Lag 6.8 (Unbeta-ed Final Draft) (Patreon)

Lag 6.8

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

A pair of hard red boots met the top of the rooftop as their owner made contact in a deceptively silent landing. With less than a half-second’s pause, the figure was on the move again. Body blurring from the speed of a single step, the cape leapt up and into the air, clearing several rooftops with a single flip and repeating the move that led to his original landing with just as much finesse. His feet flitted on the side of a rooftop as he slowed down for a few moments, movements looking oddly like a dance. Doing so on the edge of a rooftop was not the best idea, though, as the cape let out a slight grunt of surprise as both feet stepped completely off the roof.

A half-second later, the fall turned into a blur of movement as the dark-clothed parahuman quickly spun his entire body into a forward flip. Red-gloved palms touched down before the rest of him as he landed on a shorter roof and his body flowed, twisting with the impact until he bounded upwards again, forcing himself into the air with just his hands to propel himself. Gotta work on that Acrobatics, he reminded himself as he popped back up to his feet. Can’t afford a slip like that in a fight.

Granted, he doubted that there were very many capes in the city that could even manage to stress him, let alone cause trouble to risk having to pull out any crazy flips or gymnastics worthy of getting him close to a slip-up. Hardkour paused again mid-stride, busting out another dance move on the rooftop with the raucous symphony of the night traffic as his accompanying music. Maybe I can finally unlock a dancing ability too, he grimaced behind the mask. I don’t think this is what krumping looks like. He froze, hand cupping his chin. Or maybe, I’m just really really good at it already? Rolling his eyes, the blond teenager became a burst of movement once again, legs just short of gliding over the tightly-packed buildings. Travelling by rooftop had become almost completely normal by now, nightly excursions atop Brockton Bay’s middling skyline nothing more than a routine activity for him.

Routine or not, they were a thankful break from the boring mess that was school. Today had been no different, honestly, and he was beginning to consider smashing his own head into a locker just to get a few days off — whether for health reasons or suspension from damaging school property, Greg didn’t really care. Speaking of lockers, he hadn’t seen a certain dark-skinned tough girl in a while, which was… oddly worrying.

Wait, a sec… If he was being one hundred percent honest, he wasn't sure Sophia had even been back to school this whole week. Man, I hope she’s not dead. She was all kinds of crazy and fun, he thought absently, vaulting over a large air-conditioning system. Wound up real tight, but fun still. Duncan also hadn’t been at school today, either. Unlike Sophia, Greg wasn't worried about the junior Neo-Nazi not being present at all. He was just surprised that the asshole hadn't tried to have him killed by now. Greg wasn’t sure what part of his brain had gone so weird that he was smiling at the idea of a mob of racist gangsters trying to beat him to death, but it apparently had. Man, it’s good to be me.

Cars honked below him, floodlights and streetlights fighting the darkness of the Brockton nights at street level. Engines propelled the vehicles at almost half the speed he moved several stories above them, his speed and elevation mixing with the darkness of the night and rendering him near-invisible to anyone who happened to glance up towards the street-facing buildings. Even still, his own eyes were immune to the gloom of midnight, Darkvision allowing him to see everything as if light were a simple constant. Colors may have been a bit iffy, but there was no chance of the shadows hiding anything from him now.

“He flies through the air with the greatest of ease,” he shouted into the air as a quick kick sent him into the sky again. Like a rocket, he bounded towards a distant rooftop with a spray of dust scattering across the rooftop behind him. He followed the action fluidly with a backwards handspring, and then two more, until he was flipping sideways across rooftops. “A daring young man with his dyed-black jammies,” Hardkour sang the half-remembered song with a laugh as he spun in mid-air like a top, red scarf trailing behind him like the tail of a meteor. “Something something graceful, dancing on the breeze.” With another leap, he cleared an entire street, hurtling back to the same street simply to land on another rooftop with quiet grace. With only a peal of wild laughter to emphasize his landing, Greg Veder burst forward with another inhuman rush of speed.

Tonight had pretty much been a slow night, much like the previous night. The only glaring exception was that the night before had been mostly silent, while tonight might as well have been the most peaceful night since Bakuda had lost a good fifteen or so inches from her height.

It was calm.

It was quiet.

Greg didn’t like it.

Or, more accurately, he couldn’t find it in himself to trust it. Even as he edged his way across the rim of the border to Downtown area, bounding across rooftops like a demented rabbit, the thought still made itself heard all the way from the very back of his mind. Things should be happening, it whispered. Something is wrong somewhere. People are hurting, the voice urged him every idle moment. Villains are running free. Go find them. Go stop them. Go FIGH-

The kid almost faltered mid-leap, shaking his head as he focused on the next landing in front of him. A slight touch of mana on the bottom of his soles activated just the barest hint of his Surface Adhesion and he slid across the slanted rooftop without missing a beat, bouncing back into the air the moment before he met nothing but air.

Okay, maybe I am a bit fight-happy, he thought to himself with a nod. Sparky was right. Something to work on. Maybe it was the fact that he just had too much energy now, so much in fact that barely sleeping for the better part of two weeks hadn’t even made him slip up much when it came to fighting criminals. A few slightly slow reflexes, sure, and a couple of bullets that he could have avoided if he was paying better attention, maybe, but nothing important. Maybe I actually do need sleep and I can just ignore it better now. His eyes narrowed again, filing that thought away for further research. Still, it wouldn’t do to get used to not sleeping and then end up getting thrown into Hookwolf’s giant murder-blender of a mouth, Greg thought with a wide smile.

Wait, what the… The blond’s mouth, which had beaming with a wide-toothed grin underneath his helmet-mask, closed and turned down immediately as he realized that he had actually been getting excited at the thought of Hookwolf eating him. That’s not good. That’s not good at all. Am I getting all twitchy because I’m not sleeping or…

The feeling of restlessness and eagerness to fight something had persisted ever since the ABB had crumbled apart — thanks to him, of course — and at first, he hadn’t paid it much attention, really. It was pretty easy to push the odd sensation aside to relax with his mom, making her meals and doing his best to spend time together as he took care of her.

Still, he could only ignore it for so long.

It had only been a few nights in when he had laid awake on his bed over the covers in as little clothing as he could manage, skin hot and body brimming with restless energy as he stared at the ceiling of his room. Desperate for something to do, he had tried to occupy his mind by counting the imperfections in the patterned surface above him before something seemed to give and suddenly —

Your Territory is under attack!

And just like that, he was back in business, baby!

Or, well, something close enough to it.

Fighting two-bit criminals and thugs armed with guns, knives, bats and crowbars lost their appeal real quick when he realized that these guys were painfully slow and horribly weak, even when he was holding back.

It was a good time-waster, at least, but Greg wanted more. He needed something to get his blood pumping in his ears again, and as much as they tried to be a threat, the average Nazi with an Uzi was barely a warm-up at this point. Hell, he had to goof around just to make a fight even stretch out past a few seconds when he wasn’t even using any powers, even with multiple guys ganging up on him at once. It was almost enough to make a guy go back into his room and play World of Heroes with a new character until he was at endgame content again, despite the literal hell that was.

However, a little over a week ago, his mindset had changed in a big way.

As he was loosening the teeth from some Empire goon’s jaw and scoffing at the boredom of it all, a seemingly brilliant idea had dropped into his brain, much the same way the thug’s teeth had dropped onto the sidewalk.

Not even a quest, it was a simple idea on it’s own/

A simply amazing idea, if he could say so himself (and he did). Genius, even.

And here he was, about to put another step of it into practice.

Greg dropped to the final rooftop in a silent three-point landing, as was appropriate, and remained completely silent as the figure he landed next to let out a small yelp of surprise. The yelp was followed by something of a jump backwards, the frightened young man nearly falling out of his plastic chair as it leaned too far back. Eyes wide, he let out a few more gasps of surprise, each one lowering in volume as he realized he wasn’t falling anymore, a red-gloved hand holding his plastic lawn chair from tipping back any further.

“You okay?”

Takeshi “Tak” Huoyan Lv 12

AGB Brawler

HP: 275/275

A motivated martial arts student and gymnast, the 17-year-old half-Japanese/half-Chinese Takeshi has never excelled much academically or socially. His stoic and prickly personality has done a good job at chasing off most of the people who might be his friends. In addition to his martial skill, he is also a promising artistic talent, but still chooses to remain in the ABB for whatever reason.

The young man opposite Greg quickly collected himself as all four legs of his chair met solid ground and got to his feet, shaking off what might have been either dust or crumbs from his red t-shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, the wiry teenager bent at the waist to pick up his fallen binoculars and raised his head again. The older boy offered Hardkour an uncomfortable attempt at a smile, the expression too terse and tight to really be called such. After thinking better of it, Takeshi simply sighed and nodded back. “...yeah, boss. I’m good.”

Ignoring the obvious lie, the cape in question turned his attention towards the building across the street, a renovated two-story office building built with wood unlike the usual brick of most places on this side of Downtown. “Any movement over there?”

The older teenager at his side shook his head, clearing his throat a moment later, before he replied, “Nah, boss. Place is dead. Empty since I got here and I’ve been up here since eight,” the AGB scout added on, likely to emphasize just how long he’d been waiting. “I’m guessing it’s just an old safehouse.”

“Safe house, huh?” Greg mused aloud, taking in the building once more. Well, that’s helpful, he thought to himself, his inner voice acerbic as Sparky’s own. Thanks for telling me what I figured out last night. Once again, Greg found himself wondering what he really needed the AGB for, other than using them to take care of what was now his stuff. For example, he had figured out that this place was a safehouse the night before.

Quest Failed!

Klash of Klans VIII: Road Rage

If the Empire's grunts know how to do one thing right, it's living down the ideal of the racist skinhead.

Vehicles belonging to the Empire seem to be racing through your territory, white vans specifically, firing on any ABB that tries to chase after them.

Stop the vans.

Objectives

- Stop the white Empire vans. [X]

He hadn’t bothered chasing after the vans, not in any real obvious way, simply letting them drive through ABB territory as he watched them from the rooftops. After all, by the time he had arrived, there was no one for the Empire to shoot at, the gang having gotten the message Seo put out to stay away from his fights.

A side of him had screamed at him to do something, anything, as he followed the white vans racing around and shouting slurs but another side stood strong and held the screaming part down, Greg letting patience win this round. It had taken actual effort not to jump down and flip over the Empire vehicles or rip out engines and smash in tires, even more so when he watched the vans slow down from highway velocities to speeds more appropriate in a school zone. When one of the vans actually came to a complete stop and a couple Eighty-Eighters actually stepped out of the van to wave guns around, the blond almost had to hold himself back, the thought of performing an reinforced aerial divekick through the van’s engine block flitting through his mind.

Yet, he persisted.

He simply followed along as that single van sped out of his territory, the other vans likely doing the same, not making a single move to stop the vans like the quest demanded he do. The screaming from that certain over-eager side of him only worsened as he acknowledged to himself he was willfully letting himself fail the quest, but he didn’t give up on whatever plan he had decided on. After chasing the van across town, it had finally come to a stop right here in this quiet little business outlet, parked across the building he was currently staring at right now.

Five Empire gangsters had gotten out of the van, grinning and laughing like idiots with the weapons in their hands on full display as they crossed the silent street early in the morning and headed into what should have been a simple office building. He waited and watched, eyes alert and taking in everything from across the street. Within the hour, all four of them had left the place and gone elsewhere, leaving him alone to creep around the place without being spotted. With the doors and windows locked, there was no obvious way to enter without making it clear someone had been there so the teenager had scoped out the small business place by peering through the unshuttered windows. A small two-floor "office building"  is what it may have been on the outside, but the inside made it clear that this was clearly a hideout for E88 thugs.

“And you’re sure nobody’s inside, right?” Hardkour glanced back at Takeshi, the athletic teen digging around in the backpack he had with him. “Some idiot didn’t sneak in when you weren’t looking?”

The older boy raised his head from his bag and shook it fiercely, expression set in a thin, serious line. “No one gets past me.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” Tone it down, dude. For real. The cape cast a scrutinizing glance at the large backpack Seo was still digging through, both curiosity and eagerness triggering a question. “You got what Seo told you to bring?” What I told him to tell you to bring, went unsaid.

“Yes, sir.” With another nod, he removed his hands from the bag, the backpack falling to the ground as Takeshi pulled out a small video camera from the bag. “Got it right here.”

Greg’s grin returned in full force, not that Takeshi could see it. “Good. That’s real good.” He turned his back to the minion Seo had sent on this job, taking a few steps toward the edge. His eyes locked onto the same van he had followed down here parked more than a few feet to the side of the building directly across the safehouse. “Now meet me downstairs.”

Takeshi’s blink of surprise was almost audible. “Wait, wh-”

He let himself fall.

The thirty-foot fall barely even stung, Hardkour’s knees bent to absorb the force of the drop, but even if it had hurt, the blond wouldn’t have let it bother him. Already in motion, his full focus was on the vehicle just a few meters from him, the pure white of the van from last night having been desecrated with graffiti.

On his orders, of course.

Takeshi wasn’t just here to be a lookout, after all. Greg had asked Seo to send out one of his boys that could graffiti up a car with the best of them and it hadn’t taken the Japanese man long at all to carry out that order, as odd as the man probably thought it was.

Case in point, Greg came to a pause barely a foot away from the car and began to walk around it, admiring the art work on both sides.

“You like it, boss?” came a slightly out of breath voice from behind him.

The blond didn’t bother turning around to acknowledge Takeshi, the older teenager having made great time at racing down the fire escape of the building to meet up with him. “I…” Hardkour let out a laugh, one that strayed too close to a giggle in his own opinion. Can’t giggle in front of the minions, security risk. Shutting down the laugh, he cast a glance back at Takeshi, one hand gesturing forwards at the marked van. “I freaking love this, Takeshi! It’s art!”

Truthfully, the words “Fuk U Kaiser” and “E88 Suks Dik” had never looked so beautiful in Greg’s opinion, the big tribal lettering in red and blue paint only driving home the point in his opinion.

“Thanks, boss.” Tak nodded his head in appreciation. “I finished like a good hour and a half back so it should be good to go for whatever you want to do with it.”

“Yeah.” The blond nodded along as well, voice oddly wistful as he replied. “Whatever I want to do with it.” After a moment, he glanced back at Seo. “That camera ready?”

“Yeah, just… one sec, boss.” Takeshi fumbled with the strap of the device for a few seconds, until he held the thing properly in one hand. With the other, he pushed something on the camera, one that Greg couldn’t see but was more than likely the Record button. “And three… two… one.”

Hardkour glanced back at the van and let out a quiet sigh, not expecting Takeshi’s graffiti work to be anywhere near this good. It was almost sad that such a piece of art was gonna have to go to waste like this.

Almost.

Dropping to his knees, Greg’s hands found purchase on the van’s underside and immediately let out a grunt as he attempted to rise to his feet.

“What th-”

He could feel the mass of the thing bearing down on him, threatening to force him to the ground with the full weight of almost a full three tons on top of his body. The cape drew in a lungful of stale air as he tipped the vehicle upwards, rocking it just enough for it to tip over towards him. “Nggghhhhh!”

He rocked the van again, forcing it to tip even further and forcing even more weight on his poor protesting knees and back.

+ 2 STR

220 → 222

In hindsight, he could see how this was not the best of ideas.

“Nggggh!”

In fact, it was edging rather close to what some might consider a bad idea.

Taking another breath of precious air, Greg took one of his hands, with the other one still holding the bottom as he crouched even deeper, and used the flat of his palm to support the van.

“Hrrrrrnnngggh!”

Oooh, there’s a new sound, the non-protesting side of his brain chimed in. That one too. Is that what a breaking spine sounds like? Keep going and let’s find out.

Ignoring himself, Greg prepared to do what was turning out to be one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life so far.

He rose.

+ 1 STR

222 → 223

All the strength he had worked for and acquired through his blood, sweat and other fluids screamed in pure exhilaration and something that was probably also some sort of pain as Greg pushed them all for the purpose of pure upward thrust.

There was no Reinforcement to make this easier. No special magic skill that he pulled out of his ass to ease the pain. Just his own pure muscle. Only me, A trembling Greg thought with excitement, blood boiling at his own self-induced challenge. Anything Reinforcement can do, I can do better.

+ 1 STR

223 → 224

He ignored the second notification as best he could and attempted to rise further. With only a slight stagger, the blond reared up even further, more than halfway along the way to his full height. His breath came hard and heavy but he did his best to ignore it, well aware that he wasn’t anywhere close to exhausted. You got this.

“Nnnnggghhhh!!”

Okay, maybe a little Reinforcement couldn’t hurt.

+ 2 VIT

201 → 203

On the other hand, though, he was getting one hell of a workout.

"...why… ngggghhh… is this… nggh… so… frickin'... heav-Nnnggghhh-gaaAAAAHhh!"

- 40

Both his arms jerked as he screamed for all he was worth. Hurling the vehicle in his arms forward with as much strength he could muster in an instant, the weight on his body thankfully vanished, the pain and sudden red glow of light along with it. Almost immediately, the blond dropped to his knees with both hands slapping hard on the asphalt. Forehead dripping with sweat from exertion, he stared down at the ground and let out a long groan.

“!!!!!!!!!”

The indescribable din of crumpling metal and crumbling wood and brick resounded through the street and drowned out whatever noise he could have made, and the continuing noise of shattering glass and falling building materials muffled his further noises of various physical complaints.

“HOLY FUCK!” Another voice made itself heard over the noise, the other teenager on the street unable to control himself. “HOLY FUCKING FUCK!”

Greg Veder grinned.

Suck my dick, Kaiser.