Greg Vs Raid 9-43 (Patreon)

The side door refused to open, Greg huffing a quiet breath as his hand slipped on the panel a whole second time. Blood, glass dust and whatever else that still stuck to his hand at this point was making this harder than it needed to be. It wasn’t that his fingerprints were ground beef or anything, considering that most of the worst had healed up already but still…“Fina-fuckin-ly.” The third try was all it took, a green light all he needed to see before he yanked the door off by the hinges. 

His shoulder rolled as he made his way inside, a whole window having gone through his pit and come out the other way. It had hurt like hell when it happened but by now it was mostly… mostly closed, skin there tight and shiny and maybe a little too pale but it was always like that when the healing on the top outdid the repair work on the inside. A hand went to his throat, the back still raw from when he’d barked out fire — tasted like he’d been gargling pennies honestly — but that was fixing itself too.

As shredded as he’d gotten, Greg knew he’d gotten off pretty easy though.Compared to a lot of people.Hell, compared to his own costume, he was doing just fine. A quick look down at his armor was all he needed to see how the thing looked like it had been twelve rounds with a bandsaw, the cape around his neck closer to rags as shredded as it was. The fleur-de-lis on the chest was fine, weird enough, which felt like the universe making a point about branding.

Inventory. Blue pixels washed over his body, leaving Greg in nothing but jeans and a blue Sega shirt that had been in his inventory since May. Okay, let’s…

The door shut and locked hard behind him with various thunks, but Greg didn’t pay any attention to that as his nose twitched immediately; a smell reaching him that he honestly didn’t expect. …who the hell is eating my queso?

Somebody had microwaved queso in his hideout. 

Queso he had put away in one of the extra fridges with the name WK on it. The balls… He had several guesses of who could have done that, and only one of those people was someone he’d be okay with.

"Oh my God." That one was already up off the couch, rushing towards Greg as he stepped inside the warehouse. "You look awful."

"...Thanks, Emma." A blond eyebrow raised itself high as Greg looked around the warehouse, two of the bigger monitors running news. A certain purple-eyed hassle was crouched up on one of his leather couches, arms folded and scowling with a half-empty blue Gatorade on the crate right next to her. A curly-haired dickhead sat with a bowl of good chips and freshly-warmed queso right next to him, feet sockless in one of Greg’s gaming chairs as he kept on playing New Vegas like it belonged to him. "I'm fine, though."

"Yeah, I bet.” Sophia snorted from the couch, Gatorade unscrewed. “That how you look gettin' out of bed?"

"Talk to me after you kill one of the Nine, Fifi."

"Bullshit."

“Which part?” “All of it.”Greg rolled his eyes, not even attempting an answer to that. Sophia still refused to believe he was White Knight for some insane reason and he didn’t really feel like fighting the girl on it at this point. Instead, he sighed and took another glance around the place, his warehouse looking absolutely lived-in since he’d let a few guests come and go as they pleased.“Yo, Knighty-Tighties, what’s up?”A blue eye twitched. “...hey, Alec.”Well, three of them could come and go as they pleased.One of the four was just stuck here; being a publicly wanted criminal and all.…that’s actually not really specific, is it? Greg found himself frowning at the realization that could describe three out of four of the people currently chilling in his spot. I need to associate myself with better people. Maybe that ship had already sailed considering the whole ‘lording over a gang’ situation, though. Dammnit…

“Oi, Headacher…” Greg kept his eyes on Alec, a quick survey of the spacious warehouse insides showing a certain someone missing. “Where’s your sister?”“Oh, you know. The usual…” The Master hummed slow, hiding his little eyebrow twitch at the nickname trade. “Napping, eating, walking around without a shirt.”The usual… Greg bit down on the words and the thought that wanted to come out first, choosing the most relevant instead. “She’s not trying anything, is she?”“Oh, hell no.” Alec snorted loud, chip raised to his lips. “I told her you’d eat her if she did.”“I…” His mouth fell open, annoyance and irritation giving way to a different kind of annoyance and irritation. “Why would you do that?” Really, he didn’t need to do that. Greg already knew how scared she was, considering he was a super-fast Brute who breathed fire, one her powers didn’t work on. There were a whole host of reasons for her to already be scared in just that one long list.“Eh…” Alec swiveled back around, unpausing his game. “Felt like it.”

…stop telling people I’m a cannibal. Blue eyes flicked up to one of the monitors as an anchor did a careful-voiced announcement — “-arahuman known as Shatterbird suspected dead, but confirmed downed over Fourth Stree-”

Downed. That was a word.

Not the best word, but definitely a word to describe how Greg turned her into charcoal at four hundred feet and watched pieces of her hit a burger joint. Down, like she'd tripped or taken a knee or something.

A scoff left his lips, Sophia’s attention sliding from the TV and back to him. 

The sound of something buzzing almost had Greg looking down at his own pocket for a second before he turned over to see Emma clicking her tongue, her own phone out.

Purple eyes left Greg for a moment. "Your mom?"

"Obviously."

"You know, dodging her’s all well and good…” Alec raised Greg’s headphones off his head for a second. “Eventually she's gonna realize shelters let you answer phones."

Emma's head came around slow, glaring death at the black-haired boy. "Did I ask?"

"No, I offered." White teeth beamed back at her. “You’re welcome.”

"I didn’t thank you."

“Well, someone here has to be polite and it’s not gonna be you."“You little-!”

Greg opened his mouth, another question for Alec about his sister, only to be interrupted as the side door clunked open and somebody else made their way in.

“Sparky?”“...yo.”

The door slammed shut again as Sparky limped in, his left leg handling way less weight than it should and the wall making up the rest of the difference. Hoodie halfway to strips from the shoulder down, all the cuts on Sparky’s body showed exactly why he was wearing rags. Too many cuts, dozens of them even; all neat, even, and deliberately spaced like someone had gone after him with a protractor and a ruler. 

"Jesus…” Emma’s soft whisper was already out as Greg made his way across the room. A quick Analyze told him all he needed to know; Sparky wasn’t in danger of conking over any time soon but being down to a fourth of his health still wasn’t close to good.

"Dude.” Greg took the place of the wall, Sparky putting his weight on him; body locking up for a second as something yellow passed the second his skin met Sparky’s. “D-d-dude, what the h-hell…"

"...M-Mannequin."

Sophia looked up over the couch. "Bullshit."

Sparky lifted one hand and gave her the finger, electricity crackling off the middle digit. "Eat shit, track bitch.”

"Nah, fuck off.” Sophia clicked her tongue, already kneeling on the cushions. “You’re sayin' you killed Mannequin."

"I said that already."

“Wait, wait, wait…” Emma was already up and moving toward the medbay. "Wh— Greg, where's the first-aid kit?"

Cherie came out of the hallway right as Emma went in, the two of them sidestepping each other as the young woman ignored the redhead’s glare. Cherie had her arms crossed over her red-and-black bra, a pair of gray sweatpants on that Greg was ninety percent sure were his.

“...what happened to him?”“Slaughterhouse.” Alec didn’t even look back.“...hell.”

Emma came back with the kit, eyes flicking hard onto Cherie in a way Greg chose to ignore as they — “Sit down, dude, you need to.” — both got Sparky into a chair and he told them the story of how he ended up like this.

"Went after me from the start, right of the lot and past everybody." Head back against the chair while Emma cut the sleeve the rest of the way off, Sparky’s eyes were almost half-closed. "Not Militia or Armsmaster or anyone else, or nothing. Just me."

"Why?"

"Fuck if I know, Gee." A hiss left his teeth as Emma rubbed some alcohol on his arm, golden eyes darting her way for a split-second. "Man don’t really talk much."

“He could’ve had my throat four fucking times at least. None of them were… he wasn't trying. That's the thing." Sparky's fingers were going open and closed on the chair arm, Greg’s eyes on the yellow sparks jumping between them. "He put one through my shoulder, right? And he had my neck right there, man, the whole time, and he just—" 

Sparky sighed with a shrug, his face making it clear that was a bad idea. "Didn’t take it."

"And what about that?" Greg pointed at Sparky’s… sparks. “Where’d that come from?”

"Don’t ask me, brah. Pretty sure it’s why I’ve been so fuckin’ jumpy since you juiced me up but…” A second sigh left him. “It just kept getting worse and worse the whole fight and then it popped out. Soon as it popped out, Mannequin stopped playing with me.” 

"And?"

"And then he tried to kill me." Sparky shrugged again, regretting the motion as soon as he made it. "S-so I killed him first."

Greg blinked at him. "...You sure?"

"I ripped him the fuck apart and stomped on all the pieces, brah.” Gold eyes came up to stare Greg in the face. “Like apart apart. There's like nine-teen fuckin’ pieces of him in that alley."

Sophia made a sound.

Sparky gave her the finger again without turning his head.

The door went again before Sophia could bark her disbelief one more time.

"Theo?"

For about a second, Greg’s chest was okay as Theo’s clothes were pretty much pristine, nothing more to look at past a little bit of gravel dust and some brown stains. Hoodie intact, mask in one piece and nothing on him that looked like it could be used as confetti so all good there. 

Then Theo missed the doorframe and had to catch it again on the second try.

"Bro!" Greg was already there, across the room in a blur. His Analyze read much much better than Sparky’s but still, almost half-health and down to ten percent of his mana told a hell of a story. "What happened?"

The mask was pushed halfway up, Greg’s eyes wide as he took in the brown that only took one sniff and a second glance for him to realize was dried blood. Both hands were shaking, those silver gloves not doing much at all to hide it. "C-Crawler."

The whole room turned at one word, Greg already steering his godbrother toward the nearest chair. "Okay. Where is he?"

"Low earth orbit."

"...What?"Theo dropped into the chair a half-second before his legs made the decision for him.

Sophia's eyes narrowed a third time, disbelief worn clear over her face. "No."

Theo’s mask came off the rest of the way, silver eyes staring half-lidded at her.

"No. Bullshit."

"I built an array." He sunk lower in the chair as he started talking, eyes on Greg as silver met blue and stayed there. "A boundary through the whole lot. I’ve been involving myself with runes.”I bet you have. Greg just nodded. “Uh-huh?”“Dauntless, Lady Photon and Miss Milita kept him busy while I got it ready and as soon as it started up, the gravity array got him to about 9 gs.

Sparky’s voice came muffled around Emma's forearm. "The fuck is a gravity—"

"By the end of it, Crawler weighed about ninety times more than he's supposed to. I crushed him into the ground.”

"Sick."

"I agree.” Theo’s hands came up, still shaking just as bad as before. “Until it wasn’t. He started adapting to the pressure and rebuilding himself into something that could survive that and he was… he was thanking me for it and I couldn't hold it forever, so..."

"So."

"So I reversed the vector."

Blue eyes blinked slow. "You sent Crawler into space."

"Yes, along with a good portion of the parking lot."“Theo.” His cousin looked up at him, Greg’s voice breathier. “That’s part of your lore now, you know that? That’s your thing.”“...what?”

“You’ve peaked, Theo.”“I don’t…” Silver eyes blinked slow and almost out of sync. “I don’t understand.”“You can’t ever top this, cuzzo.”“...I’d prefer not to have to, but who says that I can’t?”

“Wait…” Alec spun around in the chair, chips in hand. "How much of the parking lot?" 

Theo blinked up at him. "...that I didn't measure."

"Okay, but like, if you had to g—"

"Enough." Greg’s voice was enough to silence Alec and stop Sophia before she could jump in again, expression hard for a moment. Then, unable to help himself, that hard look broke out into a smile. "...We took out three of the Nine."“...and probably pissed off the other half, dumbass.”He blinked over at a scowling Sophia, eyebrow raised. “...oh, so now you believe we did the shit we said we did?”The girl stood there, arms folded over her sports bra, with a look like someone had forced her to swallow a lemon. “Whatever. Let’s say you did do it… what happens when Bonesaw and Siberian come after you and make a meal out of your ass?”

The TV answered before Greg could, Channel 12 feed cut to a PRT podium as some spokesman with a binder began to read off something that had everyone lock their attention on to the screen.SHATTERBIRD - DECEASED [CONFIRMED]

MANNEQUIN - DECEASED [CONFIRMED]

HATCHETFACE - DECEASED [CONFIRMED]

CRAWLER - NEUTRALIZED [SUSPECTED]

"Suspected…” Alec hummed low. “Suspected.”

“He-” Theo met the television with a glare. "He's in space."

"I'm just reading it, man."

“Whatever…” Theo sank another inch into the chair, a sigh leaving him. "We might actually survive this."

Sparky's head snapped over. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't say that.” Sparky grunted, gold eyes serious. “Never say that."

"Reality does not work according to the rules of narrative, Axel."

"I don't care!"

The feel of something buzzing weakly against his thigh was the only thing that kept Greg from bursting out with a laugh, his hand immediately going to his pocket. 

MOM. Even through the broken glass, Greg could make out that much. Pushing the speaker button, Greg had it up as he walked off to take the call. "Hey, Mom, I’m-"

He blinked as he realized his mom wasn’t saying anything at all, no sudden rush of questions that he expected from the other end… which was weird.

Especially given what was going on right now.

"...Mom?"

"I…I just wanted to hear your voice."

Okay. Okay, that was… Greg shook his head. "Yeah, no, I get it. I'm sorry. I should've called, I know, I didn’t know all this was gonna-”

The sound of a little girl giggling froze him where he stood, mouth open and weight on his heel as he stopped pacing.

"...Who… who’s there, mom?"

Nothing came on the other end of the line.

"Mom?"

The giggling got closer as he heard the wet little sound of lips parting. "You should call your mommy more."

"Mom!"

“Greg.” Theo forced himself up and out of the chair, a look more serious than he’d ever worn before on his face as Sparky got his good leg under himself and grabbed his own chair. "What happened?" 

"My…” He felt his fingers dig into his palm, sharp and rough, eyes itching as they stung with the change. “My… my mom."

Cherie's face went the color of the gauze, Emma and Sophia both stepping back as they kept eyes on him.

Sparky stumbled forward, eyes wide. "Greg, wai—"