Lag 6.21 (Patreon)

Lag 6.21

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Approaching the dilapidated structure of Winslow High, Greg Veder couldn't help but feel a wave of cynicism wash over him. The school, with its peeling paint and graffiti-tagged walls, stood as a stark reminder of the negligence it suffered, nestled in the heart of Brockton Bay's Docks South area. The building's rundown exterior mirrored the city's gloom, its lack of care evident in every cracked window and rusted railing.

School. Great.

The thought dripped with sarcasm as Greg took his first step onto the school grounds proper, the air of the campus matching his mood - unenthusiastic and cynical. The pathway leading to the main entrance was littered with trash, just to show how much people cared.

His expression, a blank smile lacking its usual intensity, barely changed as he navigated through the clusters of students loitering around the entrance. Despite his attempts to blend in, whispers and stares followed him, a residual effect of his recent scuffle with some Empire juniors the Friday before.

But Greg paid them no attention, eyes dull as his thoughts went somewhere else.

The night before still weighed heavily on his mind. It was supposed to be his big debut as Void Cowboy, the persona he had meticulously crafted, the one that was truly 'him'. But instead of a grand unveiling, it turned into a humiliating… humiliation. I can't believe I let myself get punked by some two-bit villains, he thought, frustration simmering within. And a literal trash-tier cape... what a joke. What were the Merchants even doing there?

White Knight’s fights with Lung and Hardkour’s clash with Oni Lee had left him feeling like a real, serious cape, and had made him think that Prodigy was up there with the big-leagues.

But Void Cowboy? That was a different story.

The embarrassment he faced the night before was a bitter pill to swallow, especially considering the effort he had poured into superhero work.. I should have seen it coming, should've been quicker, sharper... he degraded himself internally.

As he swerved to avoid some giggling girls in his path, his thoughts were interrupted as someone tried to brush past him, a shoulder bashing his own. "Watch it, Veder," an annoying voice sneered.

With barely more than a thought to guide his actions, Greg pushed back with his own shoulder, patience wearing thin even as he kept his force minimal. "You watch it, Tenorman," he growled at the boy in the letterman jacket. The jock's surprise was evident, and the surrounding students couldn't help but laugh and whisper at the sight of the football player being put in his place.

Figures. Satisfied with his small victory, Greg continued towards the school entrance, his mind drifting back to the previous night once more. The embarrassment, the mockery he must be facing on the forums, what PHO was probably talking about, it all gnawed at him. He'd planned to stay offline for a while, to let the heat die down. At least for a week, maybe more.

But the replay of his mistakes still burned.

He tried to shake off the thoughts, focusing instead on the day ahead. Thinkin’ about it won't change anything, he reminded himself. Today was a new day, and he'd just have to face it head-on.

“Told you to step the fuck back, slant!” Greg’s frown deepened at the slur, the angry word pulling him out of his irritated thoughts.

His eyes narrowed as his gaze snapped up, instinctively scanning for the source. Why can't one day at this place be normal? His thoughts were interrupted again as a kid with a phone in hand clumsily collided with him. The kid mumbled an apology, eyes wide with a mix of fear and anticipation, clearly more interested in recording the scene than being part of it. What the- Greg followed after and rushed forward, moving no faster than a normal person, and pushed his way into the middle of a small circle already forming around the front doors of Winslow.

Both hands moved instinctively as a figure charged in his direction and another nearly stumbled to the floor, his attention barely on his actions before he was already done. In one swift motion, Greg's palm caught Logan's fist, stopping it dead in its tracks, while his other hand grabbed the collar of the smaller boy's shirt, pulling him back to safety.

The blond blinked and glanced down, blinking again in recognition at the Japanese kid in his grasp. Huh. He turned his head slightly to face the shocked face of the first student, the other boy still half wearing an enraged grimace.

Logan? Greg frowned at the thought. Logan Sterling was another idiot that he knew well, the boy one of his usual bullies in the sophomore year that sniffed around Mal and the other juniors in an attempt to be more than an Empire wannabe. He had been one of the outcasts like Greg in the first half of freshman year, almost even something like a potential friend.

That was before puberty hit and he started to bulk up, getting wider and taller enough to be somewhat intimidating to others in the same year.

Greg, especially.

Or at least, he used to be.

Logan's face, twisted in aggression, slowly melted into confusion as he realized who had stopped him. “Veder?”

Greg's hand tightened slightly on the collar of the other boy’s shirt, his gaze locked with Logan's startled brown eyes.  “Sup, Logan?” Greg plastered a smile onto his face. “Read any good manga recently?”

"Look, I didn’t even do anything," the boy in Greg’s grasp tried to argue, wriggling in Greg’s grasp. “I was just trying to get inside.”

"Yeah, I bet," Greg replied, his tone light but his gaze sharp. He released the boy, who quickly scurried back and away from the action, quickly surrounded by a group of other Asian kids.

Logan's fist, still caught in Greg's other hand, trembled slightly, the initial shock of being stopped mid-swing giving way to a simmering anger. "Let go of me, Veder," he growled, trying to pull his hand free. The crowd of students around them whispered and murmured, some taking out their phones, hoping to catch a potential fight on camera.

Logan’s face paled slightly as he stumbled back, Greg finally letting him go with a slight widening of his smile. "Let's keep it civil, yeah?" His voice was calm but firm, the underlying threat clear.

“Civil?” Logan spat, his face full of anger and embarrassment in equal measures.

"You think you're tough, man? Picking on someone like Hiro?" Greg shot back.

“Wait, how do you know my na-”

"Why don't you try that with someone your own size?" The blond continued, not letting the other boy speak. “You big enough, bro? Bigger than Mal?”

Several other boys, their hair dyed a noticeable bottle blond, stepped forward from the doorway, surrounding Logan as he flinched back, the boy’s face paling at the implied threat.

Their leader, a lanky boy with arms crossed defiantly, spoke up. "No fuckin’ ABB in the school unless they pay a fee. Lung and Oni Lee are done, we’re not letting them in for free.”

Greg hummed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Nice rhyme, Dr. Seuss, but freedom is the right of all sentient beings. And so is education. Move.”

“Or what?” Logan challenged, confidence bolstered by his crew.

“Or I’ll beat your faces in,” Greg responded, his grin sharp and dangerous.

"You gonna let him talk to you like that?" one of the bottle-blond boys muttered, his voice laced with uncertainty as he glanced between Greg and Logan.

Logan, his pride clearly wounded, took a step back, his gaze darting around the crowd. The whispers and the watchful eyes of their peers seemed to press down on him, weighing heavily. He shot a final, spiteful look at Greg before turning away.

"We're not done, Veder," Logan spat out, but the threat lacked conviction. The other boys, picking up on Logan's retreat, exchanged uneasy glances before shuffling away, their bravado visibly diminished.

The crowd, their anticipation for a fight unmet, began to disperse with murmurs of disappointment and curiosity. Greg watched them leave, his posture relaxing slightly as the confrontation came to an uneventful end. Shaking his head, the blond glanced back at the boy he had saved as the crowd slowly walked away and indoors, the fight they had been hoping for not going to happen.

The boy Greg had saved broke apart from his friends and gave Greg a wary look as he walked back up to him, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, clearly unsure how to react to the sudden rescue.

"No problem, Hiro." Greg shrugged nonchalantly.

“Uhhh… do I know you?” Hiro Yasuda, one of his new AGB commanders, asked meekly, shrinking back slightly as Greg suddenly focused his gaze on him.

“What was that?”

The shorter Japanese teen stared up at him, adjusting his glasses once more as he tried to take in the other boy. “Y-you knew my name? But I don’t know you?” He stepped back slightly, his face blanching slightly as he slowly took in Greg’s taller, more muscular, blond form, probably drawing many wrong conclusions.

Fuck meeee… Greg mentally cursed.

He had forgotten, for a moment, that Hiro only knew him as Hardkour, not as Greg Veder. He quickly let go of Hiro's shirt, hoping to diffuse the situation. "No, you don’t. Forget it," he replied with a snort, trying to brush off his slip-up. “Just watch out for yourself, yeah?"

“Y-yeah.” Hiro nodded, still a bit dazed, and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Greg watched him go, his mind briefly wandering to the complexities of his double life. One minute I'm fighting super villains, the next I'm fighting bullies on roids. My life is weird.

He pushed past the doors of Winslow and into the familiar dilapidated hallways and flickering lights above as they greeted him like a bad friend, strides slow and unbothered. The lockers lining the walls were covered in posters and flyers, each one screaming for attention despite most people paying them no mind. The chatter of students filled the air, a constant buzz that Greg had learned to tune out.

He navigated through the crowded halls, sidestepping a spilled backpack here, a huddle of gossiping students there. He passed a group of juniors huddled around a phone, their laughter loud. One of them caught his eye and quickly looked away, whispering something to her friend. Greg couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about him, or about Void Cowboy. He pushed the thought away as he approached his locker. No use worrying about what they think.

As he spun the combination lock, a figure huddled nearby caught his eye.

“Hey, Sparkplug.” Greg couldn't help but tease, a grin playing on his lips as he spotted his friend looking more like an undercover celebrity in a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses than his normal self. "What's with the glasses, bro?"

Axel “Sparky” Ramon lowered his sunglasses slightly, showing off a brilliant pair of bright gold eyes that seemed to pierce through Greg as he blinked slowly. The hooded teenager glanced around cautiously before replying in a slight hiss, "Because fluorescent lights mess with my new eyes, dumbass. Shit’s a bitch-and-a-half to deal with."

Greg barely held back a sigh again, smile fading slightly as something in his stomach left him feeling unsure of what to say.. I can imagine, still getting used to the sensitivity. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Leaning against the locker wall, Sparky let out a heavy sigh as he banged the back of his head into some rando’s locker. "On top of that, I'm wearing earplugs and I can still hear just as good as I could before. Shit’s fuckin’ insane, brah."

Greg nodded as he swung his locker open, the metal door creaking slightly. "You're not wrong. You know it was the only way I could..."

"Don't," Sparky cut him off sharply, his expression hardening as he raised his head again, golden eyes glaring like a wolf. "Don't apologize. Not for this. I’m the one that snapped and went off on my own. You ain’t try to torture me to death."

Greg paused, searching for the right words, but Sparky continued, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Besides, I can jump almost twice my height now. That's sick as hell, I don't care what else, man."

Greg couldn't help but chuckle at Sparky's enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's pretty awesome."

They continued chatting, the conversation meandering through school gossip and the latest superhero news. Greg could sense the subtle shift in Sparky, the newfound confidence mingling with his usual sardonic humor. It was a change Greg was glad to see, given everything his friend had been through.

As the bell for homeroom neared, Greg slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned to Sparky. "Hey, meet me at Old Industrial tonight."

Sparky raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses. "Why?"

Greg's smirk widened into a full grin. "We're going for a run. Trust me, you're gonna love it."

The look on Sparky’s face told Greg very well that his friend was as interested as he was skeptical. "Alright, brah, I'll bite… but this better be good."

"Oh, it’ll be good.”