Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Legacy of Heroes

By: Bubbajack

Coauthors/Editors: Icysnowsage, First Hassan, Antagonist, Loamy Coffee, Reiter 

Special Consultant: Heliosion

Obligatory First Chapter Disclaimer: We DO NOT own the following: Dandadan, Oshi no Ko, Katanagatari, Magical Girl Site, Persona 4 Arena, and Worm.

Special thanks go out to my Super Donors: Alexander Murry, Ben Wanless, Bobby Glass, G Mateos, Gage Scott, Jareth Norris, Martin T. Aranda, Selmephren, and Lucas White my sole Supreme Tier Donor. Much love and thanks goes out to all my other patrons as well.

1-1: Duty

It was a cold winter morning in Brockton Bay. The weather was pleasant enough but the city was almost anything but . Cries of combat and fights against order and chaos blossomed throughout the city. The PRT was handling problems against the underworld that had not only taken root but become part of the city’s very foundation.

A young Protectorate Cape wished she could be on the front lines fighting against the tide of chaos but alas some things took precedence.

The small bundle wriggled in her arms as she gently placed it in a basket in front of the home before her. 

The woman in question used her connections to find a family looking for a child. Used her resources as part of the PRT to vet them. There was nothing wrong or dangerous in their history. The wife was a nurse at Brockton Bay General Hospital and the husband was a policeman that worked for the Brockton Bay Fire department on the side. Honestly, she couldn’t have asked for a better family for her child.

She rang the doorbell and gently walked away. She wished she could have raised the child herself but with the villainous Capes running rampant and the ease of a Cape’s identity being protected by flimsy rules unwritten. She did not want to risk his safety. 

She got into the nearby car, hearing the shouts of joy and happiness as the couple found the babe on their doorstep.

Thus, with her first and last duty as a mother, she flung a light into the future. No matter how cruel or treacherous, her son would be safe for now.

“Be safe, my baby. I pray for your fortune. Know that I will always be watching you.”

(...)

Greg Veder was what you would call unique . He had golden tinged blond hair that looked as if the sun itself blessed it. His eyes sparkled like emeralds.  His skin was originally pale but working hard in the yard and doing chores around his neighborhood in the summer gave him a slightly tanned if not olive skin tone. He was interested in things a boy usually was. He loved heroes, villains, and the good fight in between. He looked up to Eidolon for being the strongest of the Triumvirate and wondered what Scion did as he came and stopped wars, Endbringer attacks, and helped save cats stuck in trees. Truly, the world was bountiful and plush for the taking in Greg’s future.

However, there was light. Darkness soon followed.

Greg’s parents were kind, loving, and diligent in their care for their son. They made sure he wanted for nothing but instilled firm virtues that usually lead to him helping an old woman cross the street or picking up litter in the park. To do good had no consequence but the rewards were sweeter than honey.

Alas, those who are plentiful are challenged by adversity.

Greg lost his mother from a gang related mugging. She was working an extra shift as an EMT when her ambulance was robbed by a Merchant gangbanger trying to get a quick fix. She died protecting her patient that was on the way to the Emergency Room.

Greg and his father mourned her loss. His father did not break . He did not bend . He stood firm and told Greg that while the world is cruel. It had so much to offer.

Greg learnt this soon enough when working at the hospital part time, he met his current girlfriend.

Taylor Hebert was a girl that seemed to reflect a parody of Greg’s life. Her mother died in a car accident, Greg’s passed from intentional harm. His father stood firm. Her’s was overcome with grief. Greg was average in school. Taylor excelled in academics. Taylor was bullied relentlessly. Greg had plenty of friends.

Honestly, he felt nothing but empathy for the girl. He wished he could solve her problems but tragically, murder is looked down upon in modern society. No, he couldn’t just kill the girls bullying her.

So he came to her in the hospital. He visited more than her own father, honestly. He brought her flowers, snacks, and even homework from school. Wanting to make sure she was okay.

When she got the okay to leave the hospital, Greg offered to treat her to a meal that didn’t taste of cardboard and antiseptic.

One outing became two and then they started dating. Greg tried his best to defend Taylor from her bullies. He tried so hard to fit the ‘ rules’ set before him. But the game was rigged. The school just stood by and watched. The teachers looked the other way. The principal dismissed their concerns. Hell, Greg got his first write up for “lying” and spreading false rumors about the trio.

Greg endured but he saw how this chipped away at Taylor. Every day, he saw her wilt just a little. Ever the martyr, she tried to break up with him to save him the ridicule. She begged him to let her be. How she didn’t deserve him.

Greg vehemently shut her down. What kind of man lets his girl suffer and ditch her when the going gets tough?

Taylor was there for him when tragedy struck a second time. His father died conducting an emergency rescue in downtown Brockton. A fire had spread from a conflict between Lung and the PRT. There was nothing they could do. It spread too quickly. His father died from smoke inhalation after dragging a teenager out of a flaming building. 

Then Greg cracked and everything changed.

(...)  

Greg could only squeeze Taylor’s hand tighter as the dirt was shoveled over his father’s coffin. His face set in a hard grimace, his mood morose. ‘I’m all alone, now,’ He thought to himself as he stood there numb in his suit jacket as a deluge of rain fell from an overcast sky, the heavens seeming to reflect his mood though he himself seemed unable to cry. Just as suddenly as the rain pelted him, it stopped. He looked over to see Taylor covering them both under a red umbrella with a web theme. A simple gift he got her that was coming in handy now.

“It's okay to cry Greg, you know that right?” She said comforting him, pulling him close with her free arm pulling him close, and nuzzling his head in the crook of her shoulder.

“I seem to be out of tears at the moment, Taylor, sorry.” He mumbled out.

“It’s okay, you're in shock probably… just know that I’m here when you need me,” She whispered into his ear. And she had been all week as he did his best to figure out his father’s final arrangements. It was a tough job for a sixteen year old to do all by himself, but he managed with Taylor’s help.

“Thanks.”

A polite clearing of the throat got the two’s attention, and they turned, to see a sallow looking man in a business suit standing there with a briefcase in hand. “Excuse me Mr. Veder, I know you're going through a rough time right now, but I’m afraid I need a moment of your time.”

“What is this about?!” Taylor all but hissed like a pissed off cat. “Can’t you see he’s grieving ?! He just buried his father for God’s sake!”

“Believe me miss, I have no desire to be here, but unfortunately there are only two constants in this world, death, and taxes. I am, unfortunately, here for the latter.”

Greg sighed, “What is this about Mister..?”

“Johnson, Smith Johnson.  Mr. Veder and unfortunately, I represent Brockton bank.” Johnson replied clearly uncomfortable to be here. “Since both of your parents are… no longer with us , the Bank has decided in order to recoup the money your parents have taken out over the years and your home is to be repossessed and liquidated.”

Greg had no words. He’d just buried his father, his body barely cold, and now he was being informed that the bank was seizing his home? “I… where am I supposed to go? I have no other relatives, nowhere to live… just what am I supposed to do, Mr. Johnson?”

“I wish I knew, kid,” He said with a shrug. “I’m just a messenger, and for what it's worth, I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! IT'S  BAD ENOUGH HE LOST HIS PARENTS BUT NOW YOU’RE TAKING HIS HOME FROM HIM TOO?!”  Taylor had no such computations of being civil. “YOU CAN TAKE YOUR “SORRY” AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!”

Greg put his hand on her shoulder, “Taylor, Taylor calm down! I’ll figure something out.” He looked at the salaryman and asked, “Can I at least collect some personal things of my parents sir? Or are you going to liquidate everything in the house as well?”

Johnson rubbed his eyes, “You can take some personal effects with you, c’mon I’ll give you a lift and you can collect what you want. You didn’t walk here, did ya?”

“Took the bus.” Greg replied.

The man nodded, before he lit a cigarette in the rain with a butane lighter. He then motioned with his head, “Then follow me, my car’s nearby.”

(...)

Johnson’s car was an old tan, beat up 87 Lincoln that sputtered a bit before starting but once it got going, had trouble stopping due to bad breaks, but it beat walking in the rain. Some Blues kept coming in through the static on the radio as Johnson kept talking to the kids in the backseat of his car. “I knew your dad, you know? Firefighter and Cop? He was a rare breed. Pulled me out of a burning building once… so you can believe me when I say I did everything I could to try and stop the liquidation of your house from going through.”

“Thanks Sir, I appreciate it.” Greg said tiredly.

“Don’t thank me kid, I failed in the end.” the man replied as he exhaled a plume of smoke out of his cracked driver side window, before he pulled up to Greg’s childhood home.

‘Former childhood home,’ Taylor thought to herself as she got out when he held the door open for her. Greg fished around in his pocket and got his key out and let them in. He moved slowly past the living room, to the back towards his dad’s office. Once he arrived he moved around the L shaped desk, and crouched down, before pulling out some drawers. 

Curious as to what he was doing, Taylor joined him and was surprised to find a safe installed into the desk, Greg was mechanically putting in the code for the safe. 4L 1R 19L 0R.

He then opened the safe and came back out with a small box. It had a glass top and was filled with cigars.

“A humidor?” Johnson noted. “He kept cigars in a humidor… in a safe? Strange man, your dad.”

“He said it kept them from drying out or something…” Turning to Taylor he said, “Stay here a sec, ok? I need to go grab something from… from my parents room.”

Taylor patted his shoulder reassuringly, “Ok. Take your time.”

Greg left the room stopping outside the door, he took a breath, “Okay, you can do this Greg, it's just a room.” So he pushed the door in.

His parent’s room was just as his dad had left it. The King sized bed was made, the drawers were shut, and the closet was open. On his mother’s side of the bed, was a makeup table and a jewelry box. Going to the jewelry box, Greg opened it. It had all of her things. Earrings, necklaces, both her and his father’s wedding and engagement rings. He took a breath. “You don’t mind if I take this, right mom?” He said to the empty air. He received no answer but he shut the lid and put the rings in his pocket.

He then went to the closet and pulled down from the top shelf, a hard leather guitar case. Unzipping it revealed a cherry red and white guitar. His dad’s from college. He would often tell him his ( Horrible ) playing is how he wooed his mother. Set in between the cords was a small brass key on a keychain. Pocketing it, he zipped the leather carrying bag back up and threw it over his shoulder before going to his room.

He looked around the place, thinking about what he might want to take with him. Going to his closet he got out a large travel duffle bag. It was sturdy being made of leather, so he began stuffing clothes in it. ‘I need to be smart about this,’ he thought. ‘Take what I can carry. Got nowhere to live now.’ So he made sure to take his leather jacket, all the jeans he could, and socks, and on the off chance, he could charge them or get an internet connection, both his laptop and phone. All of that went into the duffle bag. All of his memorabilia pictures and the like he left. Well, he did take one picture. It was of him and his parents during one of the few vacations they managed to take just a couple of years ago. They’d gone to Cape Cod and he caught a huge fish! He was standing in the middle of the picture holding a Haddock with both of his parents smiling proudly on either side of him. He placed the picture on top of his clothes, smiling fondly at the memory before he zipped the duffle shut before going back to Taylor.

(...)

Greg was immediately glomped on by his girlfriend the moment he walked into the room. “Did you find everything, ok?” She asked, holding him at arms length and giving him a concerned once over.

“I’m fine Taylor, thanks.” He replied stoically.

Taylor looked like she wanted to retort but held back. She knew damn well her boyfriend wasn’t ok. But she knew now wasn’t the time to bring it up. Not with strangers present. She glanced at Mr. Johnson out of the corner of her eye. He may be a good person, but his job was cruel, even though it was obvious he hated it. ‘You should consider yourself fortunate that my Greg needs me now right now or you’d be choking on worms! ’ Taylor thought to herself. Seeing Greg fiddling with something she asked, “What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” Greg said, holding up a small key. “Just something my dad left me, wanna go see it?”

Curious, Taylor nodded and followed Greg out to the garage. She realized she’d never actually been out here before, but that wasn’t really important. A garage was just where people parked their cars after all.

Greg flicked the lights on and with a low hum, two fluorescent bulbs flickered to life. Taylor saw Mrs. Veder’s Sedan sitting there, along with Mr.Veder’s truck. But there was something else, tucked away under a tarp. Greg made a beeline towards it. Resting a hand on the tarp for a moment, he addressed Mr. Johnson, “This is something the bank can’t take, cause my Grandad bought this fair and square back in the sixties.” He then pulled the tarp off.

Taylor’s breath caught. Under the tarp, was a pristine motorcycle. Even she, who knew nothing about them, was taken by its beauty. It was cherry red, with white wheels and a brown leather seat. The engine didn’t look right though. She was about to ask why when Mr. Johnson spoke.

“A ‘67 Panhead Indian … Well, you don’t see one of those everyday. Your dad was just keeping this in his garage?”

“Nessie is a family heirloom or something like that,” Greg replied, patting the single headlight affectionately.

“Well, damn kid, if he’d sold that he probably could’ve paid off his loan…” Johnson said as he lit another cigarette.

“ Dad would never do that!” Greg said with a shake of his head, “Nessie’s been around since Grandad was my age, or that’s what dad always told me anyway. He’d sooner cut off his own arm than sell this bike. This was the first thing Grandad taught him to ride, so it has more sentimental value than monetary. Dad… he was gonna teach me how to ride it, just like his Dad did… but then Mom… yeah… Anyway, I’ve got everything I need so I guess I’m ready to head out. Thanks Mr. Johnson. Now I just need to figure out where I’m gonna stay for now.”

“Isn’t that obvious ?!” Taylor said with an annoyed stamp of her foot, “You're going to stay at my place.”

“Umm, Taylor… not that I don’t appreciate the thought, because I do, but I don’t think your Dad would be okay with that. He kinda just barely tolerates my presence, I think.” Greg reminded her.

She waved him off, “You let me worry about Dad,” Taylor said sharply, her mind already made up. “Now, can this thing seat two or not, Veder?”

“Oh yeah.” Greg replied, before holding out a helmet to her, “Safety first.”

“Oh kid, one last thing,” Johnson called over the roar of the bike’s motor, “Your dad left you his pension if you want, I can have it directly deposited into your bank account.”

Greg nodded, “Please and thank you, Mr.Johnson… I’m assuming it won’t cover the loan?”

The man shook his head, “No, his pension from the police force is forty-two grand a year and the loan is over a hundred grand. Even with the additional two-fifty a month from the fire department, that still isn’t enough. But you won’t be hurting for money, kid.”

“Right, thanks again!” Greg said as he took off into the drizzle, dufflebag behind Taylor and guitar case poking out of one of the saddlebags on the bike.

(...)

Parking his bike next to the house, Greg took a chain and padlock out of the saddlebags and looped one end around the AC unit and the other he locked around the front spokes of his bike. “What?” He said upon seeing Taylor giving him a look, “This is Brockton Bay and this bike is vintage.”

“Fair… and it is a nice bike… I feel like I should buy you some road leathers or something.”

“You really don’t need to… are you sure your Dad is gonna be okay with me staying here?” He asked again. He knew Taylor's dad had a temper, hell the man had threatened to break his kneecaps with his pipe wrench Bessie if he made Taylor cry… He liked his kneecaps, thank you very much.

“It’s fine. you worry too much, babe,” Taylor assured him as she hopped over the broken bottom step of her porch as she fished for her keys. “Now c’mon, it's cold out here. And I don’t know about you, but I could use a hot shower. The cold of a Brockton Bay rain seeps into your bones doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He replied as he let himself into the Hebert residence. Dropping his duffle bag next to the couch, he sat down in front of the tv and stared vacantly at nothing. He didn’t even register the couch creaking as Taylor sat down next to him until she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about, Tay?” He replied even as he intertwined his fingers with hers. “My parents are dead and I’m homeless. That pretty much sums it up… well that and this .” He made a kukri out of black and red energy. “This means I’m a Cape now, right?”

Fixing her glasses, Taylor stared at the construct in awe, “Yeah… Jesus Greg , when did that happen?”

“Last night after you left… I guess that everything from dealing with Dad’s funeral was so stressful that I guess I… and I didn’t know how to bring it up. Just getting through the service was hard enough.”

“Weapon constructs… the only person who can do that is…” 

“Miss Militia…” Greg finished for her, “Am I adopted?” Greg wondered aloud. “Did my parents lie to me my entire life? Like, what else didn’t they tell me? I’m really so confused right now, Tay.”

Taylor pulled him into her arms as he finally broke down and cried. “Shh, shh, it's okay, we’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay, just let it out.” She whispered into his ear as he bawled like a newborn. She held him till he fell asleep on her shoulder, then she gently extracted herself and laid him down on the couch, put his feet up, and gently removed his shoes before throwing a blanket over him.

Once she was sure he was comfortable, she shrugged out of her coat, and made her way to the kitchen intent on making herself a warm cup of tea. Taylor hummed to herself as she put the kettle on and got a bag out of the cupboard. ‘So Greg’s mother could be Miss Militia? I wonder if she knows about his parents' deaths? If so, she could show up here at some point looking for Greg. Actually, since he’s underage and Triggered does that automatically mean he’d be forced to join the Wards? Does he even ‘want’ to join the Wards? Should I go with him if he does, he’s not exactly in the best place right now and I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone with a bunch of strangers.’ Taylor thought all of this in the few meager minutes it took for the kettle to whistle, the second it did, she took it off the burner, not wanting to wake her sleeping beau, and left her tea to seep.

There was a gentle rapping on the back door that was connected to the kitchen, and Taylor turned surprised but not shocked to see the PRT Cape Miss Militia standing at the back door, waving at her kindly and giving her an eye smile under her patriotic bandana while waiting to be let in.

(...)

Hannah didn’t know what to make of Danny’s girl. She knew of her of course, having promised her mother Annette to keep an eye on her. Just like with her own son, her relationship with the girl was a complex one. Back when her mother was in college, she’d fallen in with Lustrom’s gang, getting out before the geldings started. She watched now as Annette’s girl darted around the kitchen as she sat at the table. She was tall for her age, standing at 5'8’’ by her reckoning, her curly black hair was held in two twintails on either side of her head by a pair of orange ribbons, and she wore a pair of wireframe glasses over her eyes. She threw a charcoal jacket over a chair revealing she had a… rather unique fashion sense. She was wearing a frilly orange and black bell dress,orange and black striped knee socks, and mary janes. 

“Is something wrong?” She asked, not turning to look at her seemingly seeing her staring regardless.

“Your outfit is very colorful.” Hannah commented. “Gothic lolita, if I miss my guess?”

“Thank you, and yes, it is. Before I started dating Greg, I had next to no confidence in my figure but as we were mall crawling one day, he caught me staring at a dress like this and surprised me with it on our next date. I’ve been into various lolita fashion ever since. Tea?”

“Please.” Hannah replied before Taylor set a cup down in front of her a little more forceful than necessary. “You're upset,” The Hero couldn’t help but note.

“ Yes, I am. ” Taylor said near placidly. “My boyfriend just buried both of his parents within the span of a month, and has lost his childhood home on top of that. Then,the cherry on top of shit sundae, he Triggers and it didn’t take a great leap in logic for him to figure out he was adopted and never told !” Taylor’s voice slowly rose as she spoke, glaring at Miss Militia across from her until just as suddenly, her emotions bled out of her, as if someone had pulled the plug. “What are you doing here, Miss Militia? It's been a helluva day for both of us and the last thing Greg needs right now is more… complications .” Hannah could tell the girl was trying to politely search for the right word, she probably wanted to say “problems” but didn’t want to go so far as to call her that.

“I understand,” She said, holding her hands out placatingly. “I just… I feel like I need to do something , he is my… my son after all.”

“Not for the past sixteen years, he wasn’t. He just buried the people he called his parents.” Taylor sniped uncaring, if she hurt the woman’s feelings.

But Militia just nodded, “You’re right.” She took a sip of tea before continuing, “Mmm, Jasmine, very nice. But yes, he did. However, you're not looking at the bigger picture right now.”

“Which is?” Taylor asked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at the woman across from her.

“Greg is a minor with no parents as far as the State is concerned. If, no, when they find out he’s Triggered, they will force him to become a Ward of the State in both meanings of the word. If I don’t step in now, he will lose all autonomy whatsoever.”

Taylor blinked, “Do you mean to say the PRT will force him to join the Wards? To become a child soldier without parental consent?”

“As you already stated Taylor, as far as the world is concerned, his parents are already dead ,” Hannah sighed looking down at her steaming cup of tea staring into its depths as if it had all the answers.

“You were following us since the cemetery, weren’t you? You must’ve been, to know we’d be here.” Taylor said changing the track of the conversation if only so she could digest this information.

Hannah nodded, “I intended to introduce myself back there, but that banker beat me to the punch. I wanted our discussion to be private. So I followed you, I saw the notice on the front door of the house. Foreclosure by the bank… Greg has a nice bike.”

“It was his grandfather's. One of the few things he managed to take from the house.” Taylor informed her.

“I see…” She could also see the girl was fighting not to say something. “Taylor, is everything-”

“No, everything's not okay! In fact, everything is far, far from okay!” Taylor raged at the heroine in her loudest whisper. “My boyfriend is confused, emotionally drained, and distraught! He found out, postmortem, that he was adopted, not via a letter or adoption papers, but via his own Trigger Event, and manifesting powers that mirror yours far too closely to be a mere coincidence. Now, he has no idea what to think of the very people he just buried , much less you , and you showed up here unannounced hoping to speak with him and drop the bombshell on him that if you don’t claim him as your son out of the blue, that’d he’ll be forced into the Wards? Have you lost your damn mind, woman?!”

Hannah couldn’t recall, in any of her very vivid memories , ever being spoken to like this by a child of Taylor’s age. But she also couldn’t think of a time where she deserved it more either. ‘What was I thinking, coming here directly after his father’s funeral and finding out he’d lost his house on top of that? Was I being paranoid? Overly protective? Or is this what they call maternal instincts?’ She took a moment to consider that. When she read in the morning paper that Jessica Veder had passed, she lit a candle and prayed for both her and her son as well as Jack, the grieving father. She consoled herself that her son still had his father, so she didn’t need to intervene and interrupt his life. 

That was until three weeks later, when she read of his father’s passing due to a fire. Then, she knew she had no choice but to act. For if she didn’t, her son would either end up on the streets, easy prey for the gangs of Brockton, or he would end up a Ward of the State, and should he Trigger, be forced into the PRT as a Ward. Neither was considered an ideal outcome, but if she had her pick between the two, she would prefer him in the Wards where at least he would have housing and friends his own age, and a free ride to Arcadia to continue his education.

‘Would he even go to Arcadia if it meant leaving Taylor behind? Somehow, I doubt it.’ Hannah mused. She had to admit, she admired the girl's grit, for how fervently she stood up to her for the sake of her own son. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, Taylor. Maybe I should just go,” Hannah said as she rose to leave. “I’m going to leave a card so Greg can call me when he’s ready, alright? It’s my personal number so there’ll be no going through anyone in the PRT.” She said as she reached into one of the many pockets of her uniform and plucked out a business card she placed it on the table and said, “You’ll make sure he gets it, won’t you?”

Taylor glared at the card like it had somehow offended her for a moment before nodding. “I will,” She then said in a quieter tone, “How… how could you just give him up like that? Do you have any idea what I’d give to see my own mother again and you just… tossed him away like he didn’t even matter?”

“That’s… not at all what happened!” Hannah said with a bit of force. “I… I was young, barely older than you are now. Barely seventeen when I had Greg, Brockton… it was possibly even more dangerous back then than it was now. What with Marquis running around at the time and all. It was a dangerous time, not only for Heroes but as a Ward . We were expected to lead by example and… well, I’m sure you can imagine how a teenage pregnancy would look.”

“So you gave him up to protect your image ?!” She all but hissed.

“ No! No, that’s not what I mean. We were expected to fight on the frontlines against the likes of the Teeth, Marquis, and the Empire back when All Father and Iron Rain were still around. A Ward was a target back then even more so than now. But a pregnant Ward? Think about it. I’d have been a sitting duck. And if they found out about my condition, that I had a child, the gangs back then and possibly even now, would stop at nothing to get their hands on him. So I did the best thing I could. I cloaked him in anonymity by giving him up for adoption. If no one knew I had a child, I at least knew he was safe.”

Taylor blinked as she absorbed that information. “ No one knew? Not even the father?”

Hannah shook her head, “ Especially not the father. I didn’t want to burden him with having to choose between fatherhood or chasing his dreams in the Protectorate.”

“But, how could you possibly keep being pregnant hidden for nine whole months?! It’s just not humanly impossible.”

“I never said I didn’t tell anyone; it’s just that the person I did tell was really good at helping me keep it hidden,” Hannah said with an eye smile before she turned to leave. “Now, make sure Greg gets that card, alright? It was nice talking with you Taylor and… thank you for being there for him in this trying time, it means a lot.”

Miss Militia let herself out the same way she came in, leaving Taylor Hebert feeling very conflicted. She felt she should tell her boyfriend about the conversation that had just transpired but didn’t want to add even more of a mental burden onto his already clearly full plate. ‘What do I do? ’ She thought, while biting her lower lip as she stared down at the card that sat in the middle of her kitchen table like a bomb that could go off at any minute.

“Taylor?” Greg’s voice suddenly called from the living room.

“Yes?!” she called in surprise.

“Is she gone?”

“You were awake?!” she said in surprise, poking her head past the door frame to see Greg lying there staring vacantly at the ceiling.

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling, as he replied, “Yeah, I’m a light sleeper. It doesn’t take much to wake me and the only reason I didn’t speak up is because I really didn’t wanna talk to her right now.”

“And that’s okay,” Taylor said, walking over and gently running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to talk to her today, tomorrow or ever if you don’t want to.”

Greg shook his head, “I don’t think not talking to her ever is really an option, Tay, but thanks for standing up for me in there.”

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t stand up for my boyfriend?” The smile could be heard in her tone even as she spoke. Being with him, to her, was nothing less than a point of pride.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” She offered.

“Nah, I got a gut feeling I won’t be sleeping nearly as much anymore.” Greg replied sitting up.

“That’s right, Miss Militia is a Noctis Cape !” Taylor said, eyes widening. “Are you?” She asked her man, letting the sentence hang.

“Three-fourths? He replied, waving his hand in a so-so gesture. “I still sleep but it's like I only need to do so for mental fatigue and even then it's like one power nap a week.”

“How long?”

Greg rubbed the back of his head, “I mean, I haven’t tested it fully, but I can doze off for a couple of minutes and feel like I got eight hours of sleep so… not a whole lot.”

“You… that… it’s as if you're going directly into REM sleep, or is it closer to Unihemispheric slow-wave sleep?” Taylor wondered aloud.

“Uni what?” Greg asked.

“Oh, well, remember when you bought me the Dream Cycle of Unknown Kadath?” She asked him. Seeing him nod she continued. “That got me interested in how the human brain works during sleep and I found that in the case of USWS, only half the brain goes to sleep at one time, while the other half remains active. This means the person or animal in question is hyper-aware of their surroundings but also can become fully rested. It's basically the same thing meditation does, but meditation is learned whereas USWS is genetic.”

“Wow, my girlfriend, the scholar,” Greg said with a grin. “Gonna become a brain surgeon and do the one thing Panacea can’t?”

Taylor shook her head, “No, this was just a passing interest. Truthfully? Lately, I’ve taken up an interest in anthropology.”

“Study of insects huh? Cool… I don’t suppose I could convince you to join my Warhammer Sundays group, huh?”

“Not quite yet,” She said playfully pinching his cheek, “But the Tyranids do have their appeal, I admit.”

“How about Starcraft Tuesdays? You’d be a great Zerg player if you like bugs.” He tried again.

“Greg, are you trying to get me to become a V-tuber again?” Taylor asked.

Greg shrugged, “Well, you’ve got the look for it! All you need is a niche. All I’m saying is think about it.”

“I’ll think about it, though I don’t feel comfortable putting myself out there in front of an audience… but I’ll think about it. Anyway, that’s not our primary concern right now!” She said waving away this part of their conversation, “Quit trying to distract me! Now, did your Trigger cause any other changes I should know about?” She asked while giving him a pointed look over her glasses.

“Umm, well, I’m denser?”

“Greg, you aren’t dense, at least not compared to most boys as far as I’m concerned.” Taylor told him.

“Thanks, but that’s not what I mean, I mean I’ve become heavier overnight. Like physically heavier, here look I’ll show you.” He proceeded to strip out of his jacket and white dress shirt, a shirt Taylor could tell was straining against his frame. But she’d seen him in it before when he took her to a very nice restaurant, she felt woefully underdressed at the time, but Greg in his suit looked like he belonged and back then it didn’t look as small on him like it did now. As he undid the buttons on his shirt, she understood what he meant by denser …

Greg had muscles now. Big ones. He wasn’t fat by any means before, but he was thin and lanky, now he had muscles like a bodybuilder or a Mr. Universe contestant. His muscles had muscles, even the carotid artery in his neck visibly throbbed now that she looked, how she hadn’t noticed before was beyond her.

“How in the hell?” Taylor muttered to herself. “Just how much… denser are you now?”

“I have no idea, I tried stepping on the scale in our house, and it broke. Damn thing was made of glass. I know I’m… a lot heavier than before though.” Seeing her hesitating, he chuckled and said, “Go ahead and touch them, I know you want to.”

Now that she had permission, Taylor gently ran her hand down Greg’s newly sculpted arm. It was like it was carved of granite all tightly corded muscle, but was soft to the touch. “Wow.”

“I know right? I don’t know how much I can lift either. Like, I highly doubt I’m the next Glory Girl or Alexandria, but I bet I could bench a lot.”

“On that note, if or when you call Miss Militia you could use the PRT’s testing facilities to find out what you're really capable of.” Taylor noted offhandedly with a haughty sniff, it was clear in her tone just what she thought of the seasoned Cape.

“Yeah, but that’s a decision for another day, I’m more worried about how you're going to convince your Dad to let me stay here right now than anything else.” Greg said nervously as he buttoned his shirt back up.

Taylor just patted him affectionately on the cheek, “I already told you, you let me worry about Daddy. You can just head on into the basement and put your things in the spare room while I get started on dinner alright?”

“Fine if you insist, what’s for dinner?” He asked as he picked up his duffle bag.

“I’m thinking of spaghetti,” Taylor replied. “Sounds good to you?”

“Sounds great, I’ll go get settled in for a bit I guess. Gimme a holler if you need help,” Greg told his girlfriend before he made his way into the basement.

(...)

Danny Hebert was tired. That was nothing new though. He was always tired. He got up at the crack of dawn, made sure he at least looked presentable, and headed off to work. He had people who were relying on him to keep their families afloat. ‘ You’re so busy worrying about others, you couldn’t even tell something was wrong with your own daughter’ an accusatory voice in the back of his head hissed that sounded vaguely like his late wife’s. His grip on the steering wheel of his beat up old junker of a truck tightened until his knuckles turned white. He missed Annette, he missed her terribly, but he never thought, never in a million years , that he’d be so grief stricken that he would miss such obvious signs! His Little Owl was more withdrawn, she ate less, she didn’t talk as much. He had assumed that she, much like he was, was also grieving the loss of her mother and dealing with it in her own way… He figured his Little Owl at least had Emma to talk to. Her and the Barnes girl were thick as thieves. Practically sisters.

But he had no idea just how much his daughter's life had changed mainly because he was too wrapped up in his own problems to notice hers. No, it wasn’t until he got ‘The Call’ that he realized just how horrible a turn his daughter's life had taken. No parent ever wants to get ‘The Call’ , the one from the police saying their child was involved in an incident and he was needed down at the hospital right away. He remembered seeing her strapped to that gurney looking so small, and frail… and he’d never been more furious in his entire life. Not at the school, or even the people who had done this to his little girl, but at himself . She had been in that confined putrid locker for over an hour and was delirious by the time she was let out. No, the person he was angriest at was himself, because he never noticed any of the signs.

But as his little girl’s stay lengthened, she kept getting the same visitor. Detective Jack Veder’s son, Greg. He knew the man personally because he was one of the few cops whose beat had him patrolling the Docks rather than the Boardwalk back in the day. He knew the man had a son, but had no idea the boy went to Winslow with his daughter. He almost lashed out at the boy, his anger burned like a fire then wanting to spread, consume, and ultimately, burn itself out. But he managed to control himself. Instead, wondering where such care for his daughter was the day this incident occurred. A low blow to be sure, but it beat manhandling the boy and screaming in his face for no good reason.

“I was out with the flu, Mr. Hebert. If I had been there , the both of us would probably be laid up here right now. With me beaten to a bloody pulp from trying to get her outta there.” Greg replied as he tended to a vase full of roses. He kept bringing some every time he visited. Odd, but a kind gesture. 

It wasn’t till later he heard that the boy did indeed have the flu from Jack and one of the few good cops in Brockton had lost his wife. He expected Jack to drive but the man was fervent in being there for his son. Something Danny was envious of if he was honest. He heard how the man worked hard in both of his jobs to help raise money to keep them above float.

Putting his truck in park, he noticed a vintage motorcycle parked next to the house. Fishing in his pocket for his keys, he wondered how the Veder boy was doing when a delicious smell hit him in the face the moment he opened the door. It reminded him of better times and late night dinner with Annette. After a moment of painful reverie he called into the house, “Taylor, I’m home! Whose bike is that parked next to the house?”

Poking her head out of the kitchen doorway, she replied, “Hey, Daddy! Dinner will be ready in thirty, and the bike is Greg’s. He’ll be staying with us for a little while.”

Danny blinked owlishly. “He will be?”

“Yes, he will be. Unless of course, you want to kick out someone who not only just buried his father but also lost his home on the same day. If you want to do that, then by all means, Greg is downstairs in the basement. Just go ahead and tell him to his face that he has to leave.”

“ This… this is emotional blackmail, young lady! ” Danny huffed knowing his Little Owl had him backed into a corner.

“This is payback,” She retorted, narrowing her eyes at her father, “ You promised you’d be there at the funeral today, you promised me you’d give us a ride. You lied! Twice .”

Each time she said ‘you’ it was like a dagger to his heart. “I’m sorry Little Owl, I was busy.”

“We had to get a ride from some bank lackey who showed up at the funeral to tell Greg he was losing his childhood home. Nice guy, all things considered. But still! We wouldn’t have had to go with him at all if you’d just shown up like you said you would. So now, I expect you to put on a big smile for Greg and offer him your condolences when he comes up here and do whatever you have to to make him feel welcomed, understand? ” She told her father as she waved a pasta ladle at him threateningly.

“I can do that…” He said, holding his hands up defensively before he chuckled. “You're so much like your mother lately that it hurts sometimes.”

“You… Do you really think so? I don’t think I got much from her except my hair.”

Danny shook his head, “No well yes, your mom showed me pictures of her from highschool and she looked a lot like you do now, but what I meant was she was assertive and once she knew what she wanted, nothing stopped her from getting it. Case and point.” 

“I see. Thanks Dad.” Taylor said after a moment, silently happy she was more like her mother than she first realized.

“No problem… So, do you want to call Greg up for dinner or?” Her father asked, his way of offering an olive branch.

Taylor shook her head, causing her twintails to flail about, “No, I’ll handle it, but if you would be so kind as to throw a tarp over Greg's bike, I think he’d appreciate that. It looks like it might rain soon and his saddle bags are made of leather.”

“I can do that,” Danny agreed even as he watched his little girl move towards the basement door, her new attire covered by a pink checkered apron.

“Greg! Dinnertime!”

“What’d he say?!” Greg asked with evident worry in his tone that got a near silent chuckle out of the Hebert Patriarch.

“I told you not to worry, it's fine, now come wash up!”

Greg poked his blonde head out of the basement. “Sir,” He said, greeting him with a cautious nod when he saw him.

“Greg, my condolences. Taylor tells me you’ll be staying with us for a while?” Danny said conversationally.

“Just till I get back on my feet is all sir. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“Son, you're sixteen, don’t worry so much… but if I catch you fooling around with my daughter.”

“You’ll break my kneecaps with Bessie I know, but you won’t have to worry about that sir.” Greg promised him.

“Dad! Stop threatening Greg and go cover his bike like I asked…” A pause before, “And for the record, if we wanted to fool around, we could and would just rent a hotel room for a day or two.”

“So much like her Mother it hurts…” Danny muttered under his breath, as he ran a hand down his face.

“A day or two ?!” Greg echoed, wondering just how much stamina Taylor thought he had… before he began to wonder just how much stamina she had.

“I am going to go outside,” Danny announced, “When I get back, there had better be food on the table, and we will forget this conversation ever happened.” With his peace said, he left the same way he came in.

“Is he gone now?” Taylor asked from the kitchen.

“For the moment… seriously, two days ?!” Greg laughed nervously, “That was a joke, right?”

Taylor just leaned back till she was looking out the kitchen, leered at him for a moment, then gave him a playful wink before she went back to finishing dinner.

‘She’s going to be the death of me,’ Greg thought to himself as he cracked his first semblance of a smile in about a month. ‘But I think I’m okay with that,’ He finished as he helped by setting the table for the first of many Hebert Dinners to come.

(...)

Word Count: 8,175   Number of pages: 17   Date Completed: 3/4/2025

(...)

AN: Welcome everyone to Legacy of Heroes a Family Drama/Action story with a side of angst? Not sure about the angst but it's got family drama! And it will have action. Oh yes I guarantee! But yeah, Like, Subscribe, Read & Review if you’d be so kind, and here’s the rest of the crew to add their two cents.

Snowy: This is a new baby for bubba. It is cool, good and well planned out. I hope everyone enjoys this new story. Let us see how Greg handles his future.

First Hassan: Well shit, Greg can’t just get a break can he? His parents died in the gang war, losing his home and discovered they weren’t his birth parents but learning he was adopted. I sometimes wonder when will he ever get a break………….Hello everyone First Hassan here and today we are bringing you a new story made by the mad author BubbaJack himself. Only for this one Greg doesn’t get a very well good starting point. I mean its worm obviously so death, tragedy and despair is common there which Greg had to go through all of them at the same time. I pity Greg. Thank you guys for reading our story, if you want more or want to be a chapter ahead, head to Bubba's P A T R E O N account or his SubscriberStar where it hasn't been edited by yours truly. I'll see you guys later! (Turning around while blue flames surround Hassan before disappearing).

Antagonist: This is such a good idea, and as always worm is suffering, let’s hope that with Taylor by Greg’s side he’ll be able to live a normal life. *Wink* *Wink*

Loamy Coffee: Such a horrible time in Greg’s life, both parents buried, his home lost, and in Triggering from his grief , learning his birth mother’ s identity. But I have faith he’ll get through it all with Taylor at his side. 

Reiter:

Thanks again for reading! This has been an Inkblot Bros production and till next time, peace!

Chapter Text

Legacy of Heroes

By: Bubbajack

Coauthors/Editors: Icysnowsage, First Hassan, Antagonist, Loamy Coffee, Reiter 

Special Consultant: Heliosion

Special thanks go out to my Super Donors: Alexander Murry, Ben Wanless, Bobby Glass, G Mateos, Gage Scott, Jareth Norris, Martin T. Aranda, Selmephren, and Lucas White my sole Supreme Tier Donor. Much love and thanks goes out to all my other patrons as well.

1-2: Duty

Greg quickly ran into a problem. When you didn’t need to sleep, one quickly became bored out of their skull. Especially now that he had a lot of time on his hands, but no clue what to do with it. The first thing he did was his homework, ( properly for once) which didn’t take him very long though. Then, he started exercising. Push ups, crunches, jumping jacks, anything he could to kill time and keep his mind off of the swirling abyss his life had become. Yet try as he might, as if it had some kind of magnetic pull all its own, his eyes kept being drawn to the card Miss Militia left earlier. He put it in his pocket while clearing the table for dinner and now it lay on the desk in the guest room, constantly drawing his attention like a singing siren.

‘Maybe I should just call her and get it over with?’ He thought to himself. Before he looked at the clock and noticed it was 4am. ‘No, I should probably wait. If it's this early and things devolve into a shouting match, I’m gonna have a pissed off Danny to deal with, and Tay deserves her sleep.’ He looked at the card again before going over and picking up his phone. ‘One call won’t hurt, and I can be civil, right?’

(...)

Miss Militia, who was currently in the middle of reading Frank Hebert’s Dune series on Dennis’ recommendation of all things and actually enjoying it, paused when her phone rang. She felt her heart skip a beat, because it was an unknown number. There was only one person who could’ve called her personal cell phone whose number she didn’t already have in her contacts list. So with a mild bit of trepidation, she picked up her cell and answered. “This is Hannah speaking.”

Silence reigned on the other end of the line for a moment until finally, “Hey… Hannah, it's me, Greg.”

“Hello Greg… I honestly didn’t expect a call from you this soon.”

“Couldn’t sleep… I guess it's genetic.”

Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise. “You're a Noctis Cape too, then?!”

“I guess so… how do you deal with it? Having all this extra time on your hands?”

“I train and read a lot… Listen Greg, I know learning about… our connection must’ve come as a shock but-”

“Losing both of my parents in the span of a month Hannah, that was a shock. Learning I was adopted and they never told me? That was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae my life has been recently, okay? So let’s not get into that right this second.”

“Alright… have you made any plans for a more permanent residence? I know you’re staying with the Heberts for now but…” She trailed off.

Greg took a moment to respond, “I’m being allowed to collect… Dad’s pension from the Police and Fire Departments so that’s 3,625 a month. I should be able to find an apartment easily enough. I just need some time to process… everything that’s happened.”

“I understand. If you need anything, anything at all , just give me a call, alright?” Hannah told him. “And I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks… Hannah. I was afraid you were going to try and pitch me into joining the Wards or something.”

Miss Militia took a breath, “While I do think that would be a safe place for you, I have a strong gut feeling that you would be unwilling to go to Arcadia without Taylor. Am I correct?”

“Damn straight.” He said with a bit of a forceful growl.

Laughing a little, she replied, “I figured as much, and besides all that, I gave up the right to decide what’s best for you a long time ago… but I need you to realize, it won’t take long for people to put two and two together and once they do…”

“They’ll come for me, and anyone associated with me. In other words, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Greg said with a sigh.

“I honestly wish I could tell you otherwise but you know what this city is like, Greg.” She replied with genuine empathy in her voice. “Joining the Wards and going to Arcadia could be the only way to keep yourself and by proxy, Taylor safe.”

She could hear him taking calm steady breaths on the other end of the line. Finally he said, “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’d best talk to your boss, Piggot about me. Make it absolutely clear to her that Taylor and I are a package deal. Either we both go to Arcadia or I’m not going anywhere.”

“She’s not going to like having terms dictated to her by a teenager.” Hannah mused.

“I’m looking around, but I can’t seem to find a single fuck to give. It seems like I’ve run out after the month I’ve had.” Greg's tone was flat but unyielding.

Hannah completely understood. “I’ll do what I can but we’re gonna be busy these next few days. We’ve got a big performance review coming up which will determine our budget for the year.”

“Ah bureaucracy, how slowly your wheels turn. Best of luck with that.” He said with next to no warmth in his tone.

“Thanks,” she said with a laugh. “Anyway, I should let you go, it's about time for me to start my shift.”

“Right, bye and good luck. Be safe.” Greg said a little awkwardly.

“Thanks. Bye Greg and remember, if you need anything, I’m one phone call away.” She reminded him before she hung up the phone.

She stared at his number for a moment before adding it to her contacts. She considered just putting Greg before she finally settled on “Son”. She looked at the clock, while her shift did start soon, but the ‘shift’ in question was actually going around and rousing any Wards who had slept over on the Rig, making sure they were up in time for school. ‘I still have a few minutes.’ She thought so she made one more phone call.

The phone rang twice before a groggy voice answered. “Hullo?”

“Hello Minnie, it's Hannah.”

“Damnit Militia, do you know what time it is?” The voice on the other end of the line complained tiredly.

“Where even are you right now?” Hannah asked.

“Michigan, been messing with this Cape called Ravager, knocking her down a peg ya know? But anyway, what’s up? It’s not like you to call outta the blue like this.”

Awkwardly clearing her throat, Hannah replied, “Ahem, well… Do you remember that problem you helped me cover up? From back in the Wards?”

“I helped a lot of people cover up a lot of problems back in the day, can you be more specific?” Minne asked.

“Said problem lasted for nine months, Min.”

“Oh… right, that problem. What about it?” She said seemingly fully awake now.

“It’s come back.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before she exclaimed, “Wait, you’re preggers again?!”

“No, no you misunderstand. Greg… the boy I placed for adoption… he lost both of his parents recently and he’s still underage…

“Which means technically, he’s a ward of the state and being your kid… does Miss Piggy know?” Linnea asked, concern fleck in her tone now.

“No, but… I was hoping you could drop by? I could use moral support. I… have next to no idea what I’m doing or should do for his or my sake.” Hannah admitted, her usually stoic shell cracking as she let some emotion into her voice

“I’ll be over in thirty. Just let me pack a bag, yeah? Don’t you worry Hannah, Mouse Protector is on the case! And little Greggy is gonna just love his auntie.”

“Don’t bombard him out of the blue Min, he might not appreciate that.” Hannah warned her overeager friend.

“Nonsense, kids love me or my name isn’t Minnie Fromage… and it is. Don’t you worry I’ll be over in a bit and we’ll get this sorted. Toodles.”

“Minnie, wait…” But the line went dead. “Perhaps this was a mistake.” Hannah sighed as she went to rouse the Wards on base from their slumber.

(...)

Taylor awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen. ‘Did Dad stay home today?’ She wandered groggily as she got dressed for school. She wouldn't put it past him if he did, leaving her alone in the house with her boyfriend. She could see him staying home for a couple of days just to make sure they didn't get up to anything…naughty. She smirked to herself at that thought. ‘Not like we actually would, of course. Greg is too much of a gentleman to try anything like that under dad's roof. Like I said last night, if I really wanted to do something like that, I'd just rent a hotel room,’ She finished her thought as she tied her hair into her signature twin tails, or at least what she considered her signature hairstyle at this point. She checked herself out in the full length mirror. She was wearing a layered dress, a mixture of red and black, with a matching corset above it. She looked damn good, if she did say so herself. Slipping into a pair of black Mary Janes, she skipped down the stairs, eager to see who was cooking breakfast.

Much to her surprise, it was her boyfriend. Greg was busy at the stove whistling a nameless tune as he cooked what seemed to be half a dozen eggs, half a pound of bacon, while simultaneously flipping pancakes in a cast iron skillet she had forgotten they had.

But what also surprised her was the fact that her dad was in fact home. He was sitting at the table reading the newspaper and sipping a mug of black coffee. Occasionally, he would peer over the newspaper at the boy at the stove with something akin to shock in his eyes. When he saw his daughter, He smiled and said “Good morning. Little Owl, did you know your boyfriend could cook?”

“Good morning, Dad. And I thought I asked you not to call me that around Greg,” She said, giving him a half hearted glare.

“Good morning, Taylor. And for the record, I actually think that's cute,” Greg said, turning from his task and giving her a smile.

“Morning, Greg and why are you cooking breakfast when you're a guest?” She said while giving her dad some side eye.

“I figured I should ingratiate myself to your father and earn my keep around here somehow… Is it working, Sir?” he asked with a half hearted chuckle.

“Dunno yet, haven't tasted the food.” Danny replied, giving a caveman grunt as he did so from behind his newest paper.

“Dad, be nice.” Taylor said giving the newspaper her father was using as a shield a withering glare. Before turning back to her boyfriend and speaking in a softer tone. “You shouldn't have to cook here after everything you've been through recently.”

Greg just smiled at her warmly and replied, “It’s fine Tay, it helps keep my mind off things.” 

“OK then, but I'm cooking dinner. Or better yet, Dad's cooking dinner tonight.” Taylor declared with a note of finality in her voice.

“Does ordering out food count?” Danny asked from behind his newspaper. “You like Chinese, Greg?”

Looking at Taylor, he said. “I don't know, I'm more into English food if I have to eat something.” That earned him a slap on the arm from his now blushing girlfriend as he divided up the food. 

“All jokes aside though, Sir, I do like Chinese food,” Greg said as he sat down at the table, but not before pulling out his girlfriend's seat for her.

 “Then I know what we're having for dinner tonight,” Danny declared before he folded his paper and quit hiding behind it to avoid his daughter's ire. He then tried the eggs and nodded approval. “Well, the boy can cook. I guess we do have a reason to keep him round.” He only winced a little bit when his daughter kicked him in the shin under the table. “Besides the obvious, of course.” He amended.

There was a sudden knock at the door, causing everyone to pause. “Now, who could that be?” Danny asked no one In particular. “I already told Janice, I wasn't going to be in today. And she has my number for emergencies.”

“Careful, Dad,” Taylor said warily. “Remember, this is Brockton Bay.”

“I know kiddo, but I have been growing up here since before you were born and it was a lot worse back then. I'll go see who's at the door.” The man got up. He was gone for a few moments before he called back. “Greg, there are a couple of people here to see you.”

“Me? Nobody should even know I'm here.” He said to himself as he got up. 

Standing at the front door of the Hebert residence were two of his father's old police colleagues. Rintarou Akuta, and Naoto Shirogane. Both fellow detectives on the BPD. Shirogane of which had been trained by his father. “Detective Akuta. Detective Shirogane. I didn't expect to see either of you here…. How did you even know you’d find me here?”

Without waiting for an invitation to enter the home, Detective Shirogane threw himself at Greg and pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Greg, we were so worried about you. Are you all right? And you've only just lost your mother and everything too. And now this happens.”

Greg was stunned for a moment, not at the display of affection from Detective Shirogane, but the fact that he felt two soft somethings pressing against his chest from underneath Detective Shirogane’s jacket. ‘Is Detective Shirogane a woman ?’ He wondered to himself. ‘If so, why is she hiding it?’ Greg had a lot of questions, but the most pressing one was to figure out how the heck they knew he was here. “Thanks for coming you two, and for the condolences, but again, how did you know I was here?”

Akuta spoke up from out on the porch, “Pff, It doesn't take a genius to figure that out, kid. Not even a detective. Your dad spoke up about how you'd recently gotten a girlfriend. Ain’t much to put two and two together after that. We figured if you didn't go home, you'd head to her place. Then we recently found out you couldn't go home. Thanks to those shysters at the bank. Death and taxes, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Greg said, still a little stunned by the fact that they had just shown up out of the blue.

Pulling herself off of him, Detective Shirogane told him a little heatedly, “And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Naoto-san, Greg? Naoto-san. ”

“Right Naoto-san, my bad.” 

“I still can't believe Senpai is dead.” Shirogane said, tearing up a bit. “He was such a good man.”

Akuto couldn't help but scoff, “In this line of work in this city, I'm amazed any of us are still alive.” Akuto was a lot more cynical than his partner.

“Akuta-san, show some empathy, would you?” Shirogane snapped at him. “Or at the very least, some tact.”

Akuta just shrugged and said, “I'm just telling it like I see it, newbie. We're in a city full of super powered monstrosities. Relying on other super powered monsters to catch them. And the thugs that surround the monsters just keep going in and out of our station like it has a damn revolving door on it. So I reiterate. I'm amazed that any of us are still alive in our line of work.”

Turning to Greg, Shirogane said, “I'm sorry about him, Greg. He's a cynic.”

He just waved off her apology and said, “It's fine. He's not exactly wrong . Brockton Bay is…. An animal that will chew you up and spit out what it doesn't want to eat.”

Clearing her throat, Taylor intervened in the conversation, “I take it you’re Greg’s father's work friends?” She moved forward and offered Detective Shirogane a hand. “I'm Taylor Hebert, Greg's girlfriend.”

Shirogane smiled as she took the offered hand. “Ah yes, we've heard all about you and your whirlwind romance with Greg.”

“What he's trying to say is Greg's dad liked to brag about the two of you.” Akuta summed up.

“Oh jeez, did he really? How embarrassing.” Taylor said, flushing a little.

“He was so proud that the girl his son had his eye on finally gave him some attention.”

Shirogane kicked her partner in the shin for that. “You didn't have to phrase it like that.”

Scowling at the older of the two cops, Taylor said, “I don't like bullies . Especially, not ones with positions of authority over other people.”

Akuta held up his hands for peace, “Easy Missy, I'm not here to start a fight. I just came to drop off something we collected from everyone in the department.” He then reached behind his back and pulled out a sack filled to bursting with coins, which he tossed it to Greg.

“How much is even in here?” The blonde boy wondered.

“I didn't exactly go around counting it, myself,” Akuta replied, “Not for lack of trying.” He muttered.

“You were trying to steal it.” Shirogane shot back , narrowing her piercing grey eyes at her partner. Before turning to Greg and telling him, “There's a little under $10,000 there.”

“I can't accept this,” Greg said, pushing the money towards Naoto, “This is more than dad gets for his pension every month. And you guys get paid little enough as it is.”

“You can and you will!” Naoto said sharply, “We couldn't do anything to save Senpai. It’s the least we can do to help. So take it, Greg.”

“Why are all the women in my life so stubborn?” Greg muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Naoto to hear, causing her misty grey eyes to widen in surprise. “Fine, I'll take it, but on one condition.”

“Which is?” Naoto asked, still surprised he’d somehow guessed her gender.

“You two have to join us for breakfast.”

Akuta laughed, “Well, I'm not one to turn down free food. I'm sold.” He said marching into the kitchen.

Turning to Danny Hebert, Naoto said, “What my partner means to say is thank you for having us, Mr. Hebert.”

The head of the DWA just smiled.“Call me Danny, and you're more than welcome, Detective Shirogane. Coffee or tea?” 

“Coffee please,” She said with a smile.

(...)

After the two detectives had left, Taylor turned to her boyfriend and asked, “So what are you going to do while I'm at school?” 

“I don't know, I might go to the hospital. Volunteer work and all.” He said, shrugging after a moment. “I really don't want to be around Sophia and everybody else right now…” A pause before he added, “ Unless, of course, you need me to come with you.”

“I'm a big girl, Greg. I can handle myself.” She said, patting him on the cheek affectionately. “Compared to everything you've gone through recently, dealing with the Trio isn't all that big of a deal.”

“Just promise you'll call if you need me, all right?”

“Deal.” She told her boyfriend as she headed toward the door. “But I think I'll be ok .They haven't messed with me recently or anything. Not since you and I started going out anyway.”

After she had gone, Greg heard Danny ask, “Who’s this Trio?”

Turning to face the man, he said, “No offense, Mr. Hebert, but if Taylor hasn't told you, then I don't feel like I have the right to tell you either. It feels kind of like one of those betrayal of trust type things.”

Danny grunted an obvious annoyance, but acquiesced to the boy's reasoning. “One of these days I'll find out who did that to her and they're going to pay.”

“They'll get theirs, I promise you that, one way or another.” Greg told the older man. “Anyway, I'd better get going. I'll see you later, Mr. Hebert.”

“Yeah, see ya, Greg.” Danny replied absentmindedly, being left to stew in his own musings.

(...)

The moment Greg entered through the front hospital doors, he was glomped by a redhead. “Greg, what are you doing here?”

“Hello, Anne.”

The woman in question was Anne Barnes, the older sister to Emma Barnes Taylor’s former BFF. She was a RN here at the hospital, she had been working under his mother until recently.

“I needed to get my mind off… everything so I decided to do some menial labor. Got anything for me to do?”

Pulling back, Anne looked him over with a critical, caring eye. “You've been eating. You slept somewhere warm last night. And you had a healthy breakfast with a lot of protein.” She said, nodding to herself. “Good, good. Since you're here, I suppose you might be able to talk some sense into our Panacea.”

“She should be in class, shouldn't she?” Greg asked in confusion.

Annie shook her head, “You know how Amy gets. Once she gets on a roll, it's hard to get her to stop. I think you can try talking some sense into her. You're one of the few people she'll actually listen to.”

He went over to a vending machine and popped in some coins, “I'll give it my best shot. I don't know why people think she'll listen to me though.”

“That's because you have a way with women, Greg, even if you don't realize it.” Under her breath.

“Did you say something, Annie?” Greg questioned when he turned around a couple of snicker bars in one hand before turning to the coffee dispenser and getting a fresh cup.

“No, nothing.” She said, waving him off. “Now, please go do something about Amy before she collapses on her feet and accidentally gives a man an actual third leg or something?”

Greg rolled his eyes and replied, “She’s just a healer, she can’t do that.”

“You know what I mean? Accidents happen even when you're tired.” She then shooed him off. “Now scoot.”

“I'm going, I'm going. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck.” She replied, watching him walk away with a smile on her face.

(...)

Amy was in the critical care unit. Exactly where he thought he’d find her. Currently she was mending someone with a broken femur bone, part of it sticking out of their legs. “Hey, Amy.” He said by way of greeting, handing her a warm cup of coffee and a snickers bar.

“Greg… sorry about your dad. And so soon after your mom,” Amy said in a toneless inflection as she worked on her current patient. He didn't hold it against her. He knew she was concentrating.

“Thanks, I appreciate it… surprised you're here considering it's late Monday morning.”

“Monday, I thought it was Sunday afternoon?”

“It's Monday, Amy, you've been here a long time.” 

Sighing through her nose, Amy said, “Carol's gonna be pissed, I'm not going to hear the end of this now. I'm apparently going to be playing hooky from school to hang out at the hospital.”

Greg shook his head, “No, because you're going to be playing hooky from school to keep me company. After all, Mommy Dearest isn't that much of a harpy to go off on you for keeping someone company who just lost both of his parents and may or may not be suicidal.” 

That caught her attention and she actually looked up from her now healed patient, to ask, “Are you suicidal, Greg?”

“Hell no. But she doesn't have to know that, does she?” The blonde replied.

“True, she doesn't and it would make New Wave look good if I were spending time with a friend who needed company after losing both of his parents. No offense.”

Greg shook his head, “None taken. I am literally giving you an out here.”

“Am I good to go?” The patient asked, feeling like a third wheel in this conversation though very much grateful for the lack of pain in their leg.

Amy gave him a thumbs up. “Yeah, you're good.”

“Thanks for saving my life and have fun on your date, you two.” The patient said getting up and walking out of the ER.

The two shuddered before Greg hollered after the guy. “It's not a date. We're like best friends! It'd be like dating my sister… If I had a sister! ”

‘See, even Greg knows wanting to date your sister is wrong… Wait, Greg sees me as family?! ’ That was news to the overstressed healer. But touching nonetheless.

“Right. Well, umm, let me go get changed and you can take your sister out on the town for the day.” 

“Sorry, was that a bit too much?” Greg asked, feeling awkward now that he actually said it.

But Amy just smiled and shook her head, “No, you're fine, Greg, and thanks.”

So Boardwalk?” He asked just for clarification.

“Boardwalk,” she agreed as she moved to get changed out of her uniform.

(...)

Greg was walking down the Boardwalk and seeing all the neat shops that were open for tourists and those who could afford to splurge every now and then. He was walking down the block and noticed Amy’s eyes always stuck to other women, and none of the men walking down the street. He supposed she had her own taste and privacy. Who was he to question her sexuality?

“So when was the last time you had a break?”

“I can’t remember. When was the seventeenth?” Amy asked, frazzled.

“Umm, last month? It’s the sixth, Aims.” Greg stopped walking and really looked at Amy.

She had bags under her eyes that screamed exhaustion, her face, while clean, showed stress lines that no teenager should have, and even though her body was healthy enough, Greg noticed she was on the thin side.

“Aims, when was the last time you had a full meal and just destressed?”

“I can’t get sick, Greg. My powers prevent that. I don’t have to worry about things like stress,” was the almost robotic answer Amy gave while she looked almost anywhere but Greg.

“Right. C’mon, we’re finding something for you to do off the clock from now on.” He said taking her by the hand and dragging her into Rorsarch’s, a place frequented by Taylor and himself whenever they went on dates.

While not intentional on her part, Amy subconsciously did a scan of her best male friend when he took her hand, and much to her surprise, she found out he’d Triggered. ‘I’m going to keep quiet about this and not talk about it unless he brings it up.’ She decided knowing her friend had been through more than enough recently to warrant a Trigger event.

The scent of paper entered her nose as they entered the bookstore, and Amy found herself relaxing a little. The quiet sanctity of this place was calming, even to someone as high strung as her. Letting go of her hand, Greg spoke in low tones, “I’ll give you some time to have a look around while I go talk to the owner.”

Amy nodded and began pursuing the shelves. She somehow found herself in the mystery-thriller section. ‘Well, I might as well look around while I’m here .’ She thought. After a moment, she found something that caught her interest. Last Patient of the Night, an AJ Docker Medical thriller book one. A quick look through found there were four such novels, picking up all of them in her arms, Amy headed to the counter. She found Greg chatting amicably with the owner, a sallow reedy thin man with a dark mustache on his upper lip tucked into a black tweed suit that was several decades out of date, with what hair remained on his balding head sticking out every which way.

“You have my sincerest condolences for your loss, Mister Veder,” He said, his voice sincere despite his unkempt appearance. “Please, even if it is a small token, feel free to take something from the store, perhaps it will help you get through these hard times.”

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands these days so any book series you can recommend that’s long, Poe?”

The man paused for just a moment before nodding, “Ah yes, I’ve just the thing…” He came back carrying a cardboard box, the name Xanth scrawled across the side. Picking up the topmost title, he handed it to Greg, saying, “This might pique your interest.”

“A Spell for Chameleon” by Piers Anthony.” Greg said aloud, having never heard of this series before. “When was this written? This looks like pre-Parahuman fiction.”

“It is, and it's not very popular these days. High fantasy and such. Nobody really cares for it anymore. Well, unless your name is Tolkien, at least.” Poe finished with a humorless laugh. “But yes, it's hard to sell books like these these days because all kids are interested in Parahumans, not other types of fantasy.”

“And you're just going to give me these?” Greg questioned.

Poe shrugged in response and replied, “It's not like anyone else is going to read them. Besides, they’re just taking up space in the back.”

“Ok, I'll take them off your hands. How many are there in this series anyway?”

“The series was started in 1977 and there are 45 books in all,” Poe recited off the top of his head. “On top of that, I also have the Destroyer series which started in 1971 and has over 153 issues, And Fantomas, which is about a career criminal that started in 1911 and has 43 issues. None of which are selling.”

“I'll take them all if you don't want them or if you need me to, I'll buy them off you.” Greg said, feeling genuinely sorry for the man.

Giving a wan smile, which was Poe's equivalent of a grin, the man replied, “I will happily give them to you because I need the storage space.”

‘Sweet, I just got a small library for free. Taylor is going to be thrilled.’ Greg thought to himself. Seeing Amy coming up behind him with a load of books in her arms, he asked, “Did something catch your eye?”

The hospital miracle worker nodded, “Yeah, these.” She placed her books on the hardwood desk that Poe stood behind. And Gregg began to fish for his money. 

The blonde nodded, “Right, How much do I owe you for the books, Poe?”

“Greg, you're not buying my books.” Amy said, giving him an annoyed look. 

“I can do whatever the hell I want, Amy, including buying your books.”

“You're annoying.” She huffed as she narrowed her eyes at him.

To which he rolled his eyes and shot back, “I'm a man, deal with it.”

While Poe bagged her purchase, Panacea muttered under her breath all the while, “Stupid nice Greg being all stupid and nice when I’m supposed to be the one cheering him up.”

(...)

Greg and Amy were looking around the boardwalk some more with their recent purchases when a loud growl that almost shook the earth resounded from Amy’s gut. She had the decency to blush.

“I guess I’ll have to feed you now, huh?” He joked.

“No! Nonono! I’m paying for lunch.” She insisted. “If this goes on people are going to think we’re dating or something.”

“Eww.” Both of them said at the same time before laughing. “So food?” Greg said.

“I’m paying, I’m serious Greg.”

“As you wish.”

Amy glared daggers at him as she replied, “Don’t you quote Wesley from the Princess Bride at me! Save that kinda dirty talk for your girlfriend.”

And that’s how the two found themselves eating boardwalk street food of fried noodles. Not that Greg was complaining, it's just he was supposed to have Chinese for dinner tonight. ‘Hmm, maybe I can get pad thai, that’s not technically Chinese right?’ he wondered to himself as he was finishing his meal.

“Hey, are those noodles any good?” asked a mature yet peppy voice behind Greg and Amy.

“What…!” were the final words spoken by Greg as the cape Mouse protector stole the rest of his noodles, grabbed him, and teleported to Scion knows where.

Amy looked at where Greg was standing, looked at her own noodles, and bluntly stated aloud, “What the actual fuck just happened? What am I going to do now? Should I call the police and have them issue an APB out on Mouse Protector ? Can they even do that?” She didn’t know, but she was very concerned for her blonde friend.

(...)

Word Count: 5,538   Number of Pages: 13   Date Completed: 3/26/2025

(...)

AN:

Chapter Text

Legacy of Heroes

By: Bubbajack

Coauthors/Editors: Icysnowsage, First Hassan, Antagonist, Loamy Coffee, Reiter 

Special Consultant: Heliosion

Special thanks go out to my Super Donors: Alexander Murry, Ben Wanless, Bobby Glass, G Mateos, Gage Scott, Jareth Norris, KhaosKry, Lonnie Townsend, Martin T. Aranda, Selmephren, and Known ART my sole Supreme Tier Donor. Much love and thanks goes out to all my other patrons as well.

1-3: Duty.

The moment Greg's feet touched the ground, he pushed away from the person who had kidnapped him, and he summoned a weapon to his hand. He was hoping for a gun, but instead found an arbalast in either hand, as he stared down his would-be kidnapper. Greg quickly made note of three things. ‘My power has a hard limit on the types of items it can summon up. I seem to be limited to cold weapons. I'm on a roof. Lastly, I got kidnapped by Mouse Protector.’

The gag heroine raised her hands defensively and said, “Easy killer. I don't want to fight, I just want to talk.”

Greg quirked an eyebrow at that, “Your idea of talking to someone is kidnapping them? Doesn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm.”

For her part, Mouse Protector chippily corrected him, “Hey now, only villains kidnap people. I'm just… enthusiastically borrowing you.”

“Well, enthusiastically put me back!” Greg snapped back with the wit only a teenager could bring forth.

For her part, Mouse Protector pouted at him from beneath her metal helmet, “Hey now, is that any way to talk to your auntie who came all the way from Detroit just to see you?”

“Auntie? How are we…  Oh, you’re the one who kept Hannah's pregnancy a secret.” Greg said to himself realization dawning on him.

“The one and only… Do you really refer to her as Hannah? I mean, I guess you would. It'd be a little awkward to call her mom after fifteen years of absence. But yeah, I kept Hannah's secret, a secret. Which in this case would be you. But really, it wasn't all that difficult teleporting her to the OBGYN’s and shit like that. Now, making up cover stories to deal with her morning sickness. That was the hard part.”

“Listen, Mouse Protector, I just buried my parents, specifically my dad yesterday, my mom a month prior. I'm not going to be calling Hannah, mom now or probably ever. And honestly, it feels a little weird referring to you as Auntie, so I'm not gonna do that either. I realize you're probably just trying to help, but you're kind of not . I'm just going to go.”

Mouse protector nodded in understanding, “Well, you're right. You are going to go… out on patrol with me, that is! In case you haven't noticed, I'm the big cheese around here.” She said, thumbing at herself.

“You are very stubborn for a gag hero,” Greg noted before pointing out. “I don't have a costume.”

From behind what should have been her Mickey Mouse themed copyrighted helmet, the heroine grinned, “Not to worry, my soon to be superlative sidekick. You should know that I, the Great Mouse Protector, always have a plan.”

Greg sighed and felt another headache coming on. “Does it involve kidnapping me again?”

In response, she wiggled her finger at him in a chastising kind of way “I already told you, I didn't kidnap you. It only counts as kidnapping if villains do it. I was merely enthusiastically borrowing you. Ha ha!”

“Well, possession is nine tenths of the law, and right now you're holding me against my will,” Greg deadpanned. “I’m pretty sure this still counts as kidnapping even if it's a hero doing it.”

“Come now, my morose nephew, I, as I said, have a plan, and it involves getting you a costume! Quick! to the Cheddar Mobile. Mouse Protector and Mouseketeer away!” she  said before teleporting next to him and then off the roof.

“I’m not calling myself-” Greg didn’t get to finish before he was teleported somewhere else. He honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to withstand his new Auntie’s brand of hijinks for very long.

(...)

“-Mouseketeer.” Greg finished when he found himself back on the boardwalk, specifically in front of Parian’s Doll House. “I really wish you would stop doing that. At least without asking me first. It's really annoying when you cut someone off mid sentence.”

For her part, Mouse Protector actually looked sheepish, “Sorry, sorry, I've been a solo act for a really long time now and I'm not used to dragging people around with me like this. But you said you needed a costume, right? What better place than here?”

‘She may act like a lunatic, but she actually makes sense.’ Greg thought to himself. ‘But how'd she know about this place? It hasn't been up and operable for very long. And isn’t this her first time here, unless she tagged the building at some point before it became a costume shop?’ He shook his head. It wasn't something he had to worry about right this second. Instead, he went inside.

Seeing a bowl near the door filled with domino masks, he picked one up and put it on. Before ringing the bell near the front desk for service. 

“I'll be right with you!” A voice called from the back.

“Take your time, I'm not in a rush,” A glance at Mouse Protector, he asked. “We aren't in a rush, are we?”

The mouse themed heroine shook her head, “No, but you do need some semblance of a costume before you come out on patrol with me. Even if it's just something basic.”

From out of the back of the shop, came a giant overly plush bunny. And following in its wake was a woman wearing Elizabethan attire, complete with a porcelain mask and blonde wig. Folding her hands into her overly poofy sleeves, Parian asked, “Hello, how may I help you today? I heard you were here for your first costume?”

“Yes,” Greg said, unsure where to start, “It doesn't need to be anything overly fancy as I think I can make most of a costume using my own powers, but I do need something simple to build over.”

Parian nodded along seemingly in understanding, “ So something like an armored or insulated latex suit, just in case your power gets disrupted? Can't have you going around naked or unmasked, now can we?” Her voice had a teasing lilt to it near the end.

“No, we, uh, definitely don't want that.” Greg agreed, feeling a little awkward. 

Parian nodded to herself and then jerked her head towards the back. “Please follow me, I'll need to take some measurements.” 

The next few minutes were awkward for Greg as Parian used her Telekinetic powers and a tape measure to get all kinds of measurements on him. As she worked, however, she did ask him a myriad of questions. 

“Do you have a Brute rating?” The Cape fashionista inquired.

“I think so because I wasn't this muscular before I Triggered, I'm also heavier,” he replied.

She nodded and continued, “Now, what did you mean exactly by being able to make your own armor? Are you a Tinker?” 

Greg shook his head. “No, not exactly. I can… Well, here.” He demonstrated a defensive use of his power, by summoning up armor made out of black and crimson energy. Again, Greg noticed the use of his power was limited to early medieval materials. He could not, for example, produce Kevlar, though not through lack of trying. Instead, he was limited to a mix of leather and chain mail; created out of the same proto energy that created his weapons. 

Parian walked around him and looked at him with a tailor’s keen eye, “Interesting, very interesting. Yes, I could see why you'd want a suit. Something I could at least stand up to modern ballistics. That is, unless this is far more durable than it looks?” She asked while running a hand down the chainmail mesh on his torso.

“It doesn't even need to be all that. I just need something comfortable to wear while I'm out on patrol. It can be simple, I just need it to be comfortable. I care more about substance than style.” 

Parian nodded, “A pragmatist, I can work with that. But I hope you don't mind a little bit of flair. You are trying to be a hero after all.”

It wasn't so much her rebuke as a reminder that all heroes, even the villains, had a unique look to them. Something Greg took in stride. “ Any suggestions? You're the fashionista here, not me, so I'll take anything you have to say over my own opinion.”

“While I appreciate the thought. You are the customer here. So you do have to like the final product. Giving me carte blanche authority on what could be your signature style going forward might not be the best idea.”

“I trust you. I think you've got a good eye for fashion. And like I've already told you, I don't need anything too fancy, I just need it to be comfortable.”

Parian nodded. This wouldn't be the most difficult job she ever had, but also not the easiest. “How about a red and black bodysuit then? Red and black exterior. I can weave in some Kevlar to protect you from bullets. And insulated a little bit to keep you from getting cold during the winter months.” 

“Sounds perfect. Just throw in a domino mask, I'll maybe change up the colors a tad so Assault doesn't think I'm stealing his look.”

Parian hummed herself for a moment before asking, “Do you already have a name picked out for yourself? Something I might be able to use for inspiration.”

“I was going to go by Gibborim. The Hebrew word for hero, champion, or mighty man.”

“Are you Jewish?” Parian asked. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me to ask, especially in this city.”

“No, you're fine and I'm not. But it doesn't really matter. The Empire will come after me either way. Let them think I'm Jewish if they want, they're going to attack me regardless. Because if you're not with the Empire, then you’re considered against them.”

“True, true. They don't even know my ethnicity and they attack my store. Tagging it and whatever else they can do most days.”

Greg held out his phone. “Give me your number,for when they do it again. I'll come by as quickly as I can to stop them.”

“You don't need to-” Parian began, only for Greg to cut her off.

“Yeah, I don't need to , but that's what heroes are supposed to do, right?” He gave her what he hoped was his most encouraging smile.

The Cape fashionista sighed in defeat, “Fine, fine. You’ll be the first person I call after I call the PRT. Now, just let me take some notes here and you can head out. Feel free to keep the domino mask and go out and do some good, while I make your costume.” Greg couldn't see it, but he could hear the smile in her tone towards him as she shooed him out of her shop.

“Thanks again Parian, I appreciate this. Give me a call when it's done and let me know what I owe you.” 

“You can sort that out once I've finished. Now get out of here, the both of you. I have work to do.” 

Mouse Protector took that as her cue to grab Greg by the shoulder and shout, “Mouse Protector and Gibborim away!”

Parian shook her head, bemused at the scene before her, and went back into her shop to get to work on a custom order. She already had a good idea what she was going to do. It was going to be black, with a leather exterior and with golden accents. No one was going to accuse him of ripping off Assault once she was done.

(...)

Patrolling with Mouse Protector consisted of helping old ladies cross the street, rescuing cats from trees, and cleaning up graffiti. When the two finally stopped to have lunch, Gibborim couldn't help but ask her “If you do all this all day, why are you a joke hero?”

“Why not? Have you ever looked around? The world sucks, Gibborim. The world economy is dying, Endbringers show up every three months to raise some kind of hell, Villains statistically outnumber heroes like us ten to one, And I realized that if you don't laugh, you're gonna break down and cry. Plus I really, really hated my time as a Ward. Too many rules, too many regulations, not enough fun. No, Mouse Protector . You can't teleport into the boy's restroom just because you have to pee. No, Mouse Protector. You can't try teleporting your sword into that person. No, Mouse Protector. You can't randomly teleport to Mexico just to get authentic Mexican food. Way too many regulations.”

“Weren't you part of the inaugural Wards team? I ask because if you thought it was bad back then, it's way worse now.”

“Well, you know what they say Gib, shit rolls downhill. And as I've already stated, it's all downhill from here.”

“You didn't say that, but I agree.” He nodded before he took a bite of his Fuggly burger.

“Maybe not in so many words, but you got the gist. But enough about work for right now. Are you seeing anyone? Have you got any special girl or guy, I’m not judging, in your life?”

“Should I really be talking about this in costume?” He shot back, giving her a look.

“Good point, we can take our food to go back to my place. To the Mouse Hole!” Said as she placed her hand on his shoulder and whisked them and their food away.

(...)

The Mouse Hole , as she called it, was a simple apartment. Lightly furnished with light gray walls and matching leather furniture. Setting her meal on the small coffee table between the seats in which she sat. She carefully took off her helmet, revealing a cascade of auburn hair before she continued. “Now, spill. You got a girl or what?”

“I'm seeing someone, yes, her name is Taylor. We both go to Winslow. It's a shithole.”

“Back when I was your age, Winslow was the gang recruiting center. In fact, that was the only thing that school was good for back when I was your age.”

“That's still the only thing it's good for. The only thing I'm getting an A in or graduating with a degree in in that school is Thugonomics. The teachers don't care. They just look the other way at all the bullying. I mean, half the football team is parading their E88 tattoos.”

“Damn, it's even worse than when I was a teenager. Like you knew who was gonna join which gang back in the day, but they weren't blatant in wearing the colors or ink. Oh, now that we're not in public, I can properly introduce myself. Minnie Fromage, your auntie at your service.”

Greg rolled his eyes, “Weirdest kidnapping I've ever been a part of, not gonna lie.”

“Call it what you want. I don't see it as kidnapping, I just see it as… forcefully making my nephew spend the day with me.” Minnie finished with a haughty sniff.

“Up until like yesterday, I didn't even know Miss Militia was my mom. So it's going to take me a minute to call you auntie. I think I'll just stick with Mouse Protector for now.”

“Could you at least call me Minnie outside of costume?” She politely requested.

“I'll think about it. I mean, we did kind of just meet and it was rather abrupt.”

She nodded, “Fair enough,” cocking his head from side to side as he looked her over for a moment and she asked “what?”

“Nothing. It's just that if you were a few years younger, or if I were a few years older, I'd probably be hitting on you right now. If I wasn't seeing someone at the moment anyway.”

That got a cackle out of the gag hero. “I'm flattered, really. Do you have a thing for older women?”

“I have a thing for women who aren't my age because most of the women my age are juvenile, immature, and all they like to do is gossip and spread shit about each other for the sake of drama, and stupid, petty reasons. Thankfully, Taylor isn't like that. Unfortunately, the only reason she isn't like that is because she's been beaten over the head and abused by a former friend of hers.”

That got the heroine's attention, “Oh, do I need to bust some skulls and make some corpses disappear?” Seeing the look she was being given, she shrugged. “What? Any girl you're dating must be a keeper, so I'm more than willing to make a few bodies disappear if I have to. Wouldn't be the first time I've done it… is it really that surprising that I've made people disappear with my power?”

Greg paused, thought about it, and then shook his head, “I shouldn't be, but hearing you actually say it is surprising.”

“I may be a gag heroine, but even I know that certain people just don't deserve second chances. And sometimes it would be best if they just… disappeared.” 

“You're scary, and that's kind of hot, but very scary. I'm a little bit scaroused right now.”

She slapped him on the shoulder, “Stop it, you. You've got a girlfriend who I want to meet very soon.” She then pulled him into a side hug and said gently, “You may have lost one family, but you've still got another. And I'm sorry you're going through all this pain right now.”

“Thanks.”

“So besides the obvious weapon creation that you got from dear old Hannah, what else can you do?” 

“I've got like, superhuman levels of strength and stuff. Haven't gone to the PRT to get it tested because I don't exactly trust those guys. No offense.”

She shook her head, “None taken.”

“Like I put on several kilos worth of weight, all of it muscle, when I tried to weigh myself, the scale broke. I don't need to sleep very much, if at all. And I feel like I can do something else with the weapons other than just conjuring them like… If I focus just a little bit on the weapon, I can do something .”

“Okay, well try it. Let's see what you can do. We don't need to go to the PRT to figure out everything you're capable of. Trust me, I've been through their lame-ass tests, and I know how to do it without you having to go there. Besides, it's actually healthy to not have completely blind faith in authority.”

“I'm glad you agree on the whole not trusting authority completely bit. I mean, I thought about joining the Wards, but in fact I kind of don't have a choice. Mom died, dad followed soon after and well …. I've Triggered. The moment they find out I Triggered from that, they're gonna be hounding me to join them and I'll become a Ward in both senses of the word.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Minnie said, clearly pondering something.

“You've got an idea or something?” He asked, looking for an idea, any kind of idea that could get him out of this jam.

“I could take you on as my Sidekick. Unofficially, you'd be affiliated with the PRT but you'd have a lot more leeway than just becoming a Ward.”

“Huh, that's an idea, I suppose. But Wards do get a nice fat paycheck, even if it is government funded.” 

Minnie rolled her eyes, “What do you think I am, broke?” She shook her head, “No, I've sold plenty of merchandise and made tons of money over the years. More than I could ever spend in my lifetime. You're what, fifteen, sixteen? Giving you an allowance of 50,000 a month is nothing.”

Greg was giving her a serious look now. At first, he thought she was joking, “You're serious ? You'd really be willing to take me on as some kind of sidekick?”

She nodded empathetically. “Of course, you're Hannah's kid, and it helps that you're a looker. Having a bit of eye candy around never hurt anyone.” She gave him a playful wink. 

“Oh, I see you only want me for my body. You wound me.” Greg sat in faux pain.

“Hey, you like ‘em older? I like ’em younger. Don't judge me.”

Once again, Greg was not sure if she was joking or being serious with him at the moment. But if she was willing to take him in, he was fine with it. “Well, right now I'm staying with my girlfriend and her dad. And I think leaving so abruptly would kinda hurt her feelings so…” 

“I get it. Feel free to use the Mouse Hole as some kind of secret base of sorts. Or whenever her dad kicks you out on your ass, when he catches the two of you messing around. Whichever.”

“Oh, you don't have to worry about that, She already told him if she wants to mess around, she'll rent a hotel room for a couple of days.”

Minnie's eyes glittered with mirth, “ Ho ho ho~ I like her. She's spunky. Now I really want to meet this Taylor of yours.” 

Greg looked at the clock hanging on the wall, “Winslow doesn't let out for a while. But we could always stake the place out. The bullying over there is terrible and someone really should do something about it.”

“If mice are good at one thing, it's sneaking around. Let's go, Gibborim, we have a school to stake out. Away!”

(...)

Taylor sighed to herself as she had to deal with Emma's taunting alone today. ‘It's okay, it's fine. All Emma has is hurtful words, and I'm a bigger person than that.’ So she told herself, even though she felt the constant buzzing of her swarm in the back of her mind. It would be so easy to send God knows how many insects down her throat, up her nose, into her ears and gnawing at her eyes. But she was a hero , and heroes didn't do things like that. But the temptation was there, always there. 

When she lost Emma, she lost the only friend she ever had. But that allowed her to see . See that she wasn't the only one being bullied. No, there were others that had it just as bad if not worse than she did. One such person was the girl in the class just next door named Aya Asagiri. She was bullied just as bad, if not worse than she was by her own trio. Unlike Taylor, who could seek refuge in the girls' bathrooms, Aya didn't even have that. In fact, she was tormented there every lunch break. Taylor, much to her own self hatred, stayed quiet whenever it happened, lest they torment her as well.

‘But that stops today ,’ she decided ‘What kind of hero can I be if I can't even help someone else who's being bullied?’ She also had a secretly hopeful, if somewhat selfish, thought that maybe, just maybe, she and Aya could bond over having bullies and just possibly become friends. It was a long shot, and probably wouldn't bear fruit, but Taylor was going to hope anyway.

“Hey Hebert, where's your loser boyfriend?” An oh too familiar voice called out mockingly.

“Speaking of bullies ,” Under her breath as she turned to face her former BFF. “He’s out for bereavement and to mourn, Emma. His father died on duty. You know the police officer? Someone I would think that even you would show a modicum of respect for?”

That actually made the redheaded popular girl pause for a moment, but then her sneer was back in place. “Cops are just as useless in this city as anyone else. Their precinct may as well have a revolving door on it.”

“Unfortunately, I can't disagree with you on this instance,” Taylor shrugged, “But hey, it keeps your dad in business, doesn't it?

Emma narrowed her eyes hatefully as she glared at her former friend, “Just what are you implying, Hebert?”

“Nothing, just that being a defense attorney in this town? I'm sure your dad is rather busy, what with, how did you put it? Does the precinct have a revolving door? He's getting a lot of cases, getting a lot of wins, making a lot of money, right? How is Uncle Alan, by the way?”

“My family is none of your business, Hebert!” Emma snapped at her like an angry dog.

“I wasn't being rude, I was just asking. Is Anne still in nursing school? Last time we were actually friends, I believe she told me she was under the supervision of Greg's mother, so I imagine she's taking her loss rather hard too. Not as hard as Greg is, but you know what I mean.” Emma paused for the second time during their conversation, not knowing what to say. Clearly, she didn't talk with her older sister much or she would also have known that yes, she was under the supervision of nurse Veder to get her hands on credits for nursing school. Taylor kept talking, filling the void of silence. “Well, when you see your parents, tell them I said hi or lie and tell them I want nothing to do with you like you always do, whatever. See you in class, Emma.”

For the first time in a while, Taylor was able to walk away from her former friend with her head held high. She'd won that verbal spar.

(...)

When she entered the classroom.There were already people crowding around her desk. ‘Did somebody vandalize my desk again?’ Taylor wasn't even annoyed, she was just resigned at this point. When she got closer, she realized it wasn't any of the usual suspects. No Madison, no Sophia, and Emma was still seething out in the hallway. No, these were girls from other classes. She knew them by reputation and name, but she never actually spoke to them in person before. Yet they seemed intent on speaking to her. Immediately on guard, she asked warily as she approached her desk, “Can I help you?”

“I told you she'd show up eventually!” An Asian girl with brown hair styled in a bobcut, said chipperly. She was wearing a green and yellow sweatshirt over a pair of shorts. A bit cold for this time of year, but some people ran hotter than others. In fact, speaking of running, she was pretty sure she noticed her as a newbie on the track team. Word was going around the school that she had outran Sophia and had not exactly taken her spot on the team, but she was the new up and coming star. Making Sophia more irritable than usual. “Hi, I'm Chie Satonaka and this is Aya Asagiri. We were wondering if Greg came to school today? You're his friend or his girlfriend, right?”

Taylor nodded slowly, surprised to meet Aya this way. But Chie was an outlier. “Yeah, he's not here because his dad passed away just the other day. He's out for bereavement. Why were you looking for him?”

Chie bit her lip, looking worried before asking, “Well, we're friends of his and we were worried about him. He just lost his mom, and now his dad on top of that. We figured if anyone knew how he was doing, it would be you.”

Taylor nodded, happy Greg had friends, but she wished he would have mentioned two of them were extremely pretty girls. ‘I have no reason to be jealous, he's dating me.’ She told herself that but the green-eye  monster reared its ugly head regardless. “He's coping. I'll let him know you were worried.”

“Um, we're more than just a little worried about how he’s doing without his dad. Where is he staying?” Aya, her voice low and soft and warbling a little, spoke up the first time.

“Right now? With me. Thanks to the bank, he has nowhere else to go.” She said this last part under her breath but the girls heard her easily enough, and both gasped when they did.

“You're kidding, right?” The usually exuberant Chie said in hushed tones. Seeing Taylor shake her head. Chie sighed in annoyance. “When Yukiko and the others hear about this…”

“Yukiko? The others?” Taylor politely interrupted. Just how many girls did her boyfriend know and not tell her about? She was getting a little annoyed, but she also realized she didn't have the right to be. Or did she? She was new at this whole dating thing.

“Yukiko is a mutual friend of ours. She goes to the school across town, Immaculata? Along with a few of our other friends.”

‘That's the rich kids' school that isn't as ritzy as Arcadia. How does he know people from there?’ Taylor silently wondered before she asked. “How exactly did all of you meet?”

Chie looked sheepish and gave out a little laugh before she explained, “Oh, I guess Greg never brought it up, but, back when people were fleeing Japan from Leviathan's rampage, Due to his dad being a cop, he took the idea of having to protect and serve very seriously and his family hosted a lot of people for a while till they could get back on their feet. Their house was practically a hotel for a bit. That's how he met Yukiko, Aya, Rise, and I. His dad even took in a cop for a while, who ended up becoming his protege.” 

Taylor nodded, “Yeah, Detective Shirogane. I already met him,” Something in her answer must've been funny to Chie 'cause she stifled a snort, which made Taylor give her an odd look.

“It's nothing. It's nothing. An inside joke.” She assured the bespectacled girl. Hands on her hips, Chie said an annoyance.“Still, if Shirogane knew where Greg was, it would have been nice if he'd let us know. Then we wouldn't have had to bug you at school. I mean, we have a group chat.”

“It's fine, I don't mind. I'm happy to know Greg has friends that care about him.” ‘Would’ve been nice if he’d told me they were almost all women though.’ She thought to herself, deciding that yes, she would be having words with her boyfriend later. She might even insist on being added to this group chat of theirs. Deciding to take a leap of faith? She asked, “Do you mind if we eat together during lunch? I wouldn't mind hearing more about your stories with Greg.”

“Sounds like fun. Let's do it!” Chie said exuberantly. “Sounds good to you, Aya? I know those girlfriends of yours are always dragging off to who knows where.”

“Sounds like fun.” She said in a quiet, timid voice, yet the smile on her face seemed genuine… And Taylor knew better than anyone that those so-called girlfriends of hers were dragging her off alright, to make her life hell. 

Lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms over her head, Chie said. “Well, we'd better get going. The bell's about to ring and the last thing we need is Gladly breathing down our necks. It's creepy how he tries to act all cool.”

Taylor nodded, happy she wasn't the only one who thought Mr. Gladly trying to act like the cool teacher was a little creepy. “See you at lunch.”

‘Friends acquired, mission passed, plus self-respect?’ Taylor thought to herself as she took her seat. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, today would be a good day.

(...)

By the time lunch rolled around, Taylor, with paper bag in hand, timidly scanned the room and saw Chie waving at her from a table on the left side of the room. As she walked towards the table Chie had reserved for them, she took several deep breaths and thought to herself. ‘It's ok , It's fine. No one's going to do anything to you. There's no locker for you to be shoved in.’ Even as she thought that, she took a hold of the few flies that were in the cafeteria and used them to scan the place. Everyone was paying more attention to their food than they were her, for which she was thankful. The Asians were sitting with the Asians, the whites, the whites, The blacks their own, and everyone else was a massive hodgepodge. Which made Taylor a bit of an outlier because she was sitting at a table filled with other Asian kids. Giving Chie a smile, she said “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

She returned the smile and said, “No problem. So, seriously now, how is Greg holding up?”

Taking out a simple cold cut sandwich, some chips, and some offbrand Oreo’s, Taylor replied, “He’s sad. Distraught, honestly. He lost both of his parents and his home in the span of a month. But if I'm being entirely honest, he's handling it a lot better than I would if I was in his shoes.”

“Greg always had this knack for looking on the bright side. How he's managing to do that after everything he's gone through in the past month, I don't know, but it got me, Aya and a lot of others through some dark times. Need anything? Anything at all? Don't be afraid to call us. Do you, uh, need our numbers?”

Taylor looked away, embarrassed as she replied. “I don't actually have a cell phone. It's something of a rule in our house. I can use the landline though, if you want to give me your numbers.”

“Sounds like there's a story there… But you don't have to share if you don't want to!” Chie added hastily.

Taylor took a deep, shuddering breath, “It's fine. About three years ago, I lost my mother in a car accident. She was calling me on her cell phone at the time…. And cellphones haven't been allowed in the house ever since.”

On top of a look of understanding, Taylor was surprised  to find Aya of all people giving her an understanding smile. “You know it's not your fault, right? What happened to your mother?”

“I wish I could believe that I can almost convince myself some days… trade you my cookies for one of those rice balls?” Taylor offered in response. 

“Give me half your sandwich and I'll give you half of one of mine?” Chie fired off, As she pulled out two steak sandwiches, a bag of chips, two pudding cups and a jello. Seeing the look she was being given, she said defensively, “I have an athlete's metabolism. I think that's why no boy wants to date me. Boys don't like girls who eat a lot.” 

“There's nothing wrong with having a healthy appetite,” Taylor replied as she tossed Chie her sandwich and got half a sub in return, doing the same with her cookies and getting an onigiri from Aya.

“Oh, tomatoes, swiss, ham and mayonnaise on rye.” The new track star said before she took a bite. “Tank oo!”

“Don't talk with your mouth full, it's gross.” Taylor gently reprimanded with a twitch of her nose.

“Sworry,” Chie replied with stuffed cheeks that reminded Taylor and Aya like a chipmunk.

Aya, for her part, let out a pleased sigh. “Finally, someone else can reign Chie-san besides Yukiko-san.” 

The brunette looked affronted, and asked her fellow dark haired girl, after she swallowed her food, “Hey… I'm not that bad, am I?”

“Sometimes when you get excited during lunch, it's hard to look at you.You talk with food in your mouth a lot. Sorry.” She quickly replied while staring down at her plate in shame in what she thought was overstepping her boundaries.

“Don't, don't apologize, Aya-chan. I-I'm sorry. I need to work on my table manners. I tend to get a little excited talking about action movies. Especially martial arts ones because they're my favorite. What about you, Taylor? Do you have a favorite movie or genre?”

Taylor scratched her head a little bit. She wasn't exactly a movie buff, “I guess I like historical films? My mom was a college history teacher, so if I had to pick a favorite, it would probably be Troy with Orlando Bloom.”

“Oh! So you like reading? I guess you're a fan of the classics. You and Yukiko would probably get along. I'm book dumb.” Chie said, bopping herself on the side of the head, smiling as she did so. “No matter how hard I try to study for tests, I just can't get any of it to stick in my head. And I've never understood the point of reading for fun.”

“Maybe you just haven't found the right book series yet. You said you liked martial arts, right? So maybe if you read something based on martial arts or heavily themed on it, you'd enjoy it. I highly, highly doubt you're dumb. My mother always said there are no dumb students, just some poorly motivated ones.”

“I'm never going to have the chance to meet your mom, and I like her already,” Chie said with a wistful smile as Aya nodded along with her assessment.

“Yeah, Mom was something, alright.” Taylor replied, sounding wistful herself.

“Oh no, look out. the losers are multiplying.” 

Taylor closed her eyes and sighed before turning around in her seat and asking. “Can I help you with something, Emma?” 

Emma was standing there with Sophia, Madison and two other girls she didn't recognize, but she knew they were Aya’s bullies. 

“Watch your mouth, Hebert. You should know that sheep like you should know when to be quiet. Like the good little prey you are.”

“Last I checked Sophia, I was a person, same as you, not a sheep.”

“Quit trying to be a smartass, Hebert. You knew what I meant.”

Taylor nodded, as if seemingly acknowledging a compliment. “Thank you for finally acknowledging I'm smart, Sophia. Your acknowledgement just means so much to me. Plus, I'd rather be smart and an ass than dumb and an ass 'cause that's just a double negative.”

“Are you stupid or something, Hebert? Did you hit your head today or something?! I wasn't complimenting you.” Sophia raged, clearly getting agitated.

“I'll admit I probably am a little loopy, but having a boyfriend tends to do that to you. Makes you giddy, you know?”

“Yeah, I heard you were dating the now orphaned loser. Neither one of you has any taste. But I guess birds of a feather will flock together.”

Taylor then became eerily calm as she spoke. “Sophia, you can mock me all you like. Go ahead and destroy my homework. I've all but given up on graduating from this… travesty of a school. But… Do not insult Greg in front of me! Not after everything he's been through recently. Am I clear?”

“And just what’re you going to do about it if I do, Hebert? Cry wolf to the principal's office again?” With a knowing smirk as she stepped forward. Expecting the girl to cow in front of her like she usually did. “In case you haven't noticed, Blackwell doesn't give a shit about you. Nobody does. Hell, I bet if I give Veder even the littlest bit of attention, he'll start following around like every other horndog in this school.”

Taylor didn't even notice when she got to her feet. She however stood tall and was now glaring down at the shorter girl. “Greg isn't like that. Shut your damn whore mouth.”

“Hoho, got some balls after all huh, Hebert?” Sophia said, sounding mildly impressed as she squared off against her. Not noticing the buzzing in the cafeteria getting ever so steadily louder.

“Back off, Hess. You've lost to me once today already. Do you want to make it twice?” Chie said standing up for her new friend and hating bullies in general.

“You stay out of this. I'll handle you once I'm done with Hebert,” Sophia promised her with venom in her tone.

“Two losers in love. It would almost be cute if it wasn't so damn sickening.” Madison cooed.

“Yeah, and they both have something in common.They both lost parents, only Greg is even more of a loser than Taylor because he lost both of his, And in less than a month, that has to be a record of some kind?” Emma added digging at an old wound. 

“Oh, it's even worse than that. Our poor, precious, little Aya has found companionship and fellow losers.” The unknown girl sniped as she stared the near mute down as she shivered and started to shake a little.

Chie had had enough.“You know what? Fuck this! Bitches, it is so on!” She stood up, sending her chair sliding backwards. No one noticed the temperature dropped several degrees to the point their breaths were misting. So tense was the situation.

But Taylor had long since blown a gasket at the bully's words. She was seeing red, and a buzzing in her head had increased the point she couldn't hold it back anymore. Normally, she'd tell herself she was a hero and heroes didn't go around seeking revenge, but right now? Right now, she wasn't a hero . She was a girl who was in love, and someone had just had the sheer fucking audacity to insult her boyfriend in front of her. The buzzing in the cafeteria reached a crescendo, and then it rained insects from the ceiling. A waterfall of all manner of creepy crawlies, spiders, flies, centipedes, maggots and other things besides fell and mass from the ceiling in a deluge and covered the girls. Everyone screamed in absolute terror. But the swarm just kept coming; it was like a biblical plague of Egypt came to life in Winslow's cafeteria.

Kids panicked and ran for the exits, trying to instinctually escape the insect hoard. Even as she rolled on the ground and was spitting out bugs, Sophia Hess was thinking. ‘This isn't natural. One of them is a freaking Cape.’ So thinking, she yelled at the others. “Code C!” 

“Shit, what do we do?” Emma asked. 

“What they pay us to do. We just need to detain all three of them till we figure out which one's the one who decided to pull this shit!” Sophia replied, glaring at Hebert, Satonaka, and Asagiri respectively. 

Emma grinned at that and said, “Dibbs on Taylor.” 

“Satonaka is mine , I wanna see just how fast she really is. I seriously need a shower after this.” Sophia said feeling her skin crawl from being covered in bugs.

“Guess that leaves Asagiri to me then?” Madison said rhetorically as she stood up too, and dusted herself off, As pale white spheres of light coalesced around her.

“Let's take these bitches down. Who knows, maybe Piggy will give us a raise.” Sophia said as black smoke rose off her skin.

Taylor realized what was happening seconds before Chie did and shouted, “Scatter, Capes!”

Chie didn't need to be told twice. And she grabbed Aya and flung them both to the side. 

“Surrender now, Taylor, and I promise you won't go to jail forever. Probably just a really long time. I mean, I don't think you're a Cape. You're too weak to be a Cape…” Emma kept talking, walking forward casually as she did so. And as she did, Taylor felt like a hot iron was being pressed against her brain. ‘Some kind of blaster power then? And of course, it comes from her talking.’

“Emma,” She said as she drowned out her ex friend's voice with the droning of infinite bugs. “You talk too damn much.” The swarm then covered Emma like a torrent. The redhead tried to scream, but they just flew into her mouth. Rendering her unable to use her power. Still as much as Taylor hated her in this moment in particular. She wasn't going to kill her, she just wanted her to stop doing that to her head.

She glanced over to see that Chie wasn't doing too well as she was trying to protect Aya while fighting off, of all people… ‘Is Sophia, of all people, Shadow Stalker ? Are you kidding me? Are my bullies all part of the Wards?’ She thought back on it for a moment. While she was a Cape nerd, she hadn't heard anything about a Ward who could literally hurt people with her voice. ‘Maybe they hadn't gotten around to introducing her yet.’ Then she looked at Madison. who was throwing the equivalent of grenades at Aya… who seemed to be pointing a toy gun at them and teleporting them outside of the cafeteria where they exploded harmlessly. ‘Hey, I’m not the only hidden Cape in this school. Good to know.’ 

“Are you some kind of Tinker who specializes in teleportation or something?” Madison complained, not for the first time, as I had teleported her Stellar shards out of the cafeteria.

In lieu of answering, Aya pointed her gun at Madison herself and pulled the trigger. She disappeared and was no longer in the cafeteria itself. Problem was, they still had Shadow Stalker to deal with, and none of them were really equipped to deal with her.

“Umm, I don't mean to be rude, Chie, but since we're all revealing secrets at the moment, if you've got one to show…” Taylor said while she kept an eye out for her bully, who could apparently turn into smoke whenever she wanted.

“I'm thinking, I'm thinking, give me a second,” Chie replied as her legs were suddenly covered in a sheen of ice. She swept her leg out in front of her, and there was suddenly an entire wall of ice between them and Sophia. “That'll buy us maybe a few seconds, we need to run.”

“No need for, I. Am. Here! ” A hammy voice called out. The girls looked towards the now empty cafeteria and saw… Mouse Protector of all people standing there, striking a heroic pose. Swords stuck in the ground, shield held aloft, her hand on her hip. Standing next to her was someone in black and crimson samurai armor that looked like it was ephemeral more than solid. 

“Can I go kick Shadow Stalker's ass now ?” He asked, glancing briefly at Mouse Protector.

“You can go apprehend Shadowstalker, and if she resists, well…” Mouse Protector shrugged.

“Sounds like a yes to me.”

“Be careful Gibborim, from what I know of Shadow Stalker, she's slippery,” 

“You got it, Big Cheese.” 

Mouse Protector had a big goofy grin on her face as she said to herself, “I could get used to being called that.” 

The Black Armored Warrior proceeded to stomp off past the girls and easily sliced through the thick layer of ice. Stopping only to glance at Taylor and say in an almost whisper, “When this is over, we're going to have to have a long talk, Tay.”

“Greg?” She mouthed. His nod was almost imperceptible, but she caught it as he stalked through the hole he made. She then turned toward Mouse Protector and asked, “How screwed are we?”

“Not nearly as you think. Greg and I were staking out the school. Besides seeing several drug deals go down, and catching multiple students concealed carrying. We also caught your entire confrontation on video, with audio. While Piggy might try and push you into the Wards… We've got a plan if it comes down to that. But before that, where exactly did you send Madison, young lady?” Mouse Protector asked, turning her gaze to Aya.

It took Aya a moment to find her voice as blood trickled a little from her eyes, but once she finally did, she said.“I don't know, I just sent her… away .”

Mouse Protector just shrugged, “Well, there's no helping that. You three are going to have to come with me to the rig though. Just till we sort this whole mess out. And like I've already said, if somebody tries something shady, well, I'm really good at getting out of jams.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I just found out my three bullies are probably in the Wards.”

Looking around and seeing the cafeteria was still empty except for the three of them, Mouse Protector spoke frankly, saying, “You can trust me because Greg trusts me.”

That got Taylor, Aya, and Chie's attention. And that was all Chie needed to hear as she nodded and said, “Works for me. But I would like to hear it from him saying he actually trusts you rather than just take you on your word.” 

“He should be around in a little bit. I sent him off to do a job for me.” Mouse protector applied as she kept her gaze fixed on the hole in the ice.

(...)

“Olly, Olly, oxen free. Come out, Come out wherever you are,” Greg said now that he was on the other side of the ice wall. When Shadow Stalker was not forthcoming, he just decided to be blunt. “It's over, Sophia. Or should I say Shadowstalker ? Your reign of terror over this school is done. Now, come in peacefully or I'll drag you in front of the director.”

In response, an arrow clinked off the back of his armor. He turned and saw Shadowstalker standing behind him in full kitted gear, a now empty pair of hand-crossbows in both hands. “Did you actually think that was going to work?” He asked as he materialized a longbow in his hands.

“Who the hell are you and why do you have…” He could practically feel the surprise in her eyes shake her frame before she said, “Militia had a kid?!” 

“I'm just as shocked as you are. I had no idea I was adopted,” He replied before he loosened an arrow next to Shadowstalker. When it struck the cement next to her foot, it released a cloud of knockout gas. The next arrow he fired into the cloud struck home, and when the smoke cleared, Shadow Stocker was spasming on the floor due to the electricity that arrow was imbued with. He was right, he did have an extra ability. He could imbue properties into his weapons. At this point he had a pretty good idea who his father was, but he wanted to hear it from Militia himself. So instead, he hefted Shadow Stalker on his shoulder and headed back through the ice wall.

Dumping her currently comatose body at Mouse Protector's feet, he asked “What now?”

Tossing him a handful of twist ties, Mouse Protector replied. “Put these on Hess and Barnes. And if we can find Clements, clap those on her too. Now comes the really sucky part. Bureaucracy. We've got to go to the Rig. Field trip time kiddies!” Mouse Protector said as she grabbed everyone in a bear hug and teleported away. There were others she needed to arrest, and probably the hysterical principal and corrupt faculty that needed arresting too, but they could wait. She had bigger fish to fry.

(...)

Word Count: 8,431   Number of Pages: 18   Date Completed: 7/22/2025

(...)

AN: Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another chapter of Legacy of Heroes. Shit went down in this chapter and Canon is being derailed. For better or worse. But don't worry, we'll still be meeting up with everybody's favorite Undersiders eventually. Never fear about that. Lisa is one of my favorite characters after all. That said, till next time everybody, here's the rest of the crew. This is Bubbajack signing off.

Snowy: A good chapter and great start to how the story is beginning to show changes in the world of worm. Let us see what ripples Greg would cause.

First Hassan: Gahahahah! Its about time that ShadowStalker, that bitch gets where she got what she deserves. I hope she gets whats coming that has been for a long time. 

Antagonist:

Loamy Coffee: What a delightful turn of events, spending time with Auntie and handing out a bit of punishment to school bullies. Two of which are shockingly Capes. Though perhaps not with who they follow. 

Reiter:

Thanks again for reading. This has been an Inkblot Bros Production. Till next time everyone, peace.

Chapter Text

Legacy of Heroes

By: Bubbajack

Coauthors/Editors: Icysnowsage, First Hassan, Antagonist, Loamy Coffee, Reiter 

Special Consultant: Heliosion

Special thanks go out to my Super Donors: Alexander Murry, Ben Wanless, Bobby Glass, G Mateos, Gage Scott, Jareth Norris, KhaosKry, Lonnie Townsend, Martin T. Aranda, Selmephren, and Known ART my sole Supreme Tier Donor. Much love and thanks goes out to all my other patrons as well.

1-4: Duty.

Protectorate HQ ENE, known colloquially as The Rig, by the residents of Brockton Bay. It looked like a giant snow globe from the exterior due to the fact that it was covered at all times by a giant force field. The protective dome gave off contrasting colors like a TV with bad reception. The interior of that Dome, however, protected a veritable fortress that was supposed to give off a feeling of safety to the masses of Brockton. Yet as Taylor was suddenly teleported into the heart of this place. She felt anything but. Rather, she felt a sense of existential dread as an iceberg landed in the pit of her stomach. For the moment they arrived in the rig, they were summarily surrounded by various troop members of the PRT, guns raised and ready to fire at a moment's notice. 

“Relax boys, it's just me. You can put your dicks away.” Mouse Protector said, waving cheerily and getting everyone's attention.

“Mouse Protector, you've been told multiple times not to just teleport into HQ.” One of the troopers said, sighing in what seems to be resignation. 

“Force of habit. Sorry about that. Besides, we've got a bit of a situation on our hands at the moment.” The inaugural ward member replied being all business for once.

“Some of the kids she had with her had twist ties around their wrists,” The agent said “Do I need to go get Armsmaster?”

To which the mouse themed hero replied, “I think it would be better if you went and got Miss Militia because she's not a humanoid robot who's a stickler for the rules.”

“No need, I'm right here.” Miss Militia replied, coming up on the group from behind. “What's going on?” She asked as she looked from person to person, her eyes briefly lingering on Greg, who was still in costume.

“A shitstorm is happening at Winslow. That's what's going on.” Mouse Protector replied, giving her fellow inaugural Ward a friendly nod. Giving the Trio a hard glare, she continued, ”My sidekick and I were casing the place because it's basically gang central and we came across a literal shitshow for the PRT. These three here instigated a fight with three other students, and ended up outing all of six themselves as capes in the process,” Sophia opened her mouth, about to protest. But Mouse Protector talked over her. “I have it all on video too as proof.”

After a moment of heavy silence, Miss Militia said, "That is not good. We'll need to notify the Director immediately. And of all the days for this to happen, today is quite literally the worst one.“

“Performance review day?” Mouse Protector asked.

Hannah nodded, her expression grave, “Of all the times for something like this to happen, it had to be today.”

“What do you want me to do with these kids? Play Chaperone?” Minnie asked.

Looking at the Wards and giving them a withering, disappointed glare that caused all but Sophia to squirm where they stood, Hannah replied, “Those three can go in the holding cells. We'll deal with them after the review is over. You three had best hope that Head Director Costa-Brown doesn't find out about this. If she does, we can all kiss our careers goodbye,” turning to the three remaining children, she said in a much calmer tone, “Would you three mind waiting in the guest rooms? We'll sort all this out, but right now we're short on time.”

“Is that what we're calling the interrogation rooms now? Guest rooms? Real hoighty toighty from when I was here last,” Mouse Protector couldn't help but comment.

“They're not under arrest, we just need to talk to them so they’re guests, not criminals.” Hannah said, giving her childhood friend a sharp glare.

“Right, right, my bad. To the guest rooms then. As soon as I drop these three troublemakers off in the drunk tank.”

“Is that what we're calling the holding cells now, the drunk tank?” Miss Militia could apparently give as well as she got when it came to Mouse Protector.

“I remember it being called that more than once when we were their age,” Mouse protector shot back as she pulled the wayward wards away from the rest of the group, But not before saying, “Gibborim, you stay here with everyone else. Keep an eye on the girls. Have MM give you a tour yeah? I won't be gone long.”

After she had popped out of existence, Miss Militia cleared her throat and said, “Follow me this way, please.” 

She led the group down a sterile metal hallway to a trio of rooms. Opening each one, she said. “Each one of you is going to have to go into a separate room. Standard procedure.”

“In other words, you don't want them collaborating on their stories. I don't know why, they haven't done anything wrong,” Gibborim spoke up for the first time, disapproval heavy in his tone. “Remember, they aren't under arrest. Nor are they suspects here. They're the victims. Of your Wards.”

After a moment, Hannah nodded her head in acquiescence. “You're right, Gibborim. We don't really have a reason to separate them. You can all head into a single room, although I doubt Director Piggott will be happy about this breach of protocol."

“Well, she's going to be a lot less happier once she finds out what happened today. So them being in the same room will just be the cherry on the sundae,” Turning to his girlfriend and girl friends, He said “Go in and make yourself comfortable. I gotta do something.”

“Such as?” Taylor asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Turns out fighting is very high adrenaline and is very stressful. I kinda need a smoke. And that place doesn't look very well ventilated. I thought it would be rude to smoke in front of you in a very small unventilated room. So if you'll excuse me for a little bit?” He said, and for the first time since the fight, Taylor noticed his hands were shaking a little.

“Of course, be careful.” It was obvious she wanted to say more, but he was in costume right now. And she didn't want to out him. Just because they were alone with his mother and two of his friends, didn't mean she didn't have to be careful. This place had cameras everywhere, after all.

“Right, I'll, I'll be back as quick as I can,” He promised as he made his way toward the outside of the Rig. Really needing to light one up just to calm his nerves. He never knew fighting could be so stressful.

(...)

Greg was leaning over a side railing and had just pulled out his cigar case, intent on lighting one up. When a stern voice called from up above him, “Aren't you a little young to be smoking?”

Glancing up, he saw a woman, of Spanish descent, in a very nice pantsuit floating down from the sky. If he had to guess, she was in her early twenties, wearing a bit too much makeup, as if she was trying to pass for older than she was. She had a scar under one eye and long ebony locks. And he also happened to notice that she was wearing black underwear today.

“Don't you know you shouldn't be flying around in a pantsuit unless you want people looking up your skirt?”

She looked taken off guard for a moment. As she landed right next to him before nodding. “Fair. Are you one of the new Wards?”

“Not exactly, no. I'm actually Mouse Protector's sidekick. Name’s Gibborim.” He replied, pocketing his cigar case and offering her a hand.

“Rebecca,” She replied, taking his hand and giving it a shake before continuing, “So Mouse Protector’s in town, huh?”

“Yeah. She kinda roped me into the whole sidekick roll. It was a very spur of the moment… You from Watch Dogs or something?” He asked as he lit up the tip of his cigar.

“What makes you think that?”

Giving her a sidelong glance, he replied, “Honey, you're wearing a pantsuit and just flew into the Rig, with clearance because the force field didn't try to stop you. The only reason I could think someone's doing that is you're here for their annual review. Be careful. Although I've never met her in person, I hear that Piggot’s a real pitbull. Don't let her push you around just because you're young.”

“Young? Just how old do you think I am?” She seemed more amused than anything, but also questioning.

“You're dolling yourself up to make yourself look older even though you're clearly only in your low to mid 20s, at best. And before you ask how I know this, my dad was a cop. More than once, he told me about sting operations on the gangs where people would have to put on makeup and the part. Hell, he even took me to a cleaned up crime scene once as weird as that sounds. Cops would always try to dress up, act younger than they were, especially during a sting op. You're doing the same thing, only the cops actually do it better than you are right now. If I had to hazard a guess, you probably think that by putting on makeup and acting older, you'll get a little bit more respect in your position. But again, just from what I've heard from my dad, it hardly ever works out that way. Seniority's a bunch of bullshit, And it only really comes into play when somebody's fucked up, And they need to decide who to cut loose. Usually it's the younger guys who end up getting the sack. Again, my dad's words, not mine.”

“Your father sounds very knowledgeable.”

“He was,” Greg agreed before he took a puff on his cigar. “He's no longer with us. Died recently while on duty. He was also part of the Volunteer Fire Department around here. Ironically, it wasn't catching a stray bullet from one of the gangs that got him, but smoke inhalation.” He then glanced at the cigar he was smoking and then chuckled a little. “He always said these things would kill him one day… I guess in the end, he was kinda right?”

‘He's still grieving. His father died fairly recently, probably within the past month or so, likely less. With how he's talking about him.’ Rebecca mused, analyzing his tone, the way he was leaning against the railing, practically hunched in on himself. She was taking in everything about him with just a glance. His grief was, if nothing else, still raw. “What about your mother?”

Greg took another puff before he replied, “Died earlier this month. A Merchant got her while she was protecting her ambulance. Looking for a quick score on drugs.”

Rebecca grimaced. She knew where this was going. With no family, he was going to be a force to be a ward of the state. “So that means you're going to be forced into the Wards program?”

Greg shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. Mouse Protector says she has a plan, but we'll see how it pans out,” He then pulled out his cigar case and offered her one, “For after you get done with the pit bull known as Piggott. Consider it a celebratory smoke.”

As she picked it up, and noted the brand, Rebecca replied, “I'm a cancer survivor. Ironically it was the cause of my Trigger event.”

“Oh, shit! Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.” He apologized, being genuine. Trigger events were just not something you brought up.

“It's fine, it's not your fault and I volunteered the information. So why are you and Mouse Protector at the rig right now? It's not like her to visit.”

Rubbing his temples, Greg replied, “I honestly don't know if I should say anything. They're already walking on egg shells because they know you're coming.”

Giving him a pointed look, Rebecca replied. “If they're trying to hide something from me and waiting till I leave to take care of it, then I should definitely know about it.”

Greg nodded. He didn't disagree, and he hated lying, “Yeah, probably. But I really don't want to piss off the lady who could be my future boss.” Referring to Piggott.

Leaning sideways against the railing she gave Greg the same look his mother used to give him to get him to spill the beans, “You leave Piggott to me, I can handle her perfectly fine. What exactly have you and Mouse Protector gotten yourselves into?”

‘Damn it, do all women know how to do that look?’ He thought to himself before he replied, “We just handled a royal shit show down at Winslow High School. A trio of Wards were acting out, abusing their authority, and basically running roughshod over the entire school. In doing so, they outed three other people who were non gang affiliated capes going incognito. The first time I ever actually had to fight anyone and I was arresting Shadow Stalker.”

Rebecca nodded in sudden understanding, “Ah, so that's why you were smoking, trying to take the edge off. Yeah, the adrenaline from a fight can be something. Especially for someone who isn't used to it. Thank you for being honest with me, Gibborim. I appreciate it. I don't like liars. Especially the kind who lies to your face while smiling at you.”

He nodded at her. He could respect that, “I don’t like lying either, so it makes being a Cape a little awkward. but my dad always told me if you can look at yourself in the mirror in the morning and not hate yourself. You can't be doing too terribly. But if the time ever comes when you do look at yourself in the mirror and you hate yourself, then it's time for a change.”

The smile she gave then was something between a smile and a grimace. “A wise man, your father. He definitely gave you words to live by.”

Greg gave a bitter laugh. “You know, it's not till after he's gone that I realize just how sage his words were. I just thought he was being preachy at the time. You know how parents are? But now that he's gone, I keep thinking back to all the things he told me over the years, and I'm like, wow, he was actually telling me really smart worldly things.”

Placing her hand on his shoulder, Rebecca said. “I know how you feel, I lost my father at the start of my cancer diagnosis. It made it that much harder to pull through even though I managed. My mother, despite everything, has never really recovered from his loss.”

“Sorry, that must have been really tough.” The blonde replied, condolences evident in his tone.

She nodded, “It was. For a while I blamed myself for his death. I assumed he was overworking himself trying to pay for my cancer bills. But eventually I learned that I can't blame myself for everything. All we can do is keep moving forward. That's what my father taught me.”

Taking another puff off his cigar, Greg raised it in salute and said, “To the wisdom of our Fathers.”

Raising her own cigar and giving a rarely used smile, she replied, “Salute. Would you like to come watch me tear into Piggott?”

“While I wouldn't say no to that, but I would also like to, uh, inform you that she doesn't even know what went on at the school at the moment. I, or at least I don't think she's been informed. So don't be too hard on her?”

“While I understand and appreciate what you're trying to do, she's the Director of the Protectorate ENE. It's her job to be on top of things like this. If she can't do it, then she might need to be replaced with someone who can. Now, are you coming or not?” she asked as she turned towards the door.

“Right behind you,” Greg said as he put his cigar out onto the heel of his boot.

(...)

Emily Piggott, due to losing the use of her kidneys in Ellisburg, had not only gained a bunch of weight, was stuck behind a desk job that she hated and was forced to work with Parahumans she blatantly despised though she was trying to be objective about it. Her condition also left her looking rather sallow. Her complexion paled even further when the head director herself walked into her office. 

“H-head Director Costa-Brown, she said as she stood up from her chair and saluted, “I had no idea you’d be coming today.”

Rebecca Costa-Brown, the leader of the PRT fixed her with a steely gaze. It was a look that all but froze her in place as she replied in saccharine sweetness, “I know, Emily, that’s the whole point of surprise inspections. But more to the point, that's the least worrisome of what you don't know about going on with those under your command.”

Seeing Emily's eyes turned to pinpricks in fear, Rebecca nodded. This was the type of reaction she was used to. Though she didn't really mind being treated normally by that young man. ‘No, I suppose he's more of a boy. He couldn't be more than sixteen.’ She thought to herself, glancing behind her briefly to see him leaning casually against the wall. Out of sight and out of mind. 

“What exactly do you mean, Head Director?

“The fact that you don't know what I mean, Emily, just goes to show how far your leadership has fallen here in Brockton Bay,” Rebecca said as calmly as she approached the desk. “For example, did you know that three of your Wards have been running roughshod over Winslow High School? Picked a fight with three other students and outed the six of them as Capes just a few hours ago? That Mouse Protector and her sidekick Gibborim had to arrest them?”

“I-I did not…” The director of the PRT ENE replied.

“Did you even know Mouse Protector was in the city at the moment?”

“No, ma'am,” Piggott replied, her voice flat and neutral. As if she had become mechanical. Probably a holdover from her agent days. If Greg had to guess.

“I thought not, and on top of that, they not only caught several minor drug deals going down, but also found that several students were concealed carrying. And none of the Wards you had placed in the school thought to notify you of this? Why were they even there to begin with?”

“They are supposed to keep me aware of the goings on of the gangs, ma'am.” Director Piggott said through clenched teeth.

Rebecca curled an eyebrow at this, “Have they ever reported anything since you placed them there?”

Piggott thought back. She got a lot of paperwork every single day. But now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall ever receiving a report from any of the Wards at Winslow. “Now that I think about it, ma'am, no, I do not recall receiving any such reports. In fact, whenever I did receive a report, they just said everything was quiet.”

“Quiet at Winslow? There's no such thing.” Greg couldn't help himself. He had to say something then. “That place is a hive of scum and villainy inside of a hive of scum and villainy. You could stick your ear to the ground for all of five  minutes and automatically know what's going on with nearly all the gangs in the city outside of the Undersiders and Coil’s Organization.”

“And just who are you?!” Emily snapped. She could tell by the voice it was some teenager. It was bad enough she was being dressed down, but to have it being done in front of a child and then for them to talk down to her like this was infuriating.

“This would be Mouse Protector's sidekick Gibborim. The one doing your job for you. And he has every right to speak up. In fact, I'm surprised he didn't do so sooner.”

Kicking off the wall, Greg replied, “Didn't think it was my place, Boss.”

“You can stick with Rebecca for now, Gibborim.” 

Greg was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She was obviously putting a lot of trust in him at the moment, letting him call her by her first name. He'd make sure he didn't screw up whatever he did to earn the privilege, “Understood. But more than that, boss, we've got bigger problems that the trio have caused at Winslow. At least, unless I miss my guess.” Greg had a sinking feeling in his stomach, that those three might be responsible for his girlfriend's powers. Because there was only one thing traumatic enough that could have caused her to be able to control insects…

The Locker Incident…

Rebecca sighed through her nose in annoyance, “This is going to be a very long conversation, isn't it, Gibborim?”

“Probably, if my gut feeling is right. But in order to tell if it's right or not, we're gonna need to get everyone involved together. And it doesn't exactly look comfortable enough to do that here.” He said as he glanced around the director's office. “Not enough chairs.”

Rebecca nodded before calling out. “Mouse protector?”

Minnie, who'd been trying to silently spy on the conversation, sheepishly poked her head into the office, calling out, “Yes boss?” 

“Firstly, if you're going to eavesdrop, control your breathing better. Secondly, I need you to bring all the people involved with this afternoon's incident to meeting room one.”

“Do you mean the actual meeting room or one of the interrogation rooms? Because apparently the interrogation rooms are being called guest rooms. At least, according to Miss Militia.” Much to Greg's surprise, Mouse Protector wasn't actually telling a joke, but being genuine. Apparently even she knew when to be funny and when not to.

“An actual meeting room.” The Head Director requested, “Much like in here, I don't think there would be enough space or chairs for everyone in an interrogation room.”

Minnie gave her a double thumbs up before she replied,“You got it boss lady. Give me like, five minutes? Six if Shadowstalker is awake, because she'll try and get away from me.”

Director Piggott piped up then, “We've actually prepared for this eventuality. Go see Armsmaster, he'll have something special for you for Shadow Stalker.”

“Oh boy, I get to go see Armsie!” She said in a false chipper tone. Even Greg could tell she wasn't thrilled to see the resident Tinker, even as she teleported away.

After she was gone, Greg asked no one in particular. “Is it always this stressful around here? I just finished and I already feel the need to relight my cigar.”

Piggott sent him a look and said “You can't smoke in here. The equipment is delicate being freaking Tinker tech. Besides, you're not old enough.”

“Me not being old enough hasn't stopped me yet,” Greg said with a careless shrug as he turned to the office door and held it open for the two women,“As for the Tinkertech being so darn delicate, you'd think with the premier Tinker around here being Armsmaster, he'd be able to fix that. What with him probably being the type who I bet likes to spend more time in his lab than around people.” 

Standing from her chair, Piggott muttered to herself, as she walked like someone heading to the gallows, “Huh, that's the first time someone's actually given me a good reason for Armsmaster to spend all his time cooped up in his lab. If I get to keep my job over this, I might just put him on that.”

“The keyword being if, Emily. Thank you, Gibborim. Now, let's go and sort out this mess.”

(...)

By the time they'd arrived, everyone else was already in the room. Which itself hosted a long darkwood table, several plush matching chairs, and refreshments in the corner. Behind one set of chairs was a marvelous view of the city in the distance. Also there were Armsmaster and Miss Militia. Greg figured that word had gotten out when Mouse Protector had asked the resident Tinker for a bracelet to contain Shadow Stalker’s powers.

Greg scanned his way across the table, noticing Aya looked nearly catatonic with worry and fear. Chie was doing her best to console her, and Taylor was looking nervous. Sophia was defiant and surly. Madison looked like a deer in headlights, and Emma didn't seem too concerned. Perhaps she thought her lawyer of a father would be able to bail her out of this? Greg wondered, but didn't vocalize as he pulled a chair out for the women he came in with. 

“Thank you again, Gibborim. Clearly, you've been raised to have decorum.” Director Costa-Brown said as she slid into her seat.

“Just common courtesy in my household, Miss… I mean Head Director.” He said before taking a step back. Unsure if he was allowed to sit down or not.

“Take a seat on my right if you would,” Rebecca said, motioning for him to sit.

“If you insist,” Greg replied before he sat down. 

The director stared across the table at everyone present. “It seems though, we've had a bit of an incident. I'd like to get to the bottom of it. If you're all willing, I would like to take this from the top and hear everyone's side of the story before deciding what to do.”

Greg looked at Taylor for a moment before saying, “When you say take it from the top, do you mean the very top? Not just the start of this incident, but everything that happened before this?”

“I mean, the very top,” Director Costa Brown, affirmed, “If Wards have been acting out of line, with no oversight? Then I want to know everything, and I do mean everything,” She looked towards the victims and said, “If any of you know anything. Don't hesitate, now's your time to speak up.”

Now it was Taylor's turn to look like a deer in headlights. ‘Is someone actually going to listen to me this time? Take me seriously? Really do something?’ She wandered all while looking at her disguised boyfriend. Who gave her an encouraging nod. 

Seeing him silently giving her encouragement, she took a breath before saying. “Do you need to turn on some sort of recording?”

“No need, both Armsmaster and Dragon are handling it. Aren't you, Dragon?” The Head Director spoke into the open air knowingly.

From the conference call machine set in the center of the table, came a feminine voice, “You know me too well, Director.”

“That said, let's get this formal inquiry officially started. This is Head director of the PRT, Rebecca Costa-Brown, here at the PRT ENE. Time is 14:53. launching an investigation of abuse of power amongst the Wards.”

“Assisting in investigation, Director Emily Piggott PRT ENE.” Emily spoke up for posterity.

“Protectorate Capes, Armsmaster and Miss Militia are also in attendance.” The two older Capes spoke up.

“Independent Protectorate Affiliated Cape Mouse Protector present.”

“Independent Protectorate Affiliated sidekick, Gibborim, here and accounted for.” Greg spoke up unsurely, but he felt it right to say what he did. 

The head director gave him a smile and a nod, and then she continued, “We shall now be hearing witness testimony from one,” She nodded to Taylor.

“Taylor Ann Hebert. I can confirm multiple accounts of bullying from those three just on me…” She paused before saying. “To the point that they caused my Trigger event shortly after Christmas break,” She demonstrated by summoning a small swarm of flies to her hand, that she had spin in the form of a triple Helix just to prove her point.

“No fucking way. That's not possible,” Sophia denied, even though she was seeing the evidence right in front of her eyes. “You can't. You're too weak. You're just prey. You’re not strong like us! If you were, you would have retaliated long before now.”

Looking at her former bully with pity, Taylor replied, “I've always been stronger than you, Sophia. Heroes don't act the way you do. I could have retaliated so many times. But I didn’t because heroes don't act like you do. Heroes are supposed to ‘help people’ they don't needlessly antagonize because they know they have power over them. That's the difference between real heroes and real villains.”

“Well spoken, young lady. And as much as I hate to cast any form of blame on you at this point, do you have any proof of what you've just stated?” Director Costa-Brown questioned.

Taylor nodded, “I kept a digital log of every incident with the Trio on my computer at my house. And a physical copy in the form of a journal in my room as a backup. Just in case something happened to my computer.”

“With your permission, I would like to download that log off your computer,” Dragon politely requested.

Taylor didn't even hesitate at this point, “Go ahead, do you need my login information or?”

“No, Miss Hebert. Your permission is enough. Head Director, It would probably be a good idea to send a member of the PRT to collect the physical copy of the journal.”

Director Costa Brown glanced at Director Piggott, who hit a few buttons on her phone. Before saying, “It's being done as we speak.”

Seeing Taylor take a shuddering breath, Miss Militia asked. “Is something wrong?”

“My Dad’s home today and he doesn't know I'm a Cape.”

“If you'd like, we could have him escorted back to the building and several things could be explained to him,” Director Costa-Brown politely offered.

“That would be helpful. Thank you.”

“Before we continue with the official interrogations, I have to ask, Starstruck, why are you all wet?” Piggott asked. One of her would-be Wards.

“Well, Director, ma'am. That's because, that one,” She nodded her chattering head towards Aya. “Teleported me into the school pool.”

Aya, who had yet to say anything, looked down, and said in an almost muted tone. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt anyone.”

“You didn't hurt anybody, you just sent her away from you so she didn't hurt you.” Greg reassured her. “So she got a little bit of a chlorine bath. It isn't gonna kill her.”

“Teleportation based Tinker tech, Interesting. Is that how your powers are geared?” Arms Master asked. Always pleased to meet a fellow Tinker.

Aya began to slowly hyperventilate. “I-I can't, I can't talk about it!”

Without even thinking, Greg reached across the table and took her hand, “Easy Aya, easy. Breathe. Look at me, breathe. No one's going to hurt you, I promise. They'll have to go through me first.”

The frail slip of a girl seemed to shudder like an overly anxious dog for a moment, before she slowly, ever so slowly, calmed down. Giving the Cape across from her a ghost of a smile and fixing her doe eyes on his, she said, “You're not very good at keeping your secret identity a secret, you know that? Not when you're acting so familiar with people you aren’t supposed to know.”

He shrugged uncaringly, “Worse comes to worse, I can join New Wave.” He honestly didn't care all too much if his friends knew his identity. If someone tried to harm a single hair on their heads, he'd be taking that person's head in recompense. To hell with any rules, unwritten or not.

“You said you can't talk about how your powers work. Not won't?” Dragon asked for clarification.

“Yes.” Aya said with a swift jerky nod.

“Would you mind too terribly if I examined the device you came in with?” Armsmaster inquired, speaking with the softest tone he could. He may not be the best with people, but even he understood he had to treat this girl with kid gloves. His visor was analyzing her and  it was telling him that she was exhibiting unusually high levels of stress and this conversation was not helping her. Although he wasn't the best with emotions, he wasn't heartless. He could tell she was backed against a wall and needed some kind of support. And wherever she got that piece of Tinkertech It came with a threat and a price.

“Oh, okay? I think that's fine.” She said, obviously unsure but not being brave enough to stand up to them. “I-” Her gaze landed in her lap as she continued, “The only thing I don't want is to lose my friends. Can you just make sure that doesn't happen?” She spoke up but didn't raise her head from her lap, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

“Everything's going to be just fine, Miss Asagiri,” Dragon assured her. “You have my word if nothing else.”

“Mine as well,” Director Costa Brown added, “I don't know what's been going on at that school or abroad, but we're going to fix it. What type of government agency are we when we can't even protect the streets, let alone the schools?”

“Thank you,” Aya said, breaking down and crying in relief. “Thank you so much.”

All eyes then turned to the last woman present, that wasn't a wayward Ward.

“My turn now, I guess. Satonaka Chie speaking for the record. I Triggered quite a while back. During Leviathan's attack on Kyushu.”

This caused Piggott to exclaim, with disgust practically dripping off of her tone,”You've had your powers for almost ten years?!”

“Emily! Control yourself!” The head director snapped at her sharply. 

Chie just rolled her eyes and replied, “And people wonder why I didn't join the Wards or Lung’s gang. It's because people like you exist. People that will see Parahumans like ticking time bombs no matter what they do. But yeah, I've had my power since I was about six or seven. But that's not why we're here right now.” 

“It isn't. Please go on.” The Head Director prompted.

“We were all minding our own business. It was lunch, you know? Then these three stalked up to us and started talking a lot of crap. We were willing to let it go until they started talking crap about Taylor's boyfriend Greg, who means a lot to all three of us for different reasons. And well, we weren't just going to let that slide.”

“Are you blatantly admitting you attacked three Wards first?” Piggott asked, hoping to find a way out of her situation.

“I am admitting no such thing,” Chie rebutted. “In fact, I'm pretty sure I just said they came over to us under no provocation and started talking shit. To the point that it escalated to Cape on Cape violence with all six of us outing ourselves.”

“Can confirm,” Mouse Protector chimed in. “We have the whole altercation on video. The Wards did in fact start it, even if it was verbally.”

“Like we knew they were Capes,” Sophia complained.

“Exactly. You don't know who is or who isn't a Cape when neither of you are in costume, so you should always be watching what you do and say when not suited up.” Director Costa-Brown reprimanded the former Ward harshly, “Because you never know. One person you decide to push around might just snap one day and that could be the end of you. Thankfully, you're not dead. Unfortunately, that means all three of you are going to face harsh punishment.”

“Umm Director, should we have legal representation present? Emma asked. “Because if so, I'd like to make a phone call.”

Giving the redhead a stone cold glare, she replied, “Not even your father is going to be able to get you out of this one, Barnes.”

Emma pouted, crossing her arms and started sulking in her chair before going silent.

“I always thought about becoming a Ward. It was actually a dream of mine.” Taylor spoke whimsically. “But now, I'm not so sure. I mean if the bullies who caused my Trigger event are part of the very organization I was thinking about joining, well, now I'm not sure if I wanna join up at all.”

“Oh please, we didn't do anything that bad.” Sophia scoffed.

Having heard more than enough, Greg snapped, “Didn't do anything that bad?! You shoved her in a locker full of feces, used feminine products, and god knows how many insects for over an hour! By the time they let her out, she was delirious and had to go to the hospital for treatments for possible infection. More than that, they had to call in a hazmat team to spray down her locker. Meaning you caused a biological terrorist incident. The FDA had to get involved!  So don't you dare say you didn't do anything that bad. You're a fucking monster in human skin. Hardly any better than the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

“Who the hell even are you?” Sophia demanded, rising to her feet and shouted back, “You've got to be some snitch from the school if you know-” She suddenly paled to the point you'd think she turned white, and abruptly sat back down.

“Oh no, please Miss Hess, do go on,” The Head Director prompted, “Don't stop on our account. Do keep digging your grave deeper.”

Glaring hatefully at the head director, Sophia replied, “I'm gonna plead the fifth.” 

“You know, for some reason I thought you'd say that,” She then turned to Taylor and said, “Miss Hebert, while I can't begin to apologize for the failure and crimes my organization has done to you. I hope this is a start. These three will be split up and be sent to separate areas around the country. Sophia Hess will be sent to a Supermax prison. I would advocate for the Birdcage, but she's not worth that much. Starstruck and Bard, will be permanently separated on either side of the coasts of America. Starstruck shall be sent to Los Angeles, for harsh retraining under Alexandria. While, Bard will be sent to the PRT out in Anchorage, Alaska.”

“Alaska?” meeped out Emma, her face drained of what little color she had. She now looked paler than a sheet. “I-I can't go to Alaska. How could I explain that to my parents?”

Head Director Costa-Brown smiled at her… it was not a kind smile as she replied, “When you joined the Wards you accepted the responsibility,  the benefits came with an ability to be reassigned anywhere at any time at our discretion. You're getting reassigned to Alaska. I suggest you dress warmly. Both of them will also be receiving a fifty percent pay cut.”

“Fifty percent pay cut?!” Both girls shouted out at the same time.

“Oh? Were you both offering to make it seventy-five percent?” Director Costa Brown asked. That shut them both up immediately, allowing her to continue “Since they won't be needing it, I would like to give it to you, Miss Hebert, as an apology for all the pain and suffering they've caused. This would be on top of whatever we would pay you as a ward should you ever decide to join up.”

Taylor cocked her head to the side and smiled just a smidge.“Are you trying to bribe me, Chief Director Costa-Brown?”

“Bribe is such an ugly word. Think of it more as incentivizing. Besides, someone with your skill set could be quite useful to the PRT around here and other places. Can you only control bugs or can you do other things with them?” Taylor glanced at the trio, unsure if she should say anything, only to be reassured by the Head Director, “If they're smart, they won't breathe a word or anything said in this room. But considering their poor choices of late, they don't seem to be showing much in the way of intelligence,” She glared at the three girls, causing them to squirm in their seats before saying. “If you breathe so much a word of what you're about to hear outside of this room, I will personally make sure to bury the three of you in some form or another. In fact, just to be safe… Mouse Protector, escort these three back to the holding cells. We're done with them for now.”

“Yes, boss, I'll be right back.” She teleported the three away and was back before Taylor could so much as blink. “Told you I'd be right back.”

“As they say, the ball is in your court, Miss Hebert.” Director Costa Brown motioned for her to speak if she so chose.

“I can do more than just control bugs. I can kinda sort of see through them? It's not like human sight, but it's something. But more than that, I've created my costume using them. Using spider silk and insect shells.”

“So a minor Tinker rating for sure on top of Master. Very intriguing. Could you bring this costume in for analysis? I'd like to give it a look.” Armsmaster requested.

“I mean, I guess I can. It's not finished or anything… It's very utilitarian in design of black and gray and whatnot.”

“Sounds more like a villain's outfit than a hero's.” Armsmaster commented offhandedly.

To which Taylor said defensively, “Well, I based it off of my favorite hero, Alexandria's outfit, and I don't see you calling her a villain.”

Director Costa-Brown smiled a bit, “So you're a fan of Alexandria, are you?”

Taylor shrugged in embarrassment, and said defensively, “I went through a phase when I was younger. Doesn't everybody? At least I'm not trying to be a Hero ripoff like every other Tinker.”

“Shots fired.” Mouse Protector called out in a loud whisper.

Miss Militia gave her an eye smile under her bandana, “Of course they do. I'm sure if she was here, Alexandria would be thrilled to know she has a fan.”

“True, but in Hero's defense, he deserves it after falling in the line of duty,” Director Costa-Brown pointed out. “My only regret is having no more nukes to use against the Nine.”

“Wouldn't a cruise missile work? I mean, you just have to get them when they're in a place that isn't heavily populated. Obviously.” Greg was just spitballing at the moment, but still. 

Director Costa Brown shook her head, “You would think, but with Crawler and everything. If that didn't kill him, he'd just come back even stronger than before. And we don't even know what the Siberian's power really entails on top of that. She's the only person to ever really harm Alexandria.” The head director's hand subconsciously went towards her left eye, where there was a faint scar just below it. But then she gave her head a shake and turned to Greg. “Now, Gibborim, what do you want out of all this?”

“Slap on the back and a job well done? That's kind of all I was really expecting.” He said, surprised she asked him anything at all.

“You uncovered corruption in the Wards, which likely means corruption in the Youth Guard, a small drug ring and weapons concealment at a high school, which likely means the faculty is also involved? That's more than just a slap on the back and a good job. So what do you want? Or, to be more blunt with you, 'cause you seem to respect that, what do we need to do to get you to join the Wards? Or the Protectorate in some capacity?”

For a couple of moments Greg's concealed head looked at the ceiling as he was lost in thought, Then he spoke up, “I'd like to not officially become a Ward? Like if you want me to put in my nine to five forty hours a week? Fine, I can do that. But I kind of like this whole thing I have going with Mouse Protector at the moment. You want me to patrol? Fine, I'll do it, but only with her and a few other Wards. Secondly, I want an all expenses paid trip to Arcadia along with Taylor, Aya, and Chie here.”

“That's sweet of you, Gibborim, but I can handle myself.” Chie spoke up for herself. “ It doesn't really matter to me if I stay in Winslow or not.”

“It matters to me, and I’d sleep a whole lot easier if I knew you didn't have to go to that place.”

Chie sighed and said, “You always were stubborn when you wanted to be.”

He just shrugged and retorted, “It's part of my roguish charm,”

The action movie buff didn't bother to deny that, “You're not wrong.”

Director Costa Brown nodded, None of this would cost too much. “All of that is easily doable. Do you want anything else?”

“Well, I don't think there's a Cape around that can revive the dead, so no.” He said with a wistful shake of his head. 

“No such Cape is known to exist outside of maybe Bonesaw, and I don't think she'd be willing to help you out of the kindness of her heart.” Armsmaster said matter of factually.

Giving him a deadpan glare, Greg said flatly, “I figured as much, but thank you oh so much for clarifying.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Armsmaster without a hint of understanding the sarcasm. He continued to fiddle with Aya’s Tinkertech gun when he noticed something odd on the gun. He would bring it up with Dragon later.

Rebecca then turned to her left and faced her fellow Director, “Now, the last and most unpleasant thing on the agenda is what to do with you, Emily? Turns out a colossal clusteruck happened right under your nose, and you knew nothing about it.”

“Do whatever you see fit, Head Director,” Piggott said before she pursed her lips. “If you want, you can have my resignation by the end of the day.”

“Excuse me umm, Rebecca? I know I don't exactly have any pull around here, but can I advocate for her not being fired?” Gibborim intervened on her behalf, raising a hand.

‘He’s able to speak so casually to the Head Director and yet he doesn't think he has any pull?’ Just about everyone who had been around the head director for more than five minutes was thinking to themselves. 

She glanced at him, seemingly bemused as she asked, “Do you have some sort of punishment in mind, Gibborim? Because I can't just let her off scott free?”

“Well, she does look kinda sick. I’m assuming that’s due to Ellisburg?” He leaned forward so he could look beyond the head director and ask Piggott directly.

“Yes. I lost the use of my kidneys thanks to Nilbog.” Her voice came out in an annoyed hiss, like that of an angry cat.

“And you didn't have Panacea, the premier healer on the East Coast, fix you up because you have a thing against Capes?”

“Parahumans have their uses, but that doesn't mean I trust them enough to do internal work on me.”

“How have you not died from an aneurysm or something due to stress? How can you even be expected to do this job under such conditions?” Turning to the head director, he replied, “I think I have a fitting punishment.”

She smiled knowingly, “Oh, do go on. As a matter of fact, pronounce her punishment for the group at large.”

Greg sighed to himself and hoped this wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass as he proclaimed, “If you insist. Director Emily Piggott of the PRT ENE. Your punishment is thus. Get your ass down to Brockton Bay General and let Panacea heal your freaking kidneys. This is no longer an option, this is an order. I'm going to assume that the head director is thinking the same thing, that you cannot be trusted to do your job effectively if you are not working at one hundred percent efficiency. In fact, your bias against capes aside. I feel this whole mess could have been avoided with clear heads. Especially since you are outgunned, outmanned, and surrounded on all fronts. For god’s sake, we have a freaking Neo-Nazi gang! One of the most premiere heroes in the world is gay and yet the Empire still exists?”

“I keep asking for a higher budget and more troops every year but we never seem to have it.” Emily said as she stared directly into the head director's eyes.

Greg suddenly got an idea, he motioned to Taylor and said “Hey, come here a minute,”

“Yes, Gibborim?” Taylor teased, following him into the corner of the room.

“Cut the crap, Tay, you know it's me.”

“Greg, I'm assuming you have an idea?” the smirk on her face turned slightly larger.

He nodded, “That extra money they were going to give you? From Emma and Madison’s pay? What if you offered to donate it to the PRT here? Not only would you score some major brownie points with the government. But if you did join up with the wards at some point well… You'd already be on the Director's good side.” 

“Political Maneuvering? Who are you and what have you done with the Greg I know?”

“I know plenty about politics.” He defended. “I've read both Dune and Star Wars.”

Raising an eyebrow, Taylor asked, “Should I call you Darth Muadib?”

Deciding she'd teased him enough for one day, he fired back, “Only in the bedroom, sweetheart.”

She proceeded to one up him by saying, “Maybe I really should look into renting that hotel room for a couple days…”

He was beginning to think his girlfriend might be more sexually inclined than he was. So he decided to keep her on track, “Later, Taylor. Later. What do you think about the plan?”

“No fun,” She pouted before she amended, “I like it, it makes good factual sense,” She agreed with a nod.

“Okay, so let's do this thing.” He said before they both went and sat back down.

“Do you two have something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?” Director Costa- Brown asked once they were both seated.

The two looked at each other, Greg motioning for Taylor to speak and then her doing the same for him. The two had a battle of wills before Greg finally spoke for the two of them. “After having a brief chat with Miss Hebert-”

“Oh, to heck with it, Greg. Just enough already. I'm pretty sure everyone already knows who you are, and anyone who doesn't isn't stupid enough to spill the beans.”

“ All right, fine, fine.” With a thought, the helmet on his head disappeared, leaving his blonde hair and blue eyes on display. “Greg Veder, everybody. To those of you who don't know me yet. To those of you who do, how obvious was it?”

“I already said you're too friendly and familiar with people you shouldn't know in that disguise.” Aya pointed out regaining a good bit of her composure.

“Greg, you were Gibborim. I had no idea.” Chie was the only one who was shocked.

Taylor gave her a look and deadpanned, “Are you serious right now? It was obvious.”

“I just thought he was being overly friendly? Wow, you think you know some people? So we're not the only superheroes in high school, huh?”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Greg replied, “Mine is a fairly recent development…”

Thinking back as to why he hadn't been to school recently, the athlete nodded, “Yeah, that would do it.” Chie agreed.

“Yeah, but anyway, like I was saying. Taylor has agreed to take the money you were going to offer her and have it put it into the budget of the PRT ENE. Since they seem to be having money issues here.”

Doing some quick math, Armsmaster said, “That would increase our budget by more than fifteen percent. A not insubstantial increase.” 

Emily narrowed her eyes at the two teens, “What do you want?”

“Right now, nothing. The ability to call in a favor… Several favors, really, should we ever need one? Priceless,” Taylor replied.

“And Hotel Trivago.” Greg couldn't help but quip.

“That was so lame, Hon.” Taylor said, shaking her head. “That pun was like Assault level bad.”

Giving an uncaring shrug, he retorted with, “I couldn't resist, so sue me.” 

There was a yell that somehow reached the room, “Someone is stealing my schtik!”

Greg paused and then continued with what he was doing, “But seriously, a favor or two from the Director of the PRT isn’t anything to sneeze at. I mean, we can sign a contract so it is all above board and within legal permissions. Heaven forbid, a Ward or Cape for the PRT is caught doing something illegal.”

“Yes, that would be a true shame. A blight upon the organization we work for.” Rebecca replied, If her tone were any more obtuse it would be pear shaped. She then dropped the bombshell. “Now for the final little thing we need to cover in this secret little meeting of ours… “ Turning to Miss Militia, she asked. “Just when were you going to inform anyone that you had had a child?”

“That's a good question,” Greg responded before she could, “The child in question didn't even know.”

Sighing and knowing the cat was finally out of the bag, she began to explain.“It happened when I was a Ward. The city was even more dangerous back then than it is now. As I am sure you all know.” 

“I feel like I should have popcorn. Well that, or get Maury on speed dial.” Greg said to no one in particular.

“Now is not the time for jokes, Mouseketeer.” Mouse Protector gently reprimanded her sidekick. “Go on, Hannah, I'm here for you, like always.”

“Thank you, Minnie. As I was saying, although I did deserve that dig. I became pregnant with Greg when I was a Ward and I thought it was best to give him up because if I didn't, he would have been in danger and I would have been in more danger. The son of an Inaugural Ward, and a Second generation Cape? What chance would he have had? You think it's bad now, Brockton was so much worse back then.”

“Not that I don't love my parents, may they rest in peace, but you put me with random strangers hoping that nothing would go wrong. Thankfully, you were correct but that's kind of like asking villains to raise a hero's kid or vice versa. That could have gone horribly in so many ways. Now I guess the only question on everybody's mind is who is my dad, biologically speaking?”

“I'm surprised at you, little Mouseketeer. You haven't figured it out yet? I thought you were smarter than that.” Mouse protector playfully chided. “ There's only one person that Miss Militia has ever dated. And he's been in the Protectorate for a really long time.”

Comprehension dawned in Greg's eyes as he said. “No. No freaking way.”

Hannah nodded. “Yes, Greg, it's true. Your father is Chevalier.” 

Greg sat back in his chair, completely stunned for a moment, before he finally said, “I might have one more request then. If I may, Head Director?”

“Go ahead, Greg?”

“Is there any chance, any at all, that we could get Chevalier transferred out here? To Brockton Bay, if only for a little bit.”

She patted him on the shoulder, to show a form of solidarity or affection? Taylor and Greg weren't sure, but she assured him, “I think I can pull a few strings.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice still sounding far off. “Appreciate it.”

“Greg, do you need a hug?” Taylor offered, already standing and about to make a move to the other side of the table.

 It was then that Dragon interrupted saying. “Umm, I hate to break up this tender moment, but your father is here, Miss Hebert.

Taylor swallowed and said, “Actually, I might be the one who needs a hug.”

Gregg took a deep breath, smacked his cheeks and said “Ok. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“You consider dealing with the PRT less daunting than dealing with her father?” Head director Costa Brown asked, sounding genuinely amused.

“You've never met Taylor's father or Bessie.”

“Bessie?”

“The pipe wrench he swore he was going to break my kneecaps with if anything ever happened to her,” Greg clarified, “I like my kneecaps, thanks.”

“Right, that sounds like the cue for me to do my first official bit of parenting and help you kids sort this out. If you're ok with me doing that, that is?”

Taylor looked at the heroine desperately and said for the both of them, “Please God, yes!”

“Minnie, what are you doing?” Miss Militia asked frantically as she saw Mouse Protector heading for the door.

“I'm helping. He's my kinda sorta my type sexy nephew too, you know?”

“Minnie no!... wait what?”

“Minnie yes!... and nevermind!” She said, teleporting away before anyone could stop her.

Suddenly, Taylor was pulling at his cheek. “Ow, what’d I do?!” Greg complained.

“Stop seducing the older heroines, Greg!”

“I'm sowwry? I’m not doing it on purpose?!” He complained as she kept pulling his cheek.

“Lies, lies and slander! If we make it out of this in one piece and my dad doesn't ground me for forever, you're taking me out on a date.” She promised and threatened him. “Now come on, we need to go face my dad. Hold my hand?”

“Leggo ma face first.”

“Right, sorry.” 

Bring a hand to his cheek a bit. Greg took her hand and said, “It's going to be fine, Tay, you'll see… although I really should get a hold of Panacea and let her know that I wasn't totally kidnapped by Mouse Protector.”

“Now, what were you doing spending the day with Panacea?” She said, giving him another half hearted glare.

“Okay, first off it's not what you think it is, and second off eww, she's like a sister to me. Before you get mad at me for something I didn't do again, can we go and deal with the issue that is your father?”

“Fine, but we're not done talking about this.” She warned him.

“Would it help if I told you I had a small library of books waiting for us to pick up at Rorsarch’s?”

“Are you trying to bribe me with books, Greg Veder?” Taylor asked, giving him a sidelong glare.

Giving her a hopeless smile, he asked, “That depends, is it working?”

“Only because you know me so well. C’mon let's go deal with my dad so we can get those books into their proper home.”

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” Greg said to himself. Something told him he'd be putting out a lot of fires in the future though. But right now he had the fire that was Danny Herbert's temper to deal with. But he wasn't going to jail.The trio was going away for a long time and he still had Taylor in his corner. All in all, today was a good day. If he could just get past this next meeting.

(...)

Word count: 9,940   Number of pages: 22   Date completed: 7/25/2025

(...)

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to Chapter 4 of Legacy of Heroes. This one is extra long because of reasons. But yeah, if canon wasn't derailed before, it certainly is now. Things they are changing. Whether that's for better or worse, is yet to be seen. But you’ll get to see more next time. Till then, this is Bubbajack your a friendly neighborhood author, signing out! Here's the rest of the crew.

Snowy:

LoamyCoffee: Splendid, Greg’s making friends in high places and making things better.
Good that they won’t need to deal with the trio any longer, but now he’s got his birth dad, Taylor’s dad, and Taylor’s interrogation on the other girls in his life to look forward to.

Antagonist:

First Hassan:

Reiter:

Thanks again for reading and till next time. This has been an Ink Blot Bros Production. Peace!