6.8

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 was beginning to get so deeply bored, doing the same thing for the better part of a month. Every night, fighting the same normal, weak thugs. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had to kinda keep the ABB from… well, being the ABB, Greg was pretty sure he would have considered finding Kaiser's door and kicking it in just to get a good fight.

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

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've been on watch and I've been out here since five," 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!

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 dive-kick 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.

His patience paid off.

Within the hour, all of them had left the place and gone elsewhere, half of them jumping into a bright-red muscle car and tearing off down the street. He didn't mind much, not even bothering to stop them because now, he was left alone to peer into the building without being spotted, specifically the upstairs windows left unshuttered .

A small two-floor "office building" is what it may have been on the outside, but the inside made it clear that the only workers that used the space were of the Neo-Nazi variety. What he couldn't make sure of with his eyes alone was met with confirmations by Analyze, the ability formerly known as Observe picking out crates of guns and what were clearly stores of morphine and other prescription drugs. The fact that the latter two were in MedHall packaging made it obvious that the Empire had stolen them, Greg not needing any power to confirm that much. With the doors and windows locked, there was no obvious way to enter and wreck the place without making it clear someone had been there so he had decided to end the night with simple recon.

However, that was then.

This was now.

And now, he had to leave the Empire a message.

"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 Takeshi 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! You did amazing!"

Truthfully, the words "Fuk U Kaiser" and "E88 Suks Dik" had never looked so beautiful, the big tribal lettering in red and blue paint doing a spectacular job of getting his message across. If that wasn't enough, the image on the van's back doors — that of an actual anthropomorphic swastika with it's mouth open and something in it… Well, it only served to drive said point all the way home, in his opinion. Talk about leaving a message. "I know Seo told you to go nuts, but this… this is art."

"Thanks, boss." Takeshi nodded his head in appreciation, Greg actually noticing his reddened cheeks in the dark. "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's thought, the blond un-inventoried a confiscated smartphone he had wiped clean and made his own, the thing appearing in his hand in a flash of blue light. Taking a moment to snap a few pics of the vehicle, he returned the device to whence it came before shooting a glance back at Takeshi. "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. "Okay. And three… two… one. You're on."

Hardkour glanced back at the van and let out a quiet sigh, not at all having expected 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-"

Greg ignored Takeshi's voice as he tried to manage 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 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!"

- 50 HP

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 at the sight. "HOLY FUCKING FUCK!"

Greg Veder grinned. Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The wheels on the cherry-red Camaro squealed to a halt, wheels threatening to diverge on the curb as it came to an oddly diagonal stop in front of a simple cookie-cutter house, one of nigh-uncountable many in a neighborhood full of quickly made cookie-cutter houses.

Within the vehicle, a gloved hand moved behind the wheel, the powerful engine silencing itself completely as it pulled the key from the ignition. Pocketing the key before anything else, the driver sat quietly in the car for a few seconds, pinpoint pupils staring straight ahead before his head began to list towards the right.

It only took a moment for him to catch sight of something that pulled his satisfied grin sharply downwards, his face now bearing an annoyed grimace. "Fuck." The word came out a harsh whisper, the driver's hands twitching as he seemingly held himself from submitting to the urge to punch the wheel. "FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck!"

At the end of the quiet tirade, he let out a frustrated hiss of air, both expelling themselves with force from the driver's mouth as he pushed on the wheel of the car, the back of his leather jacket pressed tight against the driver's seat as he held back another curse. The custom leather of the wheel squealed slightly as he gripped it, lanky fingers stretched wide as he furled and unfurled them. Another sigh left him, somewhat muffled this time under the hand he raised to rub his bloodshot eyes. He raised the same hand higher to rub at his forehead, bottle-blond bangs brushed aside as his fingers massaged away a growing stress headache.

Jaw tight, the man reached down and to the right of him, fingers quickly closing around something and retreating with it as he raised his prize to his face. Despite the sun already beginning to set, the Brockton Bay sky lit up in shades of orange and red, the blond man carefully put on a pair of dark sunglasses, only pausing to adjust the eyewear slightly with one hand as he opened the car door with the other.

As the door slammed shut behind him, the gloved man took his time walking around his sports car. His mouth twisted up in a roguish grin that was almost entirely forced, a single hand trailing along the side and back of his Camaro as he kept both eyes locked on the house in front of him.

More specifically, his gaze was focused directly at the man standing defensively on the porch of said house, both arms folded over his slender chest. A pair of light blue eyes glared warily at the approaching man from behind a set of horn-rimmed glasses, his own brown irises a stark mismatch despite both their faces looking oddly similar otherwise.

The new arrival continued walking forward in silence, showing off freshly-whitened teeth in a wide grin. The grin remained as he raised his gloved hands up to his chest, palms facing outwards as if to say 'see, I'm harmless'.

Finally taking his first step across the property line, he raised one hand a bit higher to offer the other man a wave. "H-"

"What are you doing here, Cameron?"

Cameron didn't pause his forward motion at the interruption, not even flinching at it as he continued towards the porch. The man standing on the porch, however, seemed to lose his grit the closer the other man came, his glare losing heat with each step. When they finally stood face-to-face, barely more than half the length of a ruler between them, he allowed his grin to lessen into a closed-mouth smile and cocked his head slightly. Taking a shallow breath, he finally spoke.

"Kenneth Isaiah Duncan…" Cameron threw his hands out to the side, his smile brightening authentically as the man on the porch fought a flinch at his sudden action. Black sunglasses stared back at clear frames, open arms within a leather jacket directly across from a pair of folded arms over a yellow sweater vest and tie. "Is that how we treat our family? Your own little brother?"

He took no small bit of enjoyment at the almost-flinch on his older brother's face at the use of the word little to describe himself, both well aware that if it wasn't for the roughly seven inches of height the porch gave him, he and Ken wouldn't exactly be seeing eye-to-eye.

Letting out a laugh, Cameron dropped both his hands on his older brother's shoulders, the smaller man buckling slightly. Shrugging his sibling's hands away, Kenneth tried to keep his glare strong as he scowled back. "I told you never to come back here."

"That was a whole month ago."

The bespectacled man looked blatantly confused for a moment, expression shifting to one of annoyance and outrage as he bit back. "Don't play with me, Cam."

"Kenny, brother, just… try and relax, okay. I'm not here to mess with your little happy suburban…" Cameron snorted as he threw a dismissive gesture at the entirety of his sibling's home. "Whatever."

Despite flinching at the nickname, Kenneth remained unmoved. "This is my house," he stated firmly. "I have a right to know what you're doing here."

"What, a man can't stop by to see his family now?" Cameron replied with fake hurt coloring his tone. "Is that the kind of world we're living in?"

Kenneth's eyes narrowed.

"I missed my big brother."

The blatant lie rolled off his tongue with ease.

Seconds passed as they remained silent, the quiet sounds of a suburban neighborhood around them dying down as the sun slowly fell from the sky.

"Fine, fuck you," Cameron spat after the better part of a minute went by in silence, true feelings bleeding through his expression as he frowned at his sibling. "Malcolm called me."

"No. Don't even try it." Ken told him flatly as he shook his head, having seen through the lie as soon as it met his ears. The guarded look in his eyes didn't vanish as he shut down his little brother's attempt to spin another untruth off of that one. "He's been in his room since we brought him back from the doctor. No phone."

Fuck. Cameron raised his eyebrows. "Okay… fine," he said with a sigh. "Some friends of some friends let me know that Malcolm got fucked up the other day."

"Yeah, I bet they let you know. Why wouldn't they, right? From what I know, this all leads back to you. You and your friends," Kenneth snapped, body tense as he held his brother's gaze. "You know why I told you never to come back here."

"He's an adult."

"He…" Heat bled into Kenneth's voice as the smaller man hissed back, actually taking a half-step forward in his anger. "He… My boy was sixteen before you and your people warped his mind."

Cameron raised a hand to scratch at his hairline, fingers idly pulling aside a lock of his dyed-blond hair as he stared down his older brother with silent malice. "Get the fuck out of my way, Kenny."

"I want you to turn around and lea-"

"And what about it?" Cameron interrupted, taking a half-step forward on his own until he and his brother were chest-to-chest. " What are you gonna do if I don't, Kenny?"

Silence.

"You gonna fight me?" he leaned forward, whispering in his older brother's ear. "Ken Doll gonna grow some balls and throw a swing at his little bro? Is that what's gonna happen right now?"

Ken remained rigid.

Yeah, that's what I fucking thought. Cameron leaned backwards, looking his brother up and down with a smirk as Kenneth refused to say a word. "Now get the fuck out of the way so I can see the kid."

Not bothering to wait for him to actually move, Cameron shoved his brother aside and went for the door. He paused with a single gloved hand around the doorknob, the word "pussy" leaving his mouth in a quiet mutter, before shaking his head and stepping into his brother's home.

It only took a single step inside for him to stop and sniff the air, delicious smells greeting him as he entered and making his mouth water. The man in the leather jacket walked into the kitchen, steps quick but light. A moment later, an unpleasant smile crossed his face as he spotted exactly who he was looking for, a long head of creamy blond hair above a shapely figure humming to herself as she moved ingredients from counter to pan.

Her attention on whatever she had cooking on the stove, the woman was entirely unprepared as she turned around to face the six-five figure in a leather jacket and sunglasses as he waltzed into her kitchen.

"Hey, Clarissa… sweetheart. You miss me?"

Her eyes widened as she stared with an open mouth, giving the tall man time to drink in her face. Man, 17 years later and she's still amazing.

"C-c...Cameron?" The name struggled and stumbled it's way from the housewife's mouth as she took a step back, expression betraying her discomfort. "Whe… I mean… h- Hello, Cameron. It's nice to see you."

"That's all I get? A hello?" The other man scoffed, striding forward into the kitchen with his arms open. "Come on, we're family. Give your brother a hug."

Cameron Duncan felt his brother's wife freeze in his arms as he wrapped them around her, body rigid and tense with only the softness and warmth of skin to separate her from a statue. It was only as his hands drifted lower that he felt movement return to her, first with a shudder and then…

"You… Don't d-"

"Shhhhh." He smiled as he held his sister-in-law tighter, not that she could see it. His sister-in-law let out a gasp as he squeezed again and made an attempt to push him away, but Cameron held tight, prolonging the uncomfortable embrace. "Mmm-mmm-mmm. If we weren't family…" We could have been more than that, though.

"C-Cameron!" Her voice was little more than a squeak.

"Mmm-hmmm, it sure ain't Kenny."

"Yes, because he's right here."

Cameron Duncan inwardly stifled an exasperated groan before it could pass his lips. "Of course you are," he called out without turning around, sarcasm edging his words as he addressed his brother. "You think I didn't know that?"

"I'm sure there's a lot you don't know, little brother," Kenneth bit back. "We could be here all day talking about it, but you won't. Now finish your business and get out of my house."

Cameron's expression slackened

Clarissa remained stock-still, barely even breathing as her husband's brother gave her one final squeeze. Before he finally pulled away from the not-so-familial embrace, he bent slightly to whisper in her ear a few parting words that left the housewife just as rigid as before. "Still tight as ever, ain't ya?"

With that said, Cameron turned around to face his brother, a bright grin on his face to counter the bespectacled man's burning glare. He knew those eyes well, his only remaining family eyeing him like a stranger being something he had grown used to since he was in his mid-teens. Despite that, he wasn't fazed, simply stepping forward to near the other man. "You know, it's rude to talk to a man like that. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd think there was bad blood between us."

Cameron Duncan lifted his sunglasses with a grin plastered on his face, brown eyes pinpricks as he shot a look at the smaller man that called himself his bigger brother. "But like you said, there's a lot I don't know. Ain't that right, Ken Doll?"

Silent threat, delivered with a smile.

"I'll be going to take care of that business now. Be a good boy, Kenny, and fix me a plate. We'll have ourselves a nice family dinner." He clapped his brother on the shoulder harder than was strictly necessary, brushing the man aside as he made his way towards the stairs to the second floor of the house. Annoyance spiked in his chest as he stomped up the stairs with slow, deliberate steps, his forced smile fading away to leave a frowning grimace in its place.

A little girl with creamy blond hair like her father and mother and distinctly unlike his stood halfway across the threshold of her room as he reached the second floor landing, a confused expression on her face as he walked right past her without pause. "Uncle Cammy?"

"Hey there, Marilyn," he replied back, not even bothering to slow down as he continued down the hallway. A tiny voice at his back shouted "It's Madeline!", not that he bothered to listen or really cared all that much.

In seconds, he had reached the room he was looking for, the "Do not Enter" written in black with skull-and-crossbones below it confirming whose room it was if he didn't know already. The door creaked as he threw it open, welcoming him to the the chaotic mess of a cluttered bedroom and the teenager lying on top of an unmade bed.

A surprised face that looked like the spitting image of his own stared back at him with a hard-to-parse expression, the dark bruises all over his kisser likely making it a challenge to interpret anything in particular from just a look.

"Uncle Cam?"

His response was immediate and rushed, one gloved palm raised up to keep his nephew from saying another word. "Yeah, kid. It's me. Don't bother talking. I heard all about it."

"Y- you did?"

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, you brawled with some kid who wanted to one-up the big man. That shit's normal. He was the right kind, though, so you lost but it's not as big of a deal."

Malcolm Duncan blinked, managing to look confused past a face full of bruises. "What do you mean, not a big d-?"

"What did I just say about talking, Mal?" Cameron barked. "I love you, kid, but shut the fuck up when I'm trying to tell you something important."

Mal quieted down almost immediately, leaning back on his bed without even putting up a token resistance.

"Anyway, you got in a fight. You got your ass kicked. No big deal, right?" Cameron turned suddenly, a snarl on his face. "Wrong. The big shit on the floor I'm seeing here is that apparently, this mutt — a black-beanjew, the fucking shit cocktail — sucker-punched you in the middle of your fight, right?"

"...Yeah," Mal answered bitterly, a few seconds of silence preceding his reply.

"If I'm getting this right, the little shit spit on you too?"

"...He did."

"See, that's the shit we can't let stand. Any other day, if that happened to one of my crew, I'd call up some boys and we'd shoot up that fuckin' house of roaches. But this is special. You're family, Mal. You're important to me." Cameron began around the room, arms crossed as he kicked aside any piece of clothing unfortunate enough to be in his path. "I got something special coming up. Something that I want you to be a part of. You're gonna take care of this yourself, little man. Let me lay it out for you."

At the end of it, Cameron spoke for a good ten minutes, giving his nephew everything he needed to know about what he had in mind.

At the end of it, Malcolm just smiled.