Greg Vs Raid 9-23

The basement beneath Casa De La Veder had been spared of the oceanic onslaught that was Leviathan. All the buildings this far inland had, honestly, so it wasn’t all that special.

Even still, geography was a bitch and a half to deal with.

Being built on the coast was convenient and all — if the ocean was your friend — but it left the atmosphere down here flat as flat could be. That is, when the stagnant air wasn’t thick with concrete dust, the ghost of detergent and the violently synthetic garlic stench of one-hundred-and-eight Totino’s pizza rolls sweating on a jumbo paper plate.

Greg eased back in his plastic fold-out chair, balanced perfectly on just two legs as he stared at the mountain of carbs and sugar placed down by pale hands. The family-sized bowl was lit with the glare from the oversized monitor in front of all three of them, sickly blue light bouncing off the wobbly card table that had the baked ungoods as the centerpiece. 

Organized around said bowl was enough to feed a family of nine for a day or three teenage boys in one sitting. A full-sized party tray of ham and turkey sandwiches with the crusts cut cleaner than clean off took the front spot, a family-size bag of potato chips next to it, while another giant bowl packed with tortilla chips sat flanked by two other smaller bowls: one swimming with chunky red salsa, the other a radioactive yellow pool of microwaved queso.

Because one dip was a lie. 

You always needed options.

Greg nodded slowly as he took in the rest of what managed to round out the whole spread: a full-length sleeve of Oreos, a two-liter of Mountain Dew bright as pure yellow-cake uranium, and another extra-big bottle of Faygo Cotton Candy with condensation dripping down the plastic curves.

Pure sugar and two major hits of liquid carbonated cancer.

All in all? Delicious.

“There we go.” Mom’s hands clasped tight together as she stepped back from the table, smile too tight and too eager to be one-hundred percent real. “Plenty of fuel for… whatever it is you boys are doing down here. If you need anything else, j-”

“Appreciate it, Mom.” Greg smiled back, nodding her way as he let his chair drop back to all four legs. “Really, thanks.”

“Yeah, appreciate it, Ms V.” Sparky nodded too, as he slumped back in Greg’s sagging blue beanbag chair. One skate shoe tapped out a nonstop rhythm against the concrete floor, his hood halfway up enough to cast a dark shadow over his face. “Real generous of you with the queso, too. I was about to start gnawing on the drywall.”

“Thank you, Aunt Susan.” Theo sat perfectly upright on the edge of the futon, hands folded in his lap as he stared at the bowl of pizza rolls. “We appreciate it.”

“Well, aren’t you a peach, Theodor. You are so very welcome.” As final as that welcome sounded, she didn’t so much as take a single step toward the stairs. “But if you boys are worried about making a mess or anything, just let me know. I can run back up and grab some… some paper towels.”

“Nah, don’t worry, mom.” Greg shoved a pizza roll into his mouth, molten tomato lava doing nothing to his mouth in the slightest. He tossed another two back and chewed slowly as his mom stood there, trying her very best to look as aggressively normal as possible. “We’re good. Honest.”

“Yeah, yeah, nah, what Greg said. Word to God.” Sparky leaned his head back, popping a  hot cheese-dipped chip in his mouth and talking right around the instant third-degree burn with no problem. “Speaking of Big G, this queso’s heavenly, Ms V. Life-changing, for real.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all. I just… ” She tried again, voice as deliberately casual as Greg had ever heard it even as her eyes did a not-so-subtle sweep across him and Sparky, before settling slowly on Theo. “Just want to make sure you have everything you need down here. Or do you want some privacy to… talk about your boy stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, no, totally, totally.” Greg garbled through the cheese, swallowing hard. “Just, you know. Gaming strategies and… such. Heavy stuff, Mom. Real heavy.”

An ugly snort fled Sparky’s nostrils, the sound halfway into a cough by the time a set of narrowed blue eyes landed on him “Yeah. We’re talking about games. Mrs. V. And how much Greg sucks at them.”

His mom’s baby blue eyes joined Greg’s as they narrowed slightly over at Sparky’s, the MomDar definitely pinging hard off the sheer volume of bullshit in the basement. “Well, then, just… keep the volume down. And, well… if you need anything, I’m right upstairs.”

“Got it, Mom.” Greg flashed her a thumbs-up. “Thanks.”

She lingered for a full second more, silence in the basement stretching like fresh rubber, before she finally turned around. The wooden stairs creaked under her with every step as she made her way up.

Not a moment too soon, the door finally clicked shut and two out of three boys let out a breath they’d been holding as the air pressure in the room instantly dropped back to baseline.

“…yeah, she knows.”

“Wild guess, Watson.” Sparky hissed, hood flopping back to expose those bright gold eyes he tried to hide. “Course she knows, brah. Don’t be retarded. Our moms been on that superkid meal planning shit for weeks now.”

Yeah, yeah, I’m not an idiot. Greg tilted his head, unable to deny that much. Of course, she knew about him and Sparky too, given that Mr. and Mrs. Ramos had shared that info when his mom had called to ask about their son. 

That much was a given. Theo, though…?

Blue eyes slid over to his chubby godbrother, the elephant in the room pouring himself a red cup full of Faygo. Yeah, she couldn’t… Those same eyes narrowed a little bit. Could she? He’d bet an easy five grand that his mom didn’t know the specifics but he’d also bet that much on the fact she definitely knew more than nothing. 

Honestly, that smile she had on her face didn’t help Greg think anything different. 

“She suspects.” Theo hummed as he sipped the cotton-candy flavored concoction. “That’s manageable. Aunt Susan’s also not a fan of my father’s flirtation when she’s sober, so I doubt she’ll be calling him for confirmation.”

“…why does your dad keep doing that anyway?” Another fingerful of pizza rolls vanished down his gullet, Greg not even bothering with an attempt at chewing this time. “He and my dad came up together. Bros before…” 

He frowned, already reconsidering that sentence with a glance upstairs. “You know.”

Sparky snorted. “Smart man.”

“You remember our fathers can’t stand each other, right?” A raised eyebrow from Theo made him look older for a split second, silver eyes serious even as he nibbled on a crustless sandwich. “It’s the defining factor of their relationship.”

“Yeah, and?” Greg shrugged back. “Sparky pisses me off all the time and I wouldn’t go after his old girl or anything.” After a second, his eyes slid over to his best friend. “I mean, I don’t even know if he likes girls enough for that anyway, like…”

“Shut up.”

His nose wrinkled at the Mountain-Dew-scented hiss sent his way. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes, and you know it. I like girls, too. They’re just… just… annoying,” Sparky ground out the last three syllables like he was chewing on them, one hand brushing aside his long dark hair. “Like you.”

“That why you never hit on me?”

“Yes.”

“Whore.”

“Bitch.”

“I thought this meeting today was to discuss important things.” Theo’s eyebrow went even higher as he reached for another sandwich. 

Technically… Greg nodded at that correction. “I think we got derailed with my mom bringing snacks and then being weird about the hangout.”

“Whatever, brah.” Sparky clicked his tongue. “My mom’s nice and all but she gets to staring me down like that, and I know I’m getting grounded already.” Sparky grabbed the Mountain Dew and cracked the seal, letting the hiss peter out before he spoke again. “Anyway. The riots. We talkin’ about how half the city is trying to eat the other half, or we just gonna stare at the Faygo til’ it mutates?”

“The violence right now is lower than projected, much lower considering we are still in the aftermath of an Endbringer attack.” Theo tilted his head in Sparky’s direction, already heading off an argument. “Arguably, at least, while the Mastered violence is a non-zero threat vector, yes, it’s still much less than expected, given this is Brockton Bay.”

“Non-zero, yeah, yeah.” A snort left Sparky again as he leaned back with a red Solo in one hand. “Regular violence still better than people acting like fucking zombies, man. Saw one guy unhinge his jaw and try to eat a parking meter the other day.”

“Yeesh.” A parking meter, though?

“Right, ‘xactly what I’m talkin’ bout.” Sparky tossed back his soda with a sigh. “Shit is not normal, even for this shithole.”

Greg leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Look, I got the Kings on it, man. Any day now and we’ll get something, Seo’s good like that. But we don’t have a target, Sparks.”

“We need one.” Sparky took another long pull from the neon green soda.

“Yeah, I know that.” Blue eyes rolled at the obvious. “But it’s not like one is gonna fall right out the sk-”

“Greggy!”

Greg’s head snapped up toward the ceiling as the muffled voice cut through. “Yeah, ma?”

“There’s someone at the door for you!”

Greg blinked, the words making sense but the meaning still slipping him as he looked around at his only two friends. “Wha?”

“You have a guest!”

A guest? Greg traded a frown with Sparky, while Theo just went in on his third sandwich. “Be right back.” He pushed off his chair, three words slipping out in a murmur he knew didn’t go unheard.

He took the stairs two at a time, familiar creak of the wood under his sneakers doing absolutely nothing to settle the slow creeping itch at the base of his skull. He pushed the basement door open, the bright, natural sunlight of the living room blinding him for a split second.

Even as his eyes took all of an instant to recover, his ears worked just fine.

“-h, Mrs. Veder, you’re so funny.” An unfamiliar laugh hit Greg’s ears, the voice light and lazy but pitched out into a drawling half-bored tone that sounded like someone was only half-serious at best. “Honestly, I see where your son gets it from.”

Greg stepped into the hallway, his eyes adjusting to the light.

His mom was standing in the foyer, actually smiling. One hand resting on the banister, she was laughing softly at whatever the hell the guy standing in their doorway had just said.

The guy.

A pale face laughed along with his mom, a mop of dark wavy hair bouncing perfectly as the guy stood there in a dark jacket and a bright white t-shirt. Who the fuck…? It had been a while but Greg knew that face. He never forgot when someone beat him at a video game and that had been an annoying-ass loss.

Yeah, he knew that face.

A few months ago before… well, before everything went to shit on a shingle. The same pretty boy who had been hanging around the punching machine, watching him and Sparky.

The guy shifted his gaze, light blue eyes landing on Greg as the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smirk that was so deadpan you could use it to scramble eggs. “Hey, man. Long time.”