Grief 7.17b

  – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –?

  He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, all ten fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against both his biceps. The metal was cool through his t-shirt, grounding, but not enough. Everything else felt too loose, too stretched thin, like his body couldn’t decide if it was floating or sinking.

  His head was full.

  Too full.

  Hours of just standing here hadn’t helped.

  Neither had staring at nothing while Theo meditated and Sparky flipped through reruns of cape bullshit with the kind of glazed-over focus that said his brain had fully checked out.

  They’d kept their distance, mostly. Quiet glances when they thought he wouldn’t notice.

  Like they were waiting.

  A few feet away, Sparky sprawled across the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent, sunglasses down just far enough on his nose to suggest he wasn’t actually watching the screen anymore. Theo sat cross-legged on the floor, unmoving, expression blank, but Greg had been around him long enough to know he wasn’t just zoning out—he was thinking.

  Waiting.

  Greg’s fingers stilled.

  Mercs had been one thing. That was his mess. His problem. Theo and Sparky had gotten caught up in the crossfire, yeah, but they hadn’t been the target.

  This?

  This was different.

  Gangs didn’t play by the same rules.

  They didn’t come at you in clean, predictable ways. Didn’t move in straight lines. Didn’t stop when the job was over. Gang shit meant debts, alliances, grudges that stretched back years, whole families dragged under because some asshole didn’t know when to let a grudge go. It meant people getting pulled into something without ever realizing how deep they were in until it was too late.

  It means you got them into this.

  His jaw locked as the thought rudely poked its way onto his train tracks.

  Sparky let out a quiet snort at something on screen, shifting like he was getting comfortable again. Theo didn’t move.

  Greg exhaled slow, the sound barely audible beneath the low hum of the warehouse.

  “…Sparks.”

  Sparky turned his head lazily, one hand adjusting his black round Matrix sunglasses. “Hm?”

  Greg jerked his chin at the TV “Mind cutting that off for a sec?”

  Sparky sighed, rolling his eyes as he fumbled for the remote, flicking the screen off.

  Greg looked at Theo.

  “Theo.”

  No movement at first. Then, a small shift as a pair of silver eyes turned his way “Yes.”

  Not even a question, just acknowledging his name.

  Greg raised both his eyebrows quickly and tilted his head. “Mind scooching over?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Theo blinked once. Without saying a word, his godbrother unfolded himself, his movements lazy in a way that said his mind was still on something else and made his way over to both Greg and Sparky.

  Greg pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders.

  Alright. Time to deal with this.

  He dragged a breath in, fingers pressing against his temples before dropping back to his sides.

  Once. Twice.

  Then he blinked, forcing himself to meet their eyes as they stared at him like he was crazy.

  Well, at least Sparky did. He chose to ignore it.

  "You know how I said I don't lie to you guys?"

  Sparky barely waited half a second before shooting back, "Vaguely, yeah. That sounds familiar."

  The way he said it, the way his glasses tilted just slightly as he watched Greg, made it clear enough that he didn’t really believe it. The sarcasm in his voice was just window dressing, a buffer for the part of him that was already running calculations, already waiting for Greg to just come out with whatever bullshit that would get on his nerves.

  Greg didn’t sigh, but he wanted to. Instead, he shifted his attention to Theo.

  Theo, as always, took his time.

  "I don't believe you lie so much as you simply don’t tell the full truth," he said, frowning slightly, like he was working through the phrasing even as he spoke. "Or anything at all, if it’s not necessary. Truthfully, it all depends on your views regarding lies of omission."

  Greg nodded absently, only half-listening. "Yeah… thing is, I feel like I might have done the opposite of that."

  Sparky squinted. "Huh?"

  "Not omission. Emission." Greg waved a vague hand, like the motion might help him find the words. "I feel like I've told you too much."

  Sparky's expression twisted like someone had just handed him a raw onion with the expectation that he bite into it. "...I don't think that word works like that."

  Greg shrugged. "Either way. I shouldn't have told you a bunch of things."

  Golden eyes narrowed as Sparky finally took his sunglasses off entirely, pocketing the things as he fixed Greg with a glare. "What things?"

  The blond let out a slow hiss, rolling his jaw. Words didn’t sit right in his mouth, thoughts didn’t sit right in his head but… "Things like… gang shit. The gang shit."

  "Wha—"

  "It was bad enough dealing with the Empire, you know?” Greg cut in, well before Sparky could start picking up steam for a rant he wasn’t ready for. “We weren’t even doing anything about them."

  Theo raised an eyebrow.

  Greg exhaled, already feeling the rebuttal coming. "We weren’t. I was doing shit about them," he amended. He glanced off to the right, arms loose at his sides, fingers flexing like they wanted something to hold onto.

  "But these gangs… the new ones, the ones from out of town, they’re not…" he frowned at the words, unsure of how to break the full news. "They’re moving differently than I expected. Than we expected."

  Theo didn’t hesitate. "You forced an escalation, didn’t you?"

  Greg’s head snapped up, bright blue eyes widening as they locked onto his godbrother’s placid face like heatseeking missiles. "How did y—"

  "CapeWatch reported use of powers and gunfire in formerly ABB-held territory last night,” Theo answered the question before it was fully formed.

  Greg frowned.

  Afternoons spent scrolling, refreshing, skimming through updates on every fight in the city and well outside it came back to mind. CapeWatch was basically just a glorified PHO subforum — with map pinning and better video hosting — where nerds posted their sightings, but at least the mods weren’t draconian dumbasses. Better than the main boards, where every other post was some kid swearing they’d totally seen Alexandria at a Dunkin’ Donuts.

  "And?"

  Theo stared back. "Lightning and fire reported. Sightings that match the bosses of both gangs you’ve informed us of."

  Greg shut his mouth, teeth meeting teeth with an audible click as he winced.

  Sparky, on the other hand, stood up straight so fast it was almost like someone had yanked his strings. "Wait, they fucking teamed up?"

  Greg almost sighed but he caught himself. He'd meant to break this news slowly.

  "Logically," Theo mused, voice smooth, careful. "But they haven’t openly attacked you before now, correct?"

  Greg exhaled through his nose. "Correct."

  "Yet everything you’ve done to them has been… instigative." Theo paused. "Simply put, you shot first."

  Greg dragged a hand through his hair. "Also correct."

  "Which raises an important question. If their merger happened before arriving in Brockton Bay, then you’re simply unfortunate." Theo’s tone remained neutral, almost amused. "But if it happened after…"

  "Then I forced it," Greg finished.

  According to Seo, it was unlikely they’d merged before coming to Brockton Bay. No matter what they said, there had been too many clashes in the weeks leading up to them actually showing up for that to be the case. They might’ve considered it, but losing their capes and that many bodies? That would’ve forced a decision real quick.

  So, yeah. Apparently, he was just too badass like that.

  "You’re such a fucking idiot," Sparky muttered.

  Greg let out a slow breath. "So, it’s my fault for styling on these guys? That it?"

  "Yes," Theo said, without hesitation.

  Ouch. Expected that one from Sparky. Et tu…

  "Look," Greg started, rolling his shoulders, "blame whoever you want—"

  "You," Sparky deadpanned.

  That’s more like it. Greg ignored him. "The simple thing here is, I don't want you guys thinking you have to get involved."

  "We don't have to do anything but eat, shit, and die," Sparky shot back.

  "Wow," Theo muttered.

  Sparky shrugged. "We’re gonna help you, dumbass. Because we’re your friends."

  “Because you’re family,” Theo continued.

  He closed his mouth, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest. “...guys, I-”

  “And as long as you’re around, my parents will always be happy I’m not as bad as you,” Sparky finished.

  Theo nodded slowly, agreeing with that part as well.

  Greg let his eyes close for a second. No… no, still a warm moment.

  He exhaled with a snort and let the tension bleed off. It didn’t take all the weight with it, but at least he could pretend. "Yeah," he said, quieter, but solid. "Yeah. Thanks, guys."

  Sparky just folded his arms while Theo, unreadable as ever, tilted his head slightly.

  Greg shook himself out of it, rolling his shoulders. "C’mon. I’m hungry. Let’s get some food."

  Sparky’s mouth opened—Greg already knew what was coming.

  "Yes," he cut in, tilting his head. "It’s Chinese. All you can eat. My treat."

  Sparky shut his mouth, then nodded, slow and deliberate.

  Greg squinted. "Was that supposed to be Theo?"

  "Who's to say," Sparky murmured.

  Theo made a noise in his throat, something between amused and disapproving.

  “C’mon, I need some orange chicken!” Sparky turned and rushed up to the warehouse doors, his boots echoing over the concrete. He grabbed the handle and pulled.

  Greg shifted his weight, already following behind him.

  And then—

  A shudder, deep at the base of his skull, wrong, a fire alarm in his bones.

  His mouth opened.

  "Sparky!"

  His body moved before his mind caught up. Muscles locked as he shot forward. His palms hit Sparky’s chest and he pushed—weight barely registering as his friend went flying back, wide-eyed, arms flailing.

  Thunder.

  A crack of heat, white-hot—

  Pain. Sudden. Electric.

  It tore through his skull, burned, split, hollowed him out.

  "GRE—!”

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