Greg Vs Raid 9-20

Sliding into the warehouse from the skylight was a different feeling than normal.

It was already more impressive than most everything else around it for blocks, honestly. A place where the air conditioning actually worked and the Wi-Fi was fast enough to stream 1080p without buffering, and the floor didn’t smell like rotten caviar?

That was asking for the height of luxury in this part of town that was pretty much still half--underwater.

His cool quiet sanctuary was dimly lit as he dropped down almost thirty feet to the floor; a grunt slipping out of his lips as he finally touched the ground. A few lights were still on and a few screens were still running, but Greg didn’t even need them; eyes closed as he slumped forward in the empty living area of his hideout.

Left to right.

Right to left.

Five steps. Turn. Five steps. Turn.

Greg didn’t need eyes to see, the wind around him just a few feet from his skin doing all the work to let him know what was in his way. Besides, he couldn’t stop either. The rhythm… He needed the rhythm.

The squelching was quieter than it had been, but it still didn’t stop; not as his boots tracked smears of brownish-red behind him on his power-washed concrete.

Fuck tonight… Tonight was shit in the worst way. Bitch was trying to fight him, sure, but somebody was clearly fucking with her head in the worst way. Masters… are scary like that, I guess.

The wannabe joke went nowhere, the fake smile sliding off his face as quickly as the humor from it slid from his thoughts. Why? Bloody gloves pressed themselves into his helm, around the place where his temples would be as Greg fought the urge to groan. Why is this fucking with me?

Eyes still closed, the darkness was more than a comfort. It let him shut out everything else in a way his eyes wouldn’t normally allow him; the darkest part of night no worse than a summer twilight most of the time.

It doesn’t… He bit down on his lip, the taste of blood from getting roughed around by those dogs still fresh. Doesn’t make sense. As much as he hated thinking about it, killing came easy and he’d taken a guy out personally not too long ago.

No ‘caught up in the moment’, no ‘it was just a fight’; it was a literal execution and he’d had his boys watch him do it, too, to remind them not to betray him.

Even still, he’d gone out of his way not to kill villains during fights, especially since the ABB thing that got him in all this trouble. Actual murder-happy villains and he’d pulled his punches to avoid punching through them.

Would it have been easier to turn a five-minute fracas into a two-second takedown with a Reinforced kick to the jaw? Yeah, of course, but that way risked the jaw coming off and everything above it too.

And as much as he was fine being a manslaughter-er, and he was willing to be an executioner, Greg Veder was not… 

N.O.T. a murderer.

His helmeted head slumped up against the warehouse wall with a thonk, polycarbonate meeting concrete. …Wow, Mom was right. He pulled a face. Veder men do know how to rationalize everything.

"Sit down, man," A voice cut through the silence, saving him before his thoughts could go deeper into his dad. "You're making me fuckin’ dizzy, brah."

Greg blinked, eyes wide with surprise but not shock, as he raised his head and finally opened his eyes.

“Sparks?”

His best friend sat atop a crate near the loading bay door, long brown hair hanging over his face and wearing sunglasses on inside after midnight because why not, right? 

No, as much as Greg wanted to joke, though, he knew Sparky’s eyes were still a good bit more sensitive than his; not just to light, but to movement, the slightest thing enough to send them doing that twitchy thing his friend acted like he didn’t notice.

That search-pattern thing.

"I can't sit," The words tumbled out, three syllables barely held back from sliding out in a single lump of one. "I got three whole stars on me, right now. Maybe four. Surprised no helicopters spawned on me, man."

"Is that a reference to Grand Theft Auto?"

Jesu- Eyes went a good bit wider than last time as Greg nearly flinched for real, definitely not expecting that second voice at all. 

A familiar chubby boy was sitting in front of the terminal station, half washed out and half in shadow from all the blue light in his face. Two figures by his side, Theo Anders wasn’t even looking at Greg; gaze fixed on the wall of monitors—a whole six screens of news feeds, PHO threads, and whatever else that probably came in handy.

The other two standing by his side leaned forward and nodded his way, two of his more information-minded generals greeting him with a simple “Boss.”

Greg just nodded back, not even questioning why everyone had chosen to meet up here tonight. "It's a reference to life, T-Dog."

"Interestingly enough, you’re not . wanted." Theo adjusted his glasses, the blue light from the monitors reflecting off the lenses and turning them a blank luminous white. "Yet, at least."

“...explain, cuzzo.”

His godbrother tapped a key. “I’ve been doing some research for a while now. Those cases with the ABB…” Joon and Seo said nothing, both Generals firmly focused on the screen rather than any reference to their former alliance, “The PRT hasn’t officially filed any charges against you for your actions. They could, easily, of course. It’d be the height of stupidity to abuse a Tier-Zero crisis like that and they know it, so they haven’t.”

Wait… Greg blinked again, blue eyes wide behind his white lenses. “But… b-but I thought that th-”

“That they already declared you a murderer. No, not really,” Theo’s interruption had all the force of a mild push, but given that Greg was stumbling through his own thoughts, it didn’t need much at all. “You’re already in the black given that you helped save the day. Of course, you’re not registered with the PRT so they can’t really sanction your actions, but any claims of needing to take in are just a play on your ignorance.”

“Yeaahhh,” Sparky’s voice was a drawn-out drawl as he leaned back with a yawn against the wall. “And the way you are, they’ve been running the half-court on your ass, brah.”

“...shut up.”

Theo tilted his head. “Axel might not have much room to talk, but he’s not wrong, either.”

A golden-eyed-glare went live as Sparky sat up quickly. “...fuck off, fatty.”

His godbrother simply hummed at the insult thrown his way. “On top of that, the Coil situation isn’t something they could ever use if the PRT in this town doesn’t want to be laughed at for… an effective eternity.” The Anders boy shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “As bad as it looks for you, they can’t afford more eyes on that, which is why they haven’t brought it up since Leviathan.”

The frown on Greg’s face was as deep as the gash from the dog’s teeth had been in his arms a few minutes ago, but unlike his wounds, it only got deeper as his brain worked on what Theo just told him. “So… they’re fucking with me.”

“...it’s the PRT, boss,” A voice that was all smoke and gravel sounded out.

Greg raised an eyebrow as Seo Asada stepped forward from beside Theo, the man leaning up against a railing. Long hair tied back, his number two had already changed out from his costume; bruised and battered, the Japanese man had still found another white shirt to leave unbuttoned and a cigarette to dangle from his lips. “All those bastards care about is looking good and railroading the hell out of capes to make ‘em stay in line.”

“Lying about charges, though, Seo?” He shot back, frown digging deeper. 

“They don’t have to be lyin’ lyin’, boss.” Seo took a drag, long and slow, before letting free a thin stream of smoke that drifted up toward the high ceiling and open skylight. “They got the charges ready and they could use them, sure. It’d just be a dumb-ass move to make.”

Greg couldn’t help but deflate, shoulders slumping. …how am I the player and I get played, man? Something he’d been trying to ignore that had been stabbing at the back of his mind for months now, only getting worse the last two weeks with Coil, and it was stabbing him with a plastic knife. God, being a superhero sucks.

"The PRT press release just went out,” Theo cut in, leaning back with his hands folded as he read from the largest screen. 'Violent Incident in the Docks involving local parahumans.’ And as expected, they slapped on an ‘Investigation ongoing’ which means for as long as they want, they can keep it nameless without descriptions. For several reasons, they can’t afford to directly attack you, cousin."

"I don’t know about that. Maybe give it an hour," Greg bit back, already stomping around as he went back to his pacing. “Might have Armsmaster banging on my door and trying to arrest me while hitting on my mom."

“And you’re sure he’d do that?” 

The question forced a blink, Greg looking back up at Theo. “What? Hit on my mom? I dunno, every fuckin’ old guy is sniffin’ around her right now. Like this one guy I saw, li-”

“No.” Flat went to forceful as Theo put some bass in his voice, his gobrother raising his glasses to fix a shining silver stare his way. “I mean, actually attempt to arrest you.”

Greg ran a hand through his hair, only for his hand to slam up against hard material as he went a bit too far back. Oh… right.

With a single thought, the open-hair helmet vanished in a shower of blue pixels, Greg’s mouth opening wide as he sucked in a mouthful of air he didn’t really need. “I dunno, man… he could do fucking anything. Armsmaster’s all by the books, and he sounded pretty serious.”

"Then we pivot.” Joon took that moment to speak up, his finance king walking down the stairs and over to the kitchenette. Even though it was after midnight, the young Korean man looked as immaculate as ever in a navy vest and pale blue dress shirt. A mug in his hand, Joon stared his way as he poured himself a steaming cup of coffee from the burner.

"Pivot to what?" Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Public relations, Veder-nim." Joon took a sip, the man not even wincing at the heat of the fresh cup. "A matter of controlling the narrative before they do. The weakness you lack is their biggest wound; Coil. Where they have to tread lightly on this to avoid the clear risk of you coming out with what you know, you can stomp around their garden and dare them to do something about it.”

Oh.

“Oh.” He couldn’t help but echo the simple thought, mouth falling open as he stared at the smiling Joon. …I have to tell him to give himself a raise.

“We leak the fact that it was a sniper. We emphasize the distance. We paint you as the tragic witness, because why…” The young man took another sip of his coffee. “...on earth would someone strong enough to do what you have been seen doing need to touch a gun?" 

Greg just nodded, suddenly thankful he had these guys watching his back. “Okay, so we gotta plan for how to respond, but…” He shook his head, one hand dragging down his face. "Just one thing… this wasn't random."

"Well, obviously," Theo said, turning back to the screens. "A high-caliber sniper being in position exactly when a member of the Travelsiders loses her mind? Statistically unlikely. They had to be waiting."

"Waiting for who?" Sparky rubbed at his nose as he walked up. "Bitch? Or Greg?"

"Both," A voice rumbled as the back door opened. 

Greg turned along with everyone else as a mountain of a man walked into the hideout, a smaller but no less bulky Chinese man walked in alongside him.

“Both.” Jonouchi parroted, the martial arts giant folded his arms across his chest. The Black King of the Ronin was not one for too many words but there was a good reason why Greg would have picked him for number two if he hadn’t met Seo first.

"Two birds," Jonouchi continued, bowing towards Greg before continuing with just two more words. "One stone."

“One bullet, more like,” Wesley snorted, the musclehead pulling his gold chain free of his red tank top. The Red King shook his head, still covered in bruises from getting thrown around by the dogs, but as usual, his dyed blond hair was damn near perfect. “They capped the fuck out that cape.”

"They kill Bitch," Greg nodded along without even looking at Wes, the man’s words sticking in his thoughts. "They frame me for it. Or… or-or… they make me look dangerous enough that the heroes have to come down on me."

"Boxes you in, causes chaos," Seo nodded too, more smoke curling around his face as ash dropped from between his fingers. "Make the villains hate you more because they think you’re making it an all-or-nothing. Heroes have to go harder on you too because you're a loose cannon."

"Two primary options exist in front of us. It could just be someone relying on this to cause chaos, of course." Theo turned in his chair, the swivel squeaking with a shrill sound. "Or, more likely, someone wants to remove you from the deck without doing the dirty work themselves."

Remove. It was a hard word, but it made sense; the only problem was that it could only be so many groups. Definitely not the Merchants, because that was a joke. And it couldn’t be the Sky Triad and Flying Dragons because they didn’t have any Masters either…

"It wasn't the Empire," Greg allowed himself a slow blink as he breathed out just as slowly, Theo nodding along with his words. "Or if it was, it wasn't any of the normal skinheads."

"Coil is no longer," Joon suggested, placing his coffee cup down on the counter. "This sort of thing would normally be attributed to him."

Greg looked down at his hands, teeth gritted as he pulled his bloody gloves off. Without a word, he dismissed them back to his Inventory, staring at his open palms as he squeezed them tight into fists. "Whoever did this… they made a mistake."

"Yeah, brah?" Sparky stared his way, one eyebrow high. "What's that?"

"They made me mad." The words came out thick as he spoke through clenched teeth, fire spiking in his gut as he stared down at his white-knuckled fists. "Think they can play me? Like I'm not gonna go to ground and drag them out of whatever hidey hole they’re fucking around in?"

He looked up at both his friends, at all four of his Kings; his face tight as his teeth felt sharp in his mouth. "I'm the fuckin’ Blue Eyes White Dragon."

Silence stretched.

"Du~ude," Sparky snorted. "You're doing the villain monologue thing again."