Greg Vs: Grief 7.3 (Patreon)

Grief 7.3

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The night air nipped at Seo Asada's exposed skin as his motorcycle growled to a stop outside the seemingly deserted condominium. He dismounted with a fluid, almost careless motion, the heavy thud of his boots echoing faintly in the empty street. The damp asphalt glistened under the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights, reflecting the neon signs of the few businesses still clinging to life in this forgotten corner of the Docks.

Removing his helmet, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his other hand twitching toward the cigarettes in his pocket. Not yet. 

The itch was there, as always, but he had to stay sharp, couldn’t take the edge off too often. 

Boss's orders.

Seo had made the call just ten minutes earlier, immediately after receiving the urgent text. His response had been swift, a message sent to the others before he'd even swung his leg over the bike. As he stood in the quiet, his eyes darting around the dimly lit surroundings, eyes twitching at every shadow, he knew it wouldn't be long.

The neighborhood had seen better days, that much was clear. Boarded-up windows and crumbling brickwork told a story of decline, of a once-thriving community now reduced to a ghost of its former self. But beneath the decay, Seo could see the potential. The bones were good. With the right leadership, the right vision, this place could rise again. And that's where we come in.

Seo had made the call just ten minutes earlier, immediately after receiving the urgent text. His response had been swift, a message sent to the others before he'd even swung his leg over the bike. As he stood in the quiet, his eyes darting around the dimly lit surroundings, eyes twitching at every shadow, he knew it wouldn't be long.

Right on cue, the screech of tires shattered the silence. A car roared around the corner, wrapped in aggressive red and yellow, thumping hard rap from its speakers as it came to a skidding halt across from him. Wesley Yang stumbled from the driver's seat, his overly muscled form and bleached blonde hair unmistakable in the streetlight's glow.

"'m I late?" Wesley mumbled, voice carrying the slightly slurred tone of someone who had either been sleeping or drinking, or possibly both.

Seo shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "Nah, you're just in time for the party, meathead."

Wesley flexed, the man's large muscles rippling under his tight shirt. "Who 'ya callin' a meathead, fancy boy?"

Seo snorted, taking in Wesley's ridiculous posturing. All brawn, no brains. But loyal. And in this game, loyalty's worth more than a good gun.

Before Seo could retort, another vehicle approached. This one was a stark contrast to Yang's—silent, smooth, a matte blue luxury sedan that spoke of understated power. It pulled up with barely a whisper of sound. Joon Lee stepped out, the twenty-two-year-old looking as immaculate as ever, dressed sharply enough for a boardroom meeting despite the early hour.

"Gentlemen," Lee nodded, adjusting his glasses. "I trust we're not here for a social call?"

Yang snorted, crossing his arms. "What, you didn't read the text like I did, money man?"

Lee's eyes narrowed slightly. "I wasn't aware you could read."

"You tryin' to say somethin', four-eyes?" Wesley took a step forward, his fists clenching.

Seo stepped between them, his voice low and raspy. "Cool it, both of you. We ain't got time for this dick-measuring contest."

Fucking children, Seo thought, shaking his head. Put a bit of power in their hands and suddenly it's all alpha male bullshit. But that's why I'm second. To keep them in line. And considering who would be on their neck if they go too far…

As if on cue, another vehicle arrived. The yellow-and-black Camaro with its distinctive dragon hood wrap pulled up haphazardly, half into the street. Jonouchi exited, his expression grave as always.

"What are we waiting for?" Jonouchi's voice cut through the tension, his eyes scanning each of them in turn.

Seo jerked his head towards the building. "Boss called. Something's up."

As they approached the entrance, Wesley cracked his knuckles. "If it's another rat situation, boss should let me handle it."

Lee sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Brute force isn't always the answer, Yang."

"Enough." Jonouchi's calm voice cut through their bickering before it could truly start.

Thank fuck for Jonouchi, Seo thought. Scary fucker though.

Seo's keys jangled softly as he unlocked the door, the metallic clicks sounding oddly loud in the quiet night. He didn't wait to see if the others followed as he took the stairs two at a time, his familiarity with the layout guiding him swiftly to the top floor.

"Yo, Seo," Wesley called from behind, slightly out of breath. The man was not one for cardio, obviously, and it often showed whenever he had to move. "Any idea what this is about? Boss ain't usually this cryptic."

True. Seo knew that. If there was one thing the old boss and the new boss had in common, they were decidedly simple people, though the new boss had far more layers than Lung ever did. Both Seo and Wesley appreciated the kid sitting atop the new ABB for that, he didn't pretend to be complicated or at least more complicated than he had to be, all the various identities and costumes aside.

But the message was cryptic. Seo paused, glancing back at the others. "No clue. But if he's calling us all in like this..." He left the implications hanging in the air.

Lee's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Financial troubles, perhaps? Or a territorial dispute?"

"Or someone needs a good ass-kicking," Wesley added, grinning.

The tense smoker frowned to himself as they reached the top floor, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Whatever it is, I doubt it’s good.

Seo paused, glancing back at the others. "No clue. But if he's calling us all in like this..." He left the implications hanging in the air, heavy as the cigarette smoke he desperately craved. His fingers twitched, itching for the familiar comfort of a cigarette between them. Focus, Seo. Now's not the time.

The tense smoker frowned to himself as they reached the top floor, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Whatever it is, I doubt it's good. Boss ain't one for vague unless shit's real. Real bad, real dangerous, or real fucking complicated. And in their line of work, all three tended to go hand in hand.

At the door of the main condo, Seo paused only briefly to select another key from his chain. The metal clinked softly, a jarring counterpoint to the thundering of his heart. He could feel the tension radiating off the others, their anticipation a palpable thing. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the others close behind.

The room was enveloped in darkness, thick with the tension of unspoken questions and the heavier weight of anticipation. Seo's hand was steady as he reached for the light switch, though his gut churned with a mix of fear and concern.

The light flicked on, casting a harsh glow over the scene. Four grown men breathed in at once and held their breath. The boss stood there, his appearance a fucking disaster zone.

His helmet was cracked and shattered in half, face almost completely exposed with the domino mask beneath in shreds. Blood matted his hair, clumping it together and trailing down in streaks of red across his face, mixed in with sweat and dirt. The kid's face was messed up with both blood and swelling, a massive gash over his brow showing white that could only be skull and slashes and cuts tearing into the side of his face and exposing the teeth in his mouth on one side entirely.

Jesus fucking Christ, Seo thought, his stomach lurching at the sight. What the hell happened to him?

His clothes were no better, the costume a ruin of tears and slashes, soaked not just with blood but also water, sticking to his body in places that weren't torn apart or completely shredded to expose wounded flesh. The bitter smell of smoke hung to the burnt parts of his costume leathers, the smoky smell mixing with the sharp tang of ozone. Electricity?

Seo's eyes darted around the room, taking in details his companions might miss. Water pooled on the wood flooring, reflecting the harsh overhead light. Bloody footprints traced a stumbling path from the window to where the boss now stood, the crimson a stark contrast against the pale wood. Crimson handprints smeared the wall, a grisly connect-the-dots of the kid's journey into the room.

He crawled in through the window, Seo realized, his mind racing. Probably couldn't make it through the front door. 

"Boss?" Seo's voice was the first to break the heavy silence, raspy with concern he couldn't quite hide. He took a step forward, hand outstretched, but hesitated. Don't crowd him. Give him space.

Jonouchi moved forward, hands raised as if to offer support. His voice was gentle, almost fatherly. "Young sir, you need medical attention-"

The teenager looked up, as if just noticing the four of them now. Seo doubted that, but the sudden focus in the boss's eyes had him also doubting his doubt. There was a sharpness there, a clarity that cut through the pain and exhaustion.

There was silence for what felt like the longest time, the only sound the drip of water from the boss's saturated costume. Then the boss spoke, his voice raspy, pained, but also furious.

"...I'm being hunted."

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The pain in Greg's skull was excruciating, a relentless throb that made it difficult to stand. Blood blurred his vision in one eye, the thick, metallic taste of it coating his mouth as he struggled to form words. "...I'm being hunted." His voice sounded distant, as if he were speaking through water, his ears still ringing from the assault. Each breath hurt like a bitch, his lungs burning with every shallow inhale.

His mouth was full of blood, his tongue half torn. Shit, did I bite it? Or did someone else? The thought swam lazily through his mind, disconnected from the urgency of the situation.

The room spun, faces of his gang blurring into a kaleidoscope of concern. Focus, dumbass. You're the boss here.

He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but the world remained out of focus. Concussion, right. Or worse. Fuck.

"Boss?" Seo's voice cut through the haze, sharp with worry.  The older man's face swam into view, his dark eyes wide with concern.

The blond boy blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. "I... they came out of nowhere." He raised a hand to his forehead, wincing as his fingers brushed against raw, open flesh. The pain was sharp, insistent. "Didn't even... didn't even see them coming..."

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The air had vibrated with a menacing hum, an ominous warning that sent his Danger Sense into overdrive. Greg's legs felt wobbly, his vision swimming as if he were underwater. Then, with the ferocity of a storm, an explosive force struck his back, catapulting him forward with violent momentum.

He didn’t even have time to think as something—or someone—clamped onto him from behind. Arms and legs encircled his torso in a vice-like grip. Panic surged as he tried to throw them off, but agony erupted through his body like wildfire as volts of electricity coursed through him, seizing his muscles in brutal spasms. His teeth clenched so hard he thought they might shatter, his jaw locking up as his body convulsed uncontrollably.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

"...I'm fine..." His response was automatic, a lie told more to reassure himself than to answer Seo. I have to be fine. I'm the boss. I can't be weak. Can't show weakness.

"You sure?" Seo's voice was tinged with doubt, eyes narrowed.

Greg looked up, trying to muster clarity. "I..."

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The ground rushed up to meet him. 

A savage blow to the neck cut off his breath, his body hitting the asphalt with a sickening crunch. His limbs twitched uncontrollably, every nerve ending sparking with electric fire. Before he could even gasp for air, a crushing weight pinned him down, and a dark, stony figure loomed over him.

The figure's head, hard as rock, slammed into his forehead again and again, each impact driving him deeper into the crumbling ground beneath. Stars exploded behind his eyes, each hit sending a fresh wave of agony through his skull. He could feel his bones creaking, threatening to give way under the relentless assault.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Nausea overwhelmed him as water bombs exploded around him, each burst disorienting, designed to incapacitate. The world tilted and spun, his equilibrium shot to hell. Water filled his mouth, his nose, choking him, blinding him.

Another grip from behind, a cackling voice locking his body in painful paralysis. "Not so tough now, are ya, Mr Warlord?" The voice was high-pitched, manic, the words dripping with glee.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Out of nowhere, a throwing knife whistled through the air, detonating upon impact and tearing a gruesome, burning hole in his chest. The pain was white-hot, searing through flesh and bone. He could smell his own skin burning, the acrid scent of charred meat filling his nostrils.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

In a blur of motion, a powerful fist connected with his body, hurling him sideways into a dumpster with a crash that left his ears ringing and his side aching. The impact rattled his teeth, the taste of blood fresh in his mouth.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The teenager stared at each of his men one by one, their faces a mixture of shock, concern, and something he rarely saw in them—fear. The realization hit him like another blow, the gravity of the situation settling in his battered bones.

"Boss, we need to get you patched up," Seo insisted, taking a step forward.

Greg held up a hand, wincing at the movement. "No time. They... they're coming. All of them. Not... not now, but they wont stop."

"All of who?" Wesley demanded, his muscles tensing as if ready for a fight. His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting an attack at any moment.

Greg's vision swam again, memories and reality blurring. He gripped the edge of a nearby table, steadying himself. "Everyone. They said there’s over a dozen of them… mercenaries, assassins, so many capes, after me.”

"That's impossible," Joon interjected, adjusting his glasses. "The logistics alone-"

"It's happening," Greg cut him off, his voice raspy but firm. He looked at each of them again, seeing the doubt, the confusion, the fear. "...w-we're at war."