3.8 Ramping Up
His hands grasped, holding the device before him as his digits flung themselves wildly across its surface. Electricity traveled from the flesh, reacting with the technology within. Processes and directives were carried out within the context of the program, information being carried on into the infinite abyss.
"Gots... to... go..." He grumbled out, mimicking the words his thumbs typed out into the chat program displayed on the face of his phone.
'Winged One' had contacted him years ago, one day out of the blue. He hadn't the foggiest what their real age, or even gender was but he liked to assume she was of course, a female of similar age. It made it feel less creepy. Of course, more accurately it would probably be best to assume she was older, probably in her twenties or so. She was just too good at sniffing out information. She had introduced him to a few sites over the years, encouraging him to persist with his ever expanding quest to sniff out ALL THE SECRETS. So, maybe it wasn't the healthiest friendship.
It was still one of the better online ones. Could be worse, she could have turned out to be an overweight dude in his mothers basement named 'Chuck'. Jury was still out on that, honestly, but he could hope.
When his mother had found him curled into the fetal position last night, she had been understandably worried. 'Mama bear mode engaged' and all that. An hour of explanations punctuated by hugging -Greg had forgotten how comfortable being cuddled by someone larger than him was, being small enough to be picked up turned out to not be the worst thing ever.- and she coerced him into an agreement.
'Greg will not go out and look for trouble unprepared'.
It was a simple rule, and one which he could apreciate. He had been so close, so unbelievably close to pulling it all off. He had gotten the money without anyone the wiser, had gotten away without anyone the wiser... If it hadn't been for the clod Stormtiger, she would have gotten away scott free! Some people just had no tact, foiling her plans before she was able to properly finish them. Rude.
His mom truly cared for him, and he did apreciate it. He loved her dearly, and all she had done for him over the years... She was his mommy. How could he not love her for that? Much better than his dad, at any rate. Small part of why he had taken to using her last name, that and another reason.
I mean really? 'Greg Universe'? It made him sound like a washed up rock musician. Moms name was just so much cooler.
After all that his mom had put him to bed, hoping they could both get some sleep in the few hours left before dawn. Greg had woken up to the tail end of his mom on a phone call, she had been asking her friend for something. She didn't elaborate, saying she would let him know the specifics once she got everything sorted out.
Greg had spent the majority of his day lounging around, sketching designs for improved 'chairs' on a pad of yellowed paper. This one could fly, and would have gravimetric dampness so that jerk didn't cost him again, and would have a grappling cable, and a harpoon and-
Okay, so maybe not a harpoon. Little need when he'd have a grappling ca- NO, a grappling BEAM! One step closer to true zero point energy systems, but just far enough out of reach that it would be a substantial hurdle to cross.
Around noon he roused himself from his sloth, changing back to normal so he could go out and about. He needed to go and pay a visit to the theatre.
What followed was as similar to previous events as could be for Greg. 'Can I get my paycheck?' 'No, you did not give it to me last Thursday.' 'No Tom did not give it to me, nor did he have permission to take it, as is outlined in the contract both myself and my mother signed, which if you had given it to Tom would result in you being fired.'
Gerald didn't have memory issues, he just didn't like Greg. Guy was always trying to trick him out of his paycheck, just so he could buy more smokes. Asshole. Clod.
Money in hand, -or as good as, once he hit the wallmart and got it out of the machine- he forged his path onwards. What he needed...
More toothpaste. The damned throne had used up the last of his bioplasm, he'd have to reconstitute his stock if he wanted to continue. Purchase secured from a corner store he never used, he could leave as someone who just came across as a tooth health nut. Neat.
A quick call to see if Sparky was up reaped pleasant results. He had been since before noon, and was amicable to hanging out for the rest of the day. So could he... was he ready for this? Sparky was his best friend, a true pal that stood by him through thick and thin. If there was anyone who could figure out anything 'power munchkinly' about his abilities, it would be him. He had an unerring ability to think up new views on the spot, turning any situation into another of a different light.
Yeah, he could trust him.
Which led to now.
Chat program disengaged, phone stowed in his pants, he knocked on the door.
"Oh, Greg!" Sparkys mom let out upon opening the door, and seeing him standing outside. "Rupe said you'd be over in a bit, come in, come in!"
Sparkys mom was the stereotypical 'friendly mom'. She threw everyone who crossed her path a freindly smile, and had nothing but polite words for those that entered her domain. But act like an assho-... clod, and she'd let you have it. Greg had learned that the hard way when he had accidentally sweared within earshot. A dressing down complete with disapproving glares his mother would have approved of had marked that day, guiding those that followed it.
Greg went up to Sparkys room, opening the door. His mom left after announcing that Greg had arrived, mentioning something about 'cookies' before she shuffled off.
Yes, she was that kind of mom. She'd deliver on them too, and if her previous efforts were anything to go on Greg would be enjoying a tasty sweet in no time flat.
"So, you said you had something to tell me?" Sparky drawled, closing the door behind him as he settled down into a beanbag that could have easily enveloped him.
"Yeah," Greg started, nervous tension strangling his words. "I just... It's like this... oh, fuck it," he finally let out, countless prepared speeches falling to pieces in his haste. "It'd be easier to just show you."
Greg concentrated, watching his friends eyes as his perspective quickly shrank. Before long it was over, leaving Greg standing in the center of the room fully transformed. Greg knew his friend, he could apreciate brevity if it was called for.
"Oh," Sparky let out in a slightly confused tone. His gaze didn't look all that surprised however, and before Gregs eyes...
Sparkys form was overtaken by a dimly glowing mass of light, slowly sinking into his flesh as his form was revealed once more. Where once sat a teenage male of what could be generously be described an 'overweight' frame, sat a slim woman who swiftly sank into the depression left by its previous inhabitant. Her skin was a light dusted blue, while her hair and dress stood as a stark contrast of deep navy.
"You too, huh?" Sparky let out in an amused drawl.
Authors Notes:
This chapter did NOT want to be written. Even now, it still mocks me, taunting me with its rough state. I swear though if I don't put it out as is, it's just gonna be deleted like the last three drafts...
And yes, needless to say I didn't get it done within the time frame I said it would be. It didn't want to be written, again.
"Gots... to... go..." He grumbled out, mimicking the words his thumbs typed out into the chat program displayed on the face of his phone.
'Winged One' had contacted him years ago, one day out of the blue. He hadn't the foggiest what their real age, or even gender was but he liked to assume she was of course, a female of similar age. It made it feel less creepy. Of course, more accurately it would probably be best to assume she was older, probably in her twenties or so. She was just too good at sniffing out information. She had introduced him to a few sites over the years, encouraging him to persist with his ever expanding quest to sniff out ALL THE SECRETS. So, maybe it wasn't the healthiest friendship.
It was still one of the better online ones. Could be worse, she could have turned out to be an overweight dude in his mothers basement named 'Chuck'. Jury was still out on that, honestly, but he could hope.
When his mother had found him curled into the fetal position last night, she had been understandably worried. 'Mama bear mode engaged' and all that. An hour of explanations punctuated by hugging -Greg had forgotten how comfortable being cuddled by someone larger than him was, being small enough to be picked up turned out to not be the worst thing ever.- and she coerced him into an agreement.
'Greg will not go out and look for trouble unprepared'.
It was a simple rule, and one which he could apreciate. He had been so close, so unbelievably close to pulling it all off. He had gotten the money without anyone the wiser, had gotten away without anyone the wiser... If it hadn't been for the clod Stormtiger, she would have gotten away scott free! Some people just had no tact, foiling her plans before she was able to properly finish them. Rude.
His mom truly cared for him, and he did apreciate it. He loved her dearly, and all she had done for him over the years... She was his mommy. How could he not love her for that? Much better than his dad, at any rate. Small part of why he had taken to using her last name, that and another reason.
I mean really? 'Greg Universe'? It made him sound like a washed up rock musician. Moms name was just so much cooler.
After all that his mom had put him to bed, hoping they could both get some sleep in the few hours left before dawn. Greg had woken up to the tail end of his mom on a phone call, she had been asking her friend for something. She didn't elaborate, saying she would let him know the specifics once she got everything sorted out.
Greg had spent the majority of his day lounging around, sketching designs for improved 'chairs' on a pad of yellowed paper. This one could fly, and would have gravimetric dampness so that jerk didn't cost him again, and would have a grappling cable, and a harpoon and-
Okay, so maybe not a harpoon. Little need when he'd have a grappling ca- NO, a grappling BEAM! One step closer to true zero point energy systems, but just far enough out of reach that it would be a substantial hurdle to cross.
Around noon he roused himself from his sloth, changing back to normal so he could go out and about. He needed to go and pay a visit to the theatre.
What followed was as similar to previous events as could be for Greg. 'Can I get my paycheck?' 'No, you did not give it to me last Thursday.' 'No Tom did not give it to me, nor did he have permission to take it, as is outlined in the contract both myself and my mother signed, which if you had given it to Tom would result in you being fired.'
Gerald didn't have memory issues, he just didn't like Greg. Guy was always trying to trick him out of his paycheck, just so he could buy more smokes. Asshole. Clod.
Money in hand, -or as good as, once he hit the wallmart and got it out of the machine- he forged his path onwards. What he needed...
More toothpaste. The damned throne had used up the last of his bioplasm, he'd have to reconstitute his stock if he wanted to continue. Purchase secured from a corner store he never used, he could leave as someone who just came across as a tooth health nut. Neat.
A quick call to see if Sparky was up reaped pleasant results. He had been since before noon, and was amicable to hanging out for the rest of the day. So could he... was he ready for this? Sparky was his best friend, a true pal that stood by him through thick and thin. If there was anyone who could figure out anything 'power munchkinly' about his abilities, it would be him. He had an unerring ability to think up new views on the spot, turning any situation into another of a different light.
Yeah, he could trust him.
Which led to now.
Chat program disengaged, phone stowed in his pants, he knocked on the door.
"Oh, Greg!" Sparkys mom let out upon opening the door, and seeing him standing outside. "Rupe said you'd be over in a bit, come in, come in!"
Sparkys mom was the stereotypical 'friendly mom'. She threw everyone who crossed her path a freindly smile, and had nothing but polite words for those that entered her domain. But act like an assho-... clod, and she'd let you have it. Greg had learned that the hard way when he had accidentally sweared within earshot. A dressing down complete with disapproving glares his mother would have approved of had marked that day, guiding those that followed it.
Greg went up to Sparkys room, opening the door. His mom left after announcing that Greg had arrived, mentioning something about 'cookies' before she shuffled off.
Yes, she was that kind of mom. She'd deliver on them too, and if her previous efforts were anything to go on Greg would be enjoying a tasty sweet in no time flat.
"So, you said you had something to tell me?" Sparky drawled, closing the door behind him as he settled down into a beanbag that could have easily enveloped him.
"Yeah," Greg started, nervous tension strangling his words. "I just... It's like this... oh, fuck it," he finally let out, countless prepared speeches falling to pieces in his haste. "It'd be easier to just show you."
Greg concentrated, watching his friends eyes as his perspective quickly shrank. Before long it was over, leaving Greg standing in the center of the room fully transformed. Greg knew his friend, he could apreciate brevity if it was called for.
"Oh," Sparky let out in a slightly confused tone. His gaze didn't look all that surprised however, and before Gregs eyes...
Sparkys form was overtaken by a dimly glowing mass of light, slowly sinking into his flesh as his form was revealed once more. Where once sat a teenage male of what could be generously be described an 'overweight' frame, sat a slim woman who swiftly sank into the depression left by its previous inhabitant. Her skin was a light dusted blue, while her hair and dress stood as a stark contrast of deep navy.
"You too, huh?" Sparky let out in an amused drawl.
Authors Notes:
This chapter did NOT want to be written. Even now, it still mocks me, taunting me with its rough state. I swear though if I don't put it out as is, it's just gonna be deleted like the last three drafts...
And yes, needless to say I didn't get it done within the time frame I said it would be. It didn't want to be written, again.