MOB 5.5 (Unbeta-ed Final Draft) (Patreon)

Hope you enjoy.

Mob 5.5

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Speak of the devil…

Greg blinked as he quickly ducked his head, confusion flitting across his expression as he mulled over his last few thoughts. Did I just call Mom the devil? What the hell is wrong with me?

“Greg?”

His mother’s voice met his ears again, the boy forcing himself not to let out a relieved sigh at the sound of her soft voice once again. It wasn’t that she hadn’t spoken to him at all since their fight. His mom wasn’t the type to keep up the silent treatment for long at all. It just wasn’t in her, Greg knew that much. What had been eating at him was that when she would speak, she just didn’t sound like she wanted to talk to him. So, right now, hearing her voice without any of the annoyance or bitterness that had been present over the last few days was… 

Well, it felt good.

Ugh….Shaking his head as if to physically dislodge his own mopey thoughts, Greg finally lifted his head to stare up at his mother. She stood roughly a meter away from him, taking up space in the center of the hallway while he sat slumped up against the wall, knees curled up to his face. The fluorescent light directly behind her head seemed to scatter around her hair, giving his mom’s face a slight glow that seemed to cut through her slightly frazzled and exhausted state.

The look on her face was hard to decipher, apart from looking vaguely negative, but even then, Greg couldn't prevent himself from smiling despite the slight frown on her own face. With a slight grunt, simply out of habit than any legitimate effort, the young man pulled himself to his feet and gave his mom a closed-mouth smile that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck down to see. “Hey, Mom.”

A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two of them before his mother broke it, opening her mouth as a slightly forced smile made its way onto her face. “How… how are you feeling?”

“Uhhhh…” Greg blinked, unsure exactly how to respond to that one. 

How am I feeling? It was a question with too many answers, Greg realized, and none of them were responses he felt like sharing with his mother, at least not right now. Chewing his lip, the boy turned his face aside as he gave his mom a weak shrug, simply sighing after another pregnant pause between the two of them. “... I don’t know. Fine… I guess.”

“What?” The word came out in a low whisper, almost a hiss as Susan’s hands went to her hips, the woman striking a pose that was essentially instinctive to all mothers by this point. The look Susan sent him was filled with all sorts of motherly indignation, another thankful reprieve from the legitimate tension that had been part of the last few days. “You think this is… fine?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” For a moment, Greg had to fight the urge to smirk at his mother as she did a small double take at his words, the baffled expression spreading across her face warring with her common sense as she looked her son up and down slowly and carefully. “It’s not that bad.”

“But you...” Susan paused, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds as she tried to grasp for the words, “you look…” 

There was another pause from the blonde nurse, her hands falling from her hips to hang at her sides. Greg could almost feel the exhaustion sink into her expression as she seemed to slump slightly, her shoulders drooping as she shook her head and asked him slowly, “Just… what happened to you, sweetie?’

What do I even say to that? Greg thought to himself as he stared back at his mom, utterly unsure as to how he was to answer. Even if he had a whole week to come up with a question, the teen worried that he might still be as lost for words as he was right now, at least in regards to his mother. Seriously, what am I supposed to say to that?

“I…” Greg paused, the thought of telling his mother the truth coming to mind for a long moment.

“Greg?”

He winced at the sound of his mom's voice, somehow managing to plead with a single word.

“Sweetie...”

Finally, he relented.

“I don't know,” he hissed out loud, the sound more like a rough whisper without any heat to Greg's voice.

Tired, pleading blue eyes stared into his, his mother taking a slow, careful step toward him. “Greg… please. I know you don't feel like talking to me right now-”

Oh, so I’m the one not talking now? Greg couldn't help biting back in response to his mother's attempt at the silent treatment the last few days, free from reproach in his own thoughts.

“-but I need to know,” she continued to plead. “You don't understand what it's like as a mother, seeing your child like this. Please, Greg.”

“Mom…” The boy in question shook his head again, struggling to think as his head seemed to pound. The frigid air of the waiting room didn’t do much to ease him into a sense of comfort, air conditioning biting at his skin and forcing a slight shudder from him before Greg could even open his mouth once more. “Mom, it’s… it’s not that. I really don’t know.”

The disbelieving expression on his mom’s face didn’t shift, Greg sighing as he began to speak again. “Seriously.”

Susan let out a sigh of her own, tilting her head forward slightly as she took another cautious step forward, now less than half a meter away from her own son. “Then what can you tell me?”

“Me and Emma…” Greg paused to lick his lips, grimacing a moment later as he tasted nothing but dried blood, ash and dirt on his tongue. “We were just finishing up lunch at this place downtown when… I dunno, everything just started shaking…” 

His grimace deepened, becoming a full-blown scowl as Greg recalled how stupid he had been, not simply running out of the restaurant. Emma would have followed him if he had made it seem more urgent, after all. It was all because he was dumb enough to downplay how serious everything was.

“That was probably more places exploding all around us, now that I think about it,” he continued, his voice lowering to barely above a mumble as he bit his lip. “Then there was this weird humming noise and a big flash of light and the whole building just… it just fell apart… right on top of us. That’s all I really know. Everything else I got from...” He shrugged, gesturing up at the closest TV, “...well, there, I guess… Mom?”

Greg’s nose wrinkled, the blond pulling a face at the slight gasp his mom let out, her face pale at what her son had just described. “It wasn’t… wasn’t that bad, Mom. Not like what you’re thinking,” he paused, grimacing at his own words. At least, I hope not.  “I mean, some stuff fell on Emma but I pushed that off and got her out of there. Nothing really happened to me.” Unless you count some broken glass in my skin and a few cuts here and there as nothing.

Her shocked expression faded slightly as Greg explained, shifting into a parental worry that seemed on the verge of panic.

“And… the… the blood?” Susan whispered, fingers twitching as she glanced at Greg’s body, a large part of his visible skin and the remainder of his tattered clothes stained with the dull brown of dried blood. “Where did that… all that come from?”

Greg shut his eyes. And there it is.

Opening them again, the blond tried his best to shoot his mom a reassuring grin, quickly abandoning that route when he remembered that his teeth were still stained with blood, the saliva in his mouth doing a good job at keeping what remained fresh. In short, his mouth was a horror show and showing that to his mother was absolutely a terrible idea.

Instead, the blond tilted his head to the side and shrugged. “Well… if it makes you feel better, none of it’s mine,” he lied. A good chunk of it, of course, was his and Greg knew that. Still. it wouldn’t do any good to tell his mother that. Yeah, I lost a ton of blood, ma, but I’m not hurt… somehow. Don’t bother checking for wounds. You won’t find any.

“I’m just fine,” he asserted. “Really.”

If anything, his words seemed to make things worse as his mother almost looked heartbroken, the implications of Greg’s statement likely hitting her. Susan paused, raising a hand to her mouth as she surveyed his body, likely taking in how haggard and beaten he looked. The slight tears in her eyes only brought another mental groan to the forefront of Greg’s mind.

Not for the first time, Greg couldn’t help but wish that his powers fixed his appearance as well whenever his HP returned to fool. Looking like a zombie didn’t really help his case right now.

Unable to come up with anything else to say, Susan Veder simply shook her head and continued with a soft, ”...your hair.”

Greg winced. Ughh, great. Now, I feel like the bad guy.

Fighting the urge to wince again at his own bitter thoughts, Greg simply raised a hand to his hair and frowned at the feeling of it. Thick, matted locks laid flat on his skull, all the usual life and bounce gone from his hair. Thankfully, nothing dripped from it anymore the way it did when he was still stuck in that building but that was only the smallest of victories, really. As it was, much of his hair remained clumped together with the aid of a mix of dirt, sweat, blood and small pieces of building material so thick and viscous that Greg wouldn’t be surprised if it could be used as a suitable replacement for actual mortar.

Even without a mirror, he could tell everything above his forehead was an absolute mess. 

“Yeah… nothing a good shower won’t fix, though.” He did his best to work his mouth up into another closed smile, his mom obviously not buying the attempt at a positive expression judging by the continued look of apprehension on her face. 

Susan’s look of panicked worry shifted slightly but didn’t exactly fade, Greg realizing that his mom wasn’t yet done questioning him by the look on her face. Before she could even get a word out, he opened his mouth to change the subject and, bereft of ideas, simply spoke the first words on his mind, unburdened by any trivial things like forethought or social mores.

“How is she?”

How is she? Greg winced at his own lack of conversational skill, the situation suddenly apparent to him as his own words echoed in his head. Have you ever heard of a segue, you idiot?

The words had left his mouth in a rush, Greg unable to stop himself as soon as the thought popped into his head. He had been wondering it for a while and with a free moment, the words had simply jumped out without him paying attention. 

Truth be told, it wasn’t as if he was asking the question out of the blue. His mother had been one of the nurses to take Emma away from the EMT’s, moving her into another room and away from Greg. That had been well over twenty minutes ago and for his mom to be free enough to come see him, well…

Something had to have happened.

Whether it was good or bad was another question entirely.

“She?” Susan blinked, staring at Greg with all the confusion one would expect from such a rapid change in topic. “What?”

Greg shook his head. “Emma, Mom. The girl I came in here with.” He sighed as his mom's expression shifted, preferring the confusion to the frustrated look she now wore. “How is she?”

His mother’s mouth again twisted in an expression that Greg couldn’t really decipher, the only thing he could get from it being a vague sense of distaste. “Oh, your… your little girlfriend...”

“Mmmhmm.” Greg gave a slow nod, dutifully pretending not to notice the deepening sour expression on his mother’s face as he turned to glance at a few of the other people in the waiting room. He could almost feel the beginning of a familiar headache building up in the back of his skull, his mom's dismissive attitude toward Emma definitely not helping it.

His eyes flickered from person to person for a few seconds, Greg's headache almost seeming to build the longer he did so. The blond paused, attention caught by something odd enough to peak his interest. A rather old Chinese woman in bulky clothes sitting near the main entrance doors stared back at him, blinking slowly with milky eyes. 

Greg held her gaze for a few seconds before finally turning back to face his mother, the headache dulling enough for him to focus. “Her name’s Emma, Mom. I’ve mentioned that a couple times… but, yeah… I just want to know.”

There was another silent moment between them, the hurried and chaotic sounds of the emergency room around them not doing much to ease the tension. 

“... She’s not critical,” Susan finally offered after several long moments.

Greg let out a breath, a relieved smile bursting across his face. It was small, admittedly, but it was undeniable compared to the morose expression he had been wearing. “Really?”

“Yes. That doesn’t exactly say a lot, though,” she continued with a slight frown, hands falling loose at her sides. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this but…” His mother sighed again, the sound coming from deep inside her as her body seemed to slump with the sound. “From what we know already, she has a break in her leg and in at least two other places, a few cuts — pretty deep ones, too — and some heavy bruising on her legs and chest. Worst case scenario, she’s also bleeding internally but we can’t exactly be sure yet...” 

The smile on the blond boy’s face faded slightly.

“On top of all that, she’s still unresponsive.” His mother shook her head with a sigh, raising one hand to cup her mouth. “We need to run some tests to be sure of anything else, so for now…”

“That’s all you know.”

Susan sighed again, the frustration visible in her face seeming to melt away the longer she stared at her son. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but yes, that's all we know right now.”

Greg felt his own expression drooping, his smile falling away at his mother's words. Before a response to her words could even come to mind, the boy had to blink as his mother leaned in even closer, the border of personal space long having been broken as her nose nearly touched his.

“None of that."

“None of…” He blinked, not even bothering to hide the confusion that he felt. “Of… what?”

“I know that look, Greg.” Susan leaned back, her hands returning back to her sides to make the traditional “Super-Mom" pose and shot her son a knowing glance, the effect only slightly ruined by her frazzled hair and general air of tiredness. “You're about to mope. I can tell you from experience that letting yourself wallow is not going to help anything. That gir-” 

Susan stopped herself from continuing, a palm rising to rub at her eyes for a few moments before she reopened them with a sigh. “Emma’s... condition is stable and as far as I can tell, that's not going to change. She’s gonna be okay. Just…” 

Susan shook her head again, seemingly lost for words for a second. “Just be happy for that, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetie?”

“I… I…” Greg sighed and shook his head, fighting a slight shudder as his headache seemed to intensify for a moment before dulling back to a seemingly ever-present pulse. The blond his gaze to fix his mother with a smile as bright as he could manage at the moment, still fighting through the annoying sensation. “I think I can do that, mom.”

“Good,” Susan’s face lit up slightly, her own smile only slightly less strained than the one on Greg’s face. “That’s… good.” After a moment, her gaze flicked back to him, roaming over his grime-encrusted body. His mom raised her arm, fingers outstretched as if to touch his shoulder. The thought crossed Greg’s mind to lean away, to pull back from his mother’s touch simply so she wouldn’t stain her fingers with the grime that coated nearly every inch of him.

Greg didn’t have to do anything of the sort, though, as she pulled back of her own volition, her expression shifting towards an odd sort of playful exasperation that Greg hadn’t seen in his own mom for a while as she stared down at her son. “You know… I haven’t seen you this filthy since you were a toddler…” 

Her lips quivered as she fought off what was clearly a smile struggling to find its place on her face. “You used to love rolling in grass for no reason. Not the slide or the see-saw or the swings… Every single time I took you to the park, it was almost always the grass you ran straight to. I tried to stop you so many times but the second I took my eyes off you, you ran right back to that grass like it was catnip. You always came back to me, though, waddling with grubby little hands full of grass and dirt…” 

She pursed her lips, the smile on her lips letting itself out for a single moment as she let out a shaky laugh, turning her head away from Greg as her hand rose to dab at her eyes. “...and bugs. You loved bugs. Ants were your favorite, you know.”

“Mom?”

“You liked the way they smelled, I think.” With that, she turned watery eyes to stare at Greg. “God, you have no idea how much I miss that.”

Huh… Greg blinked, not really understanding what his mom was getting at. Okaaay.

“Ughhh, enough about that. Enough about me,” Susan let out another sigh, raising the back of her hand to her face “You need to get clean… You need a shower. Something to wear too.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, his mom’s words actually striking a note with him. “Wait, you guys have a shower in here?”

“Of course we do,” his mom replied, the words coming out with an odd-sounding one-note chuckle as she moved a strand of hair out of her face, “...for patients. You’re not exactly on that list right now because” — the odd laugh returned for another moment — ”... you’re just fine, apparently.”

Greg fidgeted uncomfortably against the wall, again wondering where his mom was going with this. “Sooooo?”

“No, that’s not gonna work.” Susan let out a low sigh, locking gazes with her son once more and allowing Greg to see the growing bags under his mother’s eyes as she stared into his. “You’re gonna have to head home and clean up.”

Head home?

“Head home?” Greg echoed, blinking in confusion. “How? The city’s still being bombed, Mom.” He tilted his head to the side, still lost as to where his mom was coming from with this. “I’m pretty sure the buses aren’t running right now and I’m like a hundred percent sure the taxis aren’t.”

“Still?” Susan raised an eyebrow as she shot Greg an inquisitive look. “No, all that craziness stopped about an hour ago. The bombings only lasted a few minutes, really.”

“A few minutes?” Greg could hardly believe it. “A few minutes?”

“That’s what they said on TV,” his mother replied back far too calmly. “We didn’t even know anything was happening over here until people started flooding into the emergency room and the news started reporting on it. I’m pretty sure anyone not watching TV right now outside of Downtown barely even knows something happened. To be honest, no one even knows who’s doing all this.”

What? Greg leaned back against the wall, blinking rapidly as he tried to reconcile this information with what he had been through. “But everything was shaking.. It… I thought the whole city could feel it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, sweetie…” Susan said with a shrug, offering her son a reassuring glance as he stared back in shock. “From what the news said, the blasts mostly stuck to a single part of Downtown, really. At most a few blocks here and there. They think it could be a new villain or something.”

“Huh.” Greg could only reply with dull surprise, finding it hard to believe that the hellzone he had made it through had been limited to “just a few blocks here and there”. All this worry over the state of the city and he had just been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. Huh.

“Anyway,” his mother continued, speaking slightly faster as she glanced from side to side, eyes surveying the packed waiting room once more, “there’s shuttles outside dropping people off at parts of Town. Take the one headed by the Docks and just bunker down at home, okay? Can you do that for me, please?”

Greg blinked again, getting his head together as he fought back the beginning of another tingling headache. “Uhhh… yeah, yeah… I think I can do that.” The teen glanced down at the double doors where he had watched Emma get wheeled through, allowing himself to realize something as his thoughts drifted to her. Reaching into his trouser pocket, Greg quietly muttered the word “Inventory”. With that, he quickly pulled out a pink device from the virtually endless holding space he had at his disposal and held the phone out to his mom.

“C-c… Could you give this to Emma? I mean…” He shook his head again, the tingle in his head shifting to a full-blown throbbing sensation for a moment. “I mean, could you put this in her room… or on her hospital bed… or wherever you can leave it for her, I guess? And, uh… If she wakes up, could you call me?”

She took the phone from his hand carefully, not even flinching as the grime on Greg’s fingers left a stain on hers. “I will. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Mom.” The young man moved forward, stepping around his mom carefully as he glanced over at the door. “Uhh… I’d hug you but uh…”

“I know… you’re filthy.” His mom shook her head, the slightest of smiles on her face. “It’s okay. I’ll see you when I get home.”

Greg nodded, turning around again. The boy took a few steps forward, only to pause and glance back. “Mom…” 

The older blonde glanced up from the pink phone in her hands to stare back at her son smiling at her, the first real and natural smile she had seen on him in the last few days. 

“Thanks. Y’know… for everything.” His face lit up, smile finally reaching all the way up to his eyes as he looked right into hers. “You’re the best mom anyone could ask for and… I know I don’t say it enough but… thank you.”

And just like that, Greg turned and walked off towards the automatic entrance doors, making his way past dozens of people patiently waiting for their turn to receive treatment.

“Greg!”

The boy in question halted his forward movement, blinking slowly as he turned back around to face his mom, the woman stepping quickly to catch up with him. “Uh… yeah, Mom?”

“I…” Susan bowed her head as she came to a stop, one hand fidgeting with the hem of her scrub top while the other hung loose at her side. “I… I just want you to know…”

What’s going on now? Greg could only wonder to himself, a single eyebrow raised in both expectation and confusion. He ignored the looks from several people waiting in line to get to the ER’s front desk, too focused on what was in front of him to even care that he was only a few remaining strands of cloth away from being half-naked. “Mom, are you oka-”

“I’m fine,” she responded quickly, no real heat in her voice as she forcefully dismissed Greg’s question. “It’s just…” She stopped again, head still bowed. 

“Okay…” Letting out a low shaky breath, the blonde woman raised her head and Greg spotted the slightest of tears at the sides of her eyes, fighting to fall as his mother stared at him. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Greg opened his mouth, eyes wide as he realized what his mom was trying to do. “Mom, you don’t need t-”

“Greg... please… Just let me.” She somehow managed to sound annoyed and apologetic at the same time, Greg shutting his mouth with a sharp click that would have been audible if not for the people around them drowning out all other noise with their ambient din. 

He watched his mother exhale another shaky breath before she opened her mouth again. “I said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have said a few days ago, things that were my problem. You never needed to hear them and I made them your fault when… when they weren’t and they never have been.”

She glanced back at Greg, her expression softening as she looked at him closely. “I know that I have a problem when it comes to letting things go and you must feel frustrated because it feels… it feels like I smother you a bit. I’m sorry, okay… It’s just…” Susan chuckled slightly, the sound not coming out with any sense of mirth. “You may not understand but sweetie, you’re… you’re all I have left.”

Oh.

“And… and sometimes, I’m worried that if I don’t hold on, you’ll just be gone or get hurt or… run away and you have no idea how much I worry about something like that.” She laughed that humorless laugh again, lips pursing as she tamped down on it. “It’s literally my worst nightmare… but you’re growing up and I get that.”

“Mom…” Greg replied with all the depth and eloquence expected of him, staring right as his mother with a complicated expression. I… I didn’t think she was gonna say sorry. Do I say sorry back or do I say something else? I thought we were just gonna act like this never happened. Maybe if I just tell her I have Asperger’s, I won’t have to say anything else.

“I never should have compared you to your father. You’re not him. You’ll never be him and that’s a great thing. You’re my little boy and I would never want you to feel like I don’t love you.” Susan raised a hand, as if reaching out to touch Greg before thinking better of it. “So, I’m sorry… for everything. Understand?”

Hngggh. Of course, Greg. You had to go and imply your own mom doesn’t love you because that’s not a dick move, right? Jesus, is it possible for me to feel any guiltier right now? Blinking as his thoughts passed by in a rush, Greg nodded slowly at his mom, his eyes shifting from side to side as he tried to get his thoughts together. “Mom, you didn’t need to say all that. I should be the one apolo-”

His attempt to rebuff his mother’s words were met with a level stare from the women herself, Greg quickly closing his mouth. “Okay, okay, fine… yeesh. I’m not gonna apologize, then.”

“Good,” his mom replied with an even tone. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Oh, look at that. Looks like it is possible. Suppressing a mental groan at both his rising guilt and throbbing headache, Greg raised a hand to cradle his forehead. 

“I… Mom, look…  I’m… I’m me… I’m your son, Mom. I’m never gonna stop being… that, you know.” His hand fell back to his side, Greg staring directly into his mom’s face as he continued speaking. “I mean, like, eventually, I’m gonna move out and stuff but… it’s not like I’m gonna leave the city or anything so, I’ll always be close by, right? And even then… I’m still gonna need help and like life tips, and for you to teach me what taxes and mortgages and insurance is all about… someone to help me do laundry and I dunno... you have a Costco card. I don’t know how to get one of those. I don’t even know where Costco is...”

“Greg… sweetie, I’m not s-”

“I know,” The teen raised his hands up to his face, groaning slightly. “I know, I’m rambling but seriously, you always packed the best lunches. I know I told you to stop making them for me but I was being stupid ‘cause they were awesome…. and you always put a Fruit Roll-Up in there.”

Susan tilted her head, eyebrows raised as her mouth opened in a slight, “O”.

“Every lunch, a Fruit Roll-Up. Always my favorite too which is like crazy, cause I’m pretty sure I never told you which one was my favorite. You could just tell stuff like that. That’s like top-tier Mom stuff. Like, seriously, Mom, you’re awesome. And… and no matter what, I’ll always need you cause you’re, like, my awesome mom, okay?”

CHA + 1

Susan Veder simply stared at her son for a long moment, lips pursed in a tight line before she gave a slow shake of her head and a laugh spilled out. “...Thank you, sweetie. It’s good to know that I’ll always be needed for fruit roll-ups.”

“Ughhh, Mom… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m not sure I want to know how you meant it.” Susan laughed behind her hand, her eyes alight with mirth as Greg’s shoulders slumped. “Just go already, Greg. I have to get back to the ICU and I don’t want you to miss that shuttle.”

Greg nodded at his mom one last time and turned around, taking several quick steps as he hurried towards the automatic doors. Several waiting patients leaned away as he walked down the aisle of chairs, none of them seeming eager to come into contact with him. Not even paying attention to them, Greg continued forward as the hospital entrance opened in front of him, the boy taking the brisk New England air to his mostly bare chest with nothing more than a slight grimace

Well, it’s not like I didn’t know it was gonna be kinda cold. With a shrug, Greg took a step forward only to pause, eyes widening slightly. The blonde took a few steps back, frowning in slight confusion as a short, stout figure moved past him, moving quickly enough that they nearly ran into him. He would have described it as fast enough to be a jogging pace if the person hadn’t been moving so oddly, each step an ungainly, staggering gait. Who-

Before he could even finish the question in his own head, the person glanced back at him and Greg found himself making eye contact with the same elderly Chinese lady from before, wrapped in a voluminous winter jacket, her milky eyes staring back at him. Without so much as a second look back, the old woman continued her waddle, moving into the next place in line to ask questions at the receptionist desk.

Is… is she wearing a fur coat? In fucking Spring? The blond blinked as his headache suddenly returned in full force, a slight groan leaving his lips as he felt himself shudder from the cold air still entering the hospital.

Whatever. He shook his head and glanced back, wondering what the weird woman had to be so rude for when he caught sight of his mom still standing at the same place looking back at him. 

She raised her hand and waved at him, a smile on her face and Greg returned it, waving back for a few seconds before heading out into through the automatic doors once again. Stepping outside, Greg wasn’t sure what he expected to see… Well, other than a group of buses with a crowd of people waiting to board, at least.

What he hadn’t expected was the police cars that surrounded the buses themselves, along with officers in kevlar vests flanked by PRT officers in heavy armor and mirrored visors hiding their faces.

In the center of all of this, standing at the very edge of the hospital courtyard,  was someone that stood out from everyone else here, someone he definitely hadn’t expected. Standing there with arms spread out out and lacking neither the haggard look of the people waiting to be boarded on to the shuttles or the rigid uniformity of the officers on either side of him was a cape.

A golden lion head, vibrant and imposing, in the shape of a helmet framed a strong face. While the eyes were hidden by an opaque visor jutting from the lion’s maw itself, the smile below all that warm and charismatic enough to detract slightly from the imposing nature of the helm. Lions were a repeating theme for the cape, appearing on his shoulder pads and jutting out from his thick golden belt. Segmented and skintight body armor along with a golden set of greaves and gauntlets, claws in a form reminiscent of lion’s claws, served to complete the heroic look, leaving you without a doubt where this figure stood.

Triumph. 

Huh. Made sense they’d send him down here, I guess. Greg knew of the cape, the man himself having been on the Wards for a bit before moving on to the Protectorate as everyone expected he would. His powers were impressive enough, some mild super strength with the durability to match and sound manipulation destructively powerful enough for Greg to give him an estimated Blaster rating of 7.

Still, more than just being a powerhouse, Triumph looked the part of a hero and it showed.

The crowd’s commotion was audibly oppressive as they waited to be boarded onto the shuttles, the noise from the people fighting the the rumbling engines of each white bus as they idled at the end of the street. Even as the people lined up in front of their chosen shuttles, each person’s focus seemed to be centered on the lion-helmed cape in the center of them all.

He stood directly in front of the shuttle, right below the words ‘Downtown Coast East’, seemingly sharing words with several worried-looking people. Despite being much too far away to actually hear anything, Greg had no doubt that the cape was trying to reassure them as best he could.

More than anything, Triumph was doing a good job at it. 

Much like most of the Protectorate, Triumph had a certain air to him that attracted attention in a way that went past the costume alone, something that Greg found himself struggling to really describe. Whatever it was, it was enough to make people look at him as important, or listen when he spoke. It was this same air that Greg had marveled at when he was younger, long before he found himself face to face with capes in his own right. After you get fingered by Lung, a guy dressed up as the cowardly lion isn’t all that impressive, i guess.

Still, as much as Greg joked about it, he could still feel that same sense of presence as he looked over at Triumph. Something about him just drew your attention, making you pay attention to the guy. Maybe it’s his posture. Greg tilted his head to the side, giving the gladiator-themed cape a once-over as he neared the end of the hospital courtyard.. Yeah, that guy has really good posture. Really heroic stance too. Wonder if he practices that.

A tired smirk pulled at the side of Greg’s lips at the thought of Triumph standing in front of a mirror in nothing but a pair of lion-themed boxers while practicing heroic poses. Another thought crossed his mind a moment later, wiping his smirk away and pulling his mouth down into a thoughtful frown. A Protectorate cape standing right in front of me. Huh… when else am I gonna have the chance, right?

The smirk returned, slightly more visible than before as Greg opened his mouth.

“Observe.”

Triumph Lvl 40

Roaring Lion

HP: 800/800

A respected member of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and a great singer on his own merits, Triumph was assigned here to reassure the public and provide protection to Brockton Central Hospital in the wake of the recent ABB terror attack. Spends a lot of time watching baseball or wishing he was playing the game.

Greg froze, eyes widening slightly as he finished reading the information his skill had just placed in front of him, a look of shock on his face. The ABB did this? He felt his mouth open slightly, words failing him as he tried to comprehend what he just learned. But… but why? How could they ev-

Observe Lvl Up!

9→11

His thoughts halted as Greg’s hands flew to his forehead, the blond fighting a wince as his headache spiked in intensity for no reason. The blond let out a low shudder as the sensation began to ebb away, Greg wincing all the while and internally cursing the fact that he didn’t get something like Headache Resistance. 

Shaking his head, the boy’s attention returned to the Azn Bad Boys and why — and how — they could have possibly pulled off something like those bombings. I mean, I guess they have Oni Lee… Greg found himself musing as he kneaded his forehead with both hands, but… if it was Oni Lee, the news would mention something like that, right? People seeing a teleporting ninja in a demon mask right before a huge explosion would definitely make th-

The blond froze once more, another shudder rolling down his spine yet again, his headache spiking ever so slightly. Blue eyes widened further as he felt his heartbeat pound in his chest like a drum. Oh…

That shudder… the headache…

Oh.

[Danger Sense.] Fucking Danger Sense.

Oh fuck.

I didn’t realize… the headaches…. Shit! Goddamnit! His eyes darted from side to side rapidly, pupils dilated as a wave of worried fear hit him. Not again…

Without warning, Greg’s phone blared to life in his left pocket, violently shocking the blond out of his own thoughts and drawing the stares of several in the short line in front of him. He winced, surprise from the sudden ringing and vibration in his pocket nearly making him jump out of his own skin. I don’t have time for this right now.

The blond continued to stare around him, fists clenched tightly at his side as he wondered what was about to happen now. The last time his Danger Sense had made itself known so obviously was right before a building collapsed on top of him and even then, it had never been so violent or painful as this repeated streak of migraines had been. Okay, okay… let’s think about this carefully. We have armed police, PRT and a Protectorate hero here, Greg rationalized to himself, glancing at each of them in turn. Anything that happens can be handled, right? Everything’s safe. Everything is s— 

Goddamnit! Greg nearly let the curse slip from his lips as his phone blared again, the loud ringtone repeated itself with a new set of annoyingly shrill beeps. Not right now! Angrily jerking the phone from his trouser pocket, the blond found himself blinking, anger melting away as he stared at the caller ID on the screen.

Mom? An exasperated sigh spilled from his lips as he continued blinking at the smartphone itself, wondering why his mom would be calling now of all times. A niggling voice at the back of his head told him to ignore the call but Greg pushed that thought to the side and swiped the screen to accept the call. 

Putting the phone to his ear, Greg did his best to make his voice upbeat as he spoke four simple words. “Hey, Mom. What’s u-”

At least he tried to.

Before the last syllable could escape him in full, the blond lurched as another violent shudder wracked his body. He recovered a moment later, hearing his mom’s voice on the other side of the phone as she spoke to him. Strangely, everything she said seemed distant, Greg barely able to make out any words as the world seemed to slow down around him.

Without so much as a thought, Greg’s head snapped back to face the hospital he had just left, the blond’s eyes widening as he realized something else. No.

As his eyes locked onto the door, he felt his head beginning to pulse with what felt like the beginnings of another headache. No.

Greg spun, kicking off the ground with a superhuman display of speed. No.

His already ruined shoes flew off after the first step he took, soles falling apart as his feet blurred. A grimace crossed his face as the pain in his head intensified like a sunburst. He ignored it, pushing it into the depths of his mind as he forced himself to move through the long path of the hospital courtyard as fast as he could. No. No. No. No.

Several meters away from the automatic doors, the blond’s eyes widened as he spotted an old Asian woman standing amidst a crowd of shocked patients look up with a teary face. Her hands jerked open her fur coat and Greg’s heart sunk in his chest,  the sight of wires and a digital clock strapped to her chest sending an entirely unrelated set of chills down his spine. No! 

At that same exact moment, the blond heard the sound of a shrill scream among many others echoing from both the phone in his hand and the building just out of his reach. A vibrant corona of red and gold light surrounded his body and vanished in the same instant as Greg burst forward, hand outstretched.

-70

Wha- The blond faltered and stumbled to the ground, a groan spilling from his lips as a series stabbing pain surged through his legs all at one. His face hit the ground just inches away from the automatic door itself, unable to move as the nerves in his lower body seemed to scream at him to stop as light themselves on fire. What? NO!

Greg Veder glanced up, eyes locking on to a terrifying sight.

00:00

“Mo-!”

The word died on his lips, choked to nothing as the world was consumed in a wave of light, force and the sound of shattered glass.