(GMR) CHAPTER TWENTY: TEENAGE PROBLEMS

Greg had almost forgotten what Winslow smelled like: some unique blend of burnt coffee from the teachers’ lounge, industrial-strength cleaner that never quite masked the stale tang of sweat and grease, and the faint but ever-present reek of cigarette smoke from the back doors.

Normally, the place felt like it was pressing down on him from all sides until his eyes were glued to the floor. But today, it didn’t bother him. 

He was here in broad daylight, in his own skin, with Team RWBY murmuring faint observations at the back of his mind and his aura waiting to be used. Months—no, days, he reminded himself, though it felt like months—spent patrolling the city, training, and dealing with the repercussions of his trigger had left him changed. So much so that it might as well have been another lifetime, and the idea of simply walking to class felt almost alien.

Walking down the hallway with his backpack slung over one shoulder, he didn’t feel like the old Greg Veder, perpetual background character in the high school ecosystem. Now, his step had a spring to it, his shoulders were squared, and his head was up. He wasn’t an easy target anymore.

Even Ethan, leaning against his usual patch of lockers with that permanent sneer, didn’t get more than a passing glance. Greg could feel the other boy’s eyes on him, waiting for the flinch, the mumbled greeting, and the pathetic slouch. It didn’t come. 

A small, dangerous part of Greg wanted Ethan to try something, just so he could put him in his place. But honestly, Ethan was small-time, and wasn’t worth the energy anymore. More importantly, Greg was Arknight.

A hero, and a powerful one at that.

The morning noise of Winslow washed over him, halfway to his class—lockers slamming shut, squeaking sneakers, snippets of conversations about weekend parties, fights, and whatever gossip counted as news here—when something broke through the background hum.

The Trio.

Sophia Hess, Madison Clements, and Emma Barnes—three names that could make even a confident student’s stomach clench and their eyes look away—had cornered someone near the lockers. And not just anyone, it seemed, as his stomach tightened with recognition, and a flicker of guilt wormed its way through him.

Taylor Hebert.

She was hunched in on herself, clutching her books, while Madison dangled a piece of paper just out of reach. Emma leaned casually against the lockers, wearing the same self-satisfied smirk she always had, and Sophia stood just close enough to loom, a sneer of disgust on her face.

Greg’s feet almost carried him past without thinking, old habits tugging at him to ignore it and keep walking, hoping they didn’t notice him.

But that was the old Greg.

He shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder and quickened his steps, the voice of Yang in his head urging him on with a grin: “Time to throw down, champ.”

“Hey,” Greg said, loud enough to carry over the hallway chatter. “Back off.”

Sophia’s head turned slowly, eyes narrowing as she took him in. For some reason, he knew (without the shadow of a doubt) that she was the only one to recognize the subtle edge to his stance and the quiet confidence in his gaze.

“Veder?” she said, voice dripping with disbelief. “Since when do you tell me what to do?”

“Since I stopped being scared of you.” 

He took another step, planting himself between her and Taylor. The girl had shrunk further into herself the moment Greg inserted himself into the situation, though disbelief and wariness battled in her expression as she blinked up at him. 

Emma’s smirk became frayed at the edges as she looked between him and Sophia, while Madison’s hand dropped the papers she’d been holding. But Sophia? Sophia wasn't one to back down from anything.

She closed the gap until Greg could feel the heat of her breath. “You think you can step to me, Greg? You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Ruby’s voice slid into his mind, encouraging as always. “Keep your stance, Greg. She’s testing you.”

“Maybe not,” Greg said, feeling his pulse hammer in his ears. “But I know what I’m not doing, and that's not standing by and letting you continue this.”

Sophia studied him for a beat, as if she was seeing him for the first time. Then she smiled, full of teeth and nothing friendly. “Alright, Veder. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Her hand shot out and slammed into his chest. The shove had real weight behind it, and he stumbled back, but caught himself before he knocked into Taylor.

The hallway had gone quiet now, a dozen sets of eyes watching.

Greg straightened, locking eyes with Sophia. “You don’t want to do this,” he said.

Her grin widened. “Oh, I really, really do.”