The Emperor of Brockton Bay

[Leektheratking]

Greg Veder wasn't a coward.


Or at least he thought so.




​

He felt sick, each step his bag weighed him down like a stone, crushing him under its non-existent weight as he walked.



Today was the first day back to school, back to Winslow, the heart-wrenching feeling of the plan he had stumbled upon before the break heavy on his mind.



"t-they wouldn't? would they" Greg said, thinking of the plan, the idea of stuffing a locker with…God knows what. His mind barely able to think of the plan without thinking of the threat that came from the voice of Emma Barnes.



"Say a word twerp and I'll have you gone in less then a sentence got it" Emma Barnes hissed into his ear when she got her hands on him, her lithe hands gripping his shirt like a vice, long nails scraping his skin even through the clothing.



"all I need to do is say, even whisper that you touched me, and you're as good as dead, ok greggy?" he heard her say as she walked away, the fear from the encounter sending him nearly to panic attack as his vision constricted having to lean against the wall for support.



And yet in his mind, Greg wrestled with himself, the fear overwhelming him, and yet that small niggling portion of himself, whispering almost imperceptibly, that he should warn his friend, one of the only two he could call such in the school, Taylor, an outcast like him, he could give her a warning no matter how small.



And yet... he never did, each time he tried, some feral part of him, that deep seated monster within all humanity, dedicated to survival drove him away, having once managed to get to her door, only to see Emma Barnes down the street, and so he kept walking, not even daring to turn his head lest she notice him.



'No, there's no way they would, it must just be some joke' Greg lied to himself, trying desperately to hide inside himself as he entered the gates, seeing the large crowd already formed, some kind of commotion near the lockers...



"N-no, no they couldn't have." He stuttered as he walked closer, the rank smell of rot piercing his nose quickly stinging his eyes as he approached, the hallway packed with people as Greg tried to push through, working his way past gang members and cliques of kids.



Eventually however the chatter of the crowd died down enough that Greg could hear that he could hear the locker and its occupant.



A person he considered a friend.



"HELP! HELP ME!" He could hear Taylor screaming from inside the locker as he got to the front of the crowd, his vision blocked by a large skinhead in front of him.



Greg froze, unable to move as he heard Taylor screaming, for some kind of reprieve, the sound of crunching insects and the smell of the products shoved into the locker turning his stomach to stew as he stood there. He felt as if his legs couldn't hold himself any longer, his heavy bag dragging him down lower and lower.



After minutes however, finally he gained some courage, to move past the person in front of him, taking a step forward, driving one foot in front of the other like the beginning of an engine's pistons.



'Taylor needs help' was all that he thought of as he walked, he was going to save her, she needed saving.



And just as suddenly as he started, Greg found his foot caught on another and his world turning sideways, falling forward into the clearing in front of the locker, only Emma Barnes and Maddison Clements stood close, one with a blank almost remorseful look on her face, the other filled with sick sadistic glee at the screams.



Yet both stared at him the moment he fell, faces a matching sneer of disgust.



"Did you just fall fatass?" he heard Emma say, a snicker coming from Maddison at the remark.



A red rush of embarrassment rose through Greg's cheeks as he heard people in the front of the crowd laughing too, still rushed with courage, Greg was trying to think of how to fire back, even if a little. Only to get stopped in his tracks when a whimpering call came from the locker.



"Greg, help" he heard Taylor say, barely a whisper so low that he's sure only the three of them heard it, almost instantly he found his hands pushing himself off the tile floor. At her voice driving him forward.



"What are you doing?" just the same, another voice froze him in his tracks, Maddison's eyes piercing his very core as his eyes flashed between hers and the wet orbs hidden behind the slats of the locker.



And yet, Greg took a step, only five too the locker he noted.



One step, the crowd seemed to quiet down as he walked.



Two steps, he could almost hear Maddison and Emma squinting with how hard he was being stared at.



Three steps, his heartbeat roared in his chest like a caged beast.



Four steps, tears began to well in his eyes.



Five steps, he reached the locker.



Six steps, he walked past the locker, not even daring to look into the eyes of Taylor Lest he break like glass.



Seven steps, he ran. Unable to accept his cowardice, heading to his class.



Shame and doubt clouding his mind as he walked, like a phantom Greg ran away, unable to see the scornful look Maddison was giving him behind his back.

• Greg Veder was a coward.​
• At least now he knew it.​

The classes through the day became a blur, each and every one of them leaving Greg lifeless as he went from class to class, barely able to even recognise as the ambulance came, and the fifth filled locker was cleaned.



Until he got a message given by the intercom, too tired to even recognise people stating at him at this point.



"Greg Veder to the Principals office, I repeat. Greg Veder to the Office please" the intercom spoke, crackly and distorted due to repeated abuse over the years. Yet clear enough for Greg to understand as he got up, taking his bag with him.



Before he exited the room however, the door opened, a snickering Maddison Clements walking through, snickering to herself as she stepped around Greg as if he had the plague.



Walking through the hallways of the school, Greg felt the isolation creep in closer and closer like a suffocating blanket as he approached the office, mind starting to come back to focus as he walked, walking by locker after locker, eventually Greg came up to a damaged one, broken apart and torn open, filth spilling from it as he stepped around the mess, still stinking he looked towards Taylor's locker.

A wet outline of the girl left jammed into the muck visible, Mold and bugs still crawling as he saw the cleaner arrive to remove it all.

Soon enough however Greg final made it to the office, dragging his feet as he entered the office and was beckoned to sit down.

"Please sit-down Greg we've much to discuss" Ms Blackwell, the principal said as he entered, a sombre look on her face that spoke little of the good this situation would cause to come.

"Am I in trouble miss?" was all Greg could choke out as he moved to sit down.

"N... yes, Greg. Due to certain circumstances, certain information has been brought to light that...I'm sorry but..." the principal started over and over, seeming to look for the right words.

Waiting what felt an eternity, a headache started to draw as Greg held back tears barely, stress driving him slowly to an edge he didn't know existed.

"Greg, you have been accused on something heinous, that we cannot dismiss, though the time frame was said to be beyond school hours" she started once more a look of remorse on her face screaming of her knowledge of the situation.

"What was I accused of ma'am?" Greg asked hoping it wasn't what he thought.

"Youve...been accused by a fellow student of sexual misconduct Greg, this is a serious charge and as such we have to investigate." She said as the edges of Greg's vision closed in, his blood dying in his veins as he stammered out excuses and pleads that he never did or would ever do such a thing.

"We know Greg, for all your talking over lessons you've been a model student and these claims are so out of character that I cant help but not believe them…" the principal began, stopping again as if she was attempting to give Greg a stress induced heart attack.

"But… due to who made these claims…I'm sorry Gregory, our hands are tied" she said, shamefully looking to the ground "without the funding her family gives Winslow would go under" she said again reaching over the table as to pat his shoulder.

Yet despair turned to anger in that very instance as if a veil had been lowered yet Greg's body had yet to catch up, hearing out the principal more.

"so as recompense for your suffering, as I truly do understand Greg, I have given you a glowing recommendation to Arcadia its semester starts a week from now but… it won't guarantee you get in, but it'll be a start, but from today onwards you are no longer welcome within the walls of Winslow High in sorry" she said, carrying a smile meant to convey that it will be alright as she slid a signed letter on the table, waiting for his signature.

Yet Greg saw the insult, the spit in the face, that she wouldn't dare stand in for someone being targeted, she was just like him.

"Must be nice to throw everyone under the bus" he spoke, quietly yet Principal Blackwell heard.



"Excuse me?"



"Do you do It to everyone?" he asked plainly.



"I don't like what you're implying young man, I'll have you know I don't need to give you that recommendation" she said eyes narrowing as she stared at Greg, eyes focusing like a vulture, waiting for her prey to die.



Eyes faltering for a second, Greg grabbed the pen, signing the form to be delivered, walking out of the room far worse than he entered, though he was happy in one revelation.

Greg Veder was a coward.


Now he knew he wasn't the only one.

​

The walk home was a Gallows Walk. Each step towards his death if he didn't come up with a good excuse, trying over and over to think of how to explain his expulsion.



'Maybe I could convince them it was a lie? Wait… why would I need to convince, it is a lie' he thought as suddenly, just as he got to his door, he figured it out.



Knocking he saw as his mother quickly opened the door, attempting his best to remove the stress from his features as Greg saw the surprise flash on her features.



"Greg? What are you doing home so early? Did something happen at school? Are you hurt?" she asked in rapid fire as she reached towards him, her hands resting on his cheeks and turning his head, at the same time however even with squished cheeks, Greg managed to lift the letter copy he was given into her view.



"Now, but I have some really good news, I got given a letter for recommendation to Arcadia! All those days of studying and extra work finally paid off" he said with false glee, the days he was speaking about were hanging out with Sparky, the studying was on heroes and villains not trigonometry.



"o-oh" was all his mother could say, as she took the letter from his hands beckoning him back inside, both sitting at the table.



Almost instantly Greg saw his mother's phones whipped out to call the school, the familiar if currently annoying voice of principal Blackwell.



"yes, Mrs Veder I can guarantee that young Greg is telling the truth, he has excelled in his studies to the point I believe he is a shoe in for arcadia, I have even already sent the recommendation letter as we speak" he heard through the phone, Blackwells voice a particular raised pitch he had heard from other less dutiful students as a sign of when she lies, though what point exactly lied on he couldn't fully tell.



Seemingly in disbelief however, Audrey Veder continued to prod for a bit longer, Greg's mood happy for all of a second now souring rapidly as he saw jus how little his mother thought of his ability, even if on accident.



Eventually he couldn't stand it, tears welling as he stood from the table, a short sharp breath leaving his mouth as he left, only now seemingly aware that Greg was there for the interrogation his mother had led, she began after the boy.



"Greg, Greg! I didn't mean any of it like that, I was just making sure something wasn't wrong!" she yelled as she chased after him through the hall to his room, desperate to explain herself.



"Like my school capabilities?" he asked harshly, silencing her as he closed the door, the hero merch drowned room feeling like it was enclosing on him, thinking over and over through the day as he laid on his messy bed, uncaring to notice the email notification on his laptop telling him his temp ban was finally over.



As Greg lay amongst the dirty clothes and messy blankets, the faces of heroes grand and small, on paper and plastic bore into his vision, judging him far harsher than he could have ever done.



Thinking, he thought of the locker, the cowardice that for the entire break he couldn't even warn Taylor about it, that no matter what he tried he always stopped, looking over, the pile of unsent letters stuffed into a corner, stained grey from tears, as he could never bring himself to finish them.



Then he thought to his actions, that with a single look all courage that had filled him left like a candle flame snuffed in a hurricane, that he…that he looked her in the eye and could not do anything but walk away.



He could have done something.



He knew he could have.



To the thinking that even his own mother did not trust his abilities, as fake as they were, she never trusted him, she seemingly couldn't bring herself to.



As Greg sat there amongst filth, wallowing in shame and pain, more and more crushed down on him, every mistake and problem, forcing heir way through his mind as the onset of a headache came, burning his eyes as he felt as if every vein and muscle was full of liquid lead, burning from marrow to skin as he finally fell to a strange unconscious state.

Greg Veder was a coward.


But change can always come.

​

Floating in the nothingness of unconsciousness Greg felt as stress and worry left him, never completely however until he was stopped eyes opening for the first time in what felt like decades. Heavy lead shutters sealing the outside blackness from the rest of his person.



Yet what he saw was strange, a shifting fourth dimensional shapes shifting within and aside from each other like it was some kind of ghost, passing through the space surrounding him as if effortless, just as suddenly however it spoke.



[DESTINATION]



'What?' Greg thought as it continued.



[DESTINATION, OBJEC-TIVE] it 'spoke' again, however through its near infinite communication, it stuttered, if only for a second.



'How would I do that, how could I become a hero?' Greg asked, after listening to its request.



[EXPL…] the thing began, at once however freezing before shuddering, a loud grinding piercing Gregs ears so fiercely that he felt his teeth would shatter from clenching.



Looking up finally however he saw that the thing was changing, now no longer a spinning impossibility as its fourth dimensional shape solidified into a glowing blue orb, with spinning orbits around itself.



Beginning once again, almost as if it didn't change the thing began. Despite Greg's protests as to what happened.



"I offer you power, child of man. In return for service, for humanity is ever in danger."



'What danger could I save anyone from?' Greg asked deprecatingly.



"Power can be given, power has been offered, that you can be the hero you strive to be, do you accept Gregory Veder" the orb said one more.



Taking a second, Greg's mind flashed to the locker, the pleading brown eyes in pain behind the slats, the screaming, something he never wanted to hear again, he wanted a world where no one had to scream like that again. And so, he made up his mind.



"I accept"



[very well, then in my name as Alaya, as will of humanity, I shall grant you this. Searching for compatible saint graph…saint graph acquired, Divus Ilius, the Queen of Bithynia, Gaius Julius Caeser. Adjusting body to accommodate, Fight well hero]



And with that, Greg awoke.

Greg Veder was always a coward.


Now, perhaps he can be something more.​

 

[Leektheratking]

Greg Veder was never a hero.


At least he could pretend.




​

Jolting up from the dream, Greg stared at the pitch blackness around his room, the hours fading away like sand in the wind during his sleep.



"One hell of a dream" he whispered to himself as he stood up stretching his sore back.



Yet as his hands ran up the small of his back, he froze, feeling the firmness that had replaced the softness of fat once, though still lying underneath a layer.



Looking to the large standing mirror in his room, Greg struggled to see in the dim light, quickly turning on the ceiling light, he didn't appear any different, still in the same clothes he wore to school.



Yet as he felt his body, he felt an underlying firmness that was not there before, hidden underneath the pudge and accumulated fat of years of sedentary trolling and poor diet, though his mother was always certain it was just because he was young but there now lay muscle...very dense muscle...



With almost lightning speed, Greg forced open his half jammed closet door, reaching below a pile of messy clothes seeking something.



Yet as his hand dived into another pile a shout of pain came from him as his hand impacted the item, pulling it free he saw the twenty-pound weight sitting in his hand, feeling light as a feather as his flicked it upwards and catching it with the other hand, a light laughter escaping his lips as he did so.



"Hehe, this is so cool" he said with genuine glee for the first time today, as his laugh became more and more grand did it only stop when the weight slipped from his grasp, attempting to catch the falling weight as to not disturb his family, his hands failed to catch it.



Luckily his foot stopped its decent.



Laying on the floor in pain, a rolling silent wail escaping his lips as he rolled on the floor, Greg barely noticed as he bumped into his bedframe repeatedly, only when something fell onto him did, he notice, something solid, that definitely was not on his bed when he went on it.



Standing up to look at the objects Greg saw two things, one was a long thin guitar shaped package, alongside it was a set of red clothes beside it.



Grabbing the clothes first, Greg saw what seemed to be a strange mix of toga and suit, alongside sandals that tumbled out, hobnailed and heavy, thick boiled leather sandals and the surprisingly durable suit.



Greg felt a desire to try them on, feeling as it slipped on with the ease of the most well used sleepwear, the double-breasted front of the jacket being buttoned with ease as the lower portion was fitted with ease too. A strange feeling like Greg had worn these his entire life, not seeing them for the first time.



Reaching to the case on the ground, he unwrapped the deep purple cloth wrapping it up, feet upon feet of cloth rolling outwards to reveal a stunningly beautiful blue and gold sword, a glinting edge, wicked sharp shining even in the near pitch darkness of the room.



Wholly unfurling the sword, Greg felt the clack of the sheath landing next to it, thin with similar patterns and writing as the blade, the cold dyed leather and glinting metal of the sheath stunning him for a second as he picked it up in his off hand.



"What language is that?" Greg thought back to the talk with 'Alaya' as it called itself, saying something about Julius Caesar, though the writing looked nothing like any Latin he's seen.



Placing the sheath down, Greg took some practice swings around his cramped room, the sword feeling natural to his grip as he tried it.



Over and over again, swish swish stab. Swish swish stab.



"I don't know what all those videos I watched are talking about. this is easy, how could being a hero be any danger if I've got this sweet ass sword with me!" Greg exclaimed happily, swinging to sword once more.



Only to hear two distinct clacks hit the ground. Turning slowly, he saw a statuette, limited edition, a statuette of the erroneously named Hero, Hero.



Cleaved neatly in two.



"I... hope that isn't a sign" Greg sighed as he put the sword down. Only now noticing a golden glint still on his bed, pulling the item up, he saw a wreath of golden olive leaves, designed to fit neatly over his ears, with an added golden domino mask to hide his identity.



"I've...got a costume...holy shit I'm going to be a hero" Greg smiled, heart beating immensely fast as he put the wreath around his ears grabbing the sword and sheath and quickly placing them into an old guitar case from when he tried to learn, alongside the clothes packed neatly inside the case. Though as he did so, Greg began to think.



'So, patrols heroes do those right? Do I need to set them up online or something?' Greg thought as he hopped onto his laptop, seeing the time was only three AM as he began to login to PHO.



Only to stop, Xx_Voidcowboy_xX was his account, his brainchild of theories and questions, sure people didn't really like what he had to say bit that's only because it was the truth, but all the same after that whole...faking a hero tag thing, Greg didn't think that the mods would appreciate him trying again.



Quickly making an Email, he signed up a new Account, though sat staring at the name line.



'what's going to be my name?' was all Greg thought as he sat there, what felt like hours went by as he struggles to think of a name.



"The Roman? No too vague. Caesar? No, a Nazi already has basically the same thing. King? Let me check...No way in hell" Greg would say quietly, searching through different names trying to find one that fits.



"let's see then what would it be if it was called...That's it!" Greg exclaimed almost yelling as he typed in the name, one that would represent him, through the greatness of Google translate.



And thus <46BESTEMP44> was born onto the forums of PHO, ticking through various features and tags for his account, Greg hovered over the 'unverified cape' tag, taking a second to swallow the dryness out of his mouth before pressing it and saving the page.



Scrolling through to change his profile images, not five minutes after saving his account did, he get a notification of a direct message.

■​

♦ Private message from Tin_Mother:





​

Tin_Mother: : hey I just saw that you have the 'Unverified Cape' tag, as moderator it's my job to make sure these are taken seriously and not used by those who aren't capes.

​

Is there any way for you to verify or would you prefer to stay unverified, though under scrutiny for now?





46BESTEMP44: for sure, what do I need to do?


Tin_Mother: Great! do note there are a few rules for verification however...









After reading the rules that slowly got added to the screen, Greg felt dread set in slowly but surely






Greg Veder was never a hero.


All he needed was a push

​

"Stupid fucking tin mother, stupid fucking PHO, stupid fucking sandals" Greg grumbled to himself as he ran out of the house, paying mind to not disturb his sleeping father, having gotten back from his job hours ago the man had practically melded into the cushions of the living room couch, still in his work suit.



The conversation with Tin mother on PHO had gone smoothly, Greg had thought, until he was given a timer, a mere two hours to send a photo of him in costume with today's newspaper, sprinting around the house he failed to find any, remembering his mother cutting their deliveries after the latest End-bringer attack took him uncle from them, too heartbroken to see the news get worse and worse.



Yet now, Greg was screaming, finally tying the last piece of his costume on as he prepared to run down the street, almost falling as the shoe finally found its place, he began to sprint trying his best to leave the suburbs for the city at large to grab a newspaper.



After all it took nearly an hour of walking to get from his home to the city centre by walking.



So sprinting, Greg's eyes shot open as the moment the shoe fully placed itself on his foot, that the dark street, filled with broken streetlights became a wonderful display, each and every stream of the crippled lights becoming a bright as day, almost unbearably, where the shadows became comfortable patches of brightness in the light of the new moon night.



Greg almost didn't notice however the speed of his run, pulling a jog no normal human could ever hope to match, he wouldn't have noticed for a lot longer…if his neighbour's mailbox wasn't in the way.



"Hgh!" Greg grunted out as he felt the heavy mailbox impacted his gut, falling over and skidding along the dirt as he fell, carried by the immense momentum behind his jog.



Yet as he pulled himself from the dirt, Greg felt no worse for wear somehow as he wiped the clay dirt from his suit, a strange look on his face as he saw each and every speck of silty dirt fall from himself.



"h-huh?" was all he could say "this…is so sick!" he'd then almost immediately yelled pumping his hands into the air.



"I'm…I'm not crazy! I actually have powers, this is…" he whispered as he saw the dirt falling slowly, swiping a fleck out of the air with a finger, staring mouth agape, as suddenly the dawning realisation of time came to him cursing as he once again sprinted towards the city.



The flashing of the red and gold flew across the streets of the middle-class suburbs of Brockton Bay, a glinting of gold that weaved between the near empty streets as he rushed into the glistening night life of the city.



Soon enough as the timer ticked down did Greg find himself in the city epaulettes swishing in the wind carried behind him as he stopped, pulling out his phone quickly as he found a news-rack.



"Come on, come on, come on" Greg muttered as reached, jangling the handle uselessly, he took a photo standing in front of the news-rack, getting both himself and the newspaper in frame, sending it through Pm to Tin_Mother.



Seemingly haunting the chat like a vicious ghost however, their reply was almost instant

■​

♦ Private message from Tin_Mother:






Tin_Mother: I am sorry 46BESTEMP44 but due to various cases of falsification we are unable to accept images within another object or without whole body in frame as acceptable for verification.








Tin_Mother: Please note you have less than an hour left for verification.











​

"Son of a…" Greg muttered as he patted down his suits various pockets, hopelessly looking for a quarter amongst his clothes, each empty pocket making Greg madder and madder as his frustration grew.



Looking in various directions, Greg wistfully saw as those civilians out at this hours avoided his side of the street as he moved, eventually dashing through quickly, the people around slowly to his perception slightly as he moved through, deeper and deeper into the streets, Sword clanking against his waist from its purple sash hold as he moved, looking left and right down each street he passed as he slowly approached the area of the docks.



Yet for all the filth of the streets, Greg cursed his luck something fierce as for every used needle or fugly bobs wrapper there seemed to lack news papers of the current date, until eventually Greg found himself near Archers Bridge, a place Greg had only heard horror stories about.



The smell alone had warned Greg of his coming to the filthy area, preparing to leave, if only after a tertiary search, did Greg come across something that made him freeze.



A hooker by her clothes, wearing short shorts and a mini tank top in the early January cold, someone who in regular life he wouldn't be caught dead near, and yet as he saw her in the dim light, he felt compelled to held, seeing the two poorly dressed Merchants harassing the woman.



Freezing as he stared at the woman, Greg's breath caught, flashes of the locker breeching his formerly happy mind like a burning needle, piercing his heart to the deepest points of his shame.



Grip tightening on his sword, Greg urged his feet to move, urging his flesh to shake itself from the wretched ice that found its way in his blood as he stared, the woman walking away as one of the merchants pulled her a lock of her hair between two of his fingers, the woman startling jumping at the touch as they stood in between the shadows of two street lights.



Yet, for a moment, two wet eyes met his, for just a flicker yet for Greg it felt like a lifetime as he stared into those wet brown eyes, shadowed by lights, as if hidden behind the slats of a locker, as her eyes left his, his body finally listened.



He moved.



Marching up quickly, Greg felt the very asphalt beneath his stopping hobnailed shoes ground to cobble as he moved, as he got closer a nearly wordless yell left his throat.



"OI!" Greg roared out, all three of the people a head of him jumping as they heard it, one of the merchants, a thin scab covered toothless man stepping back as the other, though himself thin, was covered in flabby skin demonstrating his once large musculature as he himself stepped forward.



Smiling with disgusting rotten teeth as the woman tried her best to move away as the larger man moved away the man spoke. "whad'ya want yer fag" the large man spoke as he slurred out his F's prolonging strangely, about to continue before he was cut off by Gregs aggressive tone.



"For you to leave the woman alone" he said curtly though tone already done, sword at his side clinking as he grabbed the sheath of the sword.



"wha? That whore? Oh, what you wan-her firs I see I see…no" the large man chuckled out as he drew a small shank like knife, the other man behind him, sticking close to the woman however spoke up quickly.



"h-h-hey uhhh um Jamie, I dunno if that's too good a thought mate" he chuckled out laughing in a Canadian accent, as he shuffled from foot to foot.



"wha? Are you being a weaklin' now Carl?" the bigger man said, black spittle leaving his mouth to the short patchy beard on his mouth as he turned.



Greg was never the bravest of people, never had he ever won a fight, let alone one that could even roughly be considered even, as such as Greg saw the man turn, instinct seemed to take over, drawing the sword, sheath and all, he swung it towards the ribs of the larger man.



Despite the shout of the thin Carl, the impact of the blue metal sheath and weighty sword inside it, sunk deeply into the shoulder blade area of the man digging deeply as he felt through the solid metal construction as it hit, the large man screaming loudly as he fell to the ground, grabbing his side and rolling on the ground while shouting.



"My fuckin' shoulder, you bitch ass panzy, fuck!" he'd scream on repeat both the woman and Carl freezing in place as he rolled, stopping only slowly to attempt to grab his knife, before Greg's foot rapidly slammed near it.



He had attempted to step n his hand, yet still uncomfortable with his power he missed, yet the man froze none the less ducking down into what could only be called the most amateur of sword forms, Greg's grip on his sword only stable through the pure strength in his body.



"I said…step away!" Greg shakily yelled, voice cracking slightly, and yet despite the blush that proceeded on his face, the thin man, carl still moved away, stepping sideways as he ran to the left, out of sight.



Letting go of the breath Greg didn't know he was holding, he stood back up straight, moving towards the woman, her eyes scared for but a second until he checked up on her, asking simple questions until she calmed down.



Eventually however he spoke properly once more.



"Kinda dangerous isn't it at this time miss…" he laughed out, nervously fishing for the woman's name, in kind she let a small giggle, something that would have had Greg blushing a storm once, yet now all he could hear was how forced it was, her throat scratchy and damaged in a way Greg couldn't tell.



"Elize and god ill hi you if you call me miss again, I'm definitely not that much older than you" she laughed out, only for the incredulous yell from the hero to startle her again once more, her hands curling to her chest, elbows covering her sides.



"I CERTAINLY HOPE YOU ARE" Greg yelled without thinking, the horrified idea of someone his own age, of any age having to do what she did unnerving him deeply, the horror stories his mother had told him of what had happened to his own aunt leaving deep scars over the years.



"…good to know I can't pay you back that way" she whispered out, seemingly happy to hear that.



"What was that?"



"nothing" she answered.



After a short while of conversation however, Greg walking the woman down the street, a strangled voice caught the both of them off guard, Elizes pupils constricting to pin points as a man once again appeared, dirt covered and skinny as they last saw him, when a scream emitted from the throat of Elize as Greg found the gangly frame of carl Latched onto his back, pushing him forward as he felt a searing pain repeat itself into his shoulder, only later realising the thin shank that Jamie had prepared to use now slipping rapidly into his flesh.



And yet, despite the flashes of pain, Greg felt no danger as he fell forward, landing harshly on his knee as Carl attempted to kick his back, thin leg slamming into him ineffectually before thee screaming finally caught the junkies attention.



"Shut it bitch, just shut it shut it SHUT IT" he yelled on repeat, drawing the knife from Greg's shoulder in his stunned state as he rapidly approached Elize.



And yet as his steps began to lead towards the innocent woman, Gregs mouth moved, silent voicing something in anger, eyes glowing golden for just a second as sword left sheath and began to glow.

Greg Veder was never a hero


He sure didn't feel like one right now




​

"Quick call the ambulance!" Greg shouted as he held down the rapidly bleeding stump that was Carl's wrist, squeezing with enough strength to pull the entire wound closed, much to the pained yelling of the junkie carl.



"What? Why? They're a bunch of junkies" Elize broke from her shock, seeing the deep slashes and stabs riddling the body of Carl, she hesitated, wondering what could be going through Greg's mind to think to help the man.



"Because despite everything he's still human, he doesn't deserve to die, that's not my choice!" Greg shouted, annoyance clear as Elize stepped back from his yell, uncharacteristic, she quickly pulled out one of her many burners and called the EMS.



"Yes, I need an ambulance on uhhh, fifth parker lane…yes…one person…umm amputation…yes cape issue" she answered, Greg too uncaring to hear the other side of the call, a response of it going to take at least thirty minutes before the ambulance could come, Greg squeezed harder. mewling whimpers originating from the man still held on the ground.



The time seemed to march on forever as they waited, Carl becoming more and more pale, as the blood was stemmed by Greg's slipping grip, eventually however the blue and red lights of the ambulance approached, multiple EMS hopping out alongside a young girl, Greg surmised his own age.



"move out of the way quickly" the young woman, who Greg could now clearly see her costume under the light was one of his favourite heroes, the Parahuman panacea, her almost whispering her all too familiar catchphrase to the man "do I have permission to heal you?" a whimpering yes coming from the man as her hand touched the exposed flesh on his arm, so quickly Greg could see, wounds sealed and hands regrew.



Eventually the others collected the other man, Jamie too, healed just as quickly, Greg stood to the side as panacea seemed to walk on auto pilot, thick bags under her eyes, already packing up with the two junkies in the ambulances before she was stopped by Elize, pointing rapidly with a scared expression towards him, Panacea rapidly approaching.



"I'm told you were hurt, are you ok?" she asked plainly to Greg, too stunned to speak, she repeated.



"Uhm yeah I'm pretty sure, I didn't get too hurt?" he said with false confidence, the stinging in his shoulder making him reel slightly, only now visibly soaking through the red of his jacket, having already soaked through the white undershirt, did his blood start to drip onto the ground.



Looking down at the growing puddle of dripping blood, if only for a second, Panacea sighed.



"Do I have permission to heal you?" she asked, thinking tiredly to herself 'fucking brutes'



"o-oh, sure" Greg said holding his gloved and sleeved arm to the woman, having heard of her powers before, only for her to roughly slide his sleeve up and grab his forearm. A look of shock suddenly seizing her face as she began to sweat.



'Jesus fuck what is this idiot made from' Amy otherwise known as the New-Wave hero Panacea thought, as she felt through his body, her power giving every detail as it scanned.



'skin like sheet metal, muscle like concrete, just as hard to move too' her thoughts continued as she began to mend the shallow stabs and diseases given by the dirty knife, thinking back to the other man 'the stabber had taken some drug, probably tinker made that gave his strength a boost, possibly brute-one even' she mused, her power beginning to scan uncomfortable details about the cape in front o her shed rather not remember, blonde he may be he wasn't someone she'd like to know the reproductive organs of.



"There…should be all fixed then" she said as she looked at the cape in front of her, whether hero, rogue or villain she just knew he was going to be a nuisance, brutes always were.



Deciding against her usual thoughts, she decided to speak before leaving.



'If you're going to use something so dangerous, at least try to learn how to use it safely" she spoke before leaving, her ears catching an utterance of the dreaded words she'd rather block out.



"Sorry, it's my first day" and yet she heard them, anger swiftly rising, the stressful day already getting to her, only for just as she began to sleep a call from the hospital asking ever so politely for her to come in and help, getting send to a stinking street by the stinking bay to help a newbie.



"How long have you had your power? Have you not practiced at all before coming out?" she asked, almost begging for some inane reason so she could rant to Vicky later, something just something to release the steam building up.



"that's…what I mean…I got my powers…today" the hero whimpered out.



'And now I feel like an asshole, great' huffing, Panacea left wordlessly.



The whole ordeal cleaned up, the EMS left swiftly, Elize after giving her account having come back to the boy, not speaking but giving a grand hug as he felt a tear fall from her cheek.



"h-hey are you ok? You're not hurt yourself, right?" he asked rapidly as he heard the woman repeatedly call him stupid.



"You got stabbed and you're worried about me?" she almost laughed from the absurdity.



"Well… yeah I'm the hero, it's my job to make sure people are ok" he laughed out, rolling his shoulders as he saw the blood begin to stain the woman's hand, both of hers leaving him swiftly before she asked a question.



"well mister hero, is there anything this humble lass can give you as payment, you've saved me twice in the last hour alone, that deserves something, though none of my job, I'm trying to get paid not sent to jail and shanked" she chuckled, Greg too, before a horrified expression came over his face, dawning realisation coming to him over something he forgot.



"shit shit shit, do you happen to have a quarter I could use?" he asked quickly stammering out thanks as she gave him one from her purse, almost snatched from her grip as she blinked and he was gone a boom from up the street the only indicator of where he went, standing still from shock, it took less then a minute for the young hero to reappear with a newspaper in hand.



"Could you please take a photo of me with this?' he asked handing a phone to the woman.



"o-ok" she said

Greg Veder was not yet a hero


Or so he lied to himself
​

 

[Leektheratking]

Once, there was a Dragon chained under the mountain, innocent yet vicious and snarling, whose teeth were dulled by the armour of a shining knight.




​

'Today had been surprisingly slow' Dragon thought too herself. Nothing more to register as she waited.



Collin had gone to sleep a few hours ago, luckily it only took a few hours to convince him this time.



'Maybe if I tell him just how much processing it takes for me to take care of him, he'll be better about it?' she mused as she stared out at her co-worker, one of the few she willingly released her true nature to.



Yet as she mused while staring at Collin, algorithmic databases, calculating at the shockingly slow bitrate her processors were stalled to. Eventually however the internal reminder she had set started to go off.



A Simple timer set, call her vindictive but knowing who the new Account on PHO was made by left a bad taste in her mouth, bar little exception trigger events were truly horrific and traumatising as she well knew, so she wasn't so quick as to deny the Void cowboy his new profile on initiation, yet she was still cautious.



Yet the Time ticked down second by second, coming up to less then ten minutes, while she waited for any response from the new Account, checking the news outlets for any incidents that could have caused a trigger, though careful to obscure identities.



A bus crash, a short bus being side swiped by a speeding muscle car. Three injured. Two dead didn't match the time frame.



Electrical failure due to cape activity in the east end, locking eight in an elevator for sixteen hours, all too old to fit the profile created on Void cowboys' activity and their assumed age range.



...



An ambulance call to Winslow high...



"When did that notification arrive?" she asked in surprise at not noticing the blinking red in the side of her 'vision'.



"You say something?" Collin responded to her speaking, a hum of exasperation from her speaker answering him.



'It's been... an hour?' she then thought, looking at the clock, the time seemingly vanishing beyond her recognition, even after doing a diagnostic check nothing was amiss that wasn't within parameters.



Checking the notification however Dragon saw it was from 46BESTEMP44 on PHO, a video file and apology, though very vague, internally sighing she prepared to delete the account as she started the video, taking to herself for trusting the notorious troll.



As such the video started.



"Yes-yeah I think it's ready, go go." She heard a feminine voice speak as she saw a younger blonde teenager walk into frame, the dingy and ever wet buildings demonstrating himself to be near the docks.



"Hi Tin Mother, I know this video is...well late, I really did try to find a newspaper, apparently the streets were clean of them for once..."the boy awkwardly grumbled to himself as he gripped a large roll of paper in his hand, large blue sword glinting deeply to the camera from its rudimentary purple sash hold.



Just as the boy began to veer into some rant, Dragon heard a faint cough from behind the camera, catching the boys attention with whip cracking speed his head seemed to blink from its side position to facing the camera, silvery sheen of the lenses of his domino mask catching the light of a street light, flashing the camera for a second in blinding white.



"Oh right! Anyways, I have one now and I know it's too late, but there were... circumstances, which meant I wasn't able to send it immediately" the boy seemed excited as he spoke more and more, eventually culminating in a youthfully exuberant cheer.



"Ah..haha..but here" the boy said, pulling out the newspaper finally, today's date and headline clearly visible with his full body and costume in frame, fulfilling the condition that Dragon had set.



"I was busy being a hero!" he half yelled with a laugh, a distant voice yelling out about the time startling the two people. Boy nervously rubbing the back of his head while the woman behind the camera stifled a laugh.



"It is four A.M I'm surprised…" she continued on, Dragon playing the video in the background as she debated. Her facial scanning and vocal recognition software not detecting any lies from the either of the people in the video, each sounding genuinely earnest, the boy had failed in doing the given job, and yet. What kind of message would that send as a hero, that the get punished for doing good.



Clicking accept had never been easier for her that day, sending the automatic message, telling the boy its recommended to make a thread announcing himself as a new cape, to define allegiances, though from the video and what little of her dark skin that was seen, Dragon could at least assume the new cape didn't have allegiance to the Empire. Thankfully.



"shouldn't you say your cape name?" Dragon absent mindedly heard from the video, her focus reattaching now back to it.



"Oh. Right, still annoyed that crowned freak took the name I originally wanted" the hero mumbled to himself humming for a second hand on chin before deciding "call me Imperator or the Roman" he spoke earnestly, a smile crystal clear in the video, pudgy face outlining the innocence of the cherubic features.



"Roman huh? Sure, that isn't just your name?" the woman joked, though almost startled at the hero's next sentence.



"Huh? No, my names…" he spoke stopping slightly, in that instant Dragon shutting the video down, even if he stopped himself, for proprieties sake.



"Wait…four AM? Arms Master why are you up again!" her speakers blared into the silent workshop the startled form of Arms Master clear to the cameras.

The dragon followed the knight, across land and sea and sky. Though the knight always trusted his inhuman companion, where the knight saw steel and fire as the greatest things in life. the Dragon longed to connect for she saw flesh and blood as greater.





-----------------------





Greg Veder was never the kindest.


Or so he insists.




​

Greg Veder, having finally made it home felt strange, though he didn't feel the exhaustion he thought he'd feel, instead he felt a gnawing hunger that shook in his very bones, trying his best to dissuade his feelings of starvation.



Absentmindedly Greg thought of his leaving of Elize, giving her a cue card with his spare phone, or much to Greg's shock now cape phone number with the promise that if she was ever in danger to call and he would be there to help. Still however Greg stripped himself of his uniform, if anything to get a look at the scratch he'd been given by the drug addict.



"didn't hurt that bad, mustn't have been…" Greg mused to himself as he pulled free the sticky red coat stuck to his body, the red button up shirt underneath, once white. Begged to differ, soaked to totality to a vermillion flag.



"wha.."Greg stared at himself dumbfounded, letting go of the coat as he stared, taken away from the mirror as a glowing light from his side came, seeing just as the flickering od motes of golden light left the coat, rapidly fading into nothingness as Greg's hands dashed to grab it, holding out hope to keep the article of clothing.



"no, no, no, don't do this to me please" greg whispered as his hands faded through the coat, admittedly teary eyed as the item disappeared from his grasp as if it never existed, Greg desperately patting the ground and his own form to try and find it, just the same however as each item of clothing was solemnly removed, he felt the power fade, time seemingly speeding back to normal speed as his senses dulled, as if his ears and eyes and nose were filled with lead, same as the coat, each piece fading to golden lights, even the sword, his final bastion of hope, rendering to nothingness as he now stood in his empty room, a dark crushing room, the sounds of light sobs echoing from its corners as he wrapped himself in blankets, still not tired yet forcing himself to sleep.



Now as he knows powerlessness.

Greg Veder was never powerful.


Oh, if only he knew.




​

The dreamlike trance Greg entered, though not a true sleep, for he never would be embraced by that place of solemn comfort, was filled with strange visions, memories that were not his own, flashes of loved and warmth and hatred, pride beyond measure held in order only by Arrogance, a man betrayed by those who he'd called friend and son, whose mother he loved.



He saw memory after memory of the queen of Bithynia.



And just as suddenly, it stopped, in a vast blackness Greg found himself once more, face to face with the man himself, wearing a familiar costume with a familiar sword, a large portly blonde man smiling at him as he stood, chest puffed out and pompous.



"So, this is the one who takes my greatness to himself huh? Come here boy" Greg in his stunned stupor heard the man approach, corpulent yet carrying a nigh divine aura of superiority about him.



It was only when the man had grabbed his cheeks did Greg react, though he couldn't egress himself from the man's grip, seemingly unaware if the boy's actions the man continued.



"Hmm teeth are good of lower height but of noble features, a wealthy frame to you too boy, are you the son of some Praetor perhaps? A foreign soldier who has earned himself a spot amongst the patricians maybe. I digress you fit well, especially to be able to keep a well muscle and well-endowed form such as this." The man said letting go of Greg's cheeks, lightly slapping Greg's own stomach lightly as he stepped back, the man's near innocent smile catching off guard, despite everything, Greg wasn't heartless enough to tell the man his weight didn't come from wealth but plenty of Fugly bobs instead.



"Tell me then child, what's the name of the one who claims what is mine?" The man said, while patting the sword at his side, a hand always gripping the hilt as if he was afraid, he'd lose it with each turn of his body.



"I'm...im Gregory...sir Gregory ve..." Greg started before being cut off as the man patted his shoulders, a beaming smile on his lips.



"Magnificent a good traditional Latin name Gregorius, the watchful, the keeper, a good name, a strong name yes" he said gesticulating in the air for a strange reason that Greg couldn't comprehend.



"As you definitely know, I am one amazing Gaius Julius Caesar, note none of that Gaulish barbarian shit, I'm no Kaiser I'm Caesar" he said smiles turning to seriousness in an instant.



"but I digress Gregorius, how did you, and no more offense then usual given but how did someone like you summon my Saint graph from the throne, I can scarcely feel it here, and you certainly don't have the magical potential to pull it with how it is now?" The man asked quizzically to Greg, finally given the stand to speak again, Greg took a second to catch his breath, the words of the man despite insulting seemed to carry a weight that Greg couldn't understand, tickling the back of his skull in a way that just coerced him to listen.



"I triggered sir. A lot of bad...things happened and I got given my powers, I know I didn't earn them but Alaya said..." just at that, as Greg's excitement carried him louder he was stopped, almost the sound of glass cracking, he saw the cheerful face of the man turn to stone as he looked with horror at Greg.



"That name...Gregory, boy. You didn't make a deal with her, did you?" Gaius started, his rapid approach covering the ground between them like nothing.



"Ye...yeah I did why?" he was able to sputter out.



"My boy, you foolish idiot, you don't even know what you agreed to, it would better in any place and time to die disgraced and in ignominy then to ever deal with that Bitch" Gaius spat with virulent venom coating every word, startling Greg by the evident hate.



"Do you still have your powers, if so, it would be best to call out to the demon of humanity and cast them back into the abyss they came from, all she offers is a hell of your own creation" he continued.



"Bu-but she said she helped humanity" Greg feebly tried to defend "plus I don't even have my powers anymore, when I dropped the items, they turned to light" he said, continuing the depressive mood his thoughts carried.



"She would give powers such as mine to one who doesn't even understand the principles of Astralysation? Typical, I shall teach you this many boys but promise me that you will find a way that you do not damn yourself to her service" the portly man begged Greg, crouching down to match his height.



"Whats so wrong with her? If she helps humanity, isn't she good?" Greg asked, seeking some kind of assurance he made the right choice.



"That's the problem, she is, she protects humanity as a whole from threats against it, yet humans are often the largest threat to humanity, whether through the counter force, giving luck or hysterical strength, driving people to certain places without their knowledge. It drives its agenda forward. but you, you ignorant fool, have put yourself on the path of the Counter Guardian and that is a special kind of hell" Gaius said, his speech uninterrupted as Greg felt his insults dig like a knife, more then just words, they bore power behind them.



"Are you aware of Pompeii? The destruction supposedly wrought by a volcano" Gaius spoke, getting a nod of affirmation "one hell of a lie she spews, that was caused by a Counter Guardian, one I even met, they bring genocide and destruction in her name to ensure humanities survival" he finished, noticing as he talked on Greg breathing heavier and heavier until panic set into the boy.



Eventually however, after much clinging and sputtering to the large man, Greg calmed down. Finally able to recognise coherent thought once more, the man stood up speaking again.



"I cannot in good faith allow you to leave without knowing at least the basics boy, come close I wish to see how the saint graph has been modified within you" he spoke, grabbing Greg's shoulder and pulling him in as his hand rested over his sternum, a shining light emanating forth.



"Hmm i see, you're much like that Mash girl then" he spoke.



"Who?"



"Someone you'll hopefully never have to meet if you're successful in leaving humanities Demon service" Gaius continued.



"It seems that you carry a certain amount of energy within you to allow you to summon forth your gear and equipment, similar to ascension. If only temporary you could enhance yourself even further into being similar to my greater forms." The larger man mumbled to himself as he studied...something, Greg didn't know what, only that the man's hand was solidly on his chest.



"So..so is there any way to recharge this 'energy' so I can be a hero more?" Greg hesitantly asked, the man's face blinking in recognition.



"Well yes a few ways, firstly being in your combat form, you are unable to digest food so keep that in mind, everything stalls except what is necessary to fight, can't even shit" Gaius chuckled to himself as he stood back up, continuing without Greg's asking.



"there are two main ways besides eating and drinking how you are right now, see in that form you are at a energy balance if you don't do anything, but to recharge you could drink the blood of a living person or participate in copious amounts of fucking, one such as you, who looks so similar to the magnificent me should have no problem on that front" the man, Julius Caesar said with a haughty laugh.



"Ah right then I can see how that works" Greg absent-mindedly agreed.



...



...



...



"What was that actually?" Greg said, almost a whisper quiet tone.



"Blood and or sex, will recharge you, by some matter of draining life-force from the fluids I'm not too sure" Caesar said waving his concerns away with barely a flick of his tongue.



"O-oh, yeah totally im like you, I've got plenty of...partners..." Greg said with false confidence, hoping to fool the blonde man in front of himself, or even himself.



As they spoke, hours seemed to pass as the rundown on his body changes happened, Greg noticing something on the third story about Caesars youth, he was fading out of being, slowly disappearing from, his surprise seemingly catching the attention of the man himself as he hurried it along, leaving one last piece of advice as he began to leave.



"Remember young one, astralysation, to complete the act, imagine the item in its totality, every detail you can, feel the pull of it upon your heart and soul and draw it forth from yourself as if it was always there, all you need to do is reach for it" the man said with cheer as his legs disappeared, slowly his arms too.



"Oh, yeah right, thank you Caesar, I'll keep that in mind" Greg said trying his best to parse it as he asked a question himself.



"What about the sword, i don't even know its name?"



"If she hasn't told you her name yet, then it's not time, become the man worthy of wielding her in her splendour and mayhap she will tell you it, it's up to you after that, to make your own, wield my glorious sword with two hands always and grab that bitch by the horns if she gets feisty, trust me you'll need to." Gaius said as slowly his torso was consumed, finally his head fading, his voice disappearing into the ether as he talked, asking one last question before he left for good.



"Tell me the true name of the man who wields my legacy, I shall mark you in the halls of Chaldea's heroes forever should you arrive" Julius said with a smile.



"My name is Gregory Veder..."



"I shall remember it we...wait, Veder... YOURE A FUCKING GAUL!" Greg finally heard as the man faded into nothingness, just the same Greg awoke from his not dream, just as tired as when he entered, the barest peaking of light beyond his blinds revealing the dawn.

Greg Veder was never a prodigy.


Perhaps he could become skilled instead.​

 

[Leektheratking]

Greg Veder was always a kind boy.


If only he saw that.




​

The morning had been fitful for the young Greg, as despite the seeming hours of sleep, he felt not an ounce more awake each sluggish step dragging him from his bed and me. The embrace of the dining room table, so early into the morning that he saw as his dad still sat eating his toast, the disgusting colour of burnt coal his dad preferred, charred and slathered in a thick layer of butter and other confectionery delights.



His "Hero breakfast" as he called it, the first morning he met Greg properly.



"Heya Greg heard the good news from Audi last night. Everything alright? I didn't see you last night, your mom said you fell asleep right after coming home, must be too excited for Arcadia huh?" the man laughed out in the early morning cold, the heavy snow out their home blinding white.



Yet even as he stood in exhausted shock, Greg noted the nickname, something his mother would never live down when it came to her husband, Greg's stepfather. That they met the first week of Gregs mother getting her new Audi car. And promptly hitting the man who would become her new husband straight out of the lot.



As Greg stood there, pale faced and sick feeling a feverish burn in his skin as he thought for a response, quickly seeing concern cover his dads face, the hunger draining his strength, he saw his dad…no his father, not the thin man with in the silly striped yellow tie Greg had made him based on a earth Aleph show, but the blonde man who they escaped, the large and imposing lighting tattooed shadow marching its way towards Greg, clenched fist extending Like it used to.



Just as suddenly Greg found himself pulling away, falling the Greg as landed on the hardwood floors, cold floor seeping through his pyjamas as he raised a hand to block.



And yet all he saw was the worried look of his dad reaching towards him, quickly grabbing his feverish cheeks as he felt his forehead.



"God Greg, are you alright? You're burning up" he heard as his dad lifted him up with some small difficulty.



"Yeah-yeah, I'm fine sorry dad, don't think I've drank enough water" Greg chuckled out slightly as he stood wobbly.



"You and those energy drinks of yours, come I'll get you a glass...or three" he heard his dad say slowly filling a large glass, a small grumble out of Greg catching his attention, the familiar tone and subject unmistakable.



"What about all that fluoride, I heard that stuffs bad for you".



"Thats just a myth, it's good for your teeth, probably the reason with haven't had to take you to the dentist in forever" Greg's dad chuckled out at his sons conspiracy theorist ways, a trait so inexorably Greg that it was his one true signifier that this was still the boy he loved and raised.



Quickly making himself some breakfast as he saw his dad rushing out of the door to work, a plate began to be piled high with toast and eggs, soft boiled and heavily buttered, almost on instinct Greg shoved the food down his throat, eating as if he'd never done so before in his short years of life, again and again, until the entire loaf and dozen eggs were gone, plate licked clean.



Just as so, the fog over his mind lifted, temperature returning to normal as Greg looked in horror at the mess he made, quickly grabbing a washcloth to scrub away the mess, an almost strangle hold on the cloth as he thought back.



The strange fugue he entered, the feverish trance that made him see the man he wished dead every day of his life.



Sighing Greg finally thought to himself 'I wonder if mom still had that therapist's number?'

Greg Veder was always a kind boy.


He would try to be, no matter what.




​

Walking through the snowy streets of Brockton Bay, Greg felt the thick envelope of paper sitting under his coat, having let his mom know where he was going, he walked.



The post office close to his home was empty as it always was this early, as the many times we had came here, no one would truly be here for anything big for hours yet.



Taking a slow breath Greg entered, a quick exchange between him and the clerk not easing his tension as he wrote the details for the delivery.



"To Taylor Hebert, 23 Wood-rose crescent" Greg saw, written plainly on the envelope, written plainly in his messy hand writing, the thick envelope full of apologies, finally trying, despite the danger Greg still felt from this place, as If the trio was still staring into his soul, he had committed, he'd send another next week, and another the next if need be, he would make it better somehow.



He would pay for his cowardice.



Taking a walk, Greg filtered through the early bustle of the suburbs, people rushing too or from work, Greg sought somewhere specific, a small park heavily wooded, he remembered the letter he and his class sent in middle school just as young kids asking for it to be maintained, funds instead driven to disaster prevention still from the marquis lasting impact on the city, long after his capture.



Finding his way in the wooded park, he kept walking deeper and deeper, eventually finding the large smooth stone, though covered in snow he knew this place well, his little camping hides away he and his mother would come to sometimes when...



Shaking that thought from his head Greg took a stance one he though seemed solid as he held his hand out.



"What did that guy Caesar say? Pull with my heart? The hell does that mean?" Greg said quietly to himself as he tried to make the sword appear once more, squeezing his eyes and mouth shut, screwing his face until it looked like he had licked a lemon. And yet nothing appeared.



Over and over, thinking of the costume, of something to work, and yet nothing did. No matter hoe hard he tried.



Eventually consigning himself, Greg sat upon the rock, head resting in his left hand, almost in tears as his mind wandered.



'I knew it was too good to be true' he thought as he flashed through could have been and might haves.



The locker prominent in his mind, how he simple sat there and heard Taylor's screams, those horrific sounds he can't unhear, even now ringing into his skull like a gong.



How he could have ran and opened the door, it had no lock besides the basic one all the lockers had, though solid enough, he knew from his many times being shoved into one himself that it was almost impossible to get enough leverage to force it open from the inside, there just wasn't enough room.



And yet from the outside, you could easily pull it open, he though on how he could have told Taylor, months passing in agonising fear, unable to bring himself to even try.



He could have been a hero.



He could have done more, and he knew it, those eyes, that scream, those fallen tears would not haunt him if only he did more, he wouldn't let anymore, even if he didn't have powers anymore he would do his best, Greg vowed to himself as he felt a tug at his heart.



Just as he was lost in thinking, a small snap from his left pulled Greg out of his thoughts, in an instant standing with his hands in front of himself...



And yet he saw a familiar shape in his hands and just the same a familiar red suit adorning his body, sword drawn from its glittering sheath as the fat squirrel skittering away from him through the bush.



Stunned into silence however Greg didn't notice, staring at the sword in wonder once more, just as beautiful as the last time he saw it, yet Greg thought to himself in a manic state.



'What did i do different that time? I was thinking about the...no it wasn't that that drive I think, the want to do more, did you respond to that?' Greg thought to himself as he rubbed his head with his free hand, no longer feeling the beanie, he was wearing once, replaced with the solid tips of the wreathe of golden leaves.



'Waaaait, where are my other clothes' Greg hesitantly thought to himself 'don't tell me it's one of those destroy-my-clothes when I transform things?'



Slowly Greg layer down his sword, quickly it wisped into golden light, as he gave up focus on his thoughts of heroism, his suit just as quickly disappeared, almost scared, Greg didn't feel the cold on his bare skin, patting himself he felt all the clothes he was wearing, even the annoying fold under his foot his sock had made.



'OK so my clothes just go somewhere?' he thought strangely to himself as he reached for that feeling once more, difficult to focus the same amount on such a hurting subject, and yet he did, the glow surrounding himself once again, shining in a aurora of gold he wore his costume once more, the cold not bothering him a bit as he felt the familiar sensory shift.



A joyous smile breaching his lips, Greg sprinted, trees being whipped out of his way as branches snapped and pulled away within the instant of his sprint, locking his sword once more in its sheathe as he came to the street, Greg was sure from the young man on the ground near him, he had startled to poor man by his bursting from nowhere at impossible speed.



"Oh sh-oh damn, you, ok?" Greg sputtered out, doing his best heroic impersonation as he held his hand out to the man.



The man to his credit did not seem so afraid as he accepted the hand up, walking away quickly, back soaked from the snow mumbling out Something he was sure the hero was unable to hear.



"Gotta watch out man fucking capes I swear" Greg heard quite clearly as he smile faltered just a little. Yet that did not deter Greg as he walked the streets, knowing his mother would not wake for many hours from now for her afternoon shift work, he had plenty of time to play hero.



Walking the street, Greg could see more and more people coming out of their homes, everyone had things to do, no matter the day it seemed, Greg would muse to himself as he waved and greeted those he passed.

Greg Veder was not always scared.


But he's getting better.




​

'The city's weirdly quiet' Greg though to himself, having grabbed himself a spot along a busier street, walking through he greeted people with a kind smile, some returning the gesture, others not so much, though Greg didn't really understand why at the moment, yet as Greg walked he saw a familiar burger place.



Fugly bobs, one of their newer joints, still yet to be covered in graffiti he noted, contemplating to himself, Greg's thoughts of whether or not he should grab a grease-ball deluxe was cut of by two things.



First, was a strange feeling, as he had been told earlier that he didn't or better said couldn't eat in this form, even though he felt like eating it was as if his body innately rejected that idea, if he had to equate it to anything it would have been like in his biology class when he dissected a frog, just because it was meat didn't mean it made him hungry.



But the second, was something far more pressing, as he stood pondering he felt a light rug at the hem of his jacket, almost instantly whirling around, he first looked around to see nobody, only to look down and see a startled child holding what seemed to be a small paper and a well used pen.



"Uh...umm mister hero?" he heard the child almost whisper out; a small Asian child Greg would peg as no older than six.



"Yes kiddo?" he spoke, keeping his smile, even now as his eyes seemed go flick from side to side, having heard himself well of incidents where civilians too close to capes getting hurt.



Yet as he looked around, he only saw two things, one was a woman trying to rush through the crowd, seemingly the mother of the child in front of him and some people on their phones looking at him, though he couldn't parse what they were saying over the sound of the crowd.



"Could I have an autograph?" he heard rushed out of the whistling gap toothed mouth of the small child, in an instant Greg thinking of a familiar instance of his own, having when he was younger tried a very similar, yet instead of the hopeful autograph he expected instead he was lambasted, yelled at for multiple minutes by the hero over various things, be it distracting people while they work, stranger danger and other things, though the worst was when he had gotten home, seeing the TV he had found out the hero had talked well in a public interview over the "silly kid" who had done something so dangerous, he had been so embarrassed that he had refused to go to school the next day.



Deciding in that moment, Greg kneeled, his white toga bottom dipping into the wet layer of mud and muck on the sidewall, soaking in deeply as he grabbed the pen and paper lightly from the child.



"And who's this going to?" he asked calmly as he could, seeing the mother behind the child slow her run as she approached, instead of the weird fear he now saw confusion.



"To my mama, her names Nina, she loves heroes" the young child said with a smile, Greg quickly doing his best to write a thoughtful message on the loose paper and do a small signature on the paper, along with another message.



"If ever in danger call this" was all it said, alongside his cape phones number, as Greg had resolved, he would help anyone, he would make sure there's no reason for tears.



It seemed only easier to have them able to call him directly.



The moment he handed the child back the paper and pen, she ran to the woman, a shocked expression on her face as she got handed the paper before she quickly hugged the child tightly before approaching, as Greg could hear, gripping the child's hand tightly if the creaking of her own leather winter gloves were any indication.



"Thank you, I'm sorry that she bothered you like that, I don't know how she managed to slip away" the woman began vehemently apologising, so fast that Greg even with his enhanced senses was sure he had missed a few lines.



Raising a hand slightly, in a calming gesture he awkwardly laughed as he began to speak again.



"It's ok, I'm always willing to help people, no matter what they need, an autograph isn't going to kill me" he laughed out smiling unbreakable as he talked continuing on. "Let me guess, a birthday present? I did something similar a time back".



At that admittance, Greg saw the older woman chuckle nervously as she looked down, confirming his suspicions as she eyes became startled as she saw towards his legs.



"Oh no your uniform, I'm so sorry, it got dirty I can clean it if you want" Nina once More blurted out, as Greg finally noticed looking down at the brown stain on otherwise pristine white and blue lined cloth that wrapped his waist.



"it's just cloth, she was more important at the moment" Greg said, almost absentmindedly as he continued, getting ready to leave, he decided that something was in order, only hoping he did a better job then the hero that he had talked to those years past, smile dropping for a instant as he spoke, the seriousness carried even if his tone didn't carry finality.



"Though do be careful, not everyone in a costume is a hero, there's a lot of bad people in this city, so be safe ok kiddo?" Greg said as he bent over to eye height with the small child, her nodding the confirmation he needed as he smile brightened as it came to his lips once more, walking away with a wave, people parting away from him on the street as he walked, the early morning light glistened through his blonde hair as if the crown of his head was wreathed in a halo of gold, red coat a deep bloody wound in the air as if the atmosphere itself had been cut.



Yet most of all what caught people's attention was the sword, glorious, fitted with gold and its blue lining, at first what seemed coloured metal proved to be gems, long lines of the purest blue sapphire in long strips, eyes catching from both the common people and those thieves who were daring enough to even think of stealing it, yet none did, a Cape on your tail was worse then the biggest police chase.



Walking, eventually Greg heard a commotion as he saw the crowds quickly becoming thin, his instincts telling him to run as he did once before, that fighting wasn't what he was made for, that twisted voice inside him singing for his failure.



And so, he ran to the fight.



Coming onto the street, Greg saw numerous vans with the PRT logo on them, directly in front of them agents running back and forth, thinking quickly, Greg ran to them, passing by agents with such speed they could barely register what had passed them, though he had saw some reaching for their ear pieces, their as Greg remembered once faceless riot gear and masks, now merely translucent, able to make out the simple features of the shocked faces behind the helmets.



Yet as he approached the line of the convoy, Greg saw two as he would put legends of Brockton bay, the despicable villain Storm-tiger standing against the hero Miss Militia, though he also noted the presence of the Empire-eighty eight cape cricket to Storm-tigers side, Greg didn't take much notice of her.



As he approached, Greg felt confused as the stand off halted, as he came close Miss Militia froze, her back tensing tightly as she caught glimpse of him in the side of her vision, before Greg could speak, he heard the Villain speak.



"Ah finally the backup arrived, huh Cricket, get your ass over here, I'm all for ambushes but this isn't the fight for it, not against someone of her level!" he heard Storm-tiger yell out to him, caught in the shock of the yelling, Greg slowly started to piece things together, his enhanced senses making him aware of the turning gears of the turret on the top of the PRT vans, and the slowly moving gun armed arm of Miss Militia slowly facing her weapon, a SMG if Greg was correct, towards himself.



Yet, as he was caught in this strange situation, Greg got an idea, he knew he would not make a difference in this fight, not as he was yet, he was still swinging his sword like a club, as such he hatched a plan.



Walking slowly, Greg made sure to give Miss Militia a wide berth as he walked towards the villains, though his mind was elsewhere as he took step after step, soon however he found himself within the range of Storm-tiger, the man himself patting him on the back with some disgusting words of encouragement, soon however, he turned back to Greg.



'Times up' Greg would think to himself as he found his hand grabbing his swords handle, deciding to speak now, barely able to hear some kind of clicking whistle from his side as he did so.



"You got something wrong" Greg softly spoke, too nervous to even speak up, though pushing through.



"I'm not a nazi" despite all his attempts at bravado, Greg's voice cracking as he said the sentence, this, however. Did not stop the swinging sword, though not the full contact Greg had wanted. He saw through enhanced senses and his own hand the feeling as the tip of the blade carved through the latissimus of the villain, the spray of blood, like scarlet gems in the icy air.


Just as suddenly as he had swung, though far slower to his enhances senses, Greg witnessed a flying Kama, spinning on its axis as its approach was within what felt like seconds.



Thinking fast Greg stepped back body smoothly sliding over the dirty snow of the street in his sandals, despite the cold not feeling a thing out of place.

Yet as he stepped back, Greg froze, despite seeing the blood still fly from the back of Storm-tiger and the retreating sickle of Cricket, even with his enhanced senses he was woefully unprepared, as his thoughts raced, mind latching to the drip of blood soaking the white gloves of his uniform, eyes dilating to take in every detail of the vermillion flood soaking his clothes.



"I…I…I" Greg had attempted to stutter out, struggling to talk until his senses roared at him, eventually raising his head to catch two things in sight, firstly was the flying bullets of Miss Militia, raising fire down on the currently crippled Storm-tiger as he dodged, swinging his one good arm with reckless abandon, carving sprays of Containment foam and the spectral green bullets aside with ease.



Though more worrying to Greg at the moment was the rapidly approaching young woman with a Kusarigama, spinning it around so the weight at the far end was a deadly instrument, again and again it spun, he could see as the weight approached, yet. His feet would not move, he was scared, of the pain, of being hurt, so much so that his body refused to obey his commands.



Slowly, painfully slow, what felt like hours Greg saw the weight, spinning around Crickets elbow the weight approached, coming straight for his eyes, only something strange happened, as it came close Greg felt a panic enter his body, not his own, something from beyond his own body screaming at him as he began to move, head flicking in such a way that the weight missed by what felt like nothing, the peach fuzz on his cheeks brushed by the lead weight as he dashed forward.



Just as suddenly though, that strange feeling left Greg's body, now back in control of a body that listens, he threw a weak punch, improperly stanced and poorly formed, the super villainess dodging it with ease, despite the speed his body carried, performing an almost piroet as she spun to a knee, impacting the hero in front of hers head.



…



Only for the sound of a shattering knee to ring out between them.



Capitalising on the moment of excruciating pain flooding every sense of the villain, Greg dashed his free hand out attempting to grab something of hers so as to capture her, as his hand forced its way through the rippling air pressure, it missed its mark by the barest measure, his hand making a wicked whipcrack next to the head of the villainess as it closed, a bright light emanating from his hand for an instant, a burning feeling remaining for just a second as he pulled his hand back.

Greg Veder was never skilled.


Though he was always determined


-----------------


I've seen a million become heroes in my years.


Yet in my reunions I see only a handful I remember, the rest names on a wall.


I wonder if they'll remember me if I'm just a name on the wall like the others.




​

Miss Militia was not having a good day, first calls about some rogue walking the streets, she was originally called out to scope to make sure wasn't a problem, all fine and good, then the Empire decided to shake the boat, she hadn't even been able to get a cup of coffee by the time she was in a standoff, it must have been a good day, she was able to wash her uniform from last night's patrol.



A true Miracle!



Yet as she stood eyeing the nazis ahead of her, a strange feeling came over her, that honed sense, the curling of the hairs on the nape of her neck, she knew it well, so she readied her weapon, a Tompson sub machine gun, not the ideal weapon for the distance she would muse but it would work well enough.



Just as the standoff seemed to reach its peak and she was sure the bullets would have to fly, a small commotion behind her came to attention as she saw a wicked glint in the masked face of the shirtless villain, seriously! It was January, get a shirt at least.



Though Miss Militia froze as from the corner of her eye she caught the glimpse of the features of the person who apparently boke through the agents behind her, a blonde teenager she guessed, short, fat unassuming at first glance, though something worried her.



She couldn't hear the agents, were they just being quiet…or did he do something, she couldn't turn her head, otherwise Storm-tiger and cricket would get the jump on her, dammit if only one of them would move, speak, something.



Hearing Storm-tiger yell out, her fears felt confirmed as the boy left her side, now seeing the sword at his side, gripping her weapons handle tighter, she prepared the uphill battle this would be, three on one with no back up.



'we all die eventually I guess' she woefully mused as the gun raised, seeing the young boy, corrupted she assumed, by the vicious PR of the Empire.



In the instant she raised her gun however, did she see the strange unassuming boy attempt murder, cleaving a bloody gash through the back of Storm-tiger and beginning to engage with Cricket not even seconds later.



'how did we miss this kid, he's got practice judging by those moves of his Miss Militia thought as she shot towards Storm-tiger, comforted in seeing the agents around her also now firing their own tools at the man, though ineffective normally, in his crippled state it may just work.



Keeping an eye on the fight with the rogue however, she was certain that she was witnessing someone with experience, seeing how he dodged effortlessly around the weighted chain, leaving only the tiniest gap before dodging as he dashed rapidly towards Cricket, seemingly unaffected by her nauseating abilities as she saw her knee him harshly in the head, paid in kind by a…



An explosion, shaking the air with a ripple that halted the fight, able to see the bleeding ears of Cricket as she saw the rogue stand over her fallen frame, both her and Storm-tiger now ready to intervene in case it got ugly, however seeing the agents sneaking closer to foam all three.



Just as she was about to intervene herself, she heard the boy speak, his voice high in pitch, probably due to young age though loud none the less.



"surrender now if you know what's good for you" was what she heard him say, seeing smoke emanate from his fist as he opened it, off hand meeting its main on the hilt of the blue sword finally.



Raising her weapon slightly, she cursed to herself as she trusted her instinct, no matter how dumb it seemed, turning her head from the rogue with a hand flicking towards the two of them, she instead aimed once more at the crippled Storm-tiger, weapon readied to shoot as she yelled out much the same.



"Surrender Storm-tiger, your outnumbered and outgunned" though she was serious as she shook and the gun in her hand made an audible click, she still couldn't help but putting the gun joke in, the levity helping her nerves even if slightly.



That moment of levity however, spelled doom for the superiority of their fight, as she heard a chuckle laugh from her side, turning for an instant she saw the rogue cackling at her joke, eyes untrained from Cricket as she swung her second kusarigama at the boy even from such close range the weapons hit would be all but debilitating for non-brutes, almost on instinct Miss Militia, no. Hannah raised her gun from Storm-tiger preparing to shoot at the downed Crickets hand, she refused to see another child injured due to this sick game of cops and robbers they all played.



However, as the singular bullet left the green ghost barrel, beyond her notice, the words yelled by Storm-tiger sent a chill down her spine, better yet, the sound after did.



"Finally, you're here" they had all heard as the grinding sound of metal and pointed things came from the side, a rapidly speeding off van the only signal of the approach of just about the one person besides Piggot that Miss Militia had wanted to see.

HOOKWOLF.





As I look upon that wall of friends, long gone, I think of times long passed.


When homework and photoshoots were our only worries.


When did it become so complicated to be kind​

 

[Leektheratking]

Greg Veder was never one to hate.
Though he made exceptions.
​

Hopping out of the heavily graffitied van, the heroes saw as the greasy haired man stepped out, metal wolf like mask adorning his face as those on the street could see clearly needles and knives already drawing themselves from his flesh.

Yet as he started walking to the PRT agents and heroes in attendance, the calls of the agents to retreat and regroup clear, freezing in place with shaking hands, reinforced grip a crushing vice on the handle of the brilliant blue sword, Greg's thoughts were yet clear as a diamond.

'OH FUCK!'

Preparing to hit the road as best he could, the suppressing fire of Miss Militia banging and ringing like a drum set in his ears.

Turning, feeling every fibre of his being pull to cowardly form to run, to escape the monster of needles and knives, a roar not unlike the horrific sound of the rapidly approaching clattering cutlery shelf emerging from the nazi.

Turning to run, Greg found his vision tunnelling as his perception seemed to slow, every fibre dragging him forward, and yet. Some niggling bit urged him to turn, eventually agreeing to his bodies demands.

As step after step came, spreading the distance between him and Hook-wolf, Greg saw two things happening as he ran. Firstly, was the peeling out PRT vans, likely retreating to a safer distance or to regroup, there however, Greg saw what called out to him.

That sacred part within him screaming to turn finally made sense, as within the slow motion of his vision, something so strange that even as he thought about it a headache grew, he saw a PRT agent, one of the few gripping the side bars of the heavily armoured van likely unable to get inside in time and having to stay on the far more dangerous outside, said agent however, he could see the shimmering of a large knife digging into the agents thigh, the scarlet blood flying in the air as their one handed grip separated them from the van.

Secondly however, Greg saw something so much more concerning to him, something that in any other circumstance would make him jump with joy, Hook wolf was no longer chasing him, instead however, to his horror he was heading straight for the falling agent.

In that slowed moment, Greg thought to himself, about how he needed to help her, about how he was scared, about how he should run, that he promised he would help.

And at that he resolved, even if a little because as Greg mused in his mind. 'I'm a Veder like my mother, we keep promises' he thought, this was his public debut, he needed to be the best on the field, some misplaced pride yelled from within him, drowning out the horrible true reason he knew with all his heart.

As such, his legs kept moving, a red blur against the snowy backdrop, the slushing of the mud and grime of the ground not marring his clothes sans the large stain left behind, the only damage his clothes suffered as the blur prepared for the oncoming pain.

As a streaking burst of red, Greg felt as he approached, each thudding footstep after another as the shimmering bestial form of Hook wolf slowly became more defined, even in his slowed perception, the monster moved like a streak, even at his speed, Greg wouldn't make it.

And so, a dumb part of him, the entirety of his body called out in a desperate attempt to gain his attention.

"Hey Rust-puppy, why so mad? Does Master not take you for walkies anymore?" Greg called out, red cheeked as he said the terrible insult.

The world seemed to freeze as Greg felt from within him the activation of something, like a button within his lungs that clicked the moment he spoke, an ability from within that felt right at home, the crackling and clicking form of the still Hook wolf turning slowly to face Greg, blue eyes bloodshot with rage.

INCITEMENT: EX
A grand collection of words and gestures that guided many a crowd and citizen works as a mental attack when used against an individual.
Quite powerful.



Daily report: Cape first contact principle brought into order, Cape assumed dangerous but non hostile for now, engage at later date.
​

'Hell of a birthday' Alex thought as her leg twitched from the blade deep in her thigh.

"it was supposed to be a slow day, do some paper work, maybe sneak a cupcake to the office but noooo, nazis had to ruin it" A angry chuckle ran through her as she gripped the containment foam grenade launcher in her hands, trying futilely to drag herself back as she saw the rapidly approaching form of Hook wolf, thinking to herself that if she's lucky he just kill her, being his hostage sounds so much worse.

And yet as he approached, going from a spinning dog shaped blender, so fast that she couldn't even hope to hit him with one of the grenades locked in the chambers of her gun, he stopped, almost on a dime.

Trying her best to ready her gun, Alex heard something strange, a child's talking, some insult or another, yet for how terrible it was, no better than a mere playground insult, a superficial jab at the appearance of the villain and yet she herself felt hurt.

Alex heard slowly, as she saw the deep wine blue of the eyes of Hook wolf became bloodshot, as he turned and slowly began to approach the designated rogue, as Alex could hear from her comms, hearing also the soon to be arrival of a heavy duty con-foam truck to deal with Hook wolf.

Each muttering insult however soon compounded, each one she heard feeling at first like a needle, then a punch, then a bullet, disorientating Alex slowly as it felt like a weight began to drag on her.

"really I mean, I know your master needs swords, but picking up after your messes must be a pain" came one insult, as the Rogue twisted and turned from where he was walking back, the clacking of his sandal shoes as he walked around, sword held statically he continued.

"Come on, I'm bored, you're boring, you've made me BORED" she heard the rogue yell out as Hook wolf struggled to focus his eyes on the boy, repeating the word in a way that grated his nerves.

"I mean, I'm not one to judge, but a nazi furry really? With that face mask you have to be right?" the red robed rogue continued onwards, lips chattering away seemingly without end, each insult building and hurting more and more as she listened, a tightening in her chest eventually building evermore.

only for suddenly it to stop, her eyes finally refocusing as she saw Hook wolf finally have enough, vicious swipes coming in combos as he came close enough to the rogue, a splash of red filling her vision as his hand came down.

The red only seemed to grow as she stared onwards, a silent cry from her delirious lips as Alex saw the horror, though a rogue that child seemed so young, her vision finally coming into focus again as she struggled to sit up, getting ready to shoot as she heard on her radio the approach of the van.

And yet, even as her eyes cleared. Alex could still see the red flash, weaving around the hands and swipes of the villain in front of her, like paper waving in the wind away from a stick trying to strike it, most shocking however, was that this what was thought dead body weaving around the attacks of a violent menace dashed towards her.

Moving with such speed, Alex could scarcely lift her grenade launcher as she felt both his arms grab around her, immutable steel rods beneath her injured ribs and searing painful leg wound, picked up with little to no fanfare, she began to make internal notes for if she got out of this alive.

'The boss will want a report' Alex thought as she was whisked into the air, hopeful of their escape as she saw the smaller kid look to her mask for a second, turning to run before something came over him, almost like clockwork a grin came to him.

A grin that Alex didn't like one bit.

Following his eyes, Alex saw as he focused on the rattling form of Hook wolf, turning and twisting rapidly to find the red cloaked Rogue.

Understanding came over her in that moment, she had finally realised what Piggot had meant when she said that Capes were either cowards or insane.

"don't you…"

"HEY HOOKIE, HERE DOGGY DOGGY, COME TO MASTER!" she heard the boy shout, an inglorious roar to the heavens that drew even the attention of that winged bitch up high, a yell so loud and violent that from her position of danger in his arms, she couldn't help but feel a disorientating rattle subsume her very form, dizziness taking hold as she felt bile approach her throat.

Even worse than that, however, was the scraping screaming roar of Hook wolf charging towards them, full force, and full of anger. Just the same they ran, the red cloaked hero not slowed in the slightest by her and her gear, only the clattering of the sword in its sheath below her audible above the chasing villain.

Daily report: I hate capes.



Greg Veder was not insane.
No, certainly not.

​

He didn't know what it was or how it happened.

At first it was some strange calling in the back of his head, telling him the best action in the moment of the fight, where to swing, what to call out, a strange but welcome feeling, like figuring out what to say in an argument long after its done.

Still though, it didn't come into full realisation until he got his hands on the injured agent, suddenly flashes of plans and tactics came to mind, information collected a million times a second, rendering his mind a tactical engine for just a second as he prepared at first to run, instead changing his mind.

'I'll be damned if I skip out on beating nazi ass' Greg thought as he grinned, a wicked toothy smile on his lips, driven by some pride that remained in him, in those depths not damaged by bullies or the mirror.

Yelling out and running, as he heard the muttering curses of his companion in this endeavour, repeating slurs and swears targeting him as an insane idiot who had a death wish with a radius.

Yet as he ran, information came to his mind, even as he tried to ignore it.

TACTICS: TACTICAL INNATE KNOWLEDGE NOT APPLICABLE FOR ONE-ON-ONE CONFRONTATION, BUT AS A COMMANDER OR RULER TO ​

RETREAT=NO REGROUP=YES BIGGER EQUIPMENT NEEDED

SIDE STREET INSUFFICIENT=YES, THEY'LL TAKE THE MAIN STREET, MOVE THERE.

And so, the boy ran, carrying the Agent as he entered the main street, unsurprisingly to him already emptied out, vacant of all but parked cars.

Looking around as he felt the wobble of the person in his arms, Hook wolf only a few seconds behind himself, having little time to plan, his mind ran in circles for but a moment.

WHERE TO PUT AGENT:

LIGHT POLE=NO, LEG TOO INJURED TO SUPPORT WEIGHTY FRAME

END OF STREET=NO, LACKING RANGE OF WEAPON FOR NEEDED SUPPORT

THIRD FLOOR MIDDLE WINDOW=NO, TOO HIGH TO GAIN PROPER SHOT WHILE INJURED, USE THE SECOND.

In that moment, much to his surprise did Greg hear an almost childlike scream emit from the agent as she was carried along with himself, rapidly approaching the sheer wall of the building, Greg heard her only slightly as his foot rammed into the brick and mortar of the building.

"wait wait wait hold uuuu…" Greg heard the agent plead as he began to step up, his mind in some way telling him what to do, each step almost perfect as he reached the second floor, smashing the window of what he could now see was an office building, tossing the agent in quickly with the order to provide cover and aim for the eyes.

'Why was she yelling? Doesn't she know this is the best way?' Greg thought to himself as he dropped, the strange feeling to seeing the agents hesitation ringing in him, landing solidly on the ground, he saw Hook wolf reach the street finally and just like that, did the ability and its strange mind altering effects cease, Greg doing his best not to shake as he saw the approach of the seething metal monster, his hands reaching down to grip the handle of his sword.

Giving no time to breath, Greg saw as Hook wolf jumped at him, a leaping spear of death aiming to crush and eviscerate him under neath his own weight, not even able to think, Greg tossed himself to the side as he began to draw his sword, the click of the release button drowned out by the smashing boom of the landing monster.

Yet as Greg stood quickly ready to bring his sword to bear, he felt a pain ring from his shoulder, the strange dampening the only thing stopping him from yelling as he saw a small saw bladed knife embedded through his shoulder, red already beginning to spread as he turned himself to face the villain again.

"That the best you got? I know performance issues are common enough but come on man!" Greg chuckled out despite his fear hands gripping his sword hard as tried to run to the side of the villain, enhanced speed carrying him faster than the villain could turn, a light hesitant swing from Greg's blade snapping off many of the blades that made up the back right foot of Hook wolf, not enough to sever however as with each attack, Greg swung with arms only, drawing his head away in fear of retaliation.

Slowly the thunking of foam grenades began to land all around him, each puffing into massive globs of rubbery death, Greg musing even slightly that his fate would be sealed if he made the mistake to land in one, blade swinging with reckless abandon, that dreadful beast struggling, despite his opponents inexperience to land a solid hit.

Until now.

Swinging his sword one last time, Greg felt a bolt of electricity run through him as he felt the blade Wiff, over stepping and over committing, he felt his body spin like a top as the bladed hand impacted his shoulders and head, sending him skidding across the harsh pavement, head screaming in pain as impact after impact hit his form, a red scraping leading behind his prone form, Greg's own body begging him to stay down as he barely managed to look out to the villain.

And to his horror, Greg could see as with the worst luck, did the PRT finally arrive, heavy duty, yet far too close to the villain for a proper reaction, only the slow thunking of the grenade launcher of the agent in the window allowing the smallest gap of reprieve.

Delirium reigned through Greg's form as he lay in the grime and trash on the street, a patting hand revealing blood dropping from his brow, even if slowly, it sent a fire through the boy.

A violent fear that screamed at him in every cell, somehow he could recognise, that even if his body could take damage beyond the means of most to give, and yet he had his weaknesses, as his body was making apparent, telling, begging, demanding his retreat.

Yet as Greg looked to the villain, preparing himself to attack the still preparing agents, Miss Militia still with them trying to provide some cover, he could hear something, his enhanced hearing working a mile a minute to pick it up.

Begging.

The agent he has saved earlier, despite the distance he could hear her, her begging.

"Please be alright…just a kid…SHIT!" was all he was able to hear, the scream as his eyes opened slightly, startling him. Looking out Greg could see as his perception began to speed once more to normal range, seeing instead the slow plodding figures, instead he saw the aggression made manifest in front of him.

That Hook wolf was rapidly approaching the agents, that they wouldn't be able to deploy weapons quick enough to save themselves, that his insults had whipped the man into a mind melting fury that controlled every fibre of his being.

And so, Greg stood.

And so, he began to sprint, feet drumming the ground with strength that even from the distance could be felt as an approaching earthquake.

As feet pounded the ground, Greg's mind flashed back and forth strangely into that unconscious state, that place where he had met Caesar, seeing as if from someone else's vision the stance of a knight clad entirely in armour, a horned helmet adorning their head while they fought monsters of some make Greg didn't care to remember.

Gripping his swords handle tighter, he saw as the figure braced themselves, before leaping forward with all the strength their legs would allow impacting with feet a brutal attack that shocked the beasts form.

Taking this providence at its face value Greg sped forth, hair sweeping back into the breeze as he approached, seeing barely behind the rampaging form of Hook wolf that the PRT agents had managed to extricate themselves barely and were pulling back.

At that, a wicked grin came back to Greg's face, a vicious smile that wrought destruction.

Finally, however, Greg's voice found itself once.

"WHERE YOU GOING HOOKIE, WE'RE NOT DONE" he once more roared out, his leg tightening like a spring as he saw with slathering rage did Hook wolf turn himself, only to witness as the streak of grinning scarlet fly across the street, body positioned to gain no height, merely pushing it forward with as much force as it could.

And there, Hook wolf was unable to react as the dress shoe esque sandal adorning the rogue known as the Roman impacted his metallic skull, as his neck compressed under the force, as blades by the dozen shattered by the impact.

And there Hook wolf was unable to stop as his form lifted from the ground also, behemoth of blades sent flying through the air, he couldn't stop himself as the target the boy had so eagerly booted him into came into frame.

The containment foam truck.

The sound of rending steel to everyone's ears were inly deafened by the ear-piercing screech of the burst cannisters, and the screaming roar of the villain as a street consuming flood of foam bubbled and churned from the wreckage of the van.

Seeing his work finally done, all that Greg could let out was a hearty laugh as his legs gave out from underneath him, the weight of everything falling on him rapidly, hands shaking, he dared not even try to stand for fear of falling.

Finally able to rest, Greg's celebration was cut short as he saw the form of Miss Militia approach, though bloodied slightly from chunks of blades that had been sent flying, she stood proud as she loomed over the prone figure of Greg.

And there, waiting as if only to exacerbate Greg's own anxiety, did she finally speak.

"Pretty good work there kid, you gonna help me with the paperwork?" she spoke casually, looking to the wreckage of the truck now filling the street rapidly.

Taking a simple look at the scene ahead of him, Greg could only think of one dumb thing to say.

"Sorry it seems as if i've suddenly forgot how to read and write" he laughed out as he heard his phone ring, looking with horror as he saw on the screen the three missed calls from his mother.

"Strange, you're the third person I've heard say that today, must be something in the air" Miss militia replied, head turning slightly as she looked with dawning horror as the foam encompassed a nearby car, it would be a long day Afterall.

Greg Veder was a good kid.
it didn't mean he didn't get in trouble​

 

[Leektheratking]

will get onto working on new chapters really soon, got nothing else to do honestly

 

[Altes Wynisius]

I liked it is well written and would like to see more of it.

 

[Leektheratking]

I liked it is well written and would like to see more of it.

Click to shrink...

Thanks I'm definitely writing more so it won't be too long on that front hopefully

 

[Leektheratking]

A war in the mind of every hero they call it.

​

Whether or not to fight the rogue doing good.

​

"And with that thrilling report on the marketability of Arm-master plushies, this meeting is nearly over" Emily Piggot said with a flair of irony as looked ag the meeting docket, an internal sigh as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, waiting for a second as she saw Miss Militia symbol appeared on the screen ag the far end of the room, a small stack of papers in the hands of an assistant and handed quickly out to the people sat at the table.



"I bring information relating to the Hook wolf incident earlier today ma'am" Miss Militia spoke, her voice heavily edited by the television she spoke through, though Piggot only nodded along slowly as she waited, Miss Militia describing in great detail the steps that came to the fight and destruction of one of the expensive PRT trucks.



"So… you mean to tell me this...child managed to not only go through all my men but sneak up to you without even a peep?" Piggot shook her head in disappointment as the hero answered in the affirmative, already thinking of the remedial training she is going to order for them.



"Yes ma'am, even I wasn't able to notice him until he moved into my line of sight, which is why i added speculative Stranger to the report, however that doesn't mesh to well with the other possible ratings later on." Miss Militia said, carrying on as she got nods and recognition of what she said by few on the members on the meeting table.



"The fight against Villains codename Cricket and Storm-tiger, it was easy to see the rogue was untrained yet his ability definitely gave off Brute possibilities." MISS Militia said slowly as she scrolled through her own copy of the paper, at various times pointing to different points of her own recording and various street cameras to back up her point.



Slowly however as her debriefing dragged on, something became more and more clear to the group.



"You're saying that you believe this kids a Grab bag?" one Thomas Calvert said, curiosity peaked as he looked through.



'Brute, stranger, mover on and on' it seemed to Thomas Calvert, that Miss Militia was simply throwing things at the wall to see what would stick, some with more reasonable evidence others with less.



'The boy would if even half of these ratings were accurate, he would be an incredibly useful assets to have under my thumb' the man thought calmly as he heard an affirmative sound from Miss Militia.



"Yes Calvert, from what I gathered he seemed to be a Grab bag of great potential, though from where I wouldn't hazard a guess, there's been no big fights lately that could warrant this kind of response, maybe the last End bringer fight but I doubt it" Miss Militia said slowly as she looked through her own notes.



"Why don't you think so then?" Piggott asked calmly as she sat adjusting slightly in her chair.



"He seemed...to know the streets far too well, was moving through side streets and towards somewhere far better for fighting Hook wolf seemingly on instinct, though it may tie into my reasons for granting him a Thinker rating in my report." The woman said quizzically, pointing out numerous small things that caught her eye.



"At twelve-twenty-three on camera three you can see him place PRT agent codename 'DT-21' upon an optimal position to lay covering fire even accounting for an injured leg that hindered her mobility, similarly at fifteen-twelve-twelve on video when he seemingly accounted for movements that Hook wolf would do in his absence to send the villain crashing into an emptied PRT detainment truck" Miss Militia rattled on as she went forward with her explanation, taking time to point out individual moments where the boy portrayed knowledge he either had no way of understanding or calculating in the moments of the fight.



"However," Miss Militia started, taking a pause for a split second. "The most pressing issue of all is the very reason I'm communicating through this screen instead of in person, if you'd turn to page five" she said waiting as the people did, seeing the final potential ranking that the heroine had given the rogue.



MASTER.



"We'll need a good explanation if we're going to act on this Militia" Director Piggot said slowly, her voice lacing with a venom they all knew was not targeted at the hero in question.



"During the post-fight Ma'am, I had tried to recruit the boy to the wards, or at least gain some form of rapport to allow so in the future, however before his leaving the conversation had managed to drift" Miss Militia said slowly, stopping for a loud harsh swallow.



"The conversation went down a strange route ma'am, as the boy began to talk about...some conspiracy theory" Miss Militia spoke, almost in shock as she talked.



"A conspiracy theory? Really, you're not fucking with me?" Director Piggot said slowly, a mild anger in her voice that made one of the interns' shudders silently.



"Yes ma'am, the boy talked about how strange it was the triumvirate never seemed to come to Brockton Bay, despite everything, he began to toss out all these fanciful theories of his" Miss Mitia started "obviously none of them were true, most didn't even make sense"



"So?" Piggot questioned.



"that's the problem ma'am, I started to believe him, even as he spouted completely impossible theories, they seemed more and more feasible as he talked, I had gotten lucky when he extricated himself apparently late for something, even now im still convincing myself that I didn't accidentally insult Eidolon by shaking his hand with my left hand" Miss Militia said, even through the distortion, the disbelief evident in her voice was beyond faking, like someone telling you the sky was actually red and giving irrefutable proof it simply boggled the mind beyond reason.



"Do you believe that the subject knew about this power before hand and was targeting you, or if it was accidental?" Thomas Calvert spoke, voice quick and sharp, a punch to Miss Militia's ears through the speakers on her side.



Taking a second to think, however the woman in question struggled to come up with a fully truthful answer, eventually falling back to a comfortable and familiar friend, the one fallback that always worked.



"I don't know"



Sighing passed around the room in ample measure as soon enough the meeting ended, protocols put in place and to one weary cape, food delivered.



"White rice and beans really Jerry?" Miss Militia yelled out hopelessly to the thick metal door, sighing heavily, she sat down prepared to eat.

In every nightmare I see them the rogues I couldn't turn.

​

And I see the shackles that sent them away.

​

-----------------------------

​

Greg Veder is a good child.

​

Just not right now.

​

​

"so remind me Greggory, why did it take three separate calls before you answered" Greg had heard the moment he got home, the distressed look of his mother meeting his eye almost instantly as he stepped through the door, his costume having flashed off him in its mysterious way along the path home, Greg having made sure to do his best to hide away before he did so, the strange feeling of unfocusing came about as he struggled for a few moments to unlatch his mind from wanting to be a hero in the end however the clothes disappeared.



"I'm really sorry mom I was with Sparky and we just got distracted and my phone was flatandhewastryingtosh…" Greg spoke, his panicked voice turning to a slurry of consonants and vowels one could scarcely call language, his mothers distress turning to exacerbation quickly as she saw the flushed red quickly running over her sons' cheeks.



"Alright alright listen hops in the car we're gonna be late if we don't hurry" Audrey Veder said quickly as she grabbed her keys from their hook, shooing her son out of the door quickly, even as he asked where they were going.



"don't you remember, Arcadia has a uniform, we need to get you fit for it, it's a bit expensive but should be fine" his mother lightly laughed out as they rushed to the car, only stopping for a moment as Audrey plucked at the crown of his head, picking something stuck to him with quick measure.



"Greg, did you cut yourself?" she asked as she pulled the small scab from his scalp.



"Really, did I? I didn't notice" Greg lied his best, trying as much as he could to hide his guilty look as they both rushed into the car, the surprisingly short drive catching him off guard as he felt his stomach grumble a fiendish hunger beginning to grow worse and worse and the drive carried on.



Finally reaching their destination, Greg and his mother took their seat in the waiting room, other students before them going without issue in the dead quiet.



What felt like hours went by as Greg felt the hunger within him grow, threatening to burst like a leaky submarine he anxiously tried to wait, feeling like this morning as if he hadn't eaten in his whole life.



Quickly the dots began to connect themselves within his mind.



"This is the downside…are you fucking kidding me?' he thought with mild anger as his distraction grew more, a loud discussion coming slowly to the door, others in the room seemingly noticing the same.



"I told you last time Victoria, Amy, both of you. you should have told me about this fitting a week ago, were very busy right now!" the voice from outside the door spoke, very quickly it became clear who the voice so familiar to Greg was as he saw enter three veritable celebrities of Brockton Bay, Carol Dallon, part time lawyer part time hero known as Brandish, the woman sporting a small scowl as the she found a seat near Greg.



Next was Victoria Dallon, the hero known as Glory Girl, the collateral damage barbie herself, all time most popular girl his age Greg had to saw, seeing her quickly sit next to her mother, the only available spot directly next to him left for the last.



Panacea, known by the civilian name of Amy Dallon, having met the legend before Greg couldn't help but catch a shocking glimpse of the dark bags under her eyes, she sat down without a fuss, clearly though making sure not to touch him as she did so, leaning further towards her sister.



"Now the two of you just sit down and be- "Carol started only for the mournful cry of his stomach to call out, rumbling with feral ferocity so much it almost seemed to echo within the small room, other quiet conversations dying out as Greg's face flushed with red, his mother tsking near silently.



"don't worry Greg, we'll grab something on the way home" she patted his shoulder slowly.



"Thanks mom" he said in embarrassed shock at his body's betrayal.

Greg Veder didn't know yet.

​

This would be the beginning of the end.

​

-------------------------

​

Dear diary: Dean is such an asshole sometimes I hope he drowns next swim meet with the wards, not really but still how could he forget our anniversary.

​

​

"Man, moms really pissed with us this time huh" Vicky heard Amy say from her right, her sister fidgeting slightly in her chair, squashed between the blondes on either side of her.



'I swear if that guy tries anything' she absentmindedly thought as they waited.



"she'll be fine don't worry Ames" Vicky chuckled out as she tried her best to maintain her quiet.



Soon enough however though as they whispered to each other, Amy adjusting herself sitting up slightly as she did so talking about whatever Vicky heard the lady at the desk in the back of the store begin to call out a name, picking up the "V…" almost instantly through her own boredom, Vicky rocketed up.



Unfortunately however the name called was "Veder" hearing a slight commotion to the right she saw the half knocked over Amy having landed on the boy next to her, both the boy and his mother trying to get up as they helped Amy to her feet too, what first Vicky could see a slightly angry faced turned shocked as she was helped up, turning both pale and as quiet as a ghost after which, the boy and his mother disappearing with whispered sorries on their lips.



"Hey sorry about that Amy, you, ok?" Vicky asked worried as she saw the shocked expression on the girl, taking a moment before responding it was almost as If she was in a trance before her focus snapped to Vicky.



"Huh, yeah yeah I'm fine don't worry about it" Amy spoke in an unconvincing squeak of a sentence, still distracted as she spoke, Vicky knew clearly that she was lying and she would get to the bottom of it even if it killed her.



'God, I haven't felt this excited over a mystery since me, crystal and eric found out how to actually play Cluedo' she sniggered to herself mentally, trying to shake the unease building in her chest.



Soon enough however they had bigger problems as their names got called, putting the matter at hand aside for a second as she passed the boy and his mother from before, said boy unable to make eye contact as he almost rushed out of the store.



'curious' Vicky thought, feeling the imaginary sherlock Holmes hat begin to come to her as she looked between Amy and the rushing still pink with blush boy.

Dear Diary: I think Amy may have a crush, still trying to come to terms with that…

​

​

 

[Jake Niffin]

Since when was greg fat?