing the same with his other before screaming out, "[Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!]" His fist glowed as he continued striking the man, interspersing regular hits in between his uses of [Angry Straight] and pummeling the man with a blistering six-hit combo. A heavy sensation began to crawl up Greg's muscles and his eyes widened.
Stepping back from the gangster, Greg shouted out "[Power Sprint!] [Inventory: Gatorade!]" As he ran a few feet away, a bottle of the flavored water appeared in his hand. Twisting off the gap, Greg gulped the drink down, not even bothering to avoid spilling any on his clothes.
Greg let out an audible sigh as he literally felt the energy returning to his muscles, a big burst of energy followed by smaller trickles.
"What the hell?" The unarmed criminal barked out, eyes wide with confusion at what just happened.
"Forget you saw that! [Angry Straight!]" Greg struck out with a wild swing, plunging his fist into the man's stomach with a yell.
"Knives" Freeman (K.O.)
HP: 0/160
Greg blinked, his breathing still heavy as he stared at the fallen thug. The tiny man lay slumped on the ground, bruising already visible on his face.. "Is he done?" Greg voiced aloud, while in his head, he couldn't help but wonder, Is he dead?
Tentatively, he stretched his foot out, poking the Merchant with the tip of his toe. As Greg's foot touched the man's side, he let out a groan, the sound nearly causing Greg to jump out of his skin.
The teenager held his breath. 1… 2… 3…
The Merchant didn't move.
"Yes!" Greg's hands went up in the air, his fingers on both hands forming into a "v". "I beat my first bad guy! Operation: Unlimited Power is a go!" With a relieved sigh, the teenager glanced back down at the unconscious thug, simply giving a shrug at the sight. Someone'll find him. It's not like he's dead or anything.
As he turned around to head back home, Greg suddenly stopped after brealized that he hadn't received either a quest notification or a level up notification. But I beat the b-
Something slammed into him from behind, hard and heavy. Greg stumbled forward and fell to his hands and knees, his head feeling like someone had taken a bat to it.
-30 hp
Greg coughed and sputtered as his hands and knees hit the ground, rolling to the side on instinct. To his right, a hammer hit the ground, cracking the concrete as the curved end hit the building material. My hammer?
Shocked, Greg scrambled back on his hands and knees, glancing up to see the person holding the hammer.
Dexter "Fingers" Clark
Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie)
HP: 91/120
The guy I hit before? How'd he get my hammer? Greg thought, confusion visible on his face. A moment later, he remembered what he had used it for. "Oh… oh yeah, that was a dumb idea."
Fingers stared at him with manic eyes, more tired than bloodshot, and raised the hammer again.
Greg acted without thinking and jumped forwards, pouncing on the merchant. His hand snapped out, grabbing the junkie's emaciated wrist and squeezing as tightly as he could.
"Sorry, but this… this is mine." With a twist, he wrenched the hammer from the junkie, slamming an elbow into the man's throat at the same time, his legs straddling the man's torso. "You shouldn't steal!"
"Taking people's stuff is wrong!" Greg brought the hammer down.
The thug jerked, lunging at Greg with a curse on his lips.
Greg did it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Breathing heavy as the junkie lay still beneath him, Greg let out a relieved sigh. "At least that's finally over."
"Niiice." Smiling widely as he stood up, Greg wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his free hand. Tossing the hammer up into the air, he caught it again, noting with slight interest how much easier that was to pull off than when he tried it at home.
Shaking his head, he intoned, "[Send to Inventory.]" The hammer vanished, leaving both of Greg's hands free and allowing him to wipe his blood-covered hands on his black jeans. "Uggh, is this mine or theirs?"
Glancing back at the two fallen thugs, Greg couldn't hide the smile on his face. He had done this, all by himself. Taking down two grown men in about five minutes wasn't something a lot of kids his age could say. Unless you're the Wards, Greg admitted to himself. Those guys can probably say that all the time.
"This win kinda feels empty, ya know? You know what this moment needs?" Greg nodded to himself as he began to walk back the way he came from. "Some victory music. Not like theme music, more like a BGM to play after I win a fight or something. Don't I have an options menu to set that in or something?"
Greg mulled over it, his head already nodding along to the victory music he had chosen in his head. "Eh, I'll check when I get home."
Leaving behind two bleeding and unconscious bodies unattended in the worst part of town, Greg Veder began to make his way home with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Hey, Fingers, you seeing this?"
Dexter "Fingers" Clark glanced up from where he sat, slumped against an alley wall, and looked in the direction his friend, Knives, was gesturing in.
The sight was enough to make him raise an eyebrow.
Fingers had seen his fair share of odd-looking figures. It kind of came standard once you became a Merchant. You saw weird shit all the time. Sometimes, it was cape shit. Capes were always a little bit off.
Everyone knew that.
Sometimes, it was just regular people being weird as fuck.
In this case, it seemed more like the second.
As Fingers spotted the person walking towards them, he was already suspicious. This side of the Trainyard belonged to a few specific types of individual. Namely, the homeless, drug addicts and gang members. Unsurprisingly, members of the Archer's Bridge Merchants were usually all three.
It was well understood that people in this part of Brockton Bay had certain common identifiers. No one that clean and in clothes that new was in this part of town because they belonged here, no matter how weird they looked.
Fingers snorted. "Yeah, I'm seeing this. It ain't just you."
"Whaddya think it wants?"
"It's a he, Knives."
"The fuck I care? I want his hoodie." Knives punctuated his sentence by spitting up a thick wad of phlegm right at Fingers' feet, causing the larger man to send his partner a dirty look. "And his pants too."
"I mean, he doesn't look like your size," Fingers muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "Probably outweighs you too."
"You think I wanna wear that GAP-looking shit?" Knives shot back, baring stained and dirty teeth in an annoyed grimace.
Fingers snorted at Knives attempt to look threatening, fixing the black man with a glare of his own. "You got on a ratty-ass wife-beater that stinks like shit. those jeans are dirty as fuck and your shoes are torn all to hell. You need clothes more than I do."
It wasn't even an exaggeration. What they both had on, ratty and stained as it was, was par for the course when it came to most of the Merchants. Oversized, or undersized, stained or mismatched, it didn't really matter. They wore what they could.
"Who the fuck asked your horse-looking ass?" The tiny man raised a hand to scratch at his patchy beard, clearing his throat roughly as he did so. "Fuck it, I say we find out what this fuck wants, then we jump his ass, take his wallet and sell the rest of his shit."
Fingers shrugged, uncaring.
"Sure, why not?" It's not like he was the type to turn down a chance to make money.
The bundled-up figure walked closer to the two Merchants, allowing Fingers to get a good look at him. With him wearing a hoodie, a pair of goggles, and a scarf over his face, not to mention the odd gloves, shoes and sports pads he had on, it was hard to tell what the person actually looked like. For a moment, Fingers was wary. The thought that this could be some new cape looking to pick a fight flashed through his mind and his fingers clenched into a fist.
*...uh, Hey."
With dawning surprise, Fingers realized that the figure huddled up in these clothes was a kid.
Then, the kid spoke again.
"Uhhh… um, do…" Fingers raised an eyebrow at the cracking voice, expression growing more incredulous as he saw the kid's hands tapping at his sides in a nervous tic. "Do… do you guys know where I can… uhh… get some… uhhh… get some... some drugs?"
The last word came out in a conspiratorial whisper, the boy leaning in slightly as if anyone in the Trainyards would bother listening in.
Fingers snorted again, turning his head down to laugh into the back of his hand. "Fuckin' first-timers, man," the gang member muttered to himself, wiping his nose with wrist.
The tattooed man shot a glance over at Knives, raising an eyebrow at the way the tattooed man eyed the boy in front of them. He could tell his friend was getting ready to pounce, just by the way his thin fingers trailed over his switchblade as if petting a small animal. Putting a hand on his partner's shoulder to get his attention, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, giving Knives a signal to hang back while he did business.
Knives shot him a dark look, his eyes flicking back to the kid for a second, before finally nodding and turning the corner, stepping deeper into the alley.
Shaking his head, Fingers turned back to the kid, flashing the twitchy-looking brat his nicest smile before he got it in his head to run away. He leaned forward, still smiling as warmly as he could. "So, kid, what are you loo-"
"[Angry Straight!]"
Before Fingers could finish the sentence, a gloved fist slammed into his stomach.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Dexter "Fingers" Clark
Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie)
HP: 90/120
Greg blinked in surprise as he watched the gangster's HP fall. 30 points! Awesome!
After equipping a thick hoodie that granted him an extra ten HP, a pair of sports goggles that unlocked his [Reflexes] ability, and a scarf that gave him +2 to [Feinting], all in addition to his kickboxing equipment, he had decided to go hunting for a bad guy to punch.
Setting out towards the Trainyards was a great idea for anyone looking to get into trouble and a perfect place to beat up some gang members. Once the system has confirmed his great idea by granting him a free WIS point, Greg was dead set on heading down there.
Setting out to the Trainyards around three o'clock in the afternoon was less of a great idea, considering Merchants tended to be nocturnal creatures. Despite all that, after walking around the Trainyards for a bit, it didn't take Greg all that long to find a couple of them.
After confirming with his [Observe] that these were actually Merchants, and not just two guys down on their luck, Greg struck.
Specifically, with his [Angry Straight].
The man stumbled back, a look of pained shock on his face as he clutched his stomach. Greg brought his fists up, ready to react if he moved at him. Yeesh, I thought that would at least knock him down!
The taller, lankier man didn't fall, instead collapsing back against a wall with an audible groan.
His friend, the smaller man barely up to Greg's shoulder, rushed out of the alley. His eyes flickered to his fallen partner before those same twitchy, bloodshot eyes darted over to Greg. In a burst of motion, he lashed out, a visible glint in his right hand.
Greg recoiled in pain, hissing as he felt something slash the arm of his hoodie. Despite the heavy blend hoodie supposedly granting him +10 to health, that extra ten points didn't seem all that useful right now. He bit down another shout as the man lunged forward again, the blade jabbing him in the stomach.
-8 hp
-12 hp
Greg's eyes widened as he felt the familiar warm, sticky sensation of blood as it hit his skin. The teen scrambled backwards, screaming out "Power Sprint!" at the top of his lungs. In a burst of yellow, he ran back a few meters, surprising the short man in front of him with both the surge of speed and the flash of light.
"Knives" Freeman
Lv 6 Merchant Slasher (Junkie)
HP: 170/170
Crap! Crap! Crap! Greg's face paled. I don't have enough Will to Angry Strike them both to zero.
"You little shit! Fuck you think this is?" Knives rushed forward again, cursing up a storm as he bared his rotten teeth at Greg. "I'll fucking cut you! I'll rip your fucking guts out!"
Greg dodged the first lunge, but let out a small shout as the second managed to scrape his side.
-5 hp
His breathing coming rapid and quick, Greg jumped back and shouted out "[Inventory: Hammer!]"
Said hammer flew from Greg's hand, appearing out of nowhere, straight toward the head of the Merchant. Simply out of raw luck, the man dodged, his head whipping to the side as the heavy tool rushed by his unprotected cranium. Greg winced as his attack missed. Crap on a cracker. I mean, I didn't think that would even work but still… crap. Why did I only bring one?
The gangster whipped back to Greg, surprise and a hint of fear mixing in with his anger. "What the fuck? The fuck is this shit?"
Greg didn't waste a single moment to even glance at the pop-ups. "[Power Sprint!] [Angry Straight!]"
His body and fist glowing a bright yellow, Greg rushed forward. Enhanced by his momentum, his hand plowed into the man's chest, knocking him back with a powerful blow.
"Knives" Freeman
HP: 120/170
Knives bared his teeth and grunted as the hit rocked him, the tiny man powering through the strike with a rabid fury. With a snarl, he lunged forward again, swinging wildly at Greg with his switchblade.
Greg's wrist snapped up, the back of his hand catching the underside of the gangster's wrist and striking it downwards. The black man's eyes widened as his knife fell from his grip and clattered down the street.
Breathing heavily, Greg didn't let up, driving his fist into the man's face and doing the same with his other before screaming out, "[Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!]" His fist glowed as he continued striking the man, interspersing regular hits in between his uses of [Angry Straight] and pummeling the man with a blistering six-hit combo. A heavy sensation began to crawl up Greg's muscles and his eyes widened.
Stepping back from the gangster, Greg shouted out "[Power Sprint!] [Inventory: Gatorade!]" As he ran a few feet away, a bottle of the flavored water appeared in his hand. Twisting off the gap, Greg gulped the drink down, not even bothering to avoid spilling any on his clothes.
Greg let out an audible sigh as he literally felt the energy returning to his muscles, a big burst of energy followed by smaller trickles.
"What the hell?" The unarmed criminal barked out, eyes wide with confusion at what just happened.
"Forget you saw that! [Angry Straight!]" Greg struck out with a wild swing, plunging his fist into the man's stomach with a yell.
"Knives" Freeman (K.O.)
HP: 0/160
Greg blinked, his breathing still heavy as he stared at the fallen thug. The tiny man lay slumped on the ground, bruising already visible on his face.. "Is he done?" Greg voiced aloud, while in his head, he couldn't help but wonder, Is he dead?
Tentatively, he stretched his foot out, poking the Merchant with the tip of his toe. As Greg's foot touched the man's side, he let out a groan, the sound nearly causing Greg to jump out of his skin.
The teenager held his breath. 1… 2… 3…
The Merchant didn't move.
"Yes!" Greg's hands went up in the air, his fingers on both hands forming into a "v". "I beat my first bad guy! Operation: Unlimited Power is a go!" With a relieved sigh, the teenager glanced back down at the unconscious thug, simply giving a shrug at the sight. Someone'll find him. It's not like he's dead or anything.
As he turned around to head back home, Greg suddenly stopped after brealized that he hadn't received either a quest notification or a level up notification. But I beat the b-
Something slammed into him from behind, hard and heavy. Greg stumbled forward and fell to his hands and knees, his head feeling like someone had taken a bat to it.
-30 hp
Greg coughed and sputtered as his hands and knees hit the ground, rolling to the side on instinct. To his right, a hammer hit the ground, cracking the concrete as the curved end hit the building material. My hammer?
Shocked, Greg scrambled back on his hands and knees, glancing up to see the person holding the hammer.
Dexter "Fingers" Clark
Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie)
HP: 91/120
The guy I hit before? How'd he get my hammer? Greg thought, confusion visible on his face. A moment later, he remembered what he had used it for. "Oh… oh yeah, that was a dumb idea."
Fingers stared at him with manic eyes, more tired than bloodshot, and raised the hammer again.
Greg acted without thinking and jumped forwards, pouncing on the merchant. His hand snapped out, grabbing the junkie's emaciated wrist and squeezing as tightly as he could.
"Sorry, but this… this is mine." With a twist, he wrenched the hammer from the junkie, slamming an elbow into the man's throat at the same time, his legs straddling the man's torso. "You shouldn't steal!"
"Taking people's stuff is wrong!" Greg brought the hammer down.
The thug jerked, lunging at Greg with a curse on his lips.
Greg did it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Breathing heavy as the junkie lay still beneath him, Greg let out a relieved sigh. "At least that's finally over."
"Niiice." Smiling widely as he stood up, Greg wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his free hand. Tossing the hammer up into the air, he caught it again, noting with slight interest how much easier that was to pull off than when he tried it at home.
Shaking his head, he intoned, "[Send to Inventory.]" The hammer vanished, leaving both of Greg's hands free and allowing him to wipe his blood-covered hands on his black jeans. "Uggh, is this mine or theirs?"
Glancing back at the two fallen thugs, Greg couldn't hide the smile on his face. He had done this, all by himself. Taking down two grown men in about five minutes wasn't something a lot of kids his age could say. Unless you're the Wards, Greg admitted to himself. Those guys can probably say that all the time.
"This win kinda feels empty, ya know? You know what this moment needs?" Greg nodded to himself as he began to walk back the way he came from. "Some victory music. Not like theme music, more like a BGM to play after I win a fight or something. Don't I have an options menu to set that in or something?"
Greg mulled over it, his head already nodding along to the victory music he had chosen in his head. "Eh, I'll check when I get home."
Leaving behind two bleeding and unconscious bodies unattended in the worst part of town, Greg Veder began to make his way home with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 4
XP: 50/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 130/130
MP: 70/70
Will: 45
STR: 3
SPD: 3
VIT: 4
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-6)
CHA: 1 (+9) (-9)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
Student
Level 4
XP: 50/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 130/130
MP: 70/70
Will: 45
STR: 3
SPD: 3
VIT: 4
INT: 6
WIS: 1 (-6)
CHA: 1 (+9) (-9)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2015
- Messages
- 6,070
- Likes received
- 22,115
I like it.
Depreciating humor is great.
Now lets beat ourselves up more so we are unstoppable!
Depreciating humor is great.
Now lets beat ourselves up more so we are unstoppable!
Oniele
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Dec 31, 2017
- Messages
- 436
- Likes received
- 1,680
Let's stab ourselves so Hookwolf doesn't turn us into mincemeat!
Grind 2.1
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2016
- Messages
- 319
- Likes received
- 13,953
Grind 2.1
Repressing a snort, Greg turned his head slightly, locking his gaze on the girl a few seats across from Micah. "[Observe.]"
His head lolled as he rested his chin on an upraised palm, glancing away from the busty bitch of a cheerleader before she noticed him staring. That was a situation that he didn't want to have to deal with again. His head turned listlessly to the side and locked on another girl.
Ever since his little outing yesterday afternoon, Greg had gotten only one more quest and that one almost wasn't worth it. Only getting 75 XP for cleaning up the mess he made in the garage was kind of a letdown, but Greg didn't let it bother him too much. Instead, he decided to spend the rest of the day grinding his stats, to mild success.
However, that was when he was at home.
At school, he couldn't exactly do pushups until his body gave out to level STR (+2) and neither could he slam a pan into his face over and over to bulk up his VIT (+1). In class, there was nothing for Greg to really do as he sat here, especially considering Sparky had been suspended since last week.
So, Greg simply sat there with nothing to do, barely listening to the teacher as she went over something related to the chapters of some book they were supposed to have read over the weekend.
Nothing to do, except power-level his [Observe] skill, of course.
Greg raised an eyebrow at that description but didn't pay it much thought, turning aside to someone else. "[Observe.]"
"[Observe.]"
Greg held back a snort. "[Observe.]"
Greg blinked, his head tilting as his gaze tilted downwards towards Andy's waist. A moment later, he shook his head, shuddering. I really didn't need to know that.
Nodding at the screen's message, Greg glanced towards the back of the room, eyes glazing over as he spotted a familiar head of beautiful, brown hair. An earnest smile immediately leapt onto his face as she lifted her head and caught his eye, the same smile dimming slightly when she simply stared past him like he didn't exist.
Greg sighed slightly, before shrugging his shoulders at the usual behavior from her. "[Observe.]"
Wait, what? Greg did a double-take, not at Taylor's… interesting description, but at the fact that her level and class were hidden behind a wall of question marks. The question marks themselves were doing a great job at drawing his attention away from the super embarrassing color commentary his [Observe] had given him. Where's her stats? I've never seen anyone have question marks before.
"Weird." Greg pursed his face. Maybe I need to level up [Observe] more?
"Mr Veder!"
Greg flinched, jerking back to attention at the sudden shout of his name. Glancing up, he spotted his English teacher glaring at him over her glasses.
"Uh…" Greg froze as he realized that the whole class, sans Taylor, was staring at him, most of them with mocking smiles on their own faces.
"Uhhh… yes, Ms Gherry?" Greg gulped as the look on her face seemed to tighten. Ms Gherry was apparently in one of her moods. Most of the time the woman was distant and barely paid attention to the class except to read from a book. On other days, she was a complete battle-axe.
Greg guessed her anger issues stemmed from man troubles. He also doubted her ability to keep a boyfriend when she add anger issues, causing her to keep looking for another one. A vicious cycle, really.
"I was just about to go over the homework and I noticed you were busy paying attention to something else with no assignment even on your desk." The woman folded her arms over her chest, slowly walking over to Greg where he sat at the corner of the room nearest the entrance.
We had an assignment? Greg winced.
When she reached the front of his desk, Greg was forced to crane his head up especially high to stare at the statuesque woman. He bit his tongue, the first words on his lips almost being, "Speak louder. I cant hear you from up there."
"Mr Veder, I have to ask if you did the homework I assigned?"
"The… the homework," Greg blinked, trying his hardest not to phrase it like a question. He glanced at the desks surrounding him, his heart dropping into his stomach as he realized everyone else had papers on their desk, either written or typed. "You're asking me if I did it?"
As Ms Gherry raised an eyebrow, Greg hurriedly answered. "Of course! Of course, I did it. It's just… I left it at home." Greg spouted the lie, doing his best to sound like he believed it.
Greg did his best not to twitch or even stare at the screen that appeared over his teacher's bust, locking his eyes directly on her face.
"Tell me, Mr Veder." Her steely eyes narrowed, and Greg found himself tilting backwards in his seat as she leaned forwards, clasping a manicured hand around the corner of his desk. "Be honest with me. Did you even do the reading of Part 1 of the Divine Comedy? The Inferno? The same reading I assigned on Thursday?"
Greg could hear snickers and the sound of muttering wafting throughout the class, before Ms Gherry snapped to face the other students, quieting them down with a stare.
"What? Come on, Ms Gherry," Greg scoffed, averting his eyes for a moment. "Of course I read Dante's Divine Comedy."
Greg knew very well that the book sat on top of his dresser, unopened since he brought it home. "I loved it. It was a great book. I just forgot the homework – that I did do – at home." You sit on a throne of lies!
Ms Gherry seemed to relax slightly, unfolding her arms as she stared down at him.
Greg, taking cues from her, released a breath he wasn't aware that he had been holding and let out a relieved sigh.
"You know, I was considering giving you detention for being the only one in the class not to have completed either the reading or the assignment," Ms Gherry began. "However, since you claim to have completed the assignment and read the Inferno, I'll give you credit for both."
Greg's jaw dropped. "Really?"
The teacher's announcement was met with loud jeers from most of the class, the students vocally upset about an arrangement they considered unfair.
"Quiet." Ms Gherry only had to raise her voice just slightly to shut down the noise, the iciness of her tone conveying the message well enough. "I wasn't done speaking." Turning back to Greg, she gave him a slight smile, the facial expression making Greg tense slightly. "Now, Mr Veder, I'll give you full credit for both assignments," she held up a finger, "on one condition."
"And the penny drops," Greg muttered to himself.
Ms Gherry's smile turned cold as she stretched her arm out, gesturing toward the front of the classroom. "The condition being that you give a short presentation – an oral report, to be exact – on everything you wrote, the summary of part one of Dante's Divine Comedy and what you felt it means. If you can't do it, then you have detention… for a week."
Someone in the class let out a soft "Oh, damn."
Wincing, Greg raised a finger. "D… did you say a week?"
"A week, as in seven days. Starting today and ending next week Wednesday. But all that is just a formality, really." The teacher continued smiling coldly, her eyes showing how little she meant it. "After all, you said you did the work."
If you're gonna screw me over that badly, you freaking Amazon, you might as well take me out to dinner first. Greg closed his eyes and let out a quick breath before opening them a moment later, flashing his Literature teacher his brightest grin. "No problem, teach. I can handle this."
As he stood up from his desk, Greg began to plan, his mind whirring as he tried to find a way to get through this. Dante's Divine Comedy. Dante's Divine… Comedy. Why does that name sound familiar? Where do I know this from?
As Greg faced the class, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Ms Gherry was just standing up against the wall, eyes firmly on him.
He opened his mouth. "Hey, guys. Umm… today, I'm going to talk about Dante… Dante and his Inferno." I swear to God that name sounds familiar.
"Dante," Greg continued, "I mean… Dante, we all know who Dante is, right?" He spread his arms out as he gestured toward his audience, receiving nothing but bored and amused faces in return.
"Yes", interrupted Ms Gherry from her position on the wall, "yes, they do. They did the work. This is about your knowledge, Mr Veder."
Greg laughed, his voice cracking slightly as he tried his best not to sound nervous. "Yeah, of course. I know that. Engaging with the audience is just part of a presentation, Ms Gherry."
"Uh-huh," the teacher's smile tightened, "Engage less. You do realize, that when you get detention, I will be calling your mother."
Wow, not if. When. God, she's not just screwing me over. She's going in dry too. "G-got it," Greg replied.
Turning back to the class, Greg began again. "Dante's Inferno is about… is about..."
Greg paused, familiar memories hitting him. Memories of nearly four straight days on his console playing and replaying a great game. Holy Hell, that's it! Dante's Inferno! How did I forget? I played the story mode so many times.
Greg smiled at his classmates, mulling over what little he remembered of the game's plot for a moment.
Then, he spoke.
"Dante's Inferno is about a man named Dante who enters Hell through a crack in the ground. He enters Hell to go and find this girl named Beatrice, I think, who died," Greg said, shrugging.
"Anyway, Dante really loves her 'cause she's his girlfriend or wife or something. So, the guy heads into Hell and ends up at this big river." Greg paused, holding up a hand. "Actually, before he gets to the river, he meets this dude named Virgil and then he gets past a gate or something to get to the river, I think.
"Anyway, the river is where souls cross into actual Hell and Dante has to get across. To be honest, I didn't get why there was a lake in Hell. Bad writing, maybe. Even if there's a lake, why can't he just swim, right?" Shaking his hand, Greg continues. "Forget the swimming part. So, he goes through Hell, and basically, Hell is divided into like nine areas or, I think, circles or something? And it goes like," Greg held up nine fingers and began counting down.
"Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger… uhh, Heretics, Heresy?" Greg shrugged again, shaking his head. "And… uh, Violence, Fraud and Treachery. I also didn't really get why violence was separate from anger and greed was separate from gluttony. Why add two extra circles when you could have just had seven, am I right? Like, save yourself the time. Oh, yeah, there was also a city in Hell, which was really weird because who's gonna live there? Demons? Why would they need a city? They're demons."
Greg couldn't help but emphasize this part as it never made sense to him in the game. "Who's the mayor of Hell? Lucifer didn't live there so it couldn't be him. Does the city have a stable economy? Do they pay taxes? I'm assuming this was kind of a type of fanfiction of the Bible but since I don't ever plan on reading the Bible, I'm gonna assume it is." Greg nodded, turning back to his teacher. "That's it. That's basically all I remember from the ga-"
Greg's eyes widened as he caught himself from ruining his whole speech. "That's all I remember from… from what I wrote. That's all of Dante's Inferno that I can remember."
Ms Gherry stared at him with half-lidded eyes, her smile long gone. After a few seconds of tense silence, she let out a deep sigh. "You know, Mr Veder. I'm surprised that you weren't actually lying."
"Me? Lie?" Greg made a raspberry noise, averting his eyes again. "I'm a terrible liar."
Ms Gherry nodded in agreement. "I know. That's why I said I was surprised. Full credit. Now get back to your seat."
By being extremely convincing, your CHA has increased by 1.
Through recalling long-forgotten but relevant information, your INT has increased by 1.
Flashing his teacher and the class a shit-eating grin, Greg walked over to his seat. "Anyone wanna give me one up top for that awesome presentation I just pulled off?" Greg grinned at the three people sitting closest to him, raising a hand to be high-fived. "Andy? Janet? Madison?... No?"
Greg shrugged. "Fine, be haters. I'll high-five myself."
And he did.
It felt awesome.
AN:
After some complaints, I have noticed that the way I display stat modifiers is somewhat confusing. After some notes from a beta reader who I consulted solely regarding the numbers involved in this fic, I will be changing the way stat modifiers are displayed in the chapter on Greg's stat list from this point on. Please look below to how that will be displayed. Also, I removed the 50% bonus to CHA and just increased it from a +5 CHA bonus to a +9 CHA bonus. Thank you.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"[Observe.]"
Repressing a snort, Greg turned his head slightly, locking his gaze on the girl a few seats across from Micah. "[Observe.]"
His head lolled as he rested his chin on an upraised palm, glancing away from the busty bitch of a cheerleader before she noticed him staring. That was a situation that he didn't want to have to deal with again. His head turned listlessly to the side and locked on another girl.
Ever since his little outing yesterday afternoon, Greg had gotten only one more quest and that one almost wasn't worth it. Only getting 75 XP for cleaning up the mess he made in the garage was kind of a letdown, but Greg didn't let it bother him too much. Instead, he decided to spend the rest of the day grinding his stats, to mild success.
However, that was when he was at home.
At school, he couldn't exactly do pushups until his body gave out to level STR (+2) and neither could he slam a pan into his face over and over to bulk up his VIT (+1). In class, there was nothing for Greg to really do as he sat here, especially considering Sparky had been suspended since last week.
So, Greg simply sat there with nothing to do, barely listening to the teacher as she went over something related to the chapters of some book they were supposed to have read over the weekend.
Nothing to do, except power-level his [Observe] skill, of course.
Greg raised an eyebrow at that description but didn't pay it much thought, turning aside to someone else. "[Observe.]"
"[Observe.]"
Greg held back a snort. "[Observe.]"
Greg blinked, his head tilting as his gaze tilted downwards towards Andy's waist. A moment later, he shook his head, shuddering. I really didn't need to know that.
Nodding at the screen's message, Greg glanced towards the back of the room, eyes glazing over as he spotted a familiar head of beautiful, brown hair. An earnest smile immediately leapt onto his face as she lifted her head and caught his eye, the same smile dimming slightly when she simply stared past him like he didn't exist.
Greg sighed slightly, before shrugging his shoulders at the usual behavior from her. "[Observe.]"
Wait, what? Greg did a double-take, not at Taylor's… interesting description, but at the fact that her level and class were hidden behind a wall of question marks. The question marks themselves were doing a great job at drawing his attention away from the super embarrassing color commentary his [Observe] had given him. Where's her stats? I've never seen anyone have question marks before.
"Weird." Greg pursed his face. Maybe I need to level up [Observe] more?
"Mr Veder!"
Greg flinched, jerking back to attention at the sudden shout of his name. Glancing up, he spotted his English teacher glaring at him over her glasses.
"Uh…" Greg froze as he realized that the whole class, sans Taylor, was staring at him, most of them with mocking smiles on their own faces.
"Uhhh… yes, Ms Gherry?" Greg gulped as the look on her face seemed to tighten. Ms Gherry was apparently in one of her moods. Most of the time the woman was distant and barely paid attention to the class except to read from a book. On other days, she was a complete battle-axe.
Greg guessed her anger issues stemmed from man troubles. He also doubted her ability to keep a boyfriend when she add anger issues, causing her to keep looking for another one. A vicious cycle, really.
"I was just about to go over the homework and I noticed you were busy paying attention to something else with no assignment even on your desk." The woman folded her arms over her chest, slowly walking over to Greg where he sat at the corner of the room nearest the entrance.
We had an assignment? Greg winced.
When she reached the front of his desk, Greg was forced to crane his head up especially high to stare at the statuesque woman. He bit his tongue, the first words on his lips almost being, "Speak louder. I cant hear you from up there."
"Mr Veder, I have to ask if you did the homework I assigned?"
"The… the homework," Greg blinked, trying his hardest not to phrase it like a question. He glanced at the desks surrounding him, his heart dropping into his stomach as he realized everyone else had papers on their desk, either written or typed. "You're asking me if I did it?"
As Ms Gherry raised an eyebrow, Greg hurriedly answered. "Of course! Of course, I did it. It's just… I left it at home." Greg spouted the lie, doing his best to sound like he believed it.
Greg did his best not to twitch or even stare at the screen that appeared over his teacher's bust, locking his eyes directly on her face.
"Tell me, Mr Veder." Her steely eyes narrowed, and Greg found himself tilting backwards in his seat as she leaned forwards, clasping a manicured hand around the corner of his desk. "Be honest with me. Did you even do the reading of Part 1 of the Divine Comedy? The Inferno? The same reading I assigned on Thursday?"
Greg could hear snickers and the sound of muttering wafting throughout the class, before Ms Gherry snapped to face the other students, quieting them down with a stare.
"What? Come on, Ms Gherry," Greg scoffed, averting his eyes for a moment. "Of course I read Dante's Divine Comedy."
Greg knew very well that the book sat on top of his dresser, unopened since he brought it home. "I loved it. It was a great book. I just forgot the homework – that I did do – at home." You sit on a throne of lies!
Ms Gherry seemed to relax slightly, unfolding her arms as she stared down at him.
Greg, taking cues from her, released a breath he wasn't aware that he had been holding and let out a relieved sigh.
"You know, I was considering giving you detention for being the only one in the class not to have completed either the reading or the assignment," Ms Gherry began. "However, since you claim to have completed the assignment and read the Inferno, I'll give you credit for both."
Greg's jaw dropped. "Really?"
The teacher's announcement was met with loud jeers from most of the class, the students vocally upset about an arrangement they considered unfair.
"Quiet." Ms Gherry only had to raise her voice just slightly to shut down the noise, the iciness of her tone conveying the message well enough. "I wasn't done speaking." Turning back to Greg, she gave him a slight smile, the facial expression making Greg tense slightly. "Now, Mr Veder, I'll give you full credit for both assignments," she held up a finger, "on one condition."
"And the penny drops," Greg muttered to himself.
Ms Gherry's smile turned cold as she stretched her arm out, gesturing toward the front of the classroom. "The condition being that you give a short presentation – an oral report, to be exact – on everything you wrote, the summary of part one of Dante's Divine Comedy and what you felt it means. If you can't do it, then you have detention… for a week."
Someone in the class let out a soft "Oh, damn."
Wincing, Greg raised a finger. "D… did you say a week?"
"A week, as in seven days. Starting today and ending next week Wednesday. But all that is just a formality, really." The teacher continued smiling coldly, her eyes showing how little she meant it. "After all, you said you did the work."
If you're gonna screw me over that badly, you freaking Amazon, you might as well take me out to dinner first. Greg closed his eyes and let out a quick breath before opening them a moment later, flashing his Literature teacher his brightest grin. "No problem, teach. I can handle this."
As he stood up from his desk, Greg began to plan, his mind whirring as he tried to find a way to get through this. Dante's Divine Comedy. Dante's Divine… Comedy. Why does that name sound familiar? Where do I know this from?
As Greg faced the class, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Ms Gherry was just standing up against the wall, eyes firmly on him.
He opened his mouth. "Hey, guys. Umm… today, I'm going to talk about Dante… Dante and his Inferno." I swear to God that name sounds familiar.
"Dante," Greg continued, "I mean… Dante, we all know who Dante is, right?" He spread his arms out as he gestured toward his audience, receiving nothing but bored and amused faces in return.
"Yes", interrupted Ms Gherry from her position on the wall, "yes, they do. They did the work. This is about your knowledge, Mr Veder."
Greg laughed, his voice cracking slightly as he tried his best not to sound nervous. "Yeah, of course. I know that. Engaging with the audience is just part of a presentation, Ms Gherry."
"Uh-huh," the teacher's smile tightened, "Engage less. You do realize, that when you get detention, I will be calling your mother."
Wow, not if. When. God, she's not just screwing me over. She's going in dry too. "G-got it," Greg replied.
Turning back to the class, Greg began again. "Dante's Inferno is about… is about..."
Greg paused, familiar memories hitting him. Memories of nearly four straight days on his console playing and replaying a great game. Holy Hell, that's it! Dante's Inferno! How did I forget? I played the story mode so many times.
Greg smiled at his classmates, mulling over what little he remembered of the game's plot for a moment.
Then, he spoke.
"Dante's Inferno is about a man named Dante who enters Hell through a crack in the ground. He enters Hell to go and find this girl named Beatrice, I think, who died," Greg said, shrugging.
"Anyway, Dante really loves her 'cause she's his girlfriend or wife or something. So, the guy heads into Hell and ends up at this big river." Greg paused, holding up a hand. "Actually, before he gets to the river, he meets this dude named Virgil and then he gets past a gate or something to get to the river, I think.
"Anyway, the river is where souls cross into actual Hell and Dante has to get across. To be honest, I didn't get why there was a lake in Hell. Bad writing, maybe. Even if there's a lake, why can't he just swim, right?" Shaking his hand, Greg continues. "Forget the swimming part. So, he goes through Hell, and basically, Hell is divided into like nine areas or, I think, circles or something? And it goes like," Greg held up nine fingers and began counting down.
"Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger… uhh, Heretics, Heresy?" Greg shrugged again, shaking his head. "And… uh, Violence, Fraud and Treachery. I also didn't really get why violence was separate from anger and greed was separate from gluttony. Why add two extra circles when you could have just had seven, am I right? Like, save yourself the time. Oh, yeah, there was also a city in Hell, which was really weird because who's gonna live there? Demons? Why would they need a city? They're demons."
Greg couldn't help but emphasize this part as it never made sense to him in the game. "Who's the mayor of Hell? Lucifer didn't live there so it couldn't be him. Does the city have a stable economy? Do they pay taxes? I'm assuming this was kind of a type of fanfiction of the Bible but since I don't ever plan on reading the Bible, I'm gonna assume it is." Greg nodded, turning back to his teacher. "That's it. That's basically all I remember from the ga-"
Greg's eyes widened as he caught himself from ruining his whole speech. "That's all I remember from… from what I wrote. That's all of Dante's Inferno that I can remember."
Ms Gherry stared at him with half-lidded eyes, her smile long gone. After a few seconds of tense silence, she let out a deep sigh. "You know, Mr Veder. I'm surprised that you weren't actually lying."
"Me? Lie?" Greg made a raspberry noise, averting his eyes again. "I'm a terrible liar."
Ms Gherry nodded in agreement. "I know. That's why I said I was surprised. Full credit. Now get back to your seat."
By being extremely convincing, your CHA has increased by 1.
Through recalling long-forgotten but relevant information, your INT has increased by 1.
Flashing his teacher and the class a shit-eating grin, Greg walked over to his seat. "Anyone wanna give me one up top for that awesome presentation I just pulled off?" Greg grinned at the three people sitting closest to him, raising a hand to be high-fived. "Andy? Janet? Madison?... No?"
Greg shrugged. "Fine, be haters. I'll high-five myself."
And he did.
It felt awesome.
AN:
After some complaints, I have noticed that the way I display stat modifiers is somewhat confusing. After some notes from a beta reader who I consulted solely regarding the numbers involved in this fic, I will be changing the way stat modifiers are displayed in the chapter on Greg's stat list from this point on. Please look below to how that will be displayed. Also, I removed the 50% bonus to CHA and just increased it from a +5 CHA bonus to a +9 CHA bonus. Thank you.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 4
XP: 625/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 140/140
MP: 70/70
Will: 51
STR: 5
SPD: 3
VIT: 5
INT: 7
WIS: 7 (-6)
CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
Student
Level 4
XP: 625/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 140/140
MP: 70/70
Will: 51
STR: 5
SPD: 3
VIT: 5
INT: 7
WIS: 7 (-6)
CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2015
- Messages
- 6,070
- Likes received
- 22,115
Bullshittery is the truest form of flattery
Happy Apple
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2017
- Messages
- 478
- Likes received
- 921
Zfighter18 why you adding this fic in QQ, are you gonna up the lewd?
Cherico
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- May 12, 2017
- Messages
- 16,061
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- 2,130,155
to be honest if any one despretly needs to get laid its Greg and early story Armsmaster.
Reece
Iceberg Slim is my role model
- Joined
- Apr 21, 2014
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Trap Greg X Armsmaster .
Grind 2.2
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
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- Jan 17, 2016
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- 319
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- 13,953
Grind 2.2
"Taylor!"
The hallways at Winslow were always hectic but during the various lunch periods, they were magnitudes worse.
"Hey, Taylor!"
Being as bad as they were, most students had learned to move with the current of rushing students, simply heading to the cafeteria before heading off anywhere else, if only to avoid nearly getting trampled by the horde of hormonal, horny and hungry horrors known as teenagers.
Even heading down one of the lesser-populated side hallways like this could be bad enough, especially if you were trying to catch up to someone who already had a head start.
"Taylor, wait up!"
English Lit had been over for almost a minute now, Taylor vanishing through the back door of the classroom the moment the teacher dismissed the class to their lunch period. Running out into the hallway, he caught sight of Taylor's distinctive black hair only to immediately lose sight of her again as students poured out from their respective classes, some heading to lunch while most began moving to another class.
Greg kept heading in the direction he had last seen Taylor in, walking in the opposite direction of the crowd even as people tried to push him back. Sliding against the wall, Greg pushed past the onrushing crowd, sliding into a relatively empty hallway.
His eyes lit up as he saw her in front of him again, her steps somewhat hurried as she headed towards the stairwell. "Taylor!"
She froze. For a moment, at least. Then, she started moving again, seemingly moving even faster this time.
"Hey, Taylor! Wait up!" His jog turned into a full-bore sprint and in a few seconds, he was at the girl's side, moments before she would have headed into the stairwell. "Taylor, it's me. Greg?"
Taylor shot him a look, one that Greg was familiar with. It was the one that very plainly said 'Are you retarded?' "I know," she began, her voice low. "We've met. I've had class with you since last year."
"Oh, well," Greg let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the base of his neck with one hand, "I didn't mean it like that. You know, that you… heh… didn't know me. I just… uhh, I didn't think you heard me calling you."
"No." Taylor continued staring at him, her expression tinted with just a hint of frustration. "I heard you."
"Ooooookay? How come you didn't even slow down or turn around… or anything?"
"I was going somewhere." Taylor's response was blunt, her voice dull as her hand grabbed hold of the rusted handle to the stairwell door. "I didn't feel like waiting."
"Fair enough," Greg replied with a slight laugh, "No worries, I'm not gonna take it personally or anything."
"Yeah, that would be a shame," Taylor replied, deadpan. "Goodbye, Greg." Taylor pushed open the stairwell door in a rush, her stride already hurried again as she nearly ran down the stairs.
Greg blinked as the girl he was talking to suddenly took off as if being chased by something. Running down to meet her in the wide area that was the stair landing, he shouted out, "Taylor, wait!"
The girl stopped and glanced back at him, brown eyes somewhat cold. "What?"
Slightly shocked at the harsh way Taylor bit out the word, Greg blinked. "Uhhh, I just… I wanted to ask you if you want to eat lunch with me in the library. Today, I mean. Like… like now?" Greg grinned, trying to end this mess of an invitation on a high note.
Taylor shot him that same look one more time, only this one was mixed with disbelief. The girl let out a sigh, shaking her head before hitting Greg with that same expression for the third time in the same day. "No offense, Greg, b-"
"Hey there, Hebert."
Taylor froze up, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the stair railing, a familiar voice echoing slightly in the stairwell.
"Dammit, Greg."
Greg glanced at Taylor as he heard her muttered words. "Wait, what did I do?"
"Look who it is," A different voice came clear and strong from the top of the stairs, echoing across the empty stairwell. "Little Taylor Hebert hiding off in another corner of the school like the rat she is and… is that Greg? Hi, Greg."
Greg glanced behind him to see a stunning redhead with her back to the door, her spine arched backwards like the door was an expensive car and she was a bikini model. Which was pretty darn fitting, now that Greg thought about it, considering Emma Barnes was an actual model.
Being model-pretty, Emma was at the very top of Winslow's social elite and considering Greg was at the bottom, their paths had never really intersected that much. Greg had never really paid that much attention to her and only noticed her every once in a while, mostly because she seemed to be around Taylor a lot.
Someone had told him they were friends but now, he was starting to doubt it. What kind of friend says something like that?
"Uhhhh… hey, Emma." Greg tore his gaze away from the ginger to give Taylor a questioning glance only to see the girl with her head down, hands tight at her sides.
What?
"Hanging out with Hebert, Veder?" The familiar face of Sophia Hess popped out from behind the door, Emma making way for her friend to step through. Behind the dark-skinned girl, Madison Clements followed, looking as demure as always. The three of them began to make their way down the stairs, their movements oddly in sync. "That's a new low for you. I didn't think you were desperate enough to follow around a Merchant skank."
Greg gaped while Taylor, at his side, seemed to shrink into herself.
"Hey, y-you can't say that to her!" Greg moved up to Sophia, staring down at the shorter girl with a fierce glare that she answered with one of her own. He turned his glare on Emma, the redhead simply smiling blithely at him in response.
"Veder, get the fuck out of here before I shove my foot up your ass." Sophia's tone was as harsh as it always was but the hint of actual anger in her threat was enough for Greg to take a step back. "We're here for Hebert, not you."
Barely even glancing at the notification, Greg took a step forward. "What? You want me to leave and let you pick on Taylor?"
Emma huffed, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder before responding. "Why do you even care, Greg? She's fucking trash."
Greg's face flushed but instead of answering, he shot back with, "Why are you even picking on her in the first place?
Sophia snorted. "I get it. The little boy wants to get into Hebert's pants. Just pay her and she'll probably let you do whatever you want, Veder."
Emma smirked at Sophia's words. "Sophia's right, Greg, and Taylor knows it. After all, that's what cheap hookers do."
"Sh-sh-shut up, Sophia! Emma!" Greg's face began resembling a tomato. "How can you say something like that about Taylor? She didn't even do anything to you and she definitely isn't a cheap hooker!"
Sophia let out an annoyed groan. "Just admit you wanna fuck her and stop being such a little pussy, Veder."
Greg fumed, taking another step forward. "Why don't you stop being such a giant bitch, Hess?"
"So, it's gonna be like that, Veder?" Sophia said, still smirking. "Fine. Don't act like I didn't warn you."
Greg's frown grew confused. "What?"
Sophia's hands balled into tight fists and she began to walk down the rest of the stairs. Suddenly, she stopped, turning around, as the door at the top of the stairwell opened.
Greg's gaze rose to the top of the stairwell as a tall, dark-skinned figure walked out of it, a letterman jacket visible on his body.
"Hey, Cal?" Sophia called out, surprising Greg slightly. "That you?"
The tall figure stopped, glancing down as he heard Sophia's call. "Yeah."
"Come over here."
The guy shrugged, before beginning to walk down towards them. "A'ight."
Greg frowned as the football player walked. Why does she want him over here? That's kinda weird.
The person identified as Cal met Sophia on the stairs, Emma and Madison parting slightly to give him space.
Greg narrowed his eyes, letting out a whispered, "[Observe]".
"Yeah, Sophia? What you need?"
"Him." The track star smirked, jerking her thumb in Greg's direction. "Teach him a lesson for me."
Greg's eyes widened as the lineman turned to face him, a contemplative look on his face. "Any particular reason I'm doing this?" he rumbled, the four-syllable word coming out odd in Calvin's deep baritone.
"He called me a bitch and I don't like him," Sophia calmly replied.
Calvin blinked, the look on his face clearly unsatisfied. Yet, he just gave a shrug. "A'ight."
"No hard feelings, kid," Calvin said, walking over to Greg. "I ain't got beef with you but Sophia told me you need to learn a lesson and a couple of us owe her a favor so…" The rest went unsaid. Meaty hands came together, a loud crack sounding out as Cal popped his knuckles, the sound obviously intended to scare Greg.
It didn't work.
Fists already up, Greg ducked into the junior's reach. His fist snapped out twice in quick succession, striking soft flesh before the taller teen could react. Two sharp blows to his face sent him reeling, a slight spray of blood flying from his nose. A third jab struck hard to the junior's chest.
Eyes wide, Sophia stepped back as Cal stumbled backwards into the wall and fell to the floor, the football player clutching his nose.
The large junior stared warily at Greg, shock and fear written all over his face before he slowly began to calm down. With slight shakiness, the football player picked himself up off the ground, his back scraping against the wall as he stared at Greg, still in his stance. "Nope."
Greg blinked, dropping his fists to his sides. "What?"
"I'm not doing this. You see, I got a game tonight, man. I'm not trynna walk out on the field all busted up. You can fight. I don't wanna. No hard feelings?" Cal held a hand up in the air even as the other clutched his nose, blood already beginning to drip from between his fingers.
"No, I'm okay." Greg blinked, tilting his head to stare at up the much taller teen. "...I guess we're cool then?" The statement ended up as a question, Greg rather unsure of why the football player still wasn't trying to beat him up.
+ 75 XP
"Cool." Glancing back at Sophia, the football player shook his head. "Yo, Hess, no offense, but I'm not here to get folded by some kid who spends all afternoon with Mr Miyagi." With that said, the football player turned away to walk up the stairs, leaving a few droplets of blood behind with each step.
As Cal's back disappeared over the top of the steps, Sophia's eyes snapped to Greg, staring at him as if just seeing him for the first time. Emma did the same, her green eyes locked on him.
Taylor just seemed confused, her confusion becoming even more apparent as Greg gave her a grin and a thumbs up. As she began backing away from the scene, the other girls' attention still on Greg, Greg's face began to fall. Don't go. C'mon, Taylor. Wasn't that awesome? I did that for you! C'mon.
Greg sighed as Taylor disappeared down the other side of the stairs, off to do whatever in her rush to get away from them.
"Veder?" Sophia finally said as she walked down on to the landing, her shock fading. "How the fuck did you just do that?"
Even though Taylor not even smiling back at him left him feeling somewhat down, Greg turned back to face Sophia and allowed himself a smirk, winking at the track star as he dropped into a stance. "I know Kung Fu."
Sophia's surprised expression tilted down into a frown, the track star's expression darkening further as she shot Greg a dark look. "You think so?"
"I know so," Greg replied, still smiling.
The dark-skinned girl threw a punch at his face, simple but fast.
Greg hadn't actually expected it but he reacted all the same.
Snapping his wrist to the side of his face, he slapped the strike away with the back of his hand, pushing Sophia's fist to the side so her knuckles just grazed the side of his head.
-1
Sophia, surprised by the unexpected counter, tipped forward slightly as she over-extended herself from her punch. Taking advantage of her unsteadiness, Greg jerked forward and knocked his shoulder into her chest, pushing Sophia back into the stairs where her two friends still stood.
Greg grinned as Sophia jumped back, the look on her face a mix of surprise and wariness. Her eyes narrowed. "Nice moves. You know I was just playing around with that last punch, though?"
Greg kept smiling even as the pop-up appeared. "Thanks, Sophia. Playing around or not, it was still a good punch."
Sophia frowned. "That wasn't a compliment, retard. So, stop fucking smiling."
Her frown turned into a snarl as Greg's grin only grew. "The fuck did I say, Veder?"
He couldn't really help it, to be honest. It was actually kinda fun riling her up. "Sorry, Sophia. It's just that when you growl like that, you sorta look like an angry kitty cat." Greg's smile dimmed as Sophia's expression turned murderous. Okay, maybe a bit too far.
"You little sh-"
Greg interrupted her with a snort, smirking in the shorter girl's face as he blocked another punch to the face. "Little. You keep calling me that, you know? For someone that's 5 foot three at the most, you have a lot of nerve."
Sophia lunged at him and Greg's hands went up again, instincts shifting his body in preparation to block her rising fist.
-9
Greg gasped as a hard knee slammed into the spot between his legs, knocking the wind out of him and bringing tears to his eyes. As he instinctively hunched over, something hard struck him right between the eyes.
-15
-7
Even as he stumbled back, the pain was already beginning to fade, and he flashed Sophia another smile, albeit a strained one. "I'll give it to you, that kinda hurt."
The dark-skinned girl growled again.
"I'll wipe that shit smile off your goddamn face, Veder!" Sophia pivoted at the waist, her right hand raised in a fist and Greg moved to block it.
Later, Greg would like to say that he saw it coming and was just too slow to defend from her other fist, as it slammed into the right side of his head.
The truth is, he didn't even see it coming.
-13 [Critical Hit!]
A hard right to his jaw.
-7
A powerful headbutt.
-9
Another strike to his chest.
-6
A firm hand grabbed his wrist, harshly twisting his flailing arm.
-2
A foot hooked around his leg, sweeping him of his feet in one smooth move.
-2
Greg landed hard on the linoleum floor, his face pressed down against the cold material while his arm was pulled back. Before he could get up or even to try to move, a hard sole pressed into his back, digging into his spine.
-3
"See, here's the thing, Veder," he heard Sophia's voice, her tone sweet in that mocking way girls liked to use sometimes. "I know Kung-Fu. You don't know shit."
"I thought… we were just… ow…" Greg tried to get a sentence out, his teeth gritted as Sophia seemed to be doing her best to pull his arm out of the socket. "I thought we were… playing around, Sophia."
"We are, Veder," Sophia laughed, the sound making Greg blush in embarrassment. "This is playing around. I just happen to play real rough."
Greg groaned, twisting as he tried to push himself to his feet. "Nghhh… Let go… of me."
"Not gonna happen." Her foot dug deeper into his spine as she tightened her grip on his wrist, making him groan. "At least, not yet, Goldilocks. First, you got to tell me that you're sorry."
-3
Greg's face began to redden even further, especially as he heard Emma giggling at the position Sophia forced him into. He tried once more to pull his arm free, only for Sophia to wrench it again, harshly jerking his wrist to the side. "Fine. Nggh… I'm sorry."
-4
Sophia smirked, letting go of Greg and stepping back. "That's better."
Spar with Sophia: Quest Failure!
Through enduring a serious beating, your VIT has increased by 1.
Greg pulled himself to his feet, shooting Sophia a mocking grin as he reached his full height, towering several inches above the dark-skinned girl. "I wasn't done. I meant to say, 'I'm sorry that the only way you can have fun is by hurting other people, you demented sicko.'"
This time, Greg did see it coming.
He just wasn't fast enough to do anything about it.
-10
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Taylor!"
The hallways at Winslow were always hectic but during the various lunch periods, they were magnitudes worse.
"Hey, Taylor!"
Being as bad as they were, most students had learned to move with the current of rushing students, simply heading to the cafeteria before heading off anywhere else, if only to avoid nearly getting trampled by the horde of hormonal, horny and hungry horrors known as teenagers.
Even heading down one of the lesser-populated side hallways like this could be bad enough, especially if you were trying to catch up to someone who already had a head start.
"Taylor, wait up!"
English Lit had been over for almost a minute now, Taylor vanishing through the back door of the classroom the moment the teacher dismissed the class to their lunch period. Running out into the hallway, he caught sight of Taylor's distinctive black hair only to immediately lose sight of her again as students poured out from their respective classes, some heading to lunch while most began moving to another class.
Greg kept heading in the direction he had last seen Taylor in, walking in the opposite direction of the crowd even as people tried to push him back. Sliding against the wall, Greg pushed past the onrushing crowd, sliding into a relatively empty hallway.
His eyes lit up as he saw her in front of him again, her steps somewhat hurried as she headed towards the stairwell. "Taylor!"
She froze. For a moment, at least. Then, she started moving again, seemingly moving even faster this time.
"Hey, Taylor! Wait up!" His jog turned into a full-bore sprint and in a few seconds, he was at the girl's side, moments before she would have headed into the stairwell. "Taylor, it's me. Greg?"
Taylor shot him a look, one that Greg was familiar with. It was the one that very plainly said 'Are you retarded?' "I know," she began, her voice low. "We've met. I've had class with you since last year."
"Oh, well," Greg let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the base of his neck with one hand, "I didn't mean it like that. You know, that you… heh… didn't know me. I just… uhh, I didn't think you heard me calling you."
"No." Taylor continued staring at him, her expression tinted with just a hint of frustration. "I heard you."
"Ooooookay? How come you didn't even slow down or turn around… or anything?"
"I was going somewhere." Taylor's response was blunt, her voice dull as her hand grabbed hold of the rusted handle to the stairwell door. "I didn't feel like waiting."
"Fair enough," Greg replied with a slight laugh, "No worries, I'm not gonna take it personally or anything."
"Yeah, that would be a shame," Taylor replied, deadpan. "Goodbye, Greg." Taylor pushed open the stairwell door in a rush, her stride already hurried again as she nearly ran down the stairs.
Greg blinked as the girl he was talking to suddenly took off as if being chased by something. Running down to meet her in the wide area that was the stair landing, he shouted out, "Taylor, wait!"
The girl stopped and glanced back at him, brown eyes somewhat cold. "What?"
Slightly shocked at the harsh way Taylor bit out the word, Greg blinked. "Uhhh, I just… I wanted to ask you if you want to eat lunch with me in the library. Today, I mean. Like… like now?" Greg grinned, trying to end this mess of an invitation on a high note.
Taylor shot him that same look one more time, only this one was mixed with disbelief. The girl let out a sigh, shaking her head before hitting Greg with that same expression for the third time in the same day. "No offense, Greg, b-"
"Hey there, Hebert."
Taylor froze up, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the stair railing, a familiar voice echoing slightly in the stairwell.
"Dammit, Greg."
Greg glanced at Taylor as he heard her muttered words. "Wait, what did I do?"
"Look who it is," A different voice came clear and strong from the top of the stairs, echoing across the empty stairwell. "Little Taylor Hebert hiding off in another corner of the school like the rat she is and… is that Greg? Hi, Greg."
Greg glanced behind him to see a stunning redhead with her back to the door, her spine arched backwards like the door was an expensive car and she was a bikini model. Which was pretty darn fitting, now that Greg thought about it, considering Emma Barnes was an actual model.
Being model-pretty, Emma was at the very top of Winslow's social elite and considering Greg was at the bottom, their paths had never really intersected that much. Greg had never really paid that much attention to her and only noticed her every once in a while, mostly because she seemed to be around Taylor a lot.
Someone had told him they were friends but now, he was starting to doubt it. What kind of friend says something like that?
"Uhhhh… hey, Emma." Greg tore his gaze away from the ginger to give Taylor a questioning glance only to see the girl with her head down, hands tight at her sides.
What?
"Hanging out with Hebert, Veder?" The familiar face of Sophia Hess popped out from behind the door, Emma making way for her friend to step through. Behind the dark-skinned girl, Madison Clements followed, looking as demure as always. The three of them began to make their way down the stairs, their movements oddly in sync. "That's a new low for you. I didn't think you were desperate enough to follow around a Merchant skank."
Greg gaped while Taylor, at his side, seemed to shrink into herself.
"Hey, y-you can't say that to her!" Greg moved up to Sophia, staring down at the shorter girl with a fierce glare that she answered with one of her own. He turned his glare on Emma, the redhead simply smiling blithely at him in response.
"Veder, get the fuck out of here before I shove my foot up your ass." Sophia's tone was as harsh as it always was but the hint of actual anger in her threat was enough for Greg to take a step back. "We're here for Hebert, not you."
Barely even glancing at the notification, Greg took a step forward. "What? You want me to leave and let you pick on Taylor?"
Emma huffed, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder before responding. "Why do you even care, Greg? She's fucking trash."
Greg's face flushed but instead of answering, he shot back with, "Why are you even picking on her in the first place?
Sophia snorted. "I get it. The little boy wants to get into Hebert's pants. Just pay her and she'll probably let you do whatever you want, Veder."
Emma smirked at Sophia's words. "Sophia's right, Greg, and Taylor knows it. After all, that's what cheap hookers do."
"Sh-sh-shut up, Sophia! Emma!" Greg's face began resembling a tomato. "How can you say something like that about Taylor? She didn't even do anything to you and she definitely isn't a cheap hooker!"
Sophia let out an annoyed groan. "Just admit you wanna fuck her and stop being such a little pussy, Veder."
Greg fumed, taking another step forward. "Why don't you stop being such a giant bitch, Hess?"
"So, it's gonna be like that, Veder?" Sophia said, still smirking. "Fine. Don't act like I didn't warn you."
Greg's frown grew confused. "What?"
Sophia's hands balled into tight fists and she began to walk down the rest of the stairs. Suddenly, she stopped, turning around, as the door at the top of the stairwell opened.
Greg's gaze rose to the top of the stairwell as a tall, dark-skinned figure walked out of it, a letterman jacket visible on his body.
"Hey, Cal?" Sophia called out, surprising Greg slightly. "That you?"
The tall figure stopped, glancing down as he heard Sophia's call. "Yeah."
"Come over here."
The guy shrugged, before beginning to walk down towards them. "A'ight."
Greg frowned as the football player walked. Why does she want him over here? That's kinda weird.
The person identified as Cal met Sophia on the stairs, Emma and Madison parting slightly to give him space.
Greg narrowed his eyes, letting out a whispered, "[Observe]".
"Yeah, Sophia? What you need?"
"Him." The track star smirked, jerking her thumb in Greg's direction. "Teach him a lesson for me."
Greg's eyes widened as the lineman turned to face him, a contemplative look on his face. "Any particular reason I'm doing this?" he rumbled, the four-syllable word coming out odd in Calvin's deep baritone.
"He called me a bitch and I don't like him," Sophia calmly replied.
Calvin blinked, the look on his face clearly unsatisfied. Yet, he just gave a shrug. "A'ight."
"No hard feelings, kid," Calvin said, walking over to Greg. "I ain't got beef with you but Sophia told me you need to learn a lesson and a couple of us owe her a favor so…" The rest went unsaid. Meaty hands came together, a loud crack sounding out as Cal popped his knuckles, the sound obviously intended to scare Greg.
It didn't work.
Fists already up, Greg ducked into the junior's reach. His fist snapped out twice in quick succession, striking soft flesh before the taller teen could react. Two sharp blows to his face sent him reeling, a slight spray of blood flying from his nose. A third jab struck hard to the junior's chest.
Eyes wide, Sophia stepped back as Cal stumbled backwards into the wall and fell to the floor, the football player clutching his nose.
The large junior stared warily at Greg, shock and fear written all over his face before he slowly began to calm down. With slight shakiness, the football player picked himself up off the ground, his back scraping against the wall as he stared at Greg, still in his stance. "Nope."
Greg blinked, dropping his fists to his sides. "What?"
"I'm not doing this. You see, I got a game tonight, man. I'm not trynna walk out on the field all busted up. You can fight. I don't wanna. No hard feelings?" Cal held a hand up in the air even as the other clutched his nose, blood already beginning to drip from between his fingers.
"No, I'm okay." Greg blinked, tilting his head to stare at up the much taller teen. "...I guess we're cool then?" The statement ended up as a question, Greg rather unsure of why the football player still wasn't trying to beat him up.
+ 75 XP
"Cool." Glancing back at Sophia, the football player shook his head. "Yo, Hess, no offense, but I'm not here to get folded by some kid who spends all afternoon with Mr Miyagi." With that said, the football player turned away to walk up the stairs, leaving a few droplets of blood behind with each step.
As Cal's back disappeared over the top of the steps, Sophia's eyes snapped to Greg, staring at him as if just seeing him for the first time. Emma did the same, her green eyes locked on him.
Taylor just seemed confused, her confusion becoming even more apparent as Greg gave her a grin and a thumbs up. As she began backing away from the scene, the other girls' attention still on Greg, Greg's face began to fall. Don't go. C'mon, Taylor. Wasn't that awesome? I did that for you! C'mon.
Greg sighed as Taylor disappeared down the other side of the stairs, off to do whatever in her rush to get away from them.
"Veder?" Sophia finally said as she walked down on to the landing, her shock fading. "How the fuck did you just do that?"
Even though Taylor not even smiling back at him left him feeling somewhat down, Greg turned back to face Sophia and allowed himself a smirk, winking at the track star as he dropped into a stance. "I know Kung Fu."
Sophia's surprised expression tilted down into a frown, the track star's expression darkening further as she shot Greg a dark look. "You think so?"
"I know so," Greg replied, still smiling.
The dark-skinned girl threw a punch at his face, simple but fast.
Greg hadn't actually expected it but he reacted all the same.
Snapping his wrist to the side of his face, he slapped the strike away with the back of his hand, pushing Sophia's fist to the side so her knuckles just grazed the side of his head.
-1
Sophia, surprised by the unexpected counter, tipped forward slightly as she over-extended herself from her punch. Taking advantage of her unsteadiness, Greg jerked forward and knocked his shoulder into her chest, pushing Sophia back into the stairs where her two friends still stood.
Greg grinned as Sophia jumped back, the look on her face a mix of surprise and wariness. Her eyes narrowed. "Nice moves. You know I was just playing around with that last punch, though?"
Greg kept smiling even as the pop-up appeared. "Thanks, Sophia. Playing around or not, it was still a good punch."
Sophia frowned. "That wasn't a compliment, retard. So, stop fucking smiling."
Her frown turned into a snarl as Greg's grin only grew. "The fuck did I say, Veder?"
He couldn't really help it, to be honest. It was actually kinda fun riling her up. "Sorry, Sophia. It's just that when you growl like that, you sorta look like an angry kitty cat." Greg's smile dimmed as Sophia's expression turned murderous. Okay, maybe a bit too far.
"You little sh-"
Greg interrupted her with a snort, smirking in the shorter girl's face as he blocked another punch to the face. "Little. You keep calling me that, you know? For someone that's 5 foot three at the most, you have a lot of nerve."
Sophia lunged at him and Greg's hands went up again, instincts shifting his body in preparation to block her rising fist.
-9
Greg gasped as a hard knee slammed into the spot between his legs, knocking the wind out of him and bringing tears to his eyes. As he instinctively hunched over, something hard struck him right between the eyes.
-15
-7
Even as he stumbled back, the pain was already beginning to fade, and he flashed Sophia another smile, albeit a strained one. "I'll give it to you, that kinda hurt."
The dark-skinned girl growled again.
"I'll wipe that shit smile off your goddamn face, Veder!" Sophia pivoted at the waist, her right hand raised in a fist and Greg moved to block it.
Later, Greg would like to say that he saw it coming and was just too slow to defend from her other fist, as it slammed into the right side of his head.
The truth is, he didn't even see it coming.
-13 [Critical Hit!]
A hard right to his jaw.
-7
A powerful headbutt.
-9
Another strike to his chest.
-6
A firm hand grabbed his wrist, harshly twisting his flailing arm.
-2
A foot hooked around his leg, sweeping him of his feet in one smooth move.
-2
Greg landed hard on the linoleum floor, his face pressed down against the cold material while his arm was pulled back. Before he could get up or even to try to move, a hard sole pressed into his back, digging into his spine.
-3
"See, here's the thing, Veder," he heard Sophia's voice, her tone sweet in that mocking way girls liked to use sometimes. "I know Kung-Fu. You don't know shit."
"I thought… we were just… ow…" Greg tried to get a sentence out, his teeth gritted as Sophia seemed to be doing her best to pull his arm out of the socket. "I thought we were… playing around, Sophia."
"We are, Veder," Sophia laughed, the sound making Greg blush in embarrassment. "This is playing around. I just happen to play real rough."
Greg groaned, twisting as he tried to push himself to his feet. "Nghhh… Let go… of me."
"Not gonna happen." Her foot dug deeper into his spine as she tightened her grip on his wrist, making him groan. "At least, not yet, Goldilocks. First, you got to tell me that you're sorry."
-3
Greg's face began to redden even further, especially as he heard Emma giggling at the position Sophia forced him into. He tried once more to pull his arm free, only for Sophia to wrench it again, harshly jerking his wrist to the side. "Fine. Nggh… I'm sorry."
-4
Sophia smirked, letting go of Greg and stepping back. "That's better."
Spar with Sophia: Quest Failure!
Through enduring a serious beating, your VIT has increased by 1.
Greg pulled himself to his feet, shooting Sophia a mocking grin as he reached his full height, towering several inches above the dark-skinned girl. "I wasn't done. I meant to say, 'I'm sorry that the only way you can have fun is by hurting other people, you demented sicko.'"
This time, Greg did see it coming.
He just wasn't fast enough to do anything about it.
-10
Grind 2.3
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2016
- Messages
- 319
- Likes received
- 13,953
Grind 2.3
"So, are you going to start or should I?"
Greg stared out the car window, keeping his eyes focused on anything but his mother as the two of them drove away from Winslow.
"Fine, if you're not going to say anything. I'll talk for both of us."
Greg still didn't reply, his fingers playing with his seatbelt as he watched the city rush by.
"I can't believe it, you know." Susan Veder kept her eyes on the road in front of her as she spoke, her voice somewhat more tired than usual. "Suspended, sweetie? Really? I almost can't believe it. This is the first time this has ever happened. You getting suspended, I mean."
Greg sighed, turning his gaze away from the window before replying with a soft "...yeah."
"And for beating up a girl, Greg?" His mom shook her head. "I mean, I would say I taught you better than that but I never had to. You're a good boy, Greg. A nice boy. What's going on?"
Greg sighed for the second time, resting his chin on an upraised palm.
"You know," Susan continued again. "I get that kids act out when their parents get divorced but it's been almost three years since then. If you were going to start doing drugs or acting like this, I feel like you would have already. So, tell me. What's going on?"
Greg's stone-faced expression hardened slightly at the mention of the divorce but he didn't respond.
"Greg, it's me. It's Mom. I'm here for you."
"..."
"I'm sober. I'm working. We're happy, right? We are. I know we are."
Greg sighed again, keeping his head down as he fiddled with his hands.
"Come on, Greg. You have to give me something here. I had to leave work to come and get you because the principal was all up in arms about you attacking a football player and the girls' track team champion?" Susan shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. Just say something.."
Greg winced at the sight of the failure punishment and he reluctantly turned his head to the side, deciding to engage with his mom at the system's prodding. "Okay, first, I didn't attack her, Mom."
Susan raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly so that Greg could see her face. "Alright, then what happened?"
Greg shook his head. "She lied. Sophia lied. I hit the football player because I was trying to help another girl who was getting picked on," Greg muttered, crossing his arms as he sunk further into his seat. "The track girl beat me up. She just lied to the principal to get me in trouble and her friends backed her up."
There was a pause and then Greg blinked in surprise as his mother let out a snort of laughter.
"...Mom?"
"No, it's… just…" Susan Veder shook her head, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. "Did you actually beat up a football player? I've seen some of them. They're huge."
"...yeah. I mostly just messed up his nose, though."
"And then you lost to that tiny little thing outside of the principal's office?"
Greg let out a groan. "Mom, please don't rub it in."
"I'm not, sweetie. I'm… I'm..." Susan let out a little laugh, trying unsuccessfully to disguise it as a cough. "That guy has to be twice your size and that girl is at best 5 foot 4."
"I guess," Greg shrugged.
"'I guess', he says," Susan laughed to herself. "Sweetheart, you've never won a fight in your life."
Greg sighed deeply, rubbing his slowly healing cheek. From the corner of his eye, he watched his HP slowly ticking back up, the numbers almost full. "I get it, Mom."
Susan shook her head, clearing her throat as her small laughing fit died down to giggles. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's rare that this happens to me as a parent but right now, I'm torn between grounding you or buying you ice cream."
"Really?" Greg's face brightened, the idea that he wasn't in trouble enough to get him out of his funk.
"What?" Susan shot her son an unbelieving look as she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Of course not. No, not really."
"Oh." Greg's head went down again, his mop of blond hair covering his eyes. "Thanks for giving me false hope."
Susan rolled her eyes at her son's mood-swings. "Fine, I'll buy you ice cream but there's no way that you're getting out of a grounding."
Greg sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"Sweetheart," Susan replied, speaking through gritted teeth, "You actively participated in a fight at school. Doing the right thing in the wrong way doesn't solve anything." His mom shook her head, rolling her eyes as she did so. "I don't know what you expected me to say."
"...Aww." Greg pouted. A moment later, his face lit up slightly as his brain supplied him an idea. "Can I at least get two scoops? One cotton candy. One birthday cake. On a waffle cone."
"No," his mother replied bluntly. "You're getting one scoop and it'll be Rocky Road in a cup."
Greg made a retching sound, sticking out his tongue. "That's more of a punishment than the grounding."
Susan smiled at him, reaching over to ruffle her son's hair to his vocal displeasure. "Just for that, I'm going to buy your order and eat it."
"...that's just heartless."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"So, are you going to start or should I?"
Greg stared out the car window, keeping his eyes focused on anything but his mother as the two of them drove away from Winslow.
"Fine, if you're not going to say anything. I'll talk for both of us."
Greg still didn't reply, his fingers playing with his seatbelt as he watched the city rush by.
"I can't believe it, you know." Susan Veder kept her eyes on the road in front of her as she spoke, her voice somewhat more tired than usual. "Suspended, sweetie? Really? I almost can't believe it. This is the first time this has ever happened. You getting suspended, I mean."
Greg sighed, turning his gaze away from the window before replying with a soft "...yeah."
"And for beating up a girl, Greg?" His mom shook her head. "I mean, I would say I taught you better than that but I never had to. You're a good boy, Greg. A nice boy. What's going on?"
Greg sighed for the second time, resting his chin on an upraised palm.
"You know," Susan continued again. "I get that kids act out when their parents get divorced but it's been almost three years since then. If you were going to start doing drugs or acting like this, I feel like you would have already. So, tell me. What's going on?"
Greg's stone-faced expression hardened slightly at the mention of the divorce but he didn't respond.
"Greg, it's me. It's Mom. I'm here for you."
"..."
"I'm sober. I'm working. We're happy, right? We are. I know we are."
Greg sighed again, keeping his head down as he fiddled with his hands.
"Come on, Greg. You have to give me something here. I had to leave work to come and get you because the principal was all up in arms about you attacking a football player and the girls' track team champion?" Susan shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. Just say something.."
Greg winced at the sight of the failure punishment and he reluctantly turned his head to the side, deciding to engage with his mom at the system's prodding. "Okay, first, I didn't attack her, Mom."
Susan raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly so that Greg could see her face. "Alright, then what happened?"
Greg shook his head. "She lied. Sophia lied. I hit the football player because I was trying to help another girl who was getting picked on," Greg muttered, crossing his arms as he sunk further into his seat. "The track girl beat me up. She just lied to the principal to get me in trouble and her friends backed her up."
There was a pause and then Greg blinked in surprise as his mother let out a snort of laughter.
"...Mom?"
"No, it's… just…" Susan Veder shook her head, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. "Did you actually beat up a football player? I've seen some of them. They're huge."
"...yeah. I mostly just messed up his nose, though."
"And then you lost to that tiny little thing outside of the principal's office?"
Greg let out a groan. "Mom, please don't rub it in."
"I'm not, sweetie. I'm… I'm..." Susan let out a little laugh, trying unsuccessfully to disguise it as a cough. "That guy has to be twice your size and that girl is at best 5 foot 4."
"I guess," Greg shrugged.
"'I guess', he says," Susan laughed to herself. "Sweetheart, you've never won a fight in your life."
Greg sighed deeply, rubbing his slowly healing cheek. From the corner of his eye, he watched his HP slowly ticking back up, the numbers almost full. "I get it, Mom."
Susan shook her head, clearing her throat as her small laughing fit died down to giggles. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's rare that this happens to me as a parent but right now, I'm torn between grounding you or buying you ice cream."
"Really?" Greg's face brightened, the idea that he wasn't in trouble enough to get him out of his funk.
"What?" Susan shot her son an unbelieving look as she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Of course not. No, not really."
"Oh." Greg's head went down again, his mop of blond hair covering his eyes. "Thanks for giving me false hope."
Susan rolled her eyes at her son's mood-swings. "Fine, I'll buy you ice cream but there's no way that you're getting out of a grounding."
Greg sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"Sweetheart," Susan replied, speaking through gritted teeth, "You actively participated in a fight at school. Doing the right thing in the wrong way doesn't solve anything." His mom shook her head, rolling her eyes as she did so. "I don't know what you expected me to say."
"...Aww." Greg pouted. A moment later, his face lit up slightly as his brain supplied him an idea. "Can I at least get two scoops? One cotton candy. One birthday cake. On a waffle cone."
"No," his mother replied bluntly. "You're getting one scoop and it'll be Rocky Road in a cup."
Greg made a retching sound, sticking out his tongue. "That's more of a punishment than the grounding."
Susan smiled at him, reaching over to ruffle her son's hair to his vocal displeasure. "Just for that, I'm going to buy your order and eat it."
"...that's just heartless."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Grind 2.4
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2016
- Messages
- 319
- Likes received
- 13,953
Grind 2.4
"...have higher numbers of bones because some bones fuse together during childhood and adolescence to form..."
His legs pumped relentlessly, each step slapping hard against the black tread as he continued running his fastest. His arms strained to stay up somewhat but Greg forced them to stay at his chest-level, refusing to slack off.
"...to provide a rigid, internal structure that can support the weight of the body against the force of gravity, and to provide a structure upon which muscles can act to produce movements…"
In the background, a weak speaker system blared out, repeatedly cycling through a playlist from some of Greg's favorite game soundtracks. The speaker had been a gift from his friend Sparky for Christmas… a super cheap gift, but then again, it was Sparky.
Greg continued moving even as his head bobbed slightly to the music. Even then, his eyes remained firmly locked on the textbook in front of him, secured to the handles of the treadmill with a mix of duct-tape and hope. "The lower portion of the skeleton is specialized for stability during walking or running. In contrast, the upper skeleton has greater mobility and ranges of motion…"
Greg didn't even raise his gaze as the single 'ping!' sound rang out again, keeping his head focused on the book in front of him even as his muscles began to protest again. 1 more minute. I can do this.
"The vertebral column consists of 24 bones, each called a vertebra, plus the sacrum and coccyx. The thoracic cage includes the 12 pairs of ribs…" Three 'pings!' rang out in quick succession and Greg glanced up.
Greg smiled tiredly at the three pop-ups, the seventh time he had them all in a row since he had started training today at around 7 AM, an hour after he woke up. Eight hours of nonstop running on a treadmill for a twenty-one point overall stat increase and two new abilities.
He smirked as he continued running. Worth it.
His mother had left around 8, after glancing to see what he was doing down in the basement. The look on her face had been curious and more than a tad bit suspicious but thankfully, she didn't ask any questions. A courtesy which Greg was nothing but thankful for. If she had even been the slightest bit curious, he would have found himself in a very complicated situation as Greg really wasn't sure how he could explain this.
In his search of the garage, Greg had found a selection of wrist and ankle weights that were able to help him increase his rate of stat improvement and basically make his entire workout more worth the time.
The only real drawback had been the flavor text that accompanied his initial use of [Observe] on the item, the description itself changing after he equipped them. Apparently, the weights he now wore were how his mother "stayed as fit and toned as a twenty-year-old well into her mid-thirties."
It was Greg's opinion that if it wasn't for Gamer's Mind, the resulting mental image would have forced him to seek therapy. Regardless of the traumatizing imagery, Greg had equipped the four weights, loading the slots with all the thick metal slabs they came with for a total of twenty -five pounds per limb.
It was hard enough walking with all the extra weight, but Greg knew he had to step it up if he wanted to get anywhere. In the basement, his mother had bought a treadmill a few years back. Greg had never touched it before, not really interested in running for the sake of it.
That changed today.
He had run harder and faster than he ever had before, putting his full attention into nothing but reading and running. In addition, he spent his time gulping down an entire bottle of Gatorade whenever his Will threatened to send him to the ground again. Of course, Greg had used up almost all the Gatorade in the house over the course of the day, but he felt it was a worthwhile investment.
At a certain point, Greg had even considered getting some of his mom's equipment and setting up an IV filled with nothing but electrolyte-replenishing sports drinks. After taking a moment to think about it, he had changed his mind, deciding to save the idea for a later time. After all, he wasn't that desperate… or was he?
Losing to Sophia had been… eye-opening, for lack of a better term. Completing the quest on Sunday had left Greg feeling like he was on top of the world. I mean, he beat up two armed criminals. Granted, he was the reason one of them was armed in the first place but…
He shook his head. Not the point. Those guys were actual criminals, but they had less HP and a lower level than a football player who was younger than them and hadn't wanted to fight anyway. Greg wasn't sure what that meant but he was pretty sure he could have beaten the football player, too. Sophia, on the other hand...
Sophia was a monster.
The girl was fast. Faster than him, without a doubt, and a lot stronger than her 5 ft 4 frame would imply.
She had kept him off balance and hit so fast he could barely keep up. Hell, she was so good she probably could have taken out those Merchant guys in a couple of seconds even without his special skills. And she was just a track star! Greg thought bitterly. What does that say about actual martial artists or boxers or… or… or actual capes?
With stats like this, he thought he could actually go out and do something.
Sophia almost killed him with her bare hands! That would be great on a tombstone.
Here lies Gregory Lucas Veder
1996 – 2011
Beaten to death by a pissed-off teenage girl
Greg's mouth turned downwards slightly.Yeah, no... that would be embarrassing as all heck. Too distracted to focus on his reading, Greg just let out a sigh. "[Will.]"
Willpower: 9/90
Sighing again, Greg let his arms fall, resting them on the handrails. And, I'm down to only 1 bottle of Gatorade too.
"Okay, we're done here." Greg pushed the 'Stop' button on the treadmill, allowing the machine its first bit of rest all day as the tread's motor begin to whir to a stop. His legs unmoving, the slow tread pushed him back until he fell off the treadmill.
Greg collapsed against the hardwood floor of his basement for what must have been the thirtieth time that day, beads of sweat coating his entire body. Though he could feel the exhaustion dragging him down, he couldn't deny that he felt better than he had in, like… ever. Lighter, faster, stronger...
He lay there, staring at the textured paint on the ceiling as he felt his body slowly recover, his will creeping up at a rate of about five points a minute. At this rate, it would take almost twenty minutes to get back up to full. God, my Will went up like crazy.
That would normally be a good thing in any other situation if it wasn't for the fact that the regeneration rate of his Will didn't seem to increase proportionately. What once took six minutes now took eighteen. After getting smacked around by Sophia yesterday, he had noticed the same for his HP, the original rate of one point every fifteen seconds still the status quo.
If the rate of his stat regen wasn't enough to worry about, it seemed that the rate at which he was grinding stats was slowing down too. Each new pop-up he received had taken slightly longer than the previous one and it was kinda stressing him out. All Greg could hope for was that he wouldn't start experiencing a "diminishing returns" situation anytime soon.
Blinking as he suddenly remembered something, Greg thrust a hand into the tight pockets of his shorts. He held up his phone, the silver logo clear against the candy blue paint. His fingers went over the keypad of his flip-phone, putting in a number he knew by heart.
Greg put the phone to his mouth as it rang. Once.
"Mom?"
"..."
"Hi, yeah, could you buy me a twenty-four pack of Gatorade on your way home?"
"..."
"Nothing. Just been working out all day."
"..."
Greg pulled his head away from the phone, staring at the device with a look of annoyance. Shaking his head, he put the phone back to his face. "Mom, I'm not lying."
"..."
"Thanks, Mom. Love you."
With that, Greg hung up, clutching the closed phone in his hands. A moment later, he cast a glance at the time and date on the LCD panel. 3:00 PM?
Grunting slightly, Greg himself up into a sitting position. I got time. His free hand clambered around at his side, searching for something he had dropped on his way down hear several hours ago.
With a metallic clatter, his hand brushed against something thick, long and cold to the touch. Greg brought the sixteen-inch wrench, which had to weigh at least five pounds, to his face and grinned. "No pain, no gain."
Greg held the wrench under the bathroom faucet as it ran steaming water over the blood-covered implement and his stained hands.
As his hands became clean enough, Greg pulled an energy bar from his inventory and began snacking on it, the item boosting the rate of his HP regen greatly. He had already eaten eight of them, he would know.
Almost two straight hours of striking his left arm with the wrench had sent his HP into the red several times. Not to mention, his method of training had ended up making both a bloody mess of both himself and the basement floor. But, then again, Greg couldn't say it wasn't worth it.
Four points to VIT and eight levels to [Blunt Force Resistance] was nothing to sneeze at, after all.
Lifting the jumbo-sized wrench again, Greg brandished it at the mirror in front of him and grinned. One finger went down to lightly touch his abdomen, trailing over an indentation in his stomach that hadn't been there before this morning.
He knew he looked a mess, standing there shirtless with half of his skinny torso splattered with blood and the other half covered in sweat and dirt.
Even still, he liked what he saw. "Huh, I almost have abs… Nice."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"...have higher numbers of bones because some bones fuse together during childhood and adolescence to form..."
His legs pumped relentlessly, each step slapping hard against the black tread as he continued running his fastest. His arms strained to stay up somewhat but Greg forced them to stay at his chest-level, refusing to slack off.
"...to provide a rigid, internal structure that can support the weight of the body against the force of gravity, and to provide a structure upon which muscles can act to produce movements…"
In the background, a weak speaker system blared out, repeatedly cycling through a playlist from some of Greg's favorite game soundtracks. The speaker had been a gift from his friend Sparky for Christmas… a super cheap gift, but then again, it was Sparky.
Greg continued moving even as his head bobbed slightly to the music. Even then, his eyes remained firmly locked on the textbook in front of him, secured to the handles of the treadmill with a mix of duct-tape and hope. "The lower portion of the skeleton is specialized for stability during walking or running. In contrast, the upper skeleton has greater mobility and ranges of motion…"
Greg didn't even raise his gaze as the single 'ping!' sound rang out again, keeping his head focused on the book in front of him even as his muscles began to protest again. 1 more minute. I can do this.
"The vertebral column consists of 24 bones, each called a vertebra, plus the sacrum and coccyx. The thoracic cage includes the 12 pairs of ribs…" Three 'pings!' rang out in quick succession and Greg glanced up.
Greg smiled tiredly at the three pop-ups, the seventh time he had them all in a row since he had started training today at around 7 AM, an hour after he woke up. Eight hours of nonstop running on a treadmill for a twenty-one point overall stat increase and two new abilities.
He smirked as he continued running. Worth it.
His mother had left around 8, after glancing to see what he was doing down in the basement. The look on her face had been curious and more than a tad bit suspicious but thankfully, she didn't ask any questions. A courtesy which Greg was nothing but thankful for. If she had even been the slightest bit curious, he would have found himself in a very complicated situation as Greg really wasn't sure how he could explain this.
In his search of the garage, Greg had found a selection of wrist and ankle weights that were able to help him increase his rate of stat improvement and basically make his entire workout more worth the time.
The only real drawback had been the flavor text that accompanied his initial use of [Observe] on the item, the description itself changing after he equipped them. Apparently, the weights he now wore were how his mother "stayed as fit and toned as a twenty-year-old well into her mid-thirties."
It was Greg's opinion that if it wasn't for Gamer's Mind, the resulting mental image would have forced him to seek therapy. Regardless of the traumatizing imagery, Greg had equipped the four weights, loading the slots with all the thick metal slabs they came with for a total of twenty -five pounds per limb.
It was hard enough walking with all the extra weight, but Greg knew he had to step it up if he wanted to get anywhere. In the basement, his mother had bought a treadmill a few years back. Greg had never touched it before, not really interested in running for the sake of it.
That changed today.
He had run harder and faster than he ever had before, putting his full attention into nothing but reading and running. In addition, he spent his time gulping down an entire bottle of Gatorade whenever his Will threatened to send him to the ground again. Of course, Greg had used up almost all the Gatorade in the house over the course of the day, but he felt it was a worthwhile investment.
At a certain point, Greg had even considered getting some of his mom's equipment and setting up an IV filled with nothing but electrolyte-replenishing sports drinks. After taking a moment to think about it, he had changed his mind, deciding to save the idea for a later time. After all, he wasn't that desperate… or was he?
Losing to Sophia had been… eye-opening, for lack of a better term. Completing the quest on Sunday had left Greg feeling like he was on top of the world. I mean, he beat up two armed criminals. Granted, he was the reason one of them was armed in the first place but…
He shook his head. Not the point. Those guys were actual criminals, but they had less HP and a lower level than a football player who was younger than them and hadn't wanted to fight anyway. Greg wasn't sure what that meant but he was pretty sure he could have beaten the football player, too. Sophia, on the other hand...
Sophia was a monster.
The girl was fast. Faster than him, without a doubt, and a lot stronger than her 5 ft 4 frame would imply.
She had kept him off balance and hit so fast he could barely keep up. Hell, she was so good she probably could have taken out those Merchant guys in a couple of seconds even without his special skills. And she was just a track star! Greg thought bitterly. What does that say about actual martial artists or boxers or… or… or actual capes?
With stats like this, he thought he could actually go out and do something.
Sophia almost killed him with her bare hands! That would be great on a tombstone.
Here lies Gregory Lucas Veder
1996 – 2011
Beaten to death by a pissed-off teenage girl
Greg's mouth turned downwards slightly.Yeah, no... that would be embarrassing as all heck. Too distracted to focus on his reading, Greg just let out a sigh. "[Will.]"
Willpower: 9/90
Sighing again, Greg let his arms fall, resting them on the handrails. And, I'm down to only 1 bottle of Gatorade too.
"Okay, we're done here." Greg pushed the 'Stop' button on the treadmill, allowing the machine its first bit of rest all day as the tread's motor begin to whir to a stop. His legs unmoving, the slow tread pushed him back until he fell off the treadmill.
Greg collapsed against the hardwood floor of his basement for what must have been the thirtieth time that day, beads of sweat coating his entire body. Though he could feel the exhaustion dragging him down, he couldn't deny that he felt better than he had in, like… ever. Lighter, faster, stronger...
He lay there, staring at the textured paint on the ceiling as he felt his body slowly recover, his will creeping up at a rate of about five points a minute. At this rate, it would take almost twenty minutes to get back up to full. God, my Will went up like crazy.
That would normally be a good thing in any other situation if it wasn't for the fact that the regeneration rate of his Will didn't seem to increase proportionately. What once took six minutes now took eighteen. After getting smacked around by Sophia yesterday, he had noticed the same for his HP, the original rate of one point every fifteen seconds still the status quo.
If the rate of his stat regen wasn't enough to worry about, it seemed that the rate at which he was grinding stats was slowing down too. Each new pop-up he received had taken slightly longer than the previous one and it was kinda stressing him out. All Greg could hope for was that he wouldn't start experiencing a "diminishing returns" situation anytime soon.
Blinking as he suddenly remembered something, Greg thrust a hand into the tight pockets of his shorts. He held up his phone, the silver logo clear against the candy blue paint. His fingers went over the keypad of his flip-phone, putting in a number he knew by heart.
Greg put the phone to his mouth as it rang. Once.
"Mom?"
"..."
"Hi, yeah, could you buy me a twenty-four pack of Gatorade on your way home?"
"..."
"Nothing. Just been working out all day."
"..."
Greg pulled his head away from the phone, staring at the device with a look of annoyance. Shaking his head, he put the phone back to his face. "Mom, I'm not lying."
"..."
"Thanks, Mom. Love you."
With that, Greg hung up, clutching the closed phone in his hands. A moment later, he cast a glance at the time and date on the LCD panel. 3:00 PM?
Grunting slightly, Greg himself up into a sitting position. I got time. His free hand clambered around at his side, searching for something he had dropped on his way down hear several hours ago.
With a metallic clatter, his hand brushed against something thick, long and cold to the touch. Greg brought the sixteen-inch wrench, which had to weigh at least five pounds, to his face and grinned. "No pain, no gain."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg held the wrench under the bathroom faucet as it ran steaming water over the blood-covered implement and his stained hands.
As his hands became clean enough, Greg pulled an energy bar from his inventory and began snacking on it, the item boosting the rate of his HP regen greatly. He had already eaten eight of them, he would know.
Almost two straight hours of striking his left arm with the wrench had sent his HP into the red several times. Not to mention, his method of training had ended up making both a bloody mess of both himself and the basement floor. But, then again, Greg couldn't say it wasn't worth it.
Four points to VIT and eight levels to [Blunt Force Resistance] was nothing to sneeze at, after all.
Lifting the jumbo-sized wrench again, Greg brandished it at the mirror in front of him and grinned. One finger went down to lightly touch his abdomen, trailing over an indentation in his stomach that hadn't been there before this morning.
He knew he looked a mess, standing there shirtless with half of his skinny torso splattered with blood and the other half covered in sweat and dirt.
Even still, he liked what he saw. "Huh, I almost have abs… Nice."
– o – o – o – o – o –o – o –
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 4
XP: 1375/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 190
MP: 110
Will: 96
STR: 12
SPD: 10
VIT: 10
INT: 14
WIS: 7 (-6)
CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
Student
Level 4
XP: 1375/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 190
MP: 110
Will: 96
STR: 12
SPD: 10
VIT: 10
INT: 14
WIS: 7 (-6)
CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
Grind 2.5
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
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Grind 2.5
Greg raised his fist up to his face, doing his very best to ignore the weight on his wrist even as it threatened to bring his arm down. Raising his second limb to waist level, he spun on his heel and struck out into the air with a bare fist.
Snapping his fist back to his waist, he launched a low kick at his imaginary opponent. Sweat dripped down his chest as he halted the kick, jumping backwards until his bare skin was only a few inches away from one of the basement walls.
He moved forward, taking the offensive once again and snapping out a quick jab with his right. Spinning, he launched another with his left, a cross this time. Continuing, Greg threw out a hail of punches, unwilling to stop his barrage against the opponent in his head. His hand came up again, a palm to parry a strike.
He threw out another palm, not for a soft deflection but a hard strike, aiming for what would be a neck. Another hail of blows was launched, sweat dripping from Greg's body with every strike, his breath coming harder and faster as each blow met nothing but air. His hair clung to his scalp at this point, a mass of sweat acting like adhesive and glueing his blond locks into uncomfortable clumps on top of his head. Even still, he continued.
He'd been at this for only an hour, starting immediately after he'd gotten out of the shower to wash the blood and grime off his body.
Shadow-boxing.
Shadow-boxing was an idea he'd had last night, several hours after his mom drove him home. He'd heard of boxers punching at the air and martial artists practicing their katas to improve their skill. It all seemed to work for them, so Greg only thought it made sense to try it out for himself.
His two original fighting abilities had levelled rather impressively over the past hour, his [Basic Footwork] making the most improvement out of the two.
Making progress. Greg thought to himself, blocking a set of fake punches before retaliating with his own. This is so great! I cannot wait till Friday. The corner of Greg's mouth lifted into an eager smirk.
I'll show Sophia some of this… Greg threw several strikes, aimed at an imaginary solar plexus, his hands managing to move rather smoothly despite the weight. He spun back, throwing several jabs to what would be his opponent's back.
Some of these… His leg snapped up in a sharp kick before he spun on his heel and struck out with a surprisingly fast heel strike, jumping forward and slamming an elbow into some imagined body part.
And a little bit of this! Greg snapped his hand out in a quick palm strike, his other hand pulled back in a tight fist. Greg's smirk widened slightly. Let's see her try to stop that. Deciding to put an end to his exercise for the day, Greg dropped his hands to his sides, relaxing his stance into a normal standing position. "[Inventory: Limb Weights]."
As the heavy items on his limbs vanished in a blink of blue light, Greg let out a tired sigh. His shoulders slumped forwards as he bent at the waist, his body rather drained after nearly a complete hour of practicing his fighting. After using up his last full bottle of Gatorade to keep his exercise going at the same rate, Greg was down to simply waiting for his Will to climb back up on its own.
In fact, that reminded him of something. "[Will]."
Willpower: 35/96
"Huh, not bad. That's at least," Greg blinked, doing a quick bout of mental math. "24 Angry Straights. I call that progress." A moment later, Greg's smirk turned into a tired smile and he made his way over to the other end of the basement to grab a white towel he had thrown over the handrail of the treadmill. Simply rubbing the cloth into his face was good enough for him now, wiping off some of the sweat and grime that an hour-long workout could accumulate on his pores.
As he tossed the white cotton fabric over his shoulders, Greg made his way over to the stairs. The moment his foot touched the bottom step, Greg froze.
Ding-Dong!
He blinked. The doorbell? Did Mom forget her key again?
Shaking his head, Greg ran up the basement stairs, the towel bouncing on his shoulder. As he opened the basement door, the doorbell rang once more, and Greg repressed an exasperated sigh.
"Hold your horses, Mom!" He shook his head as he walked towards the door. "You're always telling me to carry a spare key, too." His hands closed around the doorknob and he opened it, a smile on his face. "Maybe next time, you can follow your adv-"
"Hey there, Greg."
The smile vanished instantly as Greg froze up, his mouth slightly open in shock.
"Greg?"
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg raised his fist up to his face, doing his very best to ignore the weight on his wrist even as it threatened to bring his arm down. Raising his second limb to waist level, he spun on his heel and struck out into the air with a bare fist.
Snapping his fist back to his waist, he launched a low kick at his imaginary opponent. Sweat dripped down his chest as he halted the kick, jumping backwards until his bare skin was only a few inches away from one of the basement walls.
He moved forward, taking the offensive once again and snapping out a quick jab with his right. Spinning, he launched another with his left, a cross this time. Continuing, Greg threw out a hail of punches, unwilling to stop his barrage against the opponent in his head. His hand came up again, a palm to parry a strike.
He threw out another palm, not for a soft deflection but a hard strike, aiming for what would be a neck. Another hail of blows was launched, sweat dripping from Greg's body with every strike, his breath coming harder and faster as each blow met nothing but air. His hair clung to his scalp at this point, a mass of sweat acting like adhesive and glueing his blond locks into uncomfortable clumps on top of his head. Even still, he continued.
He'd been at this for only an hour, starting immediately after he'd gotten out of the shower to wash the blood and grime off his body.
Shadow-boxing.
Shadow-boxing was an idea he'd had last night, several hours after his mom drove him home. He'd heard of boxers punching at the air and martial artists practicing their katas to improve their skill. It all seemed to work for them, so Greg only thought it made sense to try it out for himself.
His two original fighting abilities had levelled rather impressively over the past hour, his [Basic Footwork] making the most improvement out of the two.
Making progress. Greg thought to himself, blocking a set of fake punches before retaliating with his own. This is so great! I cannot wait till Friday. The corner of Greg's mouth lifted into an eager smirk.
I'll show Sophia some of this… Greg threw several strikes, aimed at an imaginary solar plexus, his hands managing to move rather smoothly despite the weight. He spun back, throwing several jabs to what would be his opponent's back.
Some of these… His leg snapped up in a sharp kick before he spun on his heel and struck out with a surprisingly fast heel strike, jumping forward and slamming an elbow into some imagined body part.
And a little bit of this! Greg snapped his hand out in a quick palm strike, his other hand pulled back in a tight fist. Greg's smirk widened slightly. Let's see her try to stop that. Deciding to put an end to his exercise for the day, Greg dropped his hands to his sides, relaxing his stance into a normal standing position. "[Inventory: Limb Weights]."
As the heavy items on his limbs vanished in a blink of blue light, Greg let out a tired sigh. His shoulders slumped forwards as he bent at the waist, his body rather drained after nearly a complete hour of practicing his fighting. After using up his last full bottle of Gatorade to keep his exercise going at the same rate, Greg was down to simply waiting for his Will to climb back up on its own.
In fact, that reminded him of something. "[Will]."
Willpower: 35/96
"Huh, not bad. That's at least," Greg blinked, doing a quick bout of mental math. "24 Angry Straights. I call that progress." A moment later, Greg's smirk turned into a tired smile and he made his way over to the other end of the basement to grab a white towel he had thrown over the handrail of the treadmill. Simply rubbing the cloth into his face was good enough for him now, wiping off some of the sweat and grime that an hour-long workout could accumulate on his pores.
As he tossed the white cotton fabric over his shoulders, Greg made his way over to the stairs. The moment his foot touched the bottom step, Greg froze.
Ding-Dong!
He blinked. The doorbell? Did Mom forget her key again?
Shaking his head, Greg ran up the basement stairs, the towel bouncing on his shoulder. As he opened the basement door, the doorbell rang once more, and Greg repressed an exasperated sigh.
"Hold your horses, Mom!" He shook his head as he walked towards the door. "You're always telling me to carry a spare key, too." His hands closed around the doorknob and he opened it, a smile on his face. "Maybe next time, you can follow your adv-"
"Hey there, Greg."
The smile vanished instantly as Greg froze up, his mouth slightly open in shock.
"Greg?"
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2016
- Messages
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- Likes received
- 13,953
Gonna make some NSFW portions on certain chapters.
- Joined
- May 27, 2017
- Messages
- 658
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- 4,002
Ooh, Greg/Emma I'm assuming? Sounds interesting!! Though you should probably move this to the NSFW Creative Writing section in that case.
It'd be interesting to see how their characters interact in a sexual situation.
It'd be interesting to see how their characters interact in a sexual situation.
Bellcross
Plot is king
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- Oct 1, 2017
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- 1,758
Could you link to the chapter, or at least inform us which chapters are going to "sadly" contain NSFW content
PocketRikimaru
Experienced.
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- Mar 4, 2018
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- 3,418
inb4 yaoi.
But honestly hoping for some really lewd stuff with Emma.
But honestly hoping for some really lewd stuff with Emma.
NightmareWarden
Versed in the lewd.
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- 5,536
I've read quite a few fanfics. Plenty of them used Worm and the Gamer. I thought I'd be bored of stories like this by now, but here I am. Thank you for updating, otherwise I wouldn't have found this fanfic! I can honestly say I found something I enjoyed in every chapter so far.
I'm torn between whether I get a bigger kick out of Greg's mother, Greg's interaction with Sophia, or the snarky Gamer AI/writer. If you posted more on another site could I get a link? Otherwise I'll just look forward to new chapters here whenever you bring them over.
As for future content... I have no idea what sort of primary ability Greg will focus on in the future. We know from the actual Gamer story that there is far more than Mana manipulation out there. Perhaps Greg will turn into a wildly incompetent Paladin who dedicates their MP to self-buffs, melee attacks and charisma skill checks? Or he could learn to craft high-stat items that he struggles to switch between as their charges are drained/different bonuses are required for adapating situations? Who can say.
I'm torn between whether I get a bigger kick out of Greg's mother, Greg's interaction with Sophia, or the snarky Gamer AI/writer. If you posted more on another site could I get a link? Otherwise I'll just look forward to new chapters here whenever you bring them over.
As for future content... I have no idea what sort of primary ability Greg will focus on in the future. We know from the actual Gamer story that there is far more than Mana manipulation out there. Perhaps Greg will turn into a wildly incompetent Paladin who dedicates their MP to self-buffs, melee attacks and charisma skill checks? Or he could learn to craft high-stat items that he struggles to switch between as their charges are drained/different bonuses are required for adapating situations? Who can say.
Artemis Black
Making the rounds.
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- Nov 13, 2020
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- 113
ZFighter18 is this story going further else where?
Grind 2.6
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
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Grind 2.6
Greg stared at the figure in front of him, trying desperately to find the words, any words, to say. His hands twitched at his side as he stood there in shock, the idea that he would see her at his house of all places was something he never thought would happen.
Pale skin shone as she stood there, the light bulb above the doorway acting like a miniature halo. Loose hair the color of fresh blood danced around her shoulders like a morbid waterfall while emerald eyes blinked at him, long eyelashes dancing like butterflies.
"E- Emma?" His voice came out far more high-pitched than he intended it to, nearly a squeak as he replied.
Her lips tilted upwards in a slight smile. "Hey, Greg."
The red-head took a step forward and Greg caught sight of what she was wearing, nearly stumbling back into his house as his mind processed it.
An open jacket with a pink low-cut t-shirt directly under it forced Greg to keep his gaze locked on her face, the shirt itself not as much of a hazard as the necklace that threatened to dip inside her shirt, continually drawing Greg's attention to the pale flesh there. "Emma, wh- what are you doing here?"
She tilted her head slightly, the smile at her lips growing slightly. "I know this is kind of sudden, but can I come in?"
Shaking his head, Greg opened his mouth to reject her only for Emma to cross her arms underneath her chest. "I just want to talk to you a bit and it's a little cold out here. I'm so stupid that I didn't wear a thick enough jacket." Her eyelashes fluttered slightly as she gave a little shiver.
It took Greg a good ten seconds to realize that he couldn't find the words.
"Greg?" The redhead bit her lip slightly, the sight forcing Greg to swallow nothing but air.
"...s-s-sure." The agreement fell from Greg's lips, less a word and more a collection of sounds. "Come on in. T-t-take a seat."
"Thanks, Greg." The side of Emma's mouth went up in a smile that Greg could only describe as dangerously distracting. "That's so nice of you."
Still blinking in confusion, Greg stepped aside and let the girl walk into his house. Unable to help himself, Greg found his head turning to stare at her back as she walked past him, the tight jeans she had on forcing him to blink in disbelief.
He followed right behind her, closing the door without even looking.
As if she had been there many times before, Emma lowered herself onto the couch in the living room with a level of grace that Greg would have attributed to some sort of dancer. Turning around to look at Greg, Emma shot him another dazzling smile that nearly made him stumble.
"Come on, Greg. What are you doing over there?"
Raising a finger to his chest as if to ask 'Me?', Greg nodded dumbly and walked over to the girl in his living room. I am so gonna brag to Sparky about this. All the times he had bragged on PHO about hanging out with models, no one had believed him. Now… Well, even if he wasn't temp banned, no one would believe him anyway.
Greg dropped himself at the far end of the couch to Emma, keeping a good distance between them as he did his best not to act weird. His action was made pointless moments later as Emma moved down the couch until the two of them were nearly touching each other. Greg kept his eyes locked onto his knees, doing his best not to ogle her.
We don't know each other! Why is she so close? How does she know where I live? I'm so confused! Greg felt a chill run down his spine as Emma shook off her jacket and backpack and placed them between her legs, the action causing her arm to slide against his chest.
His bare chest.
Greg found himself blinking rapidly, his heart beating even faster as he came to the realization that since he had opened the door for Emma, he had been entirely without a shirt the entire time. Oh my God, why is she so close? I can't breathe. I can't breathe!
Suppressing an internal freakout, Greg scooted slightly closer to the edge of the couch and turned to the side to face his guest.
"S-s-so, Emma," Greg cleared his throat. "…ummm… why are you here?"
His eyes widened the moment the sentence left his mouth. What are you doing? You can't just ask someone why they're somewhere? Why would you say that? What's wrong with you? Greg found himself spluttering out an apology for his previous sentence, his mouth working at hyper speed. "I-I-I didn't m-m-m… that w-wa…"
Emma waved off Greg's explanation, silencing Greg with a giggle as she held a well-manicured hand up to her face. His face turning almost as red as her hair, Greg shrunk into himself slightly. Ironically, he found himself more comfortable like this, entirely used to girls laughing at him than actually talking to him.
As her giggling died down somewhat, Emma ran a hand through her hair, tucking several strands behind her ear before turning back to face Greg. "It's okay, Greg. I get it. We don't know each other, we don't talk and almost never see each other outside of class. Why am I here?"
Greg shrugged, letting out a slow breath. "N-not that it's not nice to see you. It's super nice to see you," Emma's smile seemed to increase as he said this, the sight waking the butterflies in Greg's stomach, "but… umm… well, why?"
Emma giggled again, the sound sending the butterflies into a panic. "A couple of things, actually. I felt really bad for what happened yesterday with you… and Taylor. So," Emma's hand dipped into her backpack, pulling out a small stack of papers, "I decided to head to all your teachers and get your homework for you. Everything till Friday."
Greg held out his hands, picking up the sheaf of papers from Emma and laying them flat on the coffee table with only the slightest trembling of his fingers as they grazed Emma's palm. "Thanks, Emma. That's super nice of you," Greg replied, a rictus of a smile frozen on his face.
"That's not all, Greg," Emma continued, smile getting slightly wider, "I also got you an apology gift."
Greg blinked. "You got me a gift?" he echoed, surprised that anyone would go that far.
Emma nodded. "I really wanted to apologize. You know, for what Sophia did. So..." Emma's hand dove into her backpack again, rising a few moments later from the hot pink bag with a clear container in her grasp.
"A slice of cake?"
"What?" Emma's lips pursed slightly, her eyes falling as she pouted. "You don't like it?"
"No, I love it!" Greg's reply was as genuine as it was eager, his hands taking the container of cake from Emma's grasp with clear excitement. "Vanilla is my favorite! I just… didn't expect it."
Emma's pout turned back into a dazzling smile, her white teeth barely peeking out from underneath. "That's great. I just wanted to apologize. After what Sophia did…," Emma paused, emerald eyes narrowing at Greg's face before lowering to his chest, "I just wanted to see if you were okay."
Greg shrugged, an uneasy look on his face. "I'm fine."
Emma's smile gained a bit of an edge. "Oh, I can see that. I just wanted to make sure. Sophia… well, she can get a little aggressive and excessive sometimes and she's not… she's not really used to people standing up to her, especially people she thinks are all talk."
"I could tell." Greg found himself frowning as Emma's words reminded him of Monday, especially the way Emma had treated Taylor.
[Distracted by The Sexy] Debuff removed
"I don't really care about what Sophia did, Emma. To me, at least." A slight scowl on his face, Greg turned to Emma again. "I just wanna know… what was Monday about, anyway? Why were you and Sophia saying those things to Taylor?"
"Greg…" She sighed, tossing her hair behind her ears once more as she leaned back into the couch. "Taylor and I… we kinda have history and a lot of it is really personal. We stopped being friends before we started Winslow and honestly, a lot has happened since then."
"A lot has happened?" There was suddenly more space between the two of them as Greg moved over to the very edge of the couch. You guys called her a whore!"
"Greg, girls call each other whores all the time. The whole thing is a lot deeper than I really want to get into right now. Really personal stuff."
Greg shook his head, not willing to let this go just yet. "Wait, where you the ones you shoved Taylor in her locker? Was that you?"
Emma's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you see what happened, Greg?"
Greg shook his head again, frowning. "No, but I heard about it. They had to call 911."
Emma grabbed his arm with one hand, manicured fingers coiling around growing muscle. "Greg, you have to understand, I didn't do anything. Madison came up with the idea and Sophia pulled it off. I get that it was mean, but I didn't actually do anything."
"It was more than mean, Emma." Greg scowled at what he remembered. "It was just plain terrible. I mean, she had to go to the hospital."
"Don't you think I know that, Greg? It was terrible, what happened to Taylor, and I'm sad about it but it wasn't me who did it."
"But you just sa-" Greg began to work himself up, only for Emma to interrupt.
"I said Madison came up with the idea and Sophia shoved her in the locker. All I did was not say anything because I didn't want my friends to get expelled."
"But Taylor got hurt!" Greg replied tersely.
"I know, Greg, and I feel bad about it but me and Taylor aren't friends anymore." Emma sighed again, placing her soft hand over Greg's and squeezing. "There's a lot there that you don't understand. I would love if Taylor and I were best friends again but I'm not counting on it."
"Why?" Greg found himself asking. "Why did they do it? Why did they even start? I don't know what Taylor could have done to Madison and Sophia to treat her like that."
"Greg, it's not that simple. It has to do with me but it's too… soon for me to talk about it." Emma shook her head, the action wafting the scent of jasmine into Greg's nose. The redhead leaned forward, her necklace dangling right above her chest and drawing Greg's attention."You understand, right?"
[Distracted By The Sexy] Debuff applied
"S-sure, I get it," Greg blinked. "Personal stuff."
"Oh, I knew you'd understand." Without warning, Emma rushed forward and Greg found himself in the best hug he'd ever gotten in his whole life as Emma's chest pressed against his. "Thanks for listening to me."
"...you're welcome." Greg wasn't sure if Emma actually heard his response, his voice jumping so high up in pitch that he himself barely heard it. "I mean, I mean… uhh… no problem."
Emma slowly pulled away, despite how much Greg would prefer she never moved, only to stare up into Greg's face, a small smile on her face. "You know, Greg, you're actually really cute."
Greg inhaled through his nose, an awkward smile frozen on his face.
Cute. Cute. Cute. The word bounced around inside his head like a bouncy ball hurled by a strongman, filling his brain until he only had one thing to say.
"You think I'm cute?"
Emma nodded. "Super cute." She fluttered her eyes at him again. "Has a girl ever told you that before?"
"I mean, uhh… my mom tells me that all the time but she's my mom, so...," Greg let out an awkward laugh, the sentence trailing off unfinished.
Emma giggled again, one of her hands falling on Greg's chest. "You can tell your Mom that I agree with her."
Greg shifted a bit awkwardly in the couch, the armrest pressing up against his back.
"Umm… Emma, when you say cute, do you mean…" Greg's fingers twitched against his leg, barely repressed excitement and nervousness warring against each other as Emma's hand remained on his chest. "Like a… Like a guy or… or like a puppy?"
Emma laughed out loud, raising a hand to her mouth again. "You're so funny, Greg," Her voice came out soft and breathy as she leaned into him again, one hand going up into his hair and caressing it softly as she whispered four words into his ear. "What's wrong with both?"
"...urk." Greg felt extremely thankful that he had decided to wear a tight pair of briefs over his basketball shorts this morning.
Her hand trailed up his torso, slender fingers dancing along his chest and making his head spin. "You're more than cute. You're nice and you listen to me." Emma began, her breath hot against his chest. "And that's not all, you also have blue eyes." Emma suddenly sat up, turning around and sitting right back down.
Onto Greg's lap.
"You know I really like blonde guys, Greg, especially with blue eyes." Emma's green eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, sending Greg's mind a hundred places, all of them centered on the pretty girl in his lap.
He gulped, doing his best not to move his legs too much. "R-really?"
Eyelashes lowered until Emma was staring up at Greg from half-lidded eyes. "Really."
Greg let out a low shuddering breath as he realized that the butterflies weren't just awake, they were having a party.
"Thing is, when it comes to guys at Winslow, you never know what blonde or blue-eyed guy is part of the Empire."
Greg shook his head furiously. "Not me. Not me."
"Of course, you're not Empire, Greg." Emma leaned into him as she sat on his lap, her palm flattening against his chest as she pushed him down onto the couch. "I know that someone like you could never be a Nazi. Someone as cute, nice, and understanding as you would never think someone was bad or evil before you got to know them, right?" She swung her leg over Greg's, her other knee resting on the couch until she was almost straddling the blond boy. "Right?"
"Right." Greg nodded, swallowing more air as he found himself gulping again. Dipping her head back, Emma ran her hands through her hair, tying it back with a pink scrunchie that Greg didn't remember her pulling out.
Blue eyes stared into green.
Emma dove forward.
Lips pressed against Emma's, Greg was the closest he'd ever been to Nirvana. His own thoughts were lost against the feeling of her tongue probing against his, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils with jasmine. His hands went up, resting on Emma's shoulders and pulling her further in, Emma moving forward as well.
Greg never wanted this to end, this feeling somehow better than anything else.
Emma even seemed to be enjoying it almost as much as he was, the noises she made sounding vaguely happy.
This was perfect. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else needed to matter.
"Sweetie, I'm home!"
Both Emma and Greg opened their eyes, staring at each other in shock even as the door slammed shut.
Emma began to pull away, but it was already too late.
"Oh My God!" Susan Veder stood at the foyer, looking on into the living room, an unwitting bystander of her son's first kiss.
Both Greg and Emma jumped to their feet. The back of Emma's hand went to her lips, wiping her mouth of any remnants of their kiss.
After a moment's hesitation, Greg did the same, eyes on his mother. "Mom," Greg spoke up, his voice cracking spectacularly, "you're home early."
"It's… it's five-thirty. I'm home late." Greg winced. "I had to stop and buy the Gatorade you asked for. It's in the car."
Emma let out a musical laugh, the sound itself trying to mask the awkwardness of the situation. "Hi, Ms. Veder, I'm Emma." The redhead waved from her position at Greg's side, a perfectly natural smile on her face. "Emma Barnes."
Susan nodded, a very tight, near-invisible, smile on her own face. "Hello, Emma." She gave Greg a questioning glance, eyes narrowed to the point of being slits, the boy in question still with a dopey smile on his face. "Always good to meet my son's friends."
Greg said nothing.
"Well," Emma cut in as the awkward silence began to stretch, throwing her backpack and jacket over her shoulder, "I have to go catch a bus."
Susan raised an eyebrow. "I can give you a ride."
Emma laughed that same musical laugh again, eyes flitting between Greg and his mother rather quickly. "No, no, no, no, no. I don't live that far at all." Emma made a break for the door, moving rather briskly. "Bye, Greg. It was nice to meet you, Mrs Veder."
Susan flinched slightly at the Mrs title, the way she always did, but bore it with a forced smile. "Same to you, Emma."
The door slammed shut and Susan Veder turned to face her son, her smile still tight but her eyes promising hell.
"Mom…"
"Gregory."
"Mom, listen…" Greg began to plead, gulping nervously.
"Greg, who in the hell was that… that red-haired wh… wh...h," Susan's face seemed to be threatening to turn red as she did her best to push out whatever word was on her mind, "hussy and what was she doing in my house? On top of my son?"
"Mom," Greg raised his hands up to his face, palms facing his mother in the universal sign of surrender. "Mom, it's… it's… not what it looked like."
"Oh?" Susan's tight smile dropped into a frown as she brought both hands to the waist of her scrubs. "Oh, so I didn't just see a girl straddling my son while he's half naked? I didn't just see that girl's filthy mouth on yours? Is that what you're trying to tell me right now, Greg Veder?"
"Mom," Greg bit his lip, "she wasn't filthy."
"Greg!"
"Okay! Yes… that. What you said, yes." Greg groaned through gritted teeth. "Yeah, that looked bad."
"Looked?"
B-b-but there's context, Mom!" Greg took a step back as his mom advanced on him, a nervous look on his face even as he continued to smile. "There's a lot of context you weren't here for."
"Context? You want to talk to me about context, Greg?" Spreading her arms out, Susan let out a huff. "Fine, tell me. What's this magical context that will make this situation all better?"
"Well, she's a model, Mom," Greg chuckled nervously, unable to hide the wide smile on his face in front of his from his mother no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, "uhhh… she likes me. She really likes me and…. And… uhhh… she said that she wants you to know that… uhhh… she thinks I'm cute too."
"Mom, just… just... look at it this way," Greg lifted his hands, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug, his mind trying to come up with something to say. "I just had my first kiss."
Susan's Veder's hands twitched at Greg's words and the unbridled happiness on his face. "I mean, really, Mom, you should be happy for me right now."
"Gregory. Lucas. Veder." The look on his mother's face was just short of livid, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides as she advanced on her son.
His smile tightening slightly on his face, Greg slowly picked up the container from the table and held it out to his mother, presenting it with both hands.
"...cake?"
AN: Fun fact, I actually rolled a d20 for the debuff removal.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg stared at the figure in front of him, trying desperately to find the words, any words, to say. His hands twitched at his side as he stood there in shock, the idea that he would see her at his house of all places was something he never thought would happen.
Pale skin shone as she stood there, the light bulb above the doorway acting like a miniature halo. Loose hair the color of fresh blood danced around her shoulders like a morbid waterfall while emerald eyes blinked at him, long eyelashes dancing like butterflies.
"E- Emma?" His voice came out far more high-pitched than he intended it to, nearly a squeak as he replied.
Her lips tilted upwards in a slight smile. "Hey, Greg."
The red-head took a step forward and Greg caught sight of what she was wearing, nearly stumbling back into his house as his mind processed it.
An open jacket with a pink low-cut t-shirt directly under it forced Greg to keep his gaze locked on her face, the shirt itself not as much of a hazard as the necklace that threatened to dip inside her shirt, continually drawing Greg's attention to the pale flesh there. "Emma, wh- what are you doing here?"
She tilted her head slightly, the smile at her lips growing slightly. "I know this is kind of sudden, but can I come in?"
Shaking his head, Greg opened his mouth to reject her only for Emma to cross her arms underneath her chest. "I just want to talk to you a bit and it's a little cold out here. I'm so stupid that I didn't wear a thick enough jacket." Her eyelashes fluttered slightly as she gave a little shiver.
It took Greg a good ten seconds to realize that he couldn't find the words.
"Greg?" The redhead bit her lip slightly, the sight forcing Greg to swallow nothing but air.
"...s-s-sure." The agreement fell from Greg's lips, less a word and more a collection of sounds. "Come on in. T-t-take a seat."
"Thanks, Greg." The side of Emma's mouth went up in a smile that Greg could only describe as dangerously distracting. "That's so nice of you."
Still blinking in confusion, Greg stepped aside and let the girl walk into his house. Unable to help himself, Greg found his head turning to stare at her back as she walked past him, the tight jeans she had on forcing him to blink in disbelief.
He followed right behind her, closing the door without even looking.
As if she had been there many times before, Emma lowered herself onto the couch in the living room with a level of grace that Greg would have attributed to some sort of dancer. Turning around to look at Greg, Emma shot him another dazzling smile that nearly made him stumble.
"Come on, Greg. What are you doing over there?"
Raising a finger to his chest as if to ask 'Me?', Greg nodded dumbly and walked over to the girl in his living room. I am so gonna brag to Sparky about this. All the times he had bragged on PHO about hanging out with models, no one had believed him. Now… Well, even if he wasn't temp banned, no one would believe him anyway.
Greg dropped himself at the far end of the couch to Emma, keeping a good distance between them as he did his best not to act weird. His action was made pointless moments later as Emma moved down the couch until the two of them were nearly touching each other. Greg kept his eyes locked onto his knees, doing his best not to ogle her.
We don't know each other! Why is she so close? How does she know where I live? I'm so confused! Greg felt a chill run down his spine as Emma shook off her jacket and backpack and placed them between her legs, the action causing her arm to slide against his chest.
His bare chest.
Greg found himself blinking rapidly, his heart beating even faster as he came to the realization that since he had opened the door for Emma, he had been entirely without a shirt the entire time. Oh my God, why is she so close? I can't breathe. I can't breathe!
Suppressing an internal freakout, Greg scooted slightly closer to the edge of the couch and turned to the side to face his guest.
"S-s-so, Emma," Greg cleared his throat. "…ummm… why are you here?"
His eyes widened the moment the sentence left his mouth. What are you doing? You can't just ask someone why they're somewhere? Why would you say that? What's wrong with you? Greg found himself spluttering out an apology for his previous sentence, his mouth working at hyper speed. "I-I-I didn't m-m-m… that w-wa…"
Emma waved off Greg's explanation, silencing Greg with a giggle as she held a well-manicured hand up to her face. His face turning almost as red as her hair, Greg shrunk into himself slightly. Ironically, he found himself more comfortable like this, entirely used to girls laughing at him than actually talking to him.
As her giggling died down somewhat, Emma ran a hand through her hair, tucking several strands behind her ear before turning back to face Greg. "It's okay, Greg. I get it. We don't know each other, we don't talk and almost never see each other outside of class. Why am I here?"
Greg shrugged, letting out a slow breath. "N-not that it's not nice to see you. It's super nice to see you," Emma's smile seemed to increase as he said this, the sight waking the butterflies in Greg's stomach, "but… umm… well, why?"
Emma giggled again, the sound sending the butterflies into a panic. "A couple of things, actually. I felt really bad for what happened yesterday with you… and Taylor. So," Emma's hand dipped into her backpack, pulling out a small stack of papers, "I decided to head to all your teachers and get your homework for you. Everything till Friday."
Greg held out his hands, picking up the sheaf of papers from Emma and laying them flat on the coffee table with only the slightest trembling of his fingers as they grazed Emma's palm. "Thanks, Emma. That's super nice of you," Greg replied, a rictus of a smile frozen on his face.
"That's not all, Greg," Emma continued, smile getting slightly wider, "I also got you an apology gift."
Greg blinked. "You got me a gift?" he echoed, surprised that anyone would go that far.
Emma nodded. "I really wanted to apologize. You know, for what Sophia did. So..." Emma's hand dove into her backpack again, rising a few moments later from the hot pink bag with a clear container in her grasp.
"A slice of cake?"
"What?" Emma's lips pursed slightly, her eyes falling as she pouted. "You don't like it?"
"No, I love it!" Greg's reply was as genuine as it was eager, his hands taking the container of cake from Emma's grasp with clear excitement. "Vanilla is my favorite! I just… didn't expect it."
Emma's pout turned back into a dazzling smile, her white teeth barely peeking out from underneath. "That's great. I just wanted to apologize. After what Sophia did…," Emma paused, emerald eyes narrowing at Greg's face before lowering to his chest, "I just wanted to see if you were okay."
Greg shrugged, an uneasy look on his face. "I'm fine."
Emma's smile gained a bit of an edge. "Oh, I can see that. I just wanted to make sure. Sophia… well, she can get a little aggressive and excessive sometimes and she's not… she's not really used to people standing up to her, especially people she thinks are all talk."
"I could tell." Greg found himself frowning as Emma's words reminded him of Monday, especially the way Emma had treated Taylor.
[Distracted by The Sexy] Debuff removed
"I don't really care about what Sophia did, Emma. To me, at least." A slight scowl on his face, Greg turned to Emma again. "I just wanna know… what was Monday about, anyway? Why were you and Sophia saying those things to Taylor?"
"Greg…" She sighed, tossing her hair behind her ears once more as she leaned back into the couch. "Taylor and I… we kinda have history and a lot of it is really personal. We stopped being friends before we started Winslow and honestly, a lot has happened since then."
"A lot has happened?" There was suddenly more space between the two of them as Greg moved over to the very edge of the couch. You guys called her a whore!"
"Greg, girls call each other whores all the time. The whole thing is a lot deeper than I really want to get into right now. Really personal stuff."
Greg shook his head, not willing to let this go just yet. "Wait, where you the ones you shoved Taylor in her locker? Was that you?"
Emma's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you see what happened, Greg?"
Greg shook his head again, frowning. "No, but I heard about it. They had to call 911."
Emma grabbed his arm with one hand, manicured fingers coiling around growing muscle. "Greg, you have to understand, I didn't do anything. Madison came up with the idea and Sophia pulled it off. I get that it was mean, but I didn't actually do anything."
"It was more than mean, Emma." Greg scowled at what he remembered. "It was just plain terrible. I mean, she had to go to the hospital."
"Don't you think I know that, Greg? It was terrible, what happened to Taylor, and I'm sad about it but it wasn't me who did it."
"But you just sa-" Greg began to work himself up, only for Emma to interrupt.
"I said Madison came up with the idea and Sophia shoved her in the locker. All I did was not say anything because I didn't want my friends to get expelled."
"But Taylor got hurt!" Greg replied tersely.
"I know, Greg, and I feel bad about it but me and Taylor aren't friends anymore." Emma sighed again, placing her soft hand over Greg's and squeezing. "There's a lot there that you don't understand. I would love if Taylor and I were best friends again but I'm not counting on it."
"Why?" Greg found himself asking. "Why did they do it? Why did they even start? I don't know what Taylor could have done to Madison and Sophia to treat her like that."
"Greg, it's not that simple. It has to do with me but it's too… soon for me to talk about it." Emma shook her head, the action wafting the scent of jasmine into Greg's nose. The redhead leaned forward, her necklace dangling right above her chest and drawing Greg's attention."You understand, right?"
[Distracted By The Sexy] Debuff applied
"S-sure, I get it," Greg blinked. "Personal stuff."
"Oh, I knew you'd understand." Without warning, Emma rushed forward and Greg found himself in the best hug he'd ever gotten in his whole life as Emma's chest pressed against his. "Thanks for listening to me."
"...you're welcome." Greg wasn't sure if Emma actually heard his response, his voice jumping so high up in pitch that he himself barely heard it. "I mean, I mean… uhh… no problem."
Emma slowly pulled away, despite how much Greg would prefer she never moved, only to stare up into Greg's face, a small smile on her face. "You know, Greg, you're actually really cute."
Greg inhaled through his nose, an awkward smile frozen on his face.
Cute. Cute. Cute. The word bounced around inside his head like a bouncy ball hurled by a strongman, filling his brain until he only had one thing to say.
"You think I'm cute?"
Emma nodded. "Super cute." She fluttered her eyes at him again. "Has a girl ever told you that before?"
"I mean, uhh… my mom tells me that all the time but she's my mom, so...," Greg let out an awkward laugh, the sentence trailing off unfinished.
Emma giggled again, one of her hands falling on Greg's chest. "You can tell your Mom that I agree with her."
Greg shifted a bit awkwardly in the couch, the armrest pressing up against his back.
"Umm… Emma, when you say cute, do you mean…" Greg's fingers twitched against his leg, barely repressed excitement and nervousness warring against each other as Emma's hand remained on his chest. "Like a… Like a guy or… or like a puppy?"
Emma laughed out loud, raising a hand to her mouth again. "You're so funny, Greg," Her voice came out soft and breathy as she leaned into him again, one hand going up into his hair and caressing it softly as she whispered four words into his ear. "What's wrong with both?"
"...urk." Greg felt extremely thankful that he had decided to wear a tight pair of briefs over his basketball shorts this morning.
Her hand trailed up his torso, slender fingers dancing along his chest and making his head spin. "You're more than cute. You're nice and you listen to me." Emma began, her breath hot against his chest. "And that's not all, you also have blue eyes." Emma suddenly sat up, turning around and sitting right back down.
Onto Greg's lap.
"You know I really like blonde guys, Greg, especially with blue eyes." Emma's green eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, sending Greg's mind a hundred places, all of them centered on the pretty girl in his lap.
He gulped, doing his best not to move his legs too much. "R-really?"
Eyelashes lowered until Emma was staring up at Greg from half-lidded eyes. "Really."
Greg let out a low shuddering breath as he realized that the butterflies weren't just awake, they were having a party.
"Thing is, when it comes to guys at Winslow, you never know what blonde or blue-eyed guy is part of the Empire."
Greg shook his head furiously. "Not me. Not me."
"Of course, you're not Empire, Greg." Emma leaned into him as she sat on his lap, her palm flattening against his chest as she pushed him down onto the couch. "I know that someone like you could never be a Nazi. Someone as cute, nice, and understanding as you would never think someone was bad or evil before you got to know them, right?" She swung her leg over Greg's, her other knee resting on the couch until she was almost straddling the blond boy. "Right?"
"Right." Greg nodded, swallowing more air as he found himself gulping again. Dipping her head back, Emma ran her hands through her hair, tying it back with a pink scrunchie that Greg didn't remember her pulling out.
Blue eyes stared into green.
Emma dove forward.
Lips pressed against Emma's, Greg was the closest he'd ever been to Nirvana. His own thoughts were lost against the feeling of her tongue probing against his, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils with jasmine. His hands went up, resting on Emma's shoulders and pulling her further in, Emma moving forward as well.
Greg never wanted this to end, this feeling somehow better than anything else.
Emma even seemed to be enjoying it almost as much as he was, the noises she made sounding vaguely happy.
This was perfect. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else needed to matter.
"Sweetie, I'm home!"
Both Emma and Greg opened their eyes, staring at each other in shock even as the door slammed shut.
Emma began to pull away, but it was already too late.
"Oh My God!" Susan Veder stood at the foyer, looking on into the living room, an unwitting bystander of her son's first kiss.
Both Greg and Emma jumped to their feet. The back of Emma's hand went to her lips, wiping her mouth of any remnants of their kiss.
After a moment's hesitation, Greg did the same, eyes on his mother. "Mom," Greg spoke up, his voice cracking spectacularly, "you're home early."
"It's… it's five-thirty. I'm home late." Greg winced. "I had to stop and buy the Gatorade you asked for. It's in the car."
Emma let out a musical laugh, the sound itself trying to mask the awkwardness of the situation. "Hi, Ms. Veder, I'm Emma." The redhead waved from her position at Greg's side, a perfectly natural smile on her face. "Emma Barnes."
Susan nodded, a very tight, near-invisible, smile on her own face. "Hello, Emma." She gave Greg a questioning glance, eyes narrowed to the point of being slits, the boy in question still with a dopey smile on his face. "Always good to meet my son's friends."
Greg said nothing.
"Well," Emma cut in as the awkward silence began to stretch, throwing her backpack and jacket over her shoulder, "I have to go catch a bus."
Susan raised an eyebrow. "I can give you a ride."
Emma laughed that same musical laugh again, eyes flitting between Greg and his mother rather quickly. "No, no, no, no, no. I don't live that far at all." Emma made a break for the door, moving rather briskly. "Bye, Greg. It was nice to meet you, Mrs Veder."
Susan flinched slightly at the Mrs title, the way she always did, but bore it with a forced smile. "Same to you, Emma."
The door slammed shut and Susan Veder turned to face her son, her smile still tight but her eyes promising hell.
"Mom…"
"Gregory."
"Mom, listen…" Greg began to plead, gulping nervously.
"Greg, who in the hell was that… that red-haired wh… wh...h," Susan's face seemed to be threatening to turn red as she did her best to push out whatever word was on her mind, "hussy and what was she doing in my house? On top of my son?"
"Mom," Greg raised his hands up to his face, palms facing his mother in the universal sign of surrender. "Mom, it's… it's… not what it looked like."
"Oh?" Susan's tight smile dropped into a frown as she brought both hands to the waist of her scrubs. "Oh, so I didn't just see a girl straddling my son while he's half naked? I didn't just see that girl's filthy mouth on yours? Is that what you're trying to tell me right now, Greg Veder?"
"Mom," Greg bit his lip, "she wasn't filthy."
"Greg!"
"Okay! Yes… that. What you said, yes." Greg groaned through gritted teeth. "Yeah, that looked bad."
"Looked?"
B-b-but there's context, Mom!" Greg took a step back as his mom advanced on him, a nervous look on his face even as he continued to smile. "There's a lot of context you weren't here for."
"Context? You want to talk to me about context, Greg?" Spreading her arms out, Susan let out a huff. "Fine, tell me. What's this magical context that will make this situation all better?"
"Well, she's a model, Mom," Greg chuckled nervously, unable to hide the wide smile on his face in front of his from his mother no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, "uhhh… she likes me. She really likes me and…. And… uhhh… she said that she wants you to know that… uhhh… she thinks I'm cute too."
"Mom, just… just... look at it this way," Greg lifted his hands, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug, his mind trying to come up with something to say. "I just had my first kiss."
Susan's Veder's hands twitched at Greg's words and the unbridled happiness on his face. "I mean, really, Mom, you should be happy for me right now."
"Gregory. Lucas. Veder." The look on his mother's face was just short of livid, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides as she advanced on her son.
His smile tightening slightly on his face, Greg slowly picked up the container from the table and held it out to his mother, presenting it with both hands.
"...cake?"
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
AN: Fun fact, I actually rolled a d20 for the debuff removal.
Cutscene: Text Conversation
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
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Cutscene: Text Conversation
A noise from outside his door snapped Greg's attention from the message he was about to send, the hallway light suddenly shining from underneath his door another warning. Eyes wide, Greg snapped his phone shut and pulled the covers over his head. A moment later, he heard the gentle creak of the door hinge as his door opened, the wide beam of light from the hallway visible even from under his comforter.
Footsteps, calm and steady, were audible as they plodded closer to his bed.
Stilling his breathing, Greg shut his eyes and waited.
Like he expected, the covers were lifted from his body and allowed to fall, pooling near his feet and exposing his half-naked body to the cold.
For a moment, there was silence as Greg pretended to be asleep even as he could feel his mom staring down at him. "Greg."
He let out a breath, slowly simulating what he assumed he sounded like when he slept.
"I know you're awake, Greg."
Greg winced internally, still keeping up the facade of his slumber.
Susan sighed. "Just hand over your phone and I'll go back to bed."
Deciding to let it go, Greg opened a single eye to glance at his mom and spotted her standing at the foot of his bed, one hand on her face as she stood there. Her hair was tied back in a knot, secured with a scrunchie, and she wore a long nightgown.
"Hey, mom." Greg tried to give her a smile, but found his grin fading when his mother's blank expression didn't even twitch.
"Phone. Now."
A single hand dove under his pillow and Greg pulled out his cell, the flip phone still somewhat warm in his hands from a recent charging. Greg sat up in his bed, dropping an arm over his upraised knees. "Okay, here."
As Greg stretched his arm out to hand the phone over, it was quickly palmed by his mother. With a sigh, she glanced down at the candy blue device before giving her son a look that he couldn't quite parse.
"I was just texting Sparky, you know." Greg offered as a means of explanation. "Nothing else."
"Mmmhmm." Susan hummed in response, turning her back to Greg and walking back the way she came from. As she reached the door, she paused to glance over her shoulder at her son and cast him another odd look, one eyebrow raised as if in thought.
For a moment, Greg had hope that she would change her mind. She had already taken away his game consoles, his desktop and his laptop before they even sat down for dinner. Without his phone, all he had left was a television in his room, a television that he never even bothered watching anyway.
Maybe she changed her mind or maybe she saw the hopeful look on Greg's face, he wasn't really sure which. All Greg knew was her eyebrow fell and her mouth thinned as her hands closed around the doorknob. "Good night, Greg."
And with that, she shut the door, leaving Greg in the dark.
A moment later, the hallway light clicked off and her footsteps faded away.
Greg fell back onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling through what little light his window provided.
"Well, damn."
A noise from outside his door snapped Greg's attention from the message he was about to send, the hallway light suddenly shining from underneath his door another warning. Eyes wide, Greg snapped his phone shut and pulled the covers over his head. A moment later, he heard the gentle creak of the door hinge as his door opened, the wide beam of light from the hallway visible even from under his comforter.
Footsteps, calm and steady, were audible as they plodded closer to his bed.
Stilling his breathing, Greg shut his eyes and waited.
Like he expected, the covers were lifted from his body and allowed to fall, pooling near his feet and exposing his half-naked body to the cold.
For a moment, there was silence as Greg pretended to be asleep even as he could feel his mom staring down at him. "Greg."
He let out a breath, slowly simulating what he assumed he sounded like when he slept.
"I know you're awake, Greg."
Greg winced internally, still keeping up the facade of his slumber.
Susan sighed. "Just hand over your phone and I'll go back to bed."
Deciding to let it go, Greg opened a single eye to glance at his mom and spotted her standing at the foot of his bed, one hand on her face as she stood there. Her hair was tied back in a knot, secured with a scrunchie, and she wore a long nightgown.
"Hey, mom." Greg tried to give her a smile, but found his grin fading when his mother's blank expression didn't even twitch.
"Phone. Now."
A single hand dove under his pillow and Greg pulled out his cell, the flip phone still somewhat warm in his hands from a recent charging. Greg sat up in his bed, dropping an arm over his upraised knees. "Okay, here."
As Greg stretched his arm out to hand the phone over, it was quickly palmed by his mother. With a sigh, she glanced down at the candy blue device before giving her son a look that he couldn't quite parse.
"I was just texting Sparky, you know." Greg offered as a means of explanation. "Nothing else."
"Mmmhmm." Susan hummed in response, turning her back to Greg and walking back the way she came from. As she reached the door, she paused to glance over her shoulder at her son and cast him another odd look, one eyebrow raised as if in thought.
For a moment, Greg had hope that she would change her mind. She had already taken away his game consoles, his desktop and his laptop before they even sat down for dinner. Without his phone, all he had left was a television in his room, a television that he never even bothered watching anyway.
Maybe she changed her mind or maybe she saw the hopeful look on Greg's face, he wasn't really sure which. All Greg knew was her eyebrow fell and her mouth thinned as her hands closed around the doorknob. "Good night, Greg."
And with that, she shut the door, leaving Greg in the dark.
A moment later, the hallway light clicked off and her footsteps faded away.
Greg fell back onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling through what little light his window provided.
"Well, damn."
Buff 3.1
ZFighter18
Not too sore, are you?
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Buff 3.1
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Again, this wasn't smart.
Greg was sure of it.
Yet, here he was doing it anyway.
Story of my life. Greg shook his head.
Through critical self-analysis, you have gained 1 WIS point.
Thank you for confirming that this is a stupid move, power.
"Great," Greg muttered under his breath as he slowly shut the back door behind him, taking care not to make any sound. "It's bad enough I talk to myself, now I'm talking to my power."
"Is it just me or should those both be higher?" Greg shook his head, letting out a huff of visible breath into the cold night air as he shivered. "Whatever. Doesn't matter." He took several steps forward, creeping towards the center of the backyard, before suddenly tilting his head up to stare at a darkened window.
Okay, mom's light is still off. I'm good. Greg smiled tightly and continued to make his way to the front yard. If his mom had been awake, he wasn't sure how he would have explained away his actions. Hey, mom. Just going for a midnight jog dressed in a black hoodie and a hockey mask. Nothing suspicious here at all. Greg shook his head, rolling his eyes underneath his mask. Yeah, she'd just eat that up.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
The last two days had been a noted departure from his usual relationship with his mom. Before, the two of them had been pretty close, their relationship almost as happy as it had been before the divorce. The previous night and the one before that had been drastically different, their normally talkative home time replaced by long periods of uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Dinner these past two days hadn't even been a thing between them, Greg eating his meal in the basement to hasten his workout while his mother sat at the dinner table alone.
Apart from some throat-clearing and muttered apologies on Greg's part when they passed each other in the hallway, tonight had continued along the same quiet vein as the previous one.
It was, in Greg's mind, somewhat of a break from the nearly half-hour-long yelling spree his mom had subjected him to that Tuesday night. She had gone on about pregnancy, STDs - especially herpes- and the dangers of getting into a relationship while young. Greg actually listened closely, despite having heard all this a hundred times before and in a much calmer environment.
In a way, Greg actually preferred the yelling to the silence. At least when his mother was yelling, he knew she was angry because she cared. All the silent treatment did was leave him feeling empty, making him feel like he had disappointed her somehow. It didn't help his guilty feelings that he couldn't get his mind off of Emma, thoughts of the redhead filling his spare moments and even invading his dreams. It only made his confusion with his mom's moodiness even worse, really.
He didn't even get why she was so angry!
At least... not really.
It wasn't like the whole situation was his fault. He didn't invite Emma; he had said as much to his mom. He wasn't even the one to kiss Emma. What was so wrong with just… you know..., letting it happen?
It wasn't like Emma was a bad person, anyway. She was just a girl who liked him. Why couldn't his mom understand that? What, did his mom expect him to never want to talk or to be around girls?
Sadly, his mom hadn't really taken kindly to those arguments. In her rush to punish him, Greg found himself without a phone, his laptop and desktop computer already previously been confiscated. He hadn't said much as she took his things, packing all of the electronics into the trunk of her car and leaving his room empty with nothing but posters, cape paraphernalia and a rarely-used television to fill the void.
Honestly, Greg hadn't complained… much. Sure, there was the token resistance that his mom would've expected but he didn't really fight it. He knew that his mom was obviously hoping that losing his games and electronics would make him behave but even if the events of the last few days were all his fault, Greg doubted it would work anyway.
After two days of training, Greg was beginning to find that he didn't necessarily crave video games as much as he did just the week before. He knew it was a bit odd but he'd rather intermittently stab and bludgeon himself with a kitchen knife and a hammer for an hour and a half (+ 2 Slashing Resistance, + 6 Piercing Resistance, + 2 Blunt Force Resistance, + 3 VIT) - including the time spent waiting for his HP to regen before doing it again - just for the sheer joy of watching his XP numbers rise as opposed to spending his time playing Space Opera, Vice Squad or Trip Murphy: Undefeated. It was a bit odd but Greg didn't find himself questioning the change, simply throwing himself into his "daily grind."
With his mom gone all day for work, that still left him time to work on his stats. Now, that would have made the whole situation better if it wasn't for one big problem bringing his mood down.
There wasn't much actual working out to be done.
It wasn't that Greg wasn't trying, either. No, quite the opposite. He was, in fact, trying as hard as he had that first day, putting his all into his workout. The problem lay in the fact that his gains were slowing down. That first Tuesday had allowed him to train his STR, SPD and INT all the way up by seven points after eight hours of constant exercise, albeit with the help of a series of "potions" to boost his Will. Then today, the same exercise with the same amount of time spent on it only increased those three stats by four points.
A forty percent drop in gains. That's what he was looking at. Forty percent! That was basically half. Greg wasn't sure if that meant each increase in the stat lowered the effectiveness of his training by almost six percent or if it was an overall type of thing. Either way, it still sucked.
He knew that he was stronger, obviously. He felt stronger, faster too. Hell, he felt lighter! Greg didn't even have to struggle as much to lift the weights, the drain on his Will much less from running with them but still… what was he supposed to do better?
Even if he did the same workout the next morning, he'd be lucky to manage a two-point average increase across the board. This was just insane. How was he supposed to make any real gains like that?
Deciding to find a fix to the situation later, Greg was forced to spend even more time on grinding his other skills, only to hit an even worse roadblock. After three entire hours in the basement practicing what rudimentary martial arts knowledge he had, both his [Basic Fighting] and [Basic Footwork] had leveled up to - as well as refused to budge one percentage past - Level 10, while [Brawling] became MAX at a shockingly low Level 5.
While Greg had been super excited about this already, what came next nearly made him cheer at the top of his lungs.
[Basic Fighting] at Level 10.
[Basic Footwork] at Level 10.
[Brawling] at Level 5
Combine to Unlock [Beginner Combat]?
[Yes] [No]
Progress. He was making progress, moving up in the world! Or, at least… the game. Which meant… eventually, the world.
His immediate response was to tap the [Yes] that hovered in front of his face, and he did it without hesitation. What came next proved to be the major annoyance of the day.
Cannot unlock [Beginner Combat]
Must defeat user of [Beginner Combat] or above to unlock
Must be Level 5 to unlock
The pop-up had sent his spirits to the ground. Honestly, it was enough to make someone scream in frustration.
Why? Greg had thought to himself, fingers in his hair. Why shake it in front of my face if I can't unlock it yet? How am I supposed to get to level 5 without a quest? Fuck you, game!
The 'ping' sound went off in the back of his head a moment later.
Greg had been torn between groaning and smiling at this new pop-up.
A quest after several days without one? Awesome!
Enough XP to possibly hit Level 6? Amazing!
A free Stat Point? Incredible!
Fighting fifteen Merchants? Horrible.
An [Enemy] reputation with the Merchants? Also Horrible.
Having to finish the quest before sunrise? Hellish.
It was both the answer to his prayers and a hassle he didn't feel like dealing with. Although, the whole increased reputation with the Empire thing was something he could live with if he was honest with himself. After all, he knew what he looked like. He doubted the Empire would have hated him in the first place.
In the end, though, what choice did he really have?
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
So, here he was. Standing next to his house at just past midnight, inventory full of Gatorade "potions", protein bars and every weapon-like item he could think to grab from the garage and basement.
Greg didn't even have it in him to give up now. He wasn't sure what he would do or say if his mom found out he left the house overnight but he wasn't about to lose out on a big-time quest like this.
Besides, I'm already double grounded, Greg mused, actually thinking it over. What's mom gonna do? Triple ground me? Greg actually smiled slightly at the thought. He loved his mom but right now, the only real thing he was focused on right now was clearing this game.
Greg frowned at the thought he just had. Is clearing the right word? How would I clear the game of my life? He shook his head slightly, brushing off the thought. This feels like a philosophical type of thing. Just focus on leveling for now, Greg. "[Inventory: Equipment]."
As he called out the words, the screen appeared and Greg once again found himself staring at his body represented in a 3D rendering of the Vitruvian - Vesuvian? Vaudevillian? One of those - man. His equipment items were represented as well, from the Friday the 13th-esque hockey mask he wore to the running shoes on his feet.
Oh, shut up. Greg ignored the obvious jibe the description of the shoes threw at him, shoving down the flare of annoyance he usually felt in reference to his father and quickly ignoring it to look over what he wore. What kind of game hates the player, anyway?
In addition to all of that, he also wore the kickboxing gloves, deciding to let go of the toeless shoes in exchange for the speed bonii the sneakers offered. "Well, I'm all decked out." Arching his back and pushing his arms outward in an unneeded stretch, Greg turned to face his location.
He grinned behind his mask."Let's do this. [Power Sprint]."
Moving just above the speed limit for a school zone, Greg took off down the street, his body intermittently glowing a bright yellow as he headed towards Merchant territory.
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
Level 4
XP: 1375/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 230
MP: 130
Will: 108
STR: 16
SPD: 14
VIT: 13
INT: 18
WIS: 8 (-6)
CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
Student
Level 4
XP: 1375/3600
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
HP: 230
MP: 130
Will: 108
STR: 16
SPD: 14
VIT: 13
INT: 18
WIS: 8 (-6)
CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)
Unspent Points: 7
Cash: $31.50