Greg Vs Raid 9-10

The next day.

Sunday.

A day of rest, allegedly.

For a freshly un-grounded Greg, it was just another day to try and figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. The big, dramatic speech in the warehouse had felt good. Epic, even. CHA + 1 worthy.

But speeches didn't patch potholes or get businesses reopened.

Speeches were for cutscenes.

Now was the time for action.

So... now what?

Now, he was walking through downtown Brockton Bay, a place that two weeks ago had been a saltwater swimming pool with really terrible property values. Now? It was... better. 

Not good. Good was a long way off, being honest.

But better was still good.

As it had been since the last time he got all suited and booted in his costume, today was also a day for civvies and he was dressed to fit in a way that Sparky called white boy chic. He didn’t really have a comeback to that one that wasn’t racist but he’d figure one out eventually. White Boy Chic involved a bright blue t-shirt with a big white smiley face done up to look like dripping paint, two dots and an upwards curve, no circle.

Below all that, he also had on a pair of blinding white capri shorts.

Mostly because it was creeping up on late July and his legs deserved freedom.

He couldn’t forget the matching Crocs too; in sport mode, because of course.

A fashion statement; not that he knew what he was stating.

The taste of salt was still in the air, fresh up his nostrils with more than a hint of wet concrete and some gentle notes of barnacles. Past that, though, there was something else mixed in. He couldn’t deny the undertones of fresh lumber wafting his way from a dozen construction sites; that and the light aroma of construction sweat bleeding into everything. 

Nail guns went pop-pop-pop, the steady determined rhythm of it all echoing off half-finished walls in a way that was probably inspiring or annoying depending on how little sleep you’d been getting the last two weeks.

People were everywhere too. 

Actual people, walking around, not running. Well, a little running, but not the scared kind.

Some of them even carried shopping bags, not just emergency supplies. A couple of kids chased pigeons near a newly installed fountain, shrieks of laughter echoing in the wide-open plaza.

It was... hopeful.

Annoyingly so.

Mostly for one specific reason.

Hope's a lot of pressure. More than anything, it meant there was something to lose again. It meant, above all else, that people were expecting things to stay good, to keep getting better, and that felt like a lot of weight on a city that had been underwater two weeks ago.

Not that the pressure was just on him, specifically, but whatever.

He saw a new mural going up on the side of a building that had been half-sheared off by a wave, its guts of rebar and insulation still exposed to the sky. Not even a tribute to him or anything for once, which was a nice change of pace from the fifteen White Knight murals he'd passed on the way here. 

No, no White Knight inspiration here at all. Just... a giant silhouette of a white and gold phoenix rising from a sea of blue and dark grey.

His eyes narrowed.

Yeah, definitely not about him at all.

Subtle. Real subtle. Hero worship aside, he wasn’t gonna rag on how people were coping with getting introduced to their mortality in such a big way. Everything they were doing about it; it just felt like the city was trying to convince itself it could get better, like it was giving itself a pep talk with spray paint and optimism.

We got this. We’re Brockton Bay. We survived Leviathan. We can survive anything.

Right?

Hands in his pockets, Greg raised his head as he kept it moving, eyes sliding over a storefront that had been boarded up for years, windows thick with the grime of a decade, now sporting a fresh "COMING SOON" sign in the window.

From the hasty sign next to it, he could tell what exactly was coming soon. A bakery.

Nice. He nodded slowly. Could use a good donut place that isn't a national chain.

Before he could get lost in visions of strawberry glazed donuts wth sprinkles, something buzzed in his pocket, a familiar ringtone that brought back memories of a blond kid with a sword and a shield and an annoying fairy partner.

He pulled out his phone, half-expecting Sparky with another sarcastic text about yesterday's speech, but no, nothing from Sparkplug. Instead, it was just a notification from PHO. Someone had made a brand-new thread: "White Knight Spotted Downtown - Is He Patrolling?"

Oh.

Oh no.

Blue eyes dropped down at his bright blue shirt and white shorts.

I'm in civvies. How did they- Frowning, Greg clicked into the link and those same blue eyes quickly found themselves dropping and rolling as he pulled off his best Sparky impression. 

Of course it wasn’t him. Just some dude in a bad cosplay that had been taking pics with kids online. Not the best idea, but he wasn’t gonna stop anyone’s fun.

Even still…

Idiots.

That was kinda half-directed his way too, not just at the over-eager White Knighters online. His armor and costume was still half-damaged, Greg not really having had the time to heal it up with his power with his mom halfway up his ass about ‘using powers in the house.’

He was the power.

And speaking of power…

Greg eased up against the brick wall right next to the soon-to-come donut emporium, and leaned back, staring out at the street as everything finally seemed to be coming together in his new world.

Shrugging his shoulders with a smile, he half-mindlessly raised a finger as a single thought popped into his head.

Status.

Gregory Lucas Veder

Student 

Level 60

Title: Endbringer Fighter

XP: 43,750/150,000

Age: 16

HP: 7600 (+400)

MP: 3002

Will: 3292 (+300)

STR: 500

SPD: 300

VIT: 450

INT: 150

WIS: 22 (-70%)

CHA: 445 (+9) (-90%)

Unspent Stat Points: 135

Unspent Perk Points: 12

Cash: $5,726,825

He looked at his stat sheet with a slight smile on his face, the expression growing wider and wider until he was fully grinning in a way that made a woman walking his way suddenly cross the street. Sorry, lady.

Even still, the grin didn’t even twitch down. Whatever her problem was, he was too high on Cloud 9. Leviathan may have beat several flavors and brands of ever-living dogshit out of him, but there was a reason he’d been so fucking giddy since waking up the first time in Vicky’s basement. I’m a fucking demigod.

That might have been pushing it a smidge, considering Vicky was about three times stronger than he was from what he could tell. But that was without Reinforcement.

Hell, I’m like three times as fast as she is either way. His grin somehow sharpened, Greg able to tell that much as his tongue flicked out against the white cage of enamel. Alright… he pulled his expression back a bit, letting his mood tamp down and the teeth going back with it. 

Coil and his guys… Christ, that was two weeks ago already… They had pushed him up to Level 40 and dropped all this extra money in his Inventory, fighting his way through all of them. Not that he could really remember that all that well, considering his brain had still been in the middle of growing back. Either way, that had been nothing compared to the actual Endbringer fight.

Saving people and fighting the sea monster had dropped so many perks and points and stat ups into his lap, he had blocked out most of them as they happened. He could barely afford the distraction back then but since it had ended, things had changed in a big way.

NEW PERKS GAINED:

Endbringer Survivor What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. What tries to end the world makes you legendary.
Enhanced stats by 10% when facing S-Class threats.

Water Walking (MAX) The surface tension is more of a suggestion anyway.
Perfect movement across any liquid surface. Immune to being pulled underwater against your will. Can stand, run, or fight on water as if it were solid ground.

Pulverize I When you hit things, they stay hit.
Basic melee attacks generate a focused shockwave dealing splash damage equal to 5% of your STR.

Fortress of Flesh I Be the shield your allies need.
While stationary, you gain an aura that allies can shelter behind, granting them 20% of your strength as damage reduction.

Strength of the Dying Never more dangerous than when cornered.
When your remaining HP is lower than 10%, 10% of attacks automatically crit.

Blink Dodge Gone before they blink.
Every successful dodge grants a short burst of speed, allowing you to reposition 1 foot further than intended at will.

Sharp Turn Physics is just a suggestion at these speeds.
You lose less speed when changing direction at full-tilt.

Brush Off Use your amazing powers of obliviousness to shrug off debuffs.
While in combat, all minimal status effects can be ignored above 90% HP.

Diehard They should've made sure you stayed down.
Increases all Physical Resistances as well as doubles HP regeneration until combat is over. Can only be used after waking up from unconsciousness with enemies present.

Directed Mana You can go the distance.
All mana-based skills travel twice as far before dissipating.

Pulling Out All The Stops (7/10) "Go beyond the limits… Limit Break!"
For 420 seconds, your WP and MP are unlimited. However, your HP drops to 0 after exactly that duration.

PERK UPGRADES:

Fast Healing → Fast Healing II More than just a flesh wound.
You heal at an accelerated rate, regaining Health at a rate of half your VIT every ten seconds. Additionally, gain resistance to status effects that would prevent healing. (225 HP per 10 seconds = 22.5 HP/second)

SKILLS GAINED:

Mana Thrust Lv 15 When you need to go fast and magic is the answer.
Allows for self-propulsion by venting concentrated mana from individual body parts or whole body for explosive movement. Cost: Variable (5-50 MP per burst)

Hydrokinesis (Basic) Lv 16 You fight water long enough, you learn to speak its language.
Advanced manipulation and control of water within moderate range. Range: 16 meters Cost: 15 MP per second of sustained use

SKILL LEVEL UPS:

Mana-Based Skills:

• Mana Bolt: 10 → 25

  • NEW SUBSKILL: Mana Beam - Continuous beam attack, 25 MP/second

• Mana Barrier: 10 → 20

• Mana Platform: 10 → 25

• Manipulation: Mana (Limited): 12 → 27 (27% bonus to mana skills)

Combat Skills:

• Reinforcement (Acolyte): 12 → 25 (now 250% boost)

• Weapon Charge: 23 → 30 (x3 damage, 15 sec charge)

• Dash Straight: 20 → 28 (1.9x damage cap)

• Raging Combo: 18 → 25 (50 hits)

• Beginner Combat: 36 

Elemental Skills:

• Pyrokinesis (Adept): 22 → 40

• Aerokinesis (Adept): 28 → 40

• Electrokinesis (Basic): 5 

• Cryokinesis (Basic): 5

Movement Skills:

• Acrobatics: 56 → 70

• Surface Adhesion: 30 → 40

Resistance Skills:

• Resistance: Blunt: 75 → 85

• Resistance: Pierce: 42 → 45

• Resistance: Heat: 79 

• Resistance: Tox: 6 → 10

• Resistance: Shock: 9

• Resistance: Slash: 20 

• Resistance: Cold: 12 

Support/Utility Skills:

• Intimidation: 30 → 40

STAT PROGRESSION (Level 40 → 60):

• STR: 270 → 500 (+230)

• SPD: 170 → 300 (+130)

• VIT: 270 → 450 (+180)

• INT: 100 → 150 (+50)

• CHA: 34 → 44 (+10)

TITLE GAINED:

Endbringer Fighter "Some fights change you. Others prove what you already were."

• +50% damage against S-Class threats

• +400 HP

• +300 Will

• +10% recovery rate from injuries sustained in S-Class encounters

Yeah… Easing back against the wall with his eyes half-closed, the young Veder could only let out a pleased sigh. Things are definitely looking up Gre-

His thought went sideways as a scream broke through his status screen.

It wasn't the kind of scream he was used to. 

Not the panicked "Oh God, a supervillain is monologuing and his costume is just terrible" scream. This was something that made his chest go tight; raw panic from a tiny high-pitched “fear for my life” scream.

Shit.

Greg's head snapped around, blue eyes locking onto the source, as the world sharpened into focus like someone had cranked up the resolution settings. A little girl, maybe six or seven, pigtails and pink dress, was sprinting down the sidewalk. Fat tears running down her face, mouth open in another scream.

Chasing her was a grown man.

Not just a man.

A grown man.

Big guy even, wearing a grease-stained mechanic's jumpsuit, face all snarling teeth and bulging, bloodshot eyes, arms flailing as he beelined for the little girl like this was a Sylvester and Tweety Bird situation.

What the actual f-? It barely took a fraction of a second for him to go from processing to understanding. Okay. Kidnapping. Broad daylight. Bold choice, my dude. Bad for you, but bold.

His feet were already moving before he'd even made a conscious decision to act, cutting across the street and keeping his movements just on the right side of humanly possible. Can't go full superhero speed in civvies. That's how you end up on PHO.

The man was closing in on the girl, big clumsy hands reaching for her pigtails. Greg didn't even break stride as he came in from the side, smooth as butter.

No punch.

Not even a kick.

He just... inserted himself.

His shoulder hit the other man’s, Greg barely using any force because he wasn’t trying to send the guy into low orbit but just enough that he stood his ground and edged back just a bit. He wasn’t sure what the other guy felt, but it had to be something close to bumping into a runaway shopping cart full of bricks. Either way, the man staggered sideways with a grunt of surprised rage, momentum carrying him past the little girl and into the side of a big blue mailbox with a dull, meaty thump.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, easy there, big guy," Palms went up, Greg easing back a bit as he positioned himself firmly in front of the terrified little girl who'd frozen in place, chest heaving with sobs. "Let's all just take a deep breath, yeah? It's Sunday. Day of rest. Big J is very against kidnapping the little ones."

Also murder. Pretty sure he's against murder too.

The man didn't seem to hear him as he just pushed himself off the mailbox and back onto his feet a second later, not even seeming to acknowledge the hard hit he just took.

The mechanic’s head whips around to fix Greg with a glare that was pure, undiluted rage, bloodshot eyes locked onto him with pupils blown wide. If that wasn’t bad enough, the guy opened his mouth to let a thin line of raw red-flecked spit trace a path from the corner of his mouth as he let out a growl that barely managed to edge on the side of human.

Oh.

Okay.

Not a kidnapping.

This is a rabies situation. 28 Days Later vibes. Great.

"Look, man, I don't know what your deal is," Greg said, slowly backing up and keeping his hands visible and non-threatening because de-escalation was important even when the escalation in question looked like it wanted to eat his face. "Maybe you lost your fantasy football league, maybe your favorite show got cancelled. I get it. But you're scaring the kid. How about you just... walk it off?"

The man's response was to lunge; wild, sloppy swing aimed at Greg's head. Swayed back, punch whistling past his ear with inches to spare. The sheer, uncoordinated force of his own swing threw the man off balance again, stumbling forward a few steps while his arms pinwheeled.

The fuck are you doing, bro?

There were a dozen different ways to end this in an instant and almost half of those were even non-lethal too; quick jab to the temple, sweep the leg, even a flick to the forehead that would put him down for a nap. 

Unfortunately, Greg knew he couldn't just one hit KO some random civilian on the street in broad daylight while wearing a smiley face t-shirt.

Not unless he wanted to end up breaking what little secret identity he had managed to hold onto.

There were rules.

Sort of.

Mostly, there were witnesses, and he wasn't in the mood to explain to the PRT why he'd just put a guy in a coma for having a really, really bad day. Or explain to Mom why her son was on the news again.

The man came at him again, another wild haymaker thrown with full force of his body behind it. Greg ducked under it easily, watching the guy rage his way forward in what felt like slow motion compared to what he was actually used to fighting.

Leviathan moved faster than this.

It was such a nothingburger that his Danger Sense didn't even bother clicking on. Rolling his eyes as the man's arm passed over his head, Greg moved. The young cape twisted back and around the guy like a matador on display with no cape, his own arm snaking around the man's thick, sweaty neck, and his other locking the move into place before the insane man could even react.

Sleeper hold; clean, efficient, non-lethal.

See, Mom? Best behavior.

The mechanic thrashed wildly, big body bucking and twisting, but Greg knew from what Sparky had told him that a regular person would have as much luck trying to fight a statue made of rebar.

Either way, Greg did his best to be gentle as he slowly, carefully, put him to sleep.

"Nighty night, big fella," he muttered the words into the man's ear like a lullaby as he felt the fury fade. He didn’t even need to tighten the hold, not that he could risk that without popping his head like a zit. "Dream of a less murdery tomorrow."

A few seconds later, the guy went limp, body slumping to dead weight in Greg's arms as the blond gently eased up on the mechanic, propping him up against the mailbox he'd tried to assault moments earlier.

Full circle. 

Greg let out a long breath as he turned to check on the little girl, who was now being scooped up by her mother. The woman had come running out of nowhere, face a mess of tears and frantic relief to match her daughter

Without even looking her way for longer than a second, Greg flashed the lady a thumbs up, half-ignoring her thank-yous as he turned around at the sound of another scream.

The fuck...

Except it wasn't just one scream.

The sounds of the city rushed in like a tidal wave as Greg realized it was a chorus, erupting all over the newly hopeful downtown area. Multiple screams from multiple directions, overlapping and building into something that made his stomach drop.

Oh no.

Blue eyes darted down the street going even wider as his mouth fell open at the sight of a woman in a business suit attacking a hot dog vendor, trying to claw at his face, polished nails leaving red trails down his cheeks. A block over, a car swerved onto the sidewalk, the driver fully slumped over the wheel as the passenger started smashing the windshield with just her hands, blood and safety glass mixing together in a spiderweb of fractures.

The teenagers who'd been peacefully loitering near the phoenix mural a minute ago were now brawling, a whirlwind of fists and feet and someone's shoe flying off into traffic.

This isn't...

It was like a switch had been flipped. One moment, the city was healing, people carrying shopping bags and chasing pigeons and believing things were getting better.

The next, it was tearing itself apart.

This wasn't random.

This was an attack.

Everyone was running and screaming, frantic and fearful; the once-hopeful street overtaken by a wave of pure unthinking panic spreading through the streets. To make everything worse, for every ten people running for their lives, there was at least one turning on their neighbor like they had lost all sense. 

Just faces twisted into the same mask of mindless, red-eyed rage he'd seen on the first guy.

The hot dog vendor went down beneath the flailing fists and heeled feet of the woman in the pantsuit. The car on the sidewalk plowed into a storefront, glass exploding outward in a glittering spray. The teenagers were actually biting each other now, one kid's ear bleeding as another latched on like a rabid dog.

No no no no no.

He felt the buzzing in his pocket again, frantic and constant; a call this time, not just a random notification. It was probably Sparky or Theo or even his mom, but Greg couldn't look away from the chaos spreading like a virus all around him.

"The hell is going on?"