Who Called for The Cowboy

[Leektheratking]

BROCKTON BAY CAMPGROUNDS ONE MONTH BEFORE LOCKER INCIDENT.

---

"Greg? Where are you Greg?" the voice of Sandra Veder called out from the distance, almost unheard by the boy, yet her worried tone carried still into the ears of the mentioned child.

"yeah im here mum, just exploring a bit" said boy called out calmly as he walked around the knotted roots of the trees surrounding the campsite, choked and squeezed together harshly, he wandered further and further, until the firelight of the camp became visible against the waning sun, the new moon sky an eery black this close to the city.

'I probably should have waited until morning to do this' Greg chuckled to himself at his thoughts, his routine of their holiday camping, Gregs personal exploration that he had done since he was barely able to walk, each step carrying him further and further into his own fantasy.

What would he find out here? His mind rung each and every time with new ideas, despite the familiar scenery.
Would he find treasure, some villains lost money? he heard that the Butcher was in Brockton bay a long time ago so you never know.

Or, or maybe a secret serum that could grant him powers, Greg was sure of his theory that all the biggest capes got them like that.

In other words, Greg was in his own head, and his head was paradise, flowing conspiracies and ideas, perhaps he might write a book one day, a errant thought flicked through his mind.

Yet as it did, he laughed, a slight and small thing, always measured now a days, even if Greg didn't notice it, after a girl called his laugh ugly a few years back, it'd always been so constrained, even when he tried to bring forth a proper laugh now.

"I wonder if I should ask about that?" Greg asked himself and the shadows that surrounded him as he walked, mind half paying attention as he looked back to the light of the campfire.

Yet as he still moved, the light of the campfire suddenly rushed upwards as if snatched by a great wind, sent flying into the air…no, Greg realised in a fraction, a mere spinal reaction. The campfire was not rising, he was falling.

'ah right, the cliff' his mind caught up, the familiar cliff face, a place he had looked at multiple times in years past, always wanting to go to the bottom to see, yet always scared to do so, Greg had chickened out.

Now, as the wind rushed past his face, panic set into him, as he began to quickly crash and slide down the rough stone and root shod sloping cliff face, thinking quickly however, did the boy cover his head, wrapping both arms tightly around his head as he fell, the ground came fast.

Quickly did Greg feel the first impact, a heavy root jutting from the ground impacted his ribs as he fell upon it, in an instant the breath was forced from his lungs, a small gash torn into light flesh.

Then came a rock, hitting his hip with the full force of the chubby boys fall, crashing upon it as a rocket of meat, Greg felt as a concerning jolt of electricity flowed down his leg in the instant of impact, before almost in same instant did he feel himself tumble over his head, the weight pushing painfully down onto his neck for an instant.

Yet as his arms, attempting futilely to support his weight as he rolled around, all the errant pain seemed to drain away as a fire flowed through his veins, a tornado of pain tearing through every by-way and passage of his body, cells flooding with fear and absent pain as something pierced through his forearm forming random chaos of nerve functions into a unified front of pain.
Falling further, yet almost unaware of it as he finally crashed to the base of the cliff, splashing down far into a decent sized puddle of muddy water, Greg wasn't even able to scream as the Pain filled every sense like glue, eyes squeezed so tight that the phosphene drowned out the surrounding dark of the night, yet in what remained of light as his eyes finally opened from the crushing yellow green phosphine lights, Greg saw the strange hooked object piercing clean through his arm, its form unclear in the dark.

Ears flooding with adrenaline, skin prickling with anxiety very soul retching with bile at the edge of his throat, Greg found strength to do only one thing.

"MUUUUUUUUUM, DAAAAAAAAAD" his shrill scream ripped through the night as he called, the dizziness of looking at the wound and the strange sharp thing piercing from his soft flesh catching up to him quickly, yet time felt like it dragged to a crawl as he heard shuffling and huffing.

Waiting what felt like an eternity, finally did Greg see the flash of a light at the top of the cliff, shining down brilliantly upon the muck and grime of his landing, the bruises and gashes that were not hidden by clothes now visible to him, ones he didn't feel or otherwise.

Yet his eyes were laser focused upon the strange wooden shafted arrow imbedded in his flesh, going through and through his left forearm, bordered by white splints of what he now realised were bone, jutting fiercely from the blood soaked arm.

Finally, he passed out, as he felt solid hands grip his shoulder, Greg was certain in those final moments before the dark took him.

He was certain he saw a cowboy in front of him?

---

The stay at the doctors, as Greg would find out, was not fun.

After his bringing to the hospital, His parents were lucky that a certain parahuman was on duty, yet something strange occurred after healing their boy.

Even as the bone was mended and the arrow like object removed, a fever began in Greg, raising dangerously high and seemingly without end, even as Panacea tried her best, frustratingly. The fever did not leave.

Flitting between consciousness as a fever grew, it seemed things would go for the worse as each passing day his temperature ticked higher and higher, degree by degree.

Yet one day without any reason seemingly, the fever passed, Greg left no worse for wear as he awoke.
Even as his parents crowded him, death grip hugs crushing him, the boy was indisposed to his thoughts, the strange hallucinations and dreams wracking his brain as his parents finally left to give him some rest.

Yet, Greg for all his attempts not to, had to address the elephant in the room.

"They couldn't see you?" Greg spoke out quietly to the room, looking to a corner where if anyone else was to look, all that would be visible would be the visitors chair.
Yet as Greg's vision focused on that particular spot, did he something else, like a ghost, floating was a strange person.

Though it's body shape, clearly inhuman as it'd legs and arms were some odd mix of skeletal robotics, bare brown frames inlayed with scrimshaw amongst the metallic bone edifices.

It's hands and feet, however for the small frame of its limbs we're large, almost glove like. It's hands merged, two top most fingers twisting around each other in a way that appeared painful, twisting and curving in orbit of each other to form a barrel like gap between them. It's feet a strange spinning spiked wheel attached to a large almost high heel esque boot structure.

Torso wise, as Greg looked, his thoughts carried a single thought 'are those tassels' as yes indeed, he saw what appeared to be almost wire esque white tassels hanging carelessly from its shoulders and down the seams rolling down its sternum, numerous orange pipes and wires dragging around and through the body, rising up until its shoulders, where a curving rise of the shoulder rose into the curve of a white Stetson hat like bowl, the top of the 'hat' retained a large monocular eye that spun listlessly, seven pupils pressed shoulder to shoulder, granting a three-sixty degree of vision Greg could guess.

"what...are you?" The boy plainly questioned as he looked to the thing, yet no voice, telepathic or otherwise came to his mind to talk.

Squeezing his eyes softly, Greg rubbed his forehead 'just a dream' he repeated mindlessly.

Yet as he did so, he felt in a strange corner of his mind a sight that could not be, for as his eyes pressed closed, did he still see himself sitting in the bed, from the corner where the being found itself.

"what the fuck!" the boy whispered with the force of a barely restrained surprise, looking rapidly to the being with his true eyes.

Yet it did not move.

"Can you...come here?" he spoke slowly, looking the ghost like entity, yet it did not move, blinking slowly, the being disappeared from his view, no longer in the corner, Greg felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise as panic made his struggle to turn his head.

Slowly, with bones that felt like a creaking door hinge, did he manage to turn his head, the strange side vision in his mind showing him exactly where the thing was.

Turning his head left, Greg came face to red eye with the thing, it's face concerningly close as he saw in clear detail the singular red eye surrounded by identical grey ones, a droplet of blood surrounded by edifices of grey, each eye not the flat of a true eye but some strange etched edifice in the 'hat' that spun and moved impossibly.

Yet, even as fear dragged through Greg, he felt a calm take him by storm, as if he knew this being in a way.

Slowly reaching out his hand, shaking yet firm.

"Hi, im Greg" the nervous boy spoke.

In turn the thing did the same, gun shaped hand reaching to wrap what movable fingers it could around his hand, dwarfed in size by the large thing, easily four feet tall hunched almost to a ball as it was.

No sound emitted from it as it shook his hand, following his lead.

"good talk" the boy said, trying to cut the tension he felt.

Spoiler: Authors notes

getting back into the flow of things, hope yall enjoy this little thing as i write it