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located in Mortix City, USA, a part of Insurrection, one of the many universes on RPG.

Mortix City, USA

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Sometimes not requiring sleep was a burden. As soon as he departed from the restaurant on his own, Gregory had swung by Charlotte's place to pick up his bag and went home. Well, what served as his home when the immortal played the part of a normal, upstanding young man. The Herrings had only a passing interest in his day at the museum, more concerned at why he arrived only just barely before midnight. Despite the tongue-lashing regarding how dangerous the daily news had portrayed the events of the city, as Marshall and Sarah retired to their room, Gregory was directed towards the cheesecake on the table. Eighteen candles...Gregory smiled at his the hospitality of his adoptive parents. It was sad to think that they would be rotting in a hole in the ground thirty or fourty years from now.

The night passed slowly, homework and online games absorbing his time. The next week's worth of trig and literary analysis was complete around two in the morning, so Gregory turned on the laptop and fired up "Dominance: The Final War". It was a relatively new game that combined third and first-person combat with rts-like strategy that made strategic deployment of units as vital as controlling individual soldiers. He had played a few games against mid-level players, warm-ups really. It was then that he encountered a Gold-Rank general like himself. The 'Lady Fire', as she called herself, was easily the best player he had ever faced. Every time he gained some ground or successfully executed a trap, she unleashed some new and inventive counter. All thirteen rounds ended in ties, Gregory only barely managing to tear through her remaining soldiers in suicidal offensives. It was like multiple people managed the one army, each with their own playstyle.

It was strange, he thought as the computer shut down for the night. Lady Fire played the weakest type of the customizable heroes: Freya. Literally the only thing keeping her ahead of the curve was a brilliant tactical mind. It was almost as if she knew what he was thinking...Gregory shrugged. Some people are just that good.

His fun for the night done, morning was not long in coming. Gregory showered, brushed his teeth and got dressed, a blue long-sleeved shirt and jeans this time. He felt like wearing something with color this day. It was early, the first rays of light streaming through the windows as he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. The smell of grits, steak and eggs immediately assaulted his senses. It made Greg's mouth water, but no reaction from his stomach. Sometimes Gregory wondered where all the food that he consumed went...it never came out after being eaten. With another shrug, the immortal hugged his adoptive mother and made his way out the door intending to go without a word. Feeling that was a bit rude, he called back. "Thanks mom. I love you, and dad too."

The morning was chilly, and it was never good to fly in cold weather. He opted to take the sadan. In twenty minutes of quiet driving Gregory pulled up alongside the Helix Hotel, entering the lavish building with an air of superiority and belonging. He flashed a couple hundreds at the receptionist and was received with an avaracious smile and a room key. His second ID, the one saying he was twenty-one, was passed by inspection and Gregory silently made his way to the elevator. Several minutes later the boy was on the roof overlooking the city. Twelve stories up, Gregory leaned agains the railing and waited. That woman, the Russian...she would show up over the course of the next few hours, or not at all. Honestly he suspected that the light-clone woman had not survived Mech's attack. If she had, then in all likelihood, there would be a squad of supers converging on or eyes on this location.

Greg sighed and wondered how the Insurrectionists were doing. This may be the last time they met, he thought sourly. With a ghost of a smile Gregory withdrew his cellphone and sent a mass text to every member of the Insurrection excluding James.

Sorry if this wakes you up. Had to be said. I've never been one to like people...but I honestly think I love you guys. Like a family of course, excluding Gene. And maybe Alan. Seriously :9 that hair. So hawt. *sarcasm* And yeah, that love extends to you Mech, even though you're a love-sick-metal-head. Just wanted to say you won't be hearing from me for a while. Vincent will be handling the Insurrection from this point on. I hate the bastard, but he is pretty much a smarter, more cunning, wiser...well...better version of me. Take care guys.

Next was Vincent.

...hi. 0429. That's the PIN to every single account I have. Even those couple overseas. 877423 is my passcode for my lockbox. 4673..."Hope", is the code for my Black Market accounts. Altogether there should be roughly 9.5 million dollars. Sorry it isn't more, but running an empire takes alot of cash. There are six true bases aside from Charlie's place. Three offices, two rogue research facilities and one underground pseudo-military base. What else...god...I can't believe i'm doin' this. I don't like you. I truly don't. But you're the only man on this planet I'd trust with this. Please, don't mess this up. Oh! And if you bone Charlotte, don't use protection. I still have no idea if people like us can reproduce, and it'd be cool if I met your kid twenty years from now. Hm...that's it. I expect to see your handiwork on the news soon enough. Take care.

Charlotte.

Eh. Don't know how to say this. Thought about it a hundred times. I've watched you grow from that punk of a gear-head girl to...uh...that woman of a gearhead. I helped build your first entire car from scratch. Well, funded it at least. I don't know when it happened, but I think I might...erm. Like you. More than just a comrade. Never thought to tell you because of the whole trapped in the body of an eighteen-year-old thing. lol. That, and the fact that you know better than anyone what a monster I am. You're probably the only person on this earth 'sides Vincent that knows the truth about Max. I didn't mean to lose control. I didn't. But it happened, and he's gone, and we moved on. Sorry about the dye. Um. I left you two tickets to the Battle-Bots show for next friday on the counter, under the remote. Bye Charlotte.

Alan.

Don't forget to cut your hair. Sorry dude, but it must be done. Take care of metal-head...don't let him fall too deep into Gene's charms.

John.

You're awesome man. Check your gym bag. I didn't forget the bologna this time :3 stay safe dude.

Eliot.

Dude, stop smoking. Get a goddamn fake electric ciggy and look like you're smoking. That shit will be the death of you. I know you didn't particularly like me, but I've always valued your cynnical insight and subtlety in missions. I ain't gunna tell you what to do anymore, or threaten you and shit. I hope life deals ya a better hand soon.

And Gene.

...you're hot. Disruptive. Rude. Protective. But you probably don't give a shit about my adjectives. Report to Vinny how the Fire's Touch 'feels'. He might be interested in the results, if my hypothesis is correct. I won't tell you to change your ways or anything, because they make you happy(??). If there was a woman who I ever thought understood how I felt most of the time, it was you. Thanks. Have fun livin' it up. Cum exta hard for me on your next job~

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and Gregory only just barely blinked them away. In an instant the cellphone was a hyper-compressed sliver of plastic and components. The tiny field abated and the refuse was torn asunder and flung across the city in pieces the size of pinpricks. That, combined with his virtually untraceable signal would ensure anonymity. That was it. Tommorow, after one more night with them, his parents would find his room completely bare and sanitized. All pictures with him in it had been taken down. Both adult's computers had been wiped clean of anything suggesting his existance. Now, Gregory waited.

Rasputina, a squad, or maybe even nobody would show up. He hoped the woman was alive and considering.