Grief 7.17a

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Greg leaned against the steel railing of the elevated command platform, one arm folded, the other tapping a slow, absent rhythm against the metal. his foot rested on the lowest rung, shifting his weight slightly as he took in the warehouse below. The place smelled like fresh paint and new insulation; clean, artificial, a weird contrast to the usual mix of salt, oil, and distant exhaust that rolled in from the docks.

It looked brand new. polished concrete floors, steel support beams running up to the high, vaulted ceiling, neat rows of overhead led strips cutting the space into clean angles of shadow and light.

"Damn, G."

Sparky stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, head tilted back as he scanned the ceiling like it personally offended him. His black circular sunglasses caught the white glow of the lights, reflections flickering across its surface. "How'd they get this done so fast, brah? We were just here, like, what, three days ago?"

Greg smirked, his fingers tapping a sharp little beat against the rail. "Amazing what happens when you've got money, huh?"

Sparky groaned, running a hand down his face before turning back to Greg. "Yeah, yeah, we get it, you shit gold or whatever," he muttered, barely lowering his voice. "Still, fuckin' wild, though."

Greg shrugged, brushing imaginary dirt off his blue t-shirt. "Glennn's got a whole team. They would've wrapped it up even faster, but he had to do orientation for the new workers in the company that bought out his renovation business."

Sparky squinted at him. "New company?"

"Yeah. Black Turtle Construction," Greg answered smoothly, mouth quirking up, but only just enough that it wasn’t too obvious. "Pretty new. They do good work, though."

Sparky blinked. "...Black Turtle?"

"Black Turtle."

"Black Turtle," Sparky repeated, slower, drawing the syllables out.

Greg nodded, expression unreadable. "Black Turtle."

"Black Turtle," Sparky tried again, narrowing his eyes like the words themselves were a puzzle or something.

"Black Turtle," Theo said, flat.

Greg and Sparky turned in unison, eyes locking onto the third member of the conversation as he finally chimed in. Theo stood by the kitchen, a can of something fizzy and orange in his hand, silver eyes calm as ever. He looked between them like he’d walked into a conversation about metaphysics and wasn’t sure if they were joking.

"I thought we were doing a bit," Theo said.

Greg burst out laughing, the sound cutting through the open space, bouncing off steel and concrete. "I was!" he gasped, grinning. "Don’t know what señor grumpy pants over here was doing."

Sparky folded his arms. "I was… I was thinking about the name. It’s… familiar." he frowned, shaking his head, glasses shifting slightly. "I don't know why, brah, it just is."

Greg wiped an imaginary tear, shaking his head. "Really? ‘cause sounded like you were just saying ‘Black Turtle’ over and over again."

Clicking his tongue, Sparky shot him a flat look. "It was a process, man. Had to make sure I heard you right."

Theo’s gaze flicked between them. "Do you two rehearse this?"

"No/Yes," they said at the same time, Sparky throwing Greg a look as their answers completely contradicted each other.

Greg grinned before turning back to Theo. "One of us tells the truth. The other tells only lies."

Theo didn’t even blink. "Everything I know about you has you as the liar."

Greg groaned, turning away dramatically, arms crossing as he tilted his head like he’d just been deeply wronged. "Aw, come on, T-Dog. Why couldn’t Sparky be the liar?"

"He doesn't—" Theo cracked the can open with a soft tssk and took a casual sip before finishing, "—and I quote—‘give a shit’."

Sparky exhaled sharply, amused despite himself. "Ha."

"Shut up," Greg tossed over his shoulder, rolling his eyes before facing them properly. "Anyway, you’ll love it here. New floors, training space, even had them put in a kitchen for all your little... food things." he gestured with a lazy hand toward the fully stocked restaurant-size-fridge, as if that explained everything. "It's homey."

Sparky snorted, tilting his head. "'Food things,'" he echoed, drawing out the syllables like they personally offended him. "Brah, maybe stop skipping English class."

Greg grinned. "Never!"

Theo stepped forward, scanning the warehouse with that same methodical focus he put into everything. his gaze moved from the padded training area to the reinforced windows, lingering a half-second longer on the polished steel of the railings before he finally spoke. "It's... efficient."

Greg finger-gunned at him immediately. "See? High praise from Mr. Minimalism."

"Man, don’t encourage him," Sparky muttered, flicking a glance at Theo like he expected better.

Greg ignored that entirely, pushing off the railing and landing lightly on the floor a full story below without even bending down in a slight crouch. "Alright, let’s do the tour proper."

Sparky and Theo followed without hesitation, both of them landing with only slightly more effort than the bright-haired boy in charge.

Talking the entire time, Greg led them across the open main area. The polished concrete was cool underfoot, rubber matting laid out in key sections. dimmable lighting, climate control, soundproofing—every inch of the space was practical, streamlined, exactly the kind of thing someone with resources and zero patience for inefficiency would put together. Greg had to admit, Glennn knew what he was doing.

"This," Greg spread his arms, "is the main floor. High ceilings, industrial led lighting, climate control—fully hidden in the ductwork, thank you very much—plus multiple emergency exits behind false panels. Because, you know. Me."

Theo gave him a look. "You do seem to have a habit of making enemies."

Greg pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "It's not me making enemies, it's the natural consequences of my winning personality."

Sparky scoffed. "Nah, it's the natural consequences of you running your mouth."

Greg pivoted away from that with zero shame, marching toward the training area. "Moving on!"

The padded flooring gave slightly underfoot, impact-resistant, and clearly built to take one hell of a beating. Wall-mounted mirrors were tucked behind sliding covers, gym equipment stored in sleek built-in cabinets. A trio of training dummies stood at the far end, looking way too ready to get absolutely wrecked.

Sparky whistled low, running a hand over a pull-up bar. "Damn, this place is stacked."

Greg grinned. "Hell yeah. free weights, agility space, even got reinforced mats so you can get body-slammed without shattering your spine. Mostly."

Theo tilted his head. "Mostly?"

Greg shrugged. "You might still break something. but, like, less likely now, and isn’t that what really matters?"

Theo exhaled through his nose. "Agreed."

Greg clapped him on the back before leading them toward the command center, perched on an elevated platform overlooking the entire warehouse floor. Multiple monitors glowed soft blue, cables routed cleanly through professional-grade cable management. It was organized, ergonomic.

Borderline suspicious, given who it belonged to.

Wait… Greg narrowed his eyes. Did I just roast myself? He tilted his head to the side a half-second later. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Sparky flopped into the chair, spinning once before stopping himself with a foot. "And this? This where you plot world domination?"

Greg leaned over the console. "First of all, local domination. Tri-State Area first. Gotta start small, mi hermano. Second, it’s for operational oversight. Monitors all entry points, security feeds, and comms. Also," he tapped the built-in cupholder with a straight face, "has a very nice coffee holder."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He let out a short laugh. "You can’t be a proper superhero without beverage support."

"Superhero, says the gang lord," Sparky drawled, dragging out the syllables just enough to make it annoying. "This is 100% villain energy, brah. You know it. I know it. Theo definitely knows it."

Greg tilted his head. "Nah."

Theo crossed his arms, gaze moving slow and methodical over the space, taking in details Greg barely gave a second glance.The soundproofing. The way every exit blended into the architecture like an afterthought. "This is absurdly high-end for a teenager’s secret lair."

Greg shrugged. "Glennn knows people. And those people know how to build cool shit."

Theo’s stare didn’t waver. "Black Turtle."

Greg grinned. "Black Turtle."

Sparky’s fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his thigh, brows furrowed. "...Black Turtle."

Greg clapped his hands together, pivoting before Sparky’s brain could catch up. "Alright, next stop… living space!"

He led them past a partition, stepping into a section cut off from the main floor, soundproofing swallowing the shift in acoustics. Kitchen in one corner, clean, minimal. Microwave, mini-fridge, stovetop; enough to function, nothing fancy.

Past that, a real bathroom, with a locker-room style full shower, plumbing and all, because Greg wasn’t about to live in some grimy half-baked setup. Across the room, storage space for civvies and extra gear. Against the far wall, three Murphy beds, ready to fold out when needed.

Sparky let out a low whistle. "Shit, man, you really thought of everything."

Greg grinned. "You think I never planned out a base before I got powers?"

Sparky flopped onto the couch like it had personally called him over, stretching his arms behind his head. "Ayy, this is nice. So what, this your new official HQ now?"

Greg leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as he tried not to think back to the previous night. "Something like that. More of a private home away from home."

Theo sat down in one of the armchairs, fingers steepled, silver eyes sharp. "And what’s the purpose of all this?"

Greg tilted his head. "Purpose?"

"You don’t build something like this just to hang out," Theo said. "What's it for?"

The question settled in the space, heavier than it should’ve been.

Greg’s eyes flicked over the room—his space. Every inch of it built with purpose. Reinforced. Secured. Structured. Designed so nothing could reach him unless he wanted it to.

He exhaled through his nose. "It's my control center."

Theo studied him. Sparky cracked one eye open.

Greg rolled his shoulders, letting the tension settle somewhere between amusement and inevitability. "Gotta have a place where you’re the one setting the rules, y’know?"

Sparky hummed, voice slower now, thoughtful. "Huh. that’s… actually kinda deep."

Greg flopped onto the couch next to him, grinning. "I have my moments."

His fingers tapped an absent rhythm against the leather armrest, working to keep his expression straight. This was fun. The stress still sat heavy in his jaw, the past few days pressing into his skull, but this? This was therapy.

The other night still ghosted through his head. Smoke and shattered glass, the ringing in his ears. Two gangs clawing at his city like rats, thinking they could carve out a piece for themselves. Thinking they could walk in to his house, set their own rules.

That lightning bastard and that fire fucker, Greg kept his expression flat, rage suppressed as he did his best to keep his eyes from changing. They’ve got another thing fucking coming, he thought. And it’s my foot up their combined assholes.

But right now, the only fight that mattered was the one playing out in Sparky’s brain, and Greg was enjoying every second of watching him suffer through the slow, painful process of realization.

Sparky’s brows furrowed, sunglasses slipping just slightly down the bridge of his nose.

"Wait..." his face twisted in realization, like he was just coming to terms with some sort of existential horror. "Black fucking Turtle."

Or that. it could be that too.

Greg turned, expression carefully blank. "Yeah, we’ve been over this, bro. Bit’s kinda dead."

Sparky pointed a finger straight at his face, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. "No."

Greg blinked. "No?"

"No." Sparky took a step forward, triumphant. "I remember now. I remember why that’s so fuckin’ familiar."

Amusement curled in Greg’s chest, slow and warm, like watching someone walk into a trap they set for themselves. He tilted his head, voice deliberately light and fake, just this side of condescending. "Because, and stay with me here, it’s the name of the company I just mentioned?"

Theo let out a quiet snort.

Sparky let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Don’t pull that shit with me. You’re not getting me off track this time."

Greg arched a brow. "Did I do that before?"

"Yes!"

Greg hummed, lips quivering as he held his laugh tight. "Yeah. Yeah, I did do that."

Theo’s lips twitched, the faintest flicker of amusement betraying him before he schooled his expression back to neutral.

Sparky exhaled sharply, like he was physically forcing himself to focus. his fingers tapped a jittery rhythm against his thigh, the mental math of realization playing out across his face. "Black Turtle… you wouldn’t happen to… own that company, would you?"

Greg blinked, perfectly blank. "Why would you think that?"

Sparky’s eye twitched. "Don’t."

"No, seriously, I just don’t get it."

Sparky made a strangled noise, dragging both hands down his face, like he could physically wipe away the migraine forming. After a slow inhale, he finally spoke. "Okay. Fine. It’s just weird that some random company named after a mythological chinese creature is coincidentally handling all your renovations."

Greg shrugged. "Why would that be weird?"

Sparky narrowed his eyes, slow, suspicious. "‘Cause it seems like some shit you’d do. You’d think it was funny or something. You know how you do."

Greg beamed, bright and entirely unrepentant. "I do know how I do. That's why I did it."

Sparky’s sunglasses slipped down his nose as he stared, disbelief settling into his face. "What."

"It's my company." Greg gestured vaguely, like this wasn’t new information. "Obviously."

Sparky gawked at him. "You just said it wasn’t!"

Greg gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "No, all I did was ask why you thought it was mine. I'd never lie to you like that, bro."

Theo coughed into his fist. It wasn’t, in any way, a real cough.

Sparky lowered his sunglasses fully, pinning Greg with a long, flat look. "It's your company."

Not a question.

Greg grinned, all teeth. "Yeppers."

Theo exhaled slowly, leaning forward a little. "Would you also happen to own Blue Dragon Financial?"

His grin widened, stretching at the corners. "Also me."

Sparky’s mouth dropped open. "Blue Dragon Fina—"

"And Red Hawk Security?" Theo interrupted smoothly.

Greg nodded, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world. "Also me."

Theo pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, slow and deliberate. "I suppose White Tiger Temporary Employment Services doesn’t even need to be asked."

Greg shook his head, expression suddenly confused. "Nah, that one's not me."

Theo’s fingers paused mid-adjustment. "Oh."

Sparky blinked.

Theo nodded once, controlled. "I just ass—" He caught himself mid-word, expression unreadable as he took another measured breath. "And you are messing with me."

Greg’s grin sharpened, fingers flicking into effortless finger guns. Theo had almost caught up, but not quite. "Look who’s catching on, Theo. Of course it’s fucking me."

Sparky dragged his hands down his face again, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath before inhaling like he was prepping for the worst. "I'm gonna regret this, but why?"

The butter blond stretched, rolling his shoulders like he was settling in. "Well, a lot of people are out of work because the city doesn’t trust people of Asian descent... for some reason..." He let the words hang, gesturing vaguely, before snapping his fingers. "So I employ the roughnecks who can fight and hold a hammer, the smart alecks who can handle a computer, and the ones who are good with numbers. I’m doing good things here, Sparks."

Sparky squinted. "I don’t buy it."

Greg shrugged. "There’s also the fact that it’s a very bad idea to betray the guy who signs your paychecks. Especially when that paycheck is coming from a gang." He grinned. "Making entire families feel loyal to me, basically looking toward me as the one guy looking out for them, means that I’m basically pulling a Lyndon B. Johnson."

Sparky’s face went through an entire process—confusion, realization, horror. Finally, he spoke. "I can’t believe you paid attention in history."

Greg tilted his head, smirking. "Didn’t wanna have to repeat it."

Sparky narrowed his eyes slightly, shaking his head. "You do know he was racist, right?"

Greg shrugged. "Yeah, but I’m not."

Silence.

Sparky sighed. "...You’re not seeing the gates of Heaven, brah."

Greg snorted, interlocking his hands behind his head in the classic anime protagonist pose. "I dunno, I feel like Heaven might be Chinese."

Theo groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. "My chest hurts."

Greg burst into laughter, the sound bouncing off the steel beams.

God, this was fun.