Greg Veder vs The World

Aggro 4.13

"So… after I tell you not to go out and fight Merchants, what do you do?"

Greg shrugged, the movement purposely small so as not to jostle the tray in his hands too much. "To be fair, I didn't take the quest. I let it expire."

"But you went out." Sparky's voice was subtly judgemental, as if trying to scold him without actually doing so.

"To train Reinforcement and Acrobatics, yes," the blond replied, smirking slightly. "And I achieved that goal, so…"

"Mmmm," Greg didn't need to turn aside to see his friend's judging expression, lips most likely pressed flat against each other with half-lidded eyes looking at him as if he was a toddler. "How do you go out to do that and end up beating up a Ward?"

"Well," Greg snorted as he moved his way down the line, pointing at the container of brown mush that might have been meatloaf. The lunch lady complied, dropping a hunk of said brown mush on his tray with a grunt. "I crushed her in Call of Duty and then she was all 'FITE ME 1V1 IRL FGT.' One thing lead to another and the rest is history?"

"1v1 IRL," Sparky echoed blankly. Greg snuck a peek at his friend's face out of the corner of his eyes and could barely hold back a snort of laughter at the look of utter disdain Sparky was shooting him.

"1v1 IRL."

"I swear to God..."

Laughing, Greg waved, attempting to divert Sparky's annoyance. "Okay, okay, okay, I was jumping off buildings, working my reinforcement and acrobatics when I made a… let's call it a..." he brought his index finger and thumb together, "slightmiscalculation as to how strong I was."

"...clarify."

"There was a gap. A big gap. I thought I could make it," Greg said with a shake of his head. "I couldn't. Fell about five, maybe six stories. Got a concussion."

"Wow."

"Anyway, fought SS. Kinda stumbled a bit, then I beat her with glitter magic and wiki knowledge."

"...huh."

"Yeah, imagine it. Shadow Stalker trying to get home without anyone seeing her with her costume all sparkly." Greg snickered openly. "Nothing can top that."

"And then?"

"Waited 'till she could get back up again. Said sorry for, 'kicking your ass, but I told you I wasn't a baddie so your fault, really' and got out of there before she could shoot me again."

"... I'm still trying to get my head around the fact that your weak ass actually beat a real cape."

"A real cape? What am I, a fake one?" Greg scoffed. "You're just soooencouraging."

"Ha… Don't I know it?"

"Funny," Greg retorted, rolling his eyes.

"Still, you 1v1-ed the edgiest edgelord in Brockton Bay. That's insane," Sparky said with a shake of his head. "You know this whole thing is gonna bite you in the butt, right?"

"Oh, majorly. PRT's probably pissed as all get out but I mean, I waited till she was good to get up on her own and I told her I wasn't a baddie a bunch of times." Greg shrugged as he thought it over. "I doubt they'll make me a villain, right?"

"Who knows?" Sparky responded with a frown.

"Not that comforting."

"Wasn't supposed to be. You want comforting?" Sparky shot him a dirty look. "Don't beat up government sponsored superheroes."

"I'll keep that in mind." Several dozen students jostled around Greg, visibly moving to the side as he walked away from the lunch line. As they headed towards their usual empty table, Greg glanced over at Sparky. "I think I need a different color for my cravat, by the way."

"Why? Red's a good color. Really brightens up your whole black leather situation, y'know."

Greg tilted his head, simply replying with one word. "Empire."

"...fuck."

"...yeah."

"How did I not realize that?" The mixed teen shook his head, wincing.

"To be fair, I didn't realize it either."

"Yeah, but I spent like three days making the shit," Sparky replied through gritted teeth. "If anyone should have realized how fucking dumb that was, it should have been me."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, man," Greg replied, shrugging again. "Always a solution somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," Sparky replied, still wearing a slight frown. "I guess."

"How about I buy some spray paint and take care of it?" Greg offered.

"Some white and blue spray paint for the leather… replacing the cravat and the hoodie… Add some silver pads… Cut down on the belts… Maybe go all Prototype Saber with the design… Add a little gold etching and a vest? You're no dashing knight but," Sparky seemed to mull over the thought for a moment before nodding his head slowly, " ...Not a bad idea, G. Best part, Shadow Stalker might not notice it's you."

"Thank you," Greg smirked, raising an eyebrow at his friend and his eye for design. "I didn't have most of the idea but... thank you."

You have gained 1 WIS.

And thank you too.

The two sat down at a free table, one of the longer rectangular gray ones that most students seemed to avoid in lieu of the circular wooden ones for some reason. Greg wondered if there was any real reasoning for that but ultimately, he found himself not actually caring enough to think about it.

"Hey, Veder."

A low-pitched but oh-so-familiar voice caught his attention, causing Greg to raise his head from his tray and turn to the side. Glancing up, he found his smile fading and his general mood dropping as he found himself face to face with someone he'd rather go the rest of his life without seeing again.

Mal Duncan.

Six-foot-three, blonde, blue-eyed and muscled to the point that Greg often found himself wondering when he left the gym. A junior who served as the Empire liaison to Winslow, he was little more than a grunt himself but big fish, small pond…

In short, he was a bully. Winslow's top bully, it could be said he was a bully recruiter, turning white kids into future Neo-Nazis. Without a hint of exaggeration, it could be said that he ran Empire business within Winslow's halls. When he wasn't mentoring gullible Caucasian freshmen on the proper methods of lynching or whatever, he could be found collecting "protection" money every couple of days from the white kids who didn't buy his shtick.

Case in point, one Gregory Lucas Veder.

"Mal…" There was no fear in his voice, not anymore at least. His tone, while not hard or in any way angry, bore none of the expected timidity most people had when facing down Mal.

He kept his blue eyes locked on Mal's own, not bothering to look away despite his lower position. He may have been bigger but Greg felt secure in the fact that he had faced much worse than a racist bully with a chip on his shoulder. "What do you want?"

Mal's crooked nose twitched, his mouth quirking up slightly in the hint of a smile. It wasn't a good smile. It was the smile of someone like… someone like Sophia.

That says a lot. Greg thought to himself, blinking. Although, I don't know if it's worse for Mal or Sophia. "Observe," he whispered, hiding the movement of his lips by scratching his nose.

Malcolm Duncan Lvl 9

Empire Junior

HP: 320/320

Dumb as a bag of rocks. Kicked off Winslow football team in sophomore year for steroid use. Abuses steroids. Hair is dyed blonde. Wears colored contacts. Wants to look like Aryan ideal. Jealous of you for your hair and eyes.

Observe Level Up!

3→4

As Greg read the screen, he had to clamp his mouth shut so as not to smile or burst out laughing. Mal Duncan? Poster boy of the Brockton Bay Chapter of the Hitler Youth Mal Duncan?

Oh, this was a gift.

Picking on me because he was jealous that I was whiter than him? Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this. Greg stared at Mal's outstretched hand before raising his gaze to look into Mal's face.

The bully moved his shoulders up and down slightly, the action probably just an excuse to flex his muscles. "You've been taking steps, Veder. Steps in the right direction. My boys think you're ready to step up." The boys he was referring to must not have been the same ones that Greg knew kowtowed to Mal, considering they had looked at him with pretty much the same disdain as they usually did over the past week. "Are you?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Steps. What steps?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you," Mal smiled, showing off several chipped teeth proudly. "That nigger Younger, you fucked up his nose. Shut down that ape bitch Hess pretty fucking good, too." He chuckled without much humor in his actual voice.

Greg was faced with the sudden realization that he was right next to a laughing Neo-Nazi in the middle of the cafeteria. Glancing back to see Sparky's askance look and the curious expressions several others were giving him, he obviously wasn't the only one who realized how off this looked.

"Not to mention," Mal continued, "you've been working out, too. Looks like you've been on the juice. What do you use? Dianabol? Boldenon? Anavar? Winstrol, maybe?" The bully grinned widely. "Or did your parents shell out for for that good Tinker shit?"

Greg blinked. Are those all steroids? How much does this guy know about steroids? That can't be healthy. "Umm… I don't. Juice, I mean."

Malcolm frowned, his head tilting slightly as he gave Greg an odd look. "You don't? Then how?" He gave Greg's body a confused glance, Greg's short sleeved "Level Up!" shirt, showing off his impressively toned forearms as well as being rather tight against his chest.

The shorter blonde shrugged. "Crunches, pull-ups and plenty of milk. Can't forget to mention good genes, I guess." Greg said as he ran a hand through his hair. His lips clenched, fighting a smirk as he saw Mal clench his fist.

"Whatever, Veder. Just wanted to say kudos. Keep up the good work," Mal made to put a hand on Greg's shoulder but the shorter teen leaned away, standing up from the lunch table to avoid having to crane his neck up.

Quest Created!

Stand Your Ground II: Establishing Dominance

Details: Show Mal Duncan that you can't be pushed around

Success: + 1 STR, 1500 XP

Failure: ?

That's enough for another level!

After a moment of staring, his facial muscles unable to fight off a smile at the sight of the pop-up, he spoke up.

"You do know that kudos is a Jewish term, right?" Greg's voice was flat in stark contrast to his amused smile, his eyes blinking slowly at the taller teen.

"What?"

"Kudos. It's Yiddish," he lied, smiling widely, "albeit with some distinct origins in Ancient Hebrew."

Bullshitting Level Up!

3→4

Mal snorted, stepping closer to Greg and purposely staring down at him. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Greg shrugged. "Nothing. Just find it interesting that you're using Jewish terms." His eyebrows rose, a thought suddenly coming to mind. "By the way, I've always wondered. How does the Empire rank whiteness?"

"What?" Mal screwed his face up as he tried to parse Greg's question. "I-I don't…"

"Like, do you do it the Nazi way with the Swedish, Brits, Germans, and Austrians all the way at the top? Cause that's my entire ancestry right there. That's literally it. My family tree suffers from a serious lack of diversity," Greg continued, smiling slightly at the flinch Mal gave at his words. "So, if, and that's a huge if, I joined up with the Empire, would I get a better position than you or something?"

You have gained 1 CHA.

A vein in Mal's forehead bulged, his fists clenched tightly as he glared at Greg. Ew. Maybe ease up on the steroids there, bud.

"You think you're hard now, Veder? You think 'cause you smacked one stupid bitch, you got balls, huh?"

Don't make a shrunken balls joke. Don't make a shrunken balls joke. Don't. Make. A. Shrunken. Balls. Joke.

Greg shrugged, his lips pressed together in a tight smile as he tried to fight a laugh. "I mean the point is that you're all about race when I'm pretty sure you bully people who are just as white if not more white than you are. For example, both my parents are blondes with blue eyes. Your eye and hair color are both fake."

The taller teen growled and stomped forward, pushing Greg back with one hand. "H-how the fuck do you know that?"

"Huh…" Greg blinked, glancing down at the hand that had pushed him with a raised eyebrow and a tight smile. "You know everybody knows it, right? I mean, you make it obvious. You don't even try and dye your eyebrows."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Veder!" His fist rose, balled tightly with the muscles on his forearms bulging threateningly.

Greg blinked, his lips quirking back up again despite how much he tried to fight it. "...no. Let's look at your name for example. Malcolm Duncan. Both names very Scottish. Y'know Hitler hated Scottish people. Called them animals with the Devil's hair." His eyes flicked up to Mal's hairline. "Let me guess… natural redhead?"

Bullshitting Level Up!

4→5

Taunt Level Up!

5→6

The taller blond threw a fist, forcing Greg to duck back, his eyes tracking the limb as it passed in front of his eyes. [Reflexes] was an interesting ability. Well, it was more useful than interesting. Each level supposedly decreased his overall reaction time.

Considering the skill was now sitting steady at level 7, Greg was pretty sure that his reflexes were a great deal better than the average person's which was pretty frickin' awesome when you thought about it.

Mal drew his fist back and swung again, Greg stepping back and to the side to let the bulky arm pass by him. Following instincts that he had grown used to, Greg grabbed hold of the limb and pulled it forward as he stepped out of the way, sending Mal sprawling forward to his knees.

Like a gunshot, the murmuring in the cafeteria shot up, going from a soft background noise to almost oppressive in its volume.

"Ask him if he made the carpet match the drapes with that blond bleach!" A voice shouted out from not too far away.

Greg snapped his mouth shut, a snort getting out before he could stop it. "Thank you, Sparky but I think he already heard you."

As if on cue, Mal jumped to his feet, throwing another punch with an angry grunt. Stepping aside was almost too easy, considering how sloppy and angry the swing was. His foot snapped out, almost before he thought about it and he swept it, sending the larger teen to the floor again.

"Wow, twice in a row." Greg clicked his tongue a few times. "I'd cut my losses at this point if I were you." The words were far more for his benefit than Mal's, really. If he was forced to throw a punch, he might hit hard enough to actually hurt the wannabe Nazi, considering the extra points he had dumped into STR the night before, and getting into actual trouble was not something he was looking forward to.

Mal stood up again, taking his time as opposed to the sudden jump of last time. Brushing some actual dirt off his jacket, he shot Greg a dark glare. "You're gonna regret this, Veder."

"I mean, am I? Really?" Greg narrowed his eyes, pulling a grimace. "Like, the Empire is pretty shitty but come on, look at my face. I'm, like, their target demographic or something." He stuck out his tongue. "What are they really gonna do to me?"

Rather than answer, Mal turned on his heels and walked off, his shoulders hunched.

Quest Success!

"Stand Your Ground II: Establishing Dominance" Completed

Details: Show Mal Duncan that you can't be pushed around.

Gained 1500 xp

Gained 1 STR

Level Up! You are now Level 8.

You gained 2 Stat Points.

Sweetness. Smiling brightly, Greg plopped himself back onto his seat, the excitement of a level up coursing through him. "So," he turned to Sparky, "you seen Sophia today?"

"So," Sparky raised an eyebrow as his friend sat back down at the table, the rest of the eager crowd dispersing as Mal stalked off angrily. "Are we not gonna talk about what just happened?"

Greg blinked. "Do we have to?"

"...guess not," Sparky shrugged after a moment's thought, mumbling slightly under his breath. "Either way, I don't think Hess is here. Why, though?" Sparky shot him a wry look, barely looking up from underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "Trynna troll her into losing her shit again?"

"No… okay, yes." Greg relented, chuckling under his breath. "It's just so fun."

"I mean, fair enough but you might wanna chill out," Sparky replied, head resting on the cold cafeteria table. "Like, I hate her but you gotta give her props." He frowned, raising his head slightly. "All that attitude in such a tiny body. Though she be little, bitch be fierce."

Greg shook his head. "Can you blame me? It's better than messing around on PHO… almost."

"Makes sense…" Sparky replied, nodding slowly. He raised an eyebrow, eyes lighting up as if suddenly recalling something. "Are you still temp banned, anyway?"

"I… huh," Greg frowned, lifting a hand to his chin. "I honestly didn't check. I'm pretty sure my last PHO ban ended on Monday, though."

"So, that mean Void Cowboy will ride again?" his friend said with a smirk, his expression slightly expectant.

Greg shrugged, a slight frown on his face. "Maybe, but… not right now. I wanna get somewhere with my powers first. Maybe join New Wave possibly 'cause I can glow blue and yellow, y'know. Or, I could sign up with a big company, get a sponsorship." A light frown appeared on his face for a few seconds before vanishing as a thoughtful smile replaced it. "I kinda might know someone who can help out there so… options."

"Kinda might?"

"Kinda might," Greg echoed back, nodding.

"Why not the Wards, though?" Sparky volunteered. "Bunch of kids our age. Free college, basically. You get paid."

"C'mon, man." Greg rolled his eyes and sighed, shrugging his shoulders again. "I told you already. No one in their right mind should trust the PRT. We live in a world full of superheroes. Everyone knows that governments are always evil conspiracies in superhero worlds."

You have gained 1 WIS Point.

Weird, but okay. Greg threw up his hands, shaking his head as he continued his slightly manic rant. "Look at China. They're obviously the lawful evil. Africa is chaotic evil. So is South America and a bunch of Russia. That means America and Europe are probably neutral evil."

Sparky blinked at him. "So?"

"So?!" Greg scoffed. "The entire U.S. government is probably run by the Illuminati of superheroes or something. Ten bucks says the President is under their thumb. Are you honestly telling me that if you were Eidolon, you'd let some pencil pusher in a suit tell you what to do just cause he takes a dump in the White House? You think the Library of Alexandria is cool with some random lady in a pantsuit telling her what to do just because she runs the PRT?"

"Bro, nobody calls her th-"

Not quite done, Greg barrelled through his friend's attempt to speak. "Heck, Legend is probably the worst of them. Someone that super-nice? I don't buy it. Nobody is that nice except for Mr. Rogers. Gay Laser Man has some T-Rex sized skeletons in his closet, I bet my life on it." For a moment, Greg paused then he let out a snort, giggling under his breath. "...closet. Closet… get it… cause he's gay? That one wasn't even on purpose."

"I… ugh, I get it. Wasn't funny but I get it." Sparky sighed, lifting a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. "...your point?"

"Party pooper." Greg stuck out his tongue. "My point is that judging from what I've put together, Canada is probably the most evil country on the face of the planet, with the USA right behind them." He blinked. " Also, Legend's probably a cannibal."

His friend stared at him for a long moment.

"...how do you not have a permanent ban on PHO yet?"

Spoiler: STATUS