Greg Vs Raid 9-42: A Mother Fears

The flag atop the PRT headquarters had seen better days, the gusts tearing it flat against the pole with sharp snaps of fabric. Colin Wallis—known to the city as Armsmaster—stood alone at the edge of the plaza, helm tilted slightly up, watching it strain against the stormfront. As bad as it seemed, the rain hadn’t…

Grief 7.14 – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – The thrift store smelled like mothballs and broken dreams. A cardboard cutout of Betty White smiled eternally from behind a rack of Hawaiian shirts, all of them stained in exactly the same place. Fluorescent lights buzzed conspiratorially above…

Lag 6.23b – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – May 20, 2010 The bell rang, a shrill sound that cut through the chatter filling the halls of Winslow High. Greg Veder strolled into Mr. Gladly’s World Issues classroom alongside a bored-looking Axel Ramon, his blue eyes scanning…

No gasp when his eyes opened, because gasping required lungs that weren’t… whatever the fuck had happened to his lungs. Oh… oh noooo… A breath left him choked, ragged and rattling, as if someone had taken the things that let him breathe, smashed them with a sledgehammer and then put that through a blender set…

Cutscene: Tinker Toys Colin leaned forward over his workstation, his chair adjusting around him automatically with the motion, as he shuffled through the collection of scrambled writings in front of him. One hand cupped his chin, two fingers barely managing to conceal the slight smile on his face as he reviewed the mess of notes…