Lag 6.19b
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg Veder had never been a fan of art.
Then again, what teenage boy really was?
Still, it could be pretty accurately stated that Greg had less appreciation for art than the average teenager. Not to say that he had anything against it, really.
After all, it looked nice, right?
Usually.
It just really wasn't his sort of thing. Especially art like this.
"What we have here, folks," Greg began, squinting at a peculiar object in the center of the gallery, "is a smashed glass jar turned upside down with shards dumped inside… for some reason?" He tilted his head, blue eyes scrutinizing the supposed art piece. "Someone forget to take out the recycling?"
"It's..." the person next to him stuttered, someone who seemed even more clueless about the exhibit, shrugging helplessly as he spoke. "...Art?" The uncertainty in their voice was obvious, suggesting they were as baffled as Greg.
Greg responded with a dismissive eye roll and a scoff. "Doubt it."
"There's even a plaque and everything," the other teenager protested, sounding almost desperate to justify the existence of the strange exhibit.
With one eyebrow raised, Greg let his gaze drift to the small plaque mounted above the artwork. "Wow… The Folly of Man," he read out loud, a smirk twisting his lips. "Sounds about right." He was pretty sure he'd seen weirder things on the internet, but who was he to judge the artistic merit of literal garbage?
He let out a snort at that thought. Who am I kidding? I can 100% judge. Especially if they're going to be this straight-up pretentious about it.
"I'm betting that the artist woke up one day, tripped over their trash can, and thought, 'This is gonna look great!" Greg continued, voice full of fake excitement. His joke drew a stifled laugh from the boy standing by his side, and even a few smirks from the nearby adults who were trying their very very best to act like they understood the piece.
He cast a glance around the gallery, gaze lingering on several other exhibits. There was one that appeared to be a rusty bicycle wheel attached to an old television set. Another was a tangle of bright neon wires twisted into the vague shape of a cat. A bunch of the art-pieces on the top floor — the twenty-sixth — of the Fosberg had a title just as pretentious, and each one looked as though it belonged in a scrapyard rather than an art gallery.
His lips twitched with a barely suppressed laugh of his own. There was a joke here, even if it was at the expense of someone else's overblown "artistic expression". What else could you expect from a pretentious event like this?
If nothing else, at least it was good for a laugh.
"...look lovely tonight, Susan."
What it wasn't good for was enough of a distraction.
Because even from halfway across the ostentatious room, over the sounds of clinking glass, idle chatter, and ambient laughter, Greg could still somehow hear his mom being fucking hit on.
"I couldn't lie if I wanted to. That blue brings out your eyes so beautifully."
His hands clenched, knuckles whitening as his jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching faintly but visibly. Shifting his gaze to the person standing beside him, he plastered on a smile that clashed harshly with the icy glint in his eyes. "Theooooo," he drawled his godbrother's name, his voice a hard edge of forced cheerfulness. "Talk to me."
"What?" The boy in question blinked in surprise at the sudden shift in mood and topic, the word spurting from his lips. "Huh?" He spluttered, visible confusion knitting his brows together. "About what?"
Greg raised an eyebrow. "About what? What d'ya mean 'about what?' Need a topic? My back is hurting from carrying this conversation. Seriously, just talk."
"I… I…" Theo stuttered, lost for words.
"I-I-I-Aye-yi-yi," Greg broke in, rolling his eyes and laughing - a laugh that rang a touch too hollow. "Let's talk life. The universe. Our lives. It's been, what, three years? How've you been? What've you been doing? How's the sis? Your hot stepmom? Anything. Just work with me here, man."
The faint frown that creased Theo's forehead and the slight spark in his eyes caught Greg's attention, the first hint of actual emotion he'd detected since their reunion. "Hot? K-Kayden? That's really not cool of y-"
"Right, right, lying isn't cool. She's not. Your cousins, though? Aunts? Whatever, the twins," he waved a casual hand in the direction of the two radiant, near-identical blondes across the room, one's hair spilling over her shoulders in waves while the other's was swept up in an elegant updo. "Smokeshows. Introduce me."
"What?"
"Theo, it's okay. I can say this. We're not related by blood… I'm assuming. Hard to tell sometimes. City's practically swarming with blondes. Odds are good, I'll end up kissing my second cousin one of these days."
"What?" Theo looked genuinely flustered, shaking his head slightly. "I'm… you're confusing me, Greg."
"Am I? Am I really?"
Greg's smile didn't falter, but his thinning patience was visible in the blankness of his eyes. He leaned closer to Theo, who instinctively recoiled slightly, looking flustered as he leaned back and away from the taller blond. "No worries. I'll catch you up to speed then. Hi there, I'm Greg. Your godbrother from another mother. We haven't seen each other in three years. You've gained weight. I've gained height. And right now, I'm doing my very best to distract myself with any and everything else so I don't punch your dad in the face for trying to fuck my mom."
As his words sank in, Greg watched as Theo's eyes flicked from him to the spectacle unfolding nearly a dozen meters away... only to quickly snap back. "I… don't think he's-"
"Max, please," the sudden sound of his mother's girlish giggle cut through the murmurs of the gallery like a hot knife through butter, making Greg physically cringe. "You don't have to say that, it's just me."
A heavy silence fell between them. Theo, floundering for words, finally murmured, "...okay, maybe."
As if this gala couldn't get any more unbearable, Greg groused to himself, forcing himself to keep his attention off both Max and his mother as they did everything short of canoodle. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air after Theo's lackluster acknowledgement. Greg felt a twist in his gut, but he kept his smile fixed firmly in place. Instead of dwelling, he decided to let his gaze wander, trying to detach from the pathetic tableau playing out at the table across the room, and found himself studying the room instead. Stuck on the 26th floor of the prestigious Fosberg Gallery, surrounded by the city's so-called elites in a ballroom that screamed money, it all looked like he expected.
Sweeping vistas of the Brockton Bay skyline surrounding it, the room was bathed in a soft glow from the city lights. Artwork worth a fortune adorned the walls, a touch of class adding to the posh ambiance, and right below them rested sculptures worth even more that added a touch of trash. Chandeliers hung low, casting a warm, iridescent light that glinted off the elegant glassware and the meticulously arranged table settings. A string quartet added a layer of sophistication, their melodic tunes enveloping the room. Greg couldn't help but admit that it was kinda pretty. You know, If you were into that kind of thing.
In the middle of all this, representatives from companies, the media, politicians, and the vast majority of Brockton Bay's Protectorate and Wards rubbed shoulders, all there for the noble cause of rebuilding a city that had been pummeled by Bakuda's insane bombing spree. It effectively went unsaid that the fundraiser had originally just been a simple affair to boost the Mayor's re-election campaign, but after the chaos Greg had personally put an end to, its purpose had evolved in a big way.
Figures like Armsmaster, Triumph, Assault, Battery, Dauntless, and Miss Militia were scattered amongst the crowd, their bright costumes standing out against the sea of tailored suits and elaborate gowns.
Over by the politicians, Triumph was looking anything but triumphant, stuck in what seemed to be an interminable conversation with the Mayor. The hero seemed to have positioned himself firmly at the mayor's side, his demeanor reflecting the easy confidence of a star quarterback turned superhero. They were engaged in a hushed conversation, one that seemed too intense for a social gathering, but casual enough not to raise eyebrows. Greg found it odd that Triumph hadn't broken off from the mayor's side since his arrival at the event. He wondered if it was part of his duty to play bodyguard. Or the guy could just be into politics, I guess.
Greg shrugged, not that he really cared anyway. It wasn't like Triumph was anyone's favorite hero, to even know what the guy was into.
> Triumph Lvl 35
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> Hero: Protectorate ENE
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> Title: Roaring Lion
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> HP: 725/725
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> Power: Sonokinetic Burst
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> A respected member of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and a great singer on his own merits, Triumph was going to be here whether or not he was assigned to be part of the gala. The Mayor wasn't going to take no for an answer on that. Spends a lot of time watching baseball or wishing he was playing the game.
In stark contrast, Dauntless, with his Arclance sheathed and his ShockShield deflated, was holding court with a gaggle of women all to himself, both young and not so young. The women were hanging on his every word, even though he hardly seemed to say anything. His quiet chuckles and that friendly, strong-jawed, 'savior of the city' look were apparently enough. Not bad for someone who tried to swoop in and steal my credit. Greg had to suppress a snort as he triggered his Analyze yet again, quickly closing his eyes in a forced blink before any eagle-eyed cape could spot the use of his powers.
> Dauntless Lvl 85
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> Hero: Protectorate ENE
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> Title: RPG Hero
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> HP: 320/320
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> Power: Incremental Ascendancy Imbuement
>
> Here's Dauntless, the living proof (other than you) that video game logic can apply to real life. Every day, he powers up an item and becomes stronger. A single dad who works too hard, who loves his kid and never stops, a gentle hand and the heart of a fighter, he's a survivooooor…
RPG Hero? Greg blinked, slightly shocked. I… I guess that makes sense. Just different game mechanics, huh? Shaking his head slightly at the realization that he and Dauntless were a bit more similar than he realized, he glanced over at the small crowd of people not too far from the Roman-themed hero.
Just like Dauntless, Miss Militia, in her signature green fatigues, had surrounded herself with a group of individuals, engaged in small talk, but with much more variety in her audience. She radiated an aura of calm even with only her eyes visible, her conversation easy and warm as she quietly laughed and replied to questions. "...the plans I've seen for the city's revitalization project look amazing..." Her words were received with a gentle nod from a grey-haired man and a bright smile from a younger woman, maybe an architect herself. "...As for art, I've always been partial to watercolors. The medium takes balance and a gentle hand..."
> Miss Militia Lvl 40
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> Hero: Protectorate ENE
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> Title: Girl (Gun) Power
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> Power: Mundane Arms Manifestation
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> HP: 315/315
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> A walking arsenal. Need a knife? Boom. Need a gun? Bang. Need a bazooka? Stand back. She can conjure any conventional weapon she can think of, making her a one-woman army. Imagine always having a spoon, though? Little secret, her actual superpower is being really good at small-talk even though she hates it.
Greg's gaze then drifted over to Assault who was sharing a laugh with a group of actors. He recognized some from the local "Law & Order: PRT" specials that had filmed in Brockton Bay. Assault's laughter boomed over the hum of conversation, but his partner, Battery, stood aside and apart from the conversation, her body language making it clear: she wasn't a big fan of socializing.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Armsmaster, however, stood out like a sore thumb. His armor gleamed under the soft light, drawing the attention of those around him. He was perched in a corner, looming in his full armor, his gaze sweeping the room as if he expected Bakuda to burst in any second with a bomb. Greg couldn't help a smirk. The guy always seemed ready for a fight, even in a room full of rich, harmless socialites. Greg couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the guy. To be fair, he was also ready for a fight, but that's because he was looking for a distraction more than anything. Cheer up, Halbeard. It's a party.
> Armsmaster Lvl 55
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> Hero: Protectorate ENE
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> Title: The Over-Compensator
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> Power: Technical Hyper-Efficiency Augmentation
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> HP: 425/425
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> If there was a contest for 'The Most Serious Man in the Universe,' Armsmaster would probably win. His power is all about making things more efficient, from his combat style to his morning tooth-brushing routine. But the real question is, if he's so efficient, why does he need that much beard?
The Wards had claimed a table of their own, Aegis, Kid Win, Vista, Gallant and the new additions, Lady Bug and Browbeat, all relegated to one spot, looking slightly out of place from where they sat at the appointed "kiddy table." Despite his personal thoughts about the Wards and their lack of a cool factor, his gaze lingered on Lady Bug.
> Aegis Lvl 35
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> Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE
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> Title: Implacable Teen
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> HP: ?/?
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> Power: Integrated Redundancy Optimization
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> Ever met a kid so stubborn he just refuses to stay down? That's Aegis. It's like puberty on steroids, only this guy became a superhero. Despite being the young leader of the Brockton Bay Wards, he never lets the weight of the world get to him. Actually, that's a lie. He just chooses to ignore it. Sound familiar?
> Kid Win Lvl 18
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> Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE
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> Title: ?
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> HP: 185/185
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> Power: Modular Technological Innovation
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> While most kids his age were putting down Lego sets, Kid Win was building weapons to fight supervillains as the resident tech expert of the Wards. Just remember to return his gadgets in one piece, or he might use his tinkering skills to fill your locker with self-replicating ping pong balls. He also has, you guessed it, serious issues.
> Vista Lvl 30
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> Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE
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> Title: Shaker Bell
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> HP: 130/130
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> Power: Spatial Distortion Manipulation
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> Imagine a funhouse mirror, but in real life. Now imagine that mirror being a pre-teen girl. Phenomenal warping power, itty-bitty living space. Despite how much she wants to claim she's different, her anger issues are only second to Shadow Stalker's.
> Gallant Lvl 22
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> Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE
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> Title: Shining Armor
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> HP: 250/250
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> Power: Emoti-Resonant Impulse
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> He's the kind of guy who'd offer a supervillain therapy before knocking them out. And that's not an exaggeration. Dean could be a walking advertisement for a psychology degree if he wasn't busy playing knight-in-shining-armor with his powers. Also, he kinda needs a hug of his own.
> Browbeat Lvl 25
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> Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE
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> Title: Muscle Memory
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> HP: 1135/1135
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> Power: Tactile Kinetic Self-Augmentation
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> You know the guy at the gym who's always there? That's Browbeat for you. With the ability to bulk up and self-heal, he's a walking anatomy lesson and the new muscle for the Wards. Just don't leave him alone with his thoughts too long.
> Lady Bug Lvl 23
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> Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE
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> Title: Insect Queen
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> HP: 191/191
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> Power: Pan-Arthropod Control
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> Think being a teenager is tough? Try being a teenager who can control all the bugs. On the plus side, she's the best person to call when you need to ruin someone's picnic. Just remember: spiders are friends, not foes, in her book. You should go over and say hi. She'd love that.
Wow.
He couldn't help it, honestly.
The girl stood out compared to everyone else on her team. Her long, curly black hair seemed to cascade down her shoulders, the one part of her costume that remained identical to what he remembered from that night. Clearly, everything else had gotten a makeover. Now, a vibrant red domino mask graced her face, five black spots in an asymmetrical design surrounding her eyes. Below that, she wore a double-breasted peacoat that was just as red, the hip-length jacket adorned with black polka dots, piping, and cuffs, looked great on her. The skirt was similar in design, with slits at the front, back, and sides revealing black tights underneath, and her boots — red and thigh-high — rounded off her outfit.
As good as she looked in her new costume, Greg couldn't help but shake his head at the sight of the girl, feeling somewhat bad for the girl he had once teamed-uppartied with when he soloed Lung the first time. "I can't believe she joined the Wards, though," he muttered to himself, "those guys are so lame. She'd be way cooler on her own." He pulled his gaze from her to look elsewhere in the room, trying to find something else to catch his attention.
Among the local celebrities and teen actors who added another layer of glamour to the event, the younger members of New Wave had decided to show up. Victoria Dallon, Amelia Dallon, Crystal Pelham, and Eric Pelham, better known as Glory Girl, Panacea, Laserdream, and Shielder respectively, were all there and all dressed up, their usual bright superhero costumes swapped out for regular party clothes. Victoria looked good in a white-and-gold sleeveless dress, Crystal rocked a bright red one, while Panacea had on a floral, red-on-whitewhite and red long-sleeved evening gown and Eric was all cleaned up in a black suit with a bright blue tie.
> Victoria Dallon (Glory Girl) Lvl 40
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> Alias: Glory Girl
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> Hero: New Wave
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> Title: Collateral Damage Barbie
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> HP: 245/245
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> Power: Oscillating Hyper-Aegis Field
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> The poster child of New Wave, and the literal golden girl of Brockton Bay. Part supermodel, part superhero, all sass. She has a temper. She has issues. She has insecurities, and so does her power.
> Amelia Dallon (Panacea) Lvl 12
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> Hero: New Wave
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> Title: Physician, Heal Thyself!
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> HP: 155/155
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> Power: Comprehensive Biokinetic Alteration
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> Panacea, the go-to girl for all your miraculous healing needs. Is it cancer? Broken bones? Mutant flu? Doesn't matter, because she can fix it with a touch. What she can't fix is how much she hates people talking to her.
> Crystal Pelham Lvl 45
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> Alias: Laserdream
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> Hero: New Wave
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> Title: The Beam Dream
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> HP: 280/280
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> Power: Dynamic Crimson Cascade
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> If her name doesn't give it away, she's pretty good with lasers. Flight, force fields, light blasts, she's got the whole package. It's like she stepped out of a comic book and forgot to leave the awesome behind. It's a shame she's absolutely the messiest person you'll probably ever meet.
> Eric Pelham Lvl 30
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> Alias: Shielder
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> Hero: New Wave
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> Title: Rising of The Shield Hero
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> HP: 255/255
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> Power: Azure Forcefield Nexus
>
> Here's the thing about Shielder - he's not just defensive, he's offensively defensive. He can throw shields, create force-field bubbles and still find time to be a good brother. The real question is, can he do a Captain America style shield rebound? He's a cool fun guy with a secret love of Tanking as a Bulwark on World of Heroes.
Looks like Shielder's doing okay since last time, Greg thought with a nod. I mean, why wouldn't he be? It's not like his cousin doesn't fix entire missing body parts every day. In contrast to the radiant figures of the teenage heroes, the PRT squad on duty near the entrance of the room looked downright ominous. Dressed in full armor, their outfits an interweaving blend of kevlar and chain mesh, they were the embodiment of stern protection. The featureless visors on their helmets gave off an intimidating, almost robotic vibe, casting long, impersonal shadows as they stood in formation, silent sentinels.
Even still, Greg found his attention being pulled back to the young members of New Wave in attendance at the gala. There was something odd about this, though. Where's the rest of them? The whole lot of New Wave used to patrol together like one big, happy, flying and blasting, superhero family. Except Panacea but that was for obvious reasons. That was literally their whole thing.
Yet lately, three of the four here had been patrolling separately, leaving the rest of the family at home. It was another bit of juicy gossip on PHO that Greg had managed to spot during slow patrol nights, and something that had slipped his mind till now. Wonder what that's about?
"Theo…" Greg nudged again as he stood perfectly still, his eyes darting from the New Wave table to Theo's sheepishly blond corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. "Earth to Theo?"
"H-huh, what is it?" Theo stuttered, dragged back into their conversation.
"You know if the rest of New Wave showed up?" Greg asked, his voice blending into the room's murmurs.
"...actually, no, they didn't. M-my dad was kinda talking about it a couple weeks ago. The New Wave adults…" Theo shrugged, following Greg's gaze to the designated New Wave table. "For some reason, they canceled their RSVP. Dad wasn't happy about that."
"Yeah, I bet he wasn't," Greg said, struggling to suppress the disdain prickling beneath his skin as he verbally brushed off the mention of Max's tantrum. He was more interested in the recent events surrounding New Wave than some old man's bad mood. "You know what's going on with them, though?"
"...not really?"
"I'm not hearing a no, Theo," Greg glanced back over at Theo only to pause as a ripple of movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. Lady Bug was shifting in her seat, her red and black costume stark against the white of the tablecloth. "Actually forget it, don't answer. Just chin up and follow me."
"Wh-"
Greg didn't wait for Theo's stammered question as he made a beeline for the Wards table. In a stride that was borderline arrogant, he closed the distance in a matter of moments, his confident smirk wide on his face as he turned his gaze onto the six young heroes. They were all there, from Aegis to Browbeat, but his eyes inevitably settled on Lady Bug. She looked...familiar, and not just because of their previous encounter during the Lung fight. He found himself looking a bit longer, trying to figure out where he had seen that particular slant of her eyes, the curve of her jawline.
"Hey there, guys," he opened, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He drummed his fingers against the table as he spoke, the rhythmic tapping serving as an informal drumroll to his casual tone. "What's up? Nice to meet you."
"...Hi." Aegis, leader of the Wards, stuttered slightly as he processed the interruption. His gaze did a quick sweep over his team before refocusing on Greg. "Nice to meet you, too?" he returned, the inflection adding an unsaid question at the end.
"Greg!" Theo's voice pulled him from his thoughts as the blond lumbered over to join him.
"Right, manners," Greg said, a chuckle escaping him. He clapped Theo on the back, drawing an awkward smile from his godbrother. "I'm Greg Veder. This is my cousin, Theo."
A chorus of hellos filled the air, interrupted by Vista. "I mean, we know him," she chimed in.
"You do?" Greg's eyebrow arched, his gaze bouncing between the tiny blonde and Theo. "Do you?"
"I, uh, yeah." Theo shuffled uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair as he shot Greg a sheepish look. "I go to Arcadia, y'know. I have classes with Eric. You know, Shielder. I met these guys through him."
"In-cre-di-ble," Greg let out a whistle, shaking his head in mild disbelief. "Small world, huh?"
A murmur of awkward agreement fluttered around the table, punctuated by a soft voice, almost a whisper. "Yeah… Small world."
Greg looked toward the sound, his grin widening as he laid eyes on Lady Bug. Huh. Something about her voice, it was strangely familiar. Not just the voice, but something about her...He nodded at her, grinning. "Hey."
She avoided his gaze, her voice measured and cool as she replied with the same. "Hey."
"Hey there, I'm G-"
"Greg Veder." Lady Bug interrupted, her shoulders tightening. She couldn't meet Greg's gaze, her voice strained as she hastily added, "I heard. Nice to meet you, but we're kind of busy. Talking about official Ward stuff. Right now."
"Ouch," Greg feigned a wince. He glanced at the others, noticing their confused looks. "Stepped on a few toes there, didn't I?"
"Could you just go?" Lady Bug shot back again, voice far more tense this time. "Please. We're busy."
Greg's smile wavered, the palpable heat from Lady Bug throwing him off. "Ah, gotcha." Greg's grin faltered slightly, his eyes drifting over the rest of the Wards, who were all giving Lady Bug odd looks.
"No problem. I don't want to interrupt official Ward business, right?" The words fell from his lips as he rubbed his thumb under his nose. "Come on, Theo, let's leave the baby capes at the kiddy table and go back to ours. Maybe we'll find a real hero on the way back, like Prodigy maybe."
The doughy blond boy about Greg's age blinked owlishly at him, gray eyes widening slightly as his eyes flicked back over to the stunned Wards, Aegis' hand on Vista's shoulder the only thing keeping the small blond in her seat. "But I thought you wanted t-"
"I know what I wanted to do, Theo," Greg cut him off with a laugh as his eyes drifted back onto his mother's laughing face. His hand went to Theo's back and began walking, the other boy forced to move without his consent. "Now, I want to do something else."
Theo glanced back at the table where Greg's mother sat with his father, clearly filled with doubt over the idea. "But do we have t-"
The chubby teenager clammed up for a second time, this time without a single word. A simple glance from Greg was enough to shut down the other boy's attempt to disagree. It had been a little over three years since he had seen the kid he usually called his "cousin". Since then, he had forgotten how timid Theo was, skittish even. It was almost annoying watching him flinch and freeze up at the slightest confrontation, like…
It felt almost familiar, and he wasn't sure why.
"No, we don't have to," Greg smiled back at him as he leaned forward. Theo's face paled, a flicker of fear passing through his eyes as he stepped back and away. His hands twisted nervously in front of him, causing the fabric of his baby blue suit to bunch awkwardly around the crook of his arms. Jesus, dude. Man up, please. "But we're going anyway."
Theo, recognizing the stubborn look in Greg's eye, nodded hesitantly, choosing not to argue.