It was much more comfortable walking around the city in a hoodie and a pair of jeans than a business suit. I was just another face among the crowd. Walking was a good way to get some fresh air to think and to see how the city was recovering. Put it simply, it was rough. Omni-Man had aimed for population centers. The final count of dead had to be adjusted hourly.
I wanted to help, but I couldn't expose myself. The easiest way to do both was to limit the use of my powers. If I had the same abilities as Invincible and Omni-Man then I had super-speed, durability, flight, strength, and enhanced healing. Showing off all of them would draw too much attention. There were other people out there with similar powers. Red Rush, Bulletproof, and Black Samson were good examples of that.
Why was it Black Samson and not just Samson? It wasn't Black Bulletproof.
Thoughts for another time.
Strength and durability were enough to get by. It was common and I didn't have to act weaker. I could use the strength to leap tall buildings with a single bound or stomp with each step to launch myself forward at an accelerated rate. It wouldn't be super-speed or flight, but it would allow me to stay within my 'power set' without drawing too much attention.
All I had to do was get to work.
I stopped in front of a building where workers were clearing out rubble. The only positive about the entire rampage was the Omni-Man kept the majority of the damage local to Chicago. There was chatter about possible survivors. They were also waiting for equipment to lift the heavier pieces. The supers in the city were already stretched to their limits.
"Excuse me," I said as I approached the lady that appeared to be in charge.
She didn't look up from her workstation, "I don't have time for questions. One of my people can help."
The brief glance I stole showed she had multiple clipboards and a laptop detailing the area. Each displayed blueprints of the nearby buildings with marked danger zones
"I can help," I said. "I'm strong. Just tell me what to lift."
She glanced up at me long enough to take in my clothes, "Are you a cape?"
"I'm new," I replied.
She sighed, "Fine. How strong?"
I shrugged.
"Wonderful," She muttered. "CARTER!"
A man covered in dirt and dust hurried over, "Ma'am?"
"Hoodie guy says he's strong and wants to help," She waved a dismissive hand toward me. "Put him to work picking up the big chunks."
The guy, Carter, gave me a once over. I was under no delusions that I looked like a cape. My second-hand clothes did little to hide my skinny frame. It was clear that I hadn't had a good meal in a long time. Technically, I hadn't ever had a good meal. The canned goods and health food at my stolen apartment didn't count.
"Come on, kid," Carter waved for me to follow. "How strong are you?"
I shrugged, "I haven't hit my limit yet."
"Wonderful," Carter muttered. "Listen to instructions. I tell you to stop, you stop. We can hear people under the rubble, but we have to be careful."
I nodded, "Just tell me what to do."
We stopped in front of a pile of rubble. It was made from chunks of the building, including walls and random pieces of furniture. I was pretty sure I saw a portion of a coffee table.
"This is a good place to start," Carter motioned to the pile. "The pile is blocking a basement hallway that has access to the utilities. We need them shut off so things don't explode."
I nodded, "Any special instructions?"
"Don't get hurt," Carter gave me a flat stare. "We already have too many injured people to add you to the lot."
I nodded again, "Fair enough. Where do you want me to put the rubble?"
"There," Carter pointed to a clear spot a few steps nearby. "Start at the top, go slow. Call me if things shift."
I stepped up to the pile, grabbed the chunk at the top, and carefully moved it to the clear spot without issue.
"Fuck me sideways," Carter muttered. "You are strong. Keep going kid. Let me know when you're done. We have plenty more you can do."
I lost myself to the work. Clear the rubble, ask Carter where to go next, rinse and repeat. We would find survivors every now and then. Those times I would hold pieces of rubble up while the rescue crews worked. The worst part was finding bodies of the people we were too late to help or had no chance of saving. Right now, I was in no shape to take on Omni-Man. I would have to change that in the future in case he comes back.
"Good work, kid," Carter said as I finished clearing another pile. "It's time for lunch."
I looked at the numerous piles of rubble still dotting the street. At some point I had stripped off my hoodie leaving me in my Guardians of the Globe shirt. It was folded neatly near the other workers' stuff.
"We work in overlapping shifts," Carter explained. "The other crew will cover while we rest so there is always someone working."
I nodded as I followed him over to a group of workers.
"You did good, kid," One of the others said. "Do you have a cape name?"
I shook my head, "I just found out this morning." Technically true. "I figured I could help."
"Are you going to be a full cape?" Another asked. "We could use someone like you to help clean up the mess that other capes make."
I shrugged, "I'll think about it."
"Here," Carter handed me a burrito the size of my forearm. "Meat, cheese, beans, and a tortilla. Everything the body needs."
"Not everything," One of the guys laughed. "You forgot about beer."
Carter laughed too, "I don't think he's old enough."
"I'm not," I added.
That got another laugh for some reason. I took my first bite of real food.
"Careful, kid," Carter patted me on the shoulder. "Moaning like that could cause some problems."
I didn't realize I had moaned, "It's so good."
"What happened to your hair?" One of the other guys asked.
"Dude, you can't just ask about that," Another smacked the guy on the shoulder.
I shrugged, "It was like this when woke up in some wreckage."
"Woke up?" Carter repeated. "Kid, what's your name?"
I shrugged again, "I think my last name is Grayson."
The group went still as I continued to eat.
"You think?" Carter asked.
I nodded, too consumed in consuming the burrito to look up.
"Kid," Carter's voice grew softer. "Do you have a place to stay?"
I nodded again, "I found an apartment."
"Is it yours?" Someone asked.
I shrugged, "For now. I'll leave once the owners come back."
"You're homeless and don't know your name?" Another one of the workers asked.
I folded the empty wrapper into a little square. There was a trash bin by the line of food trucks that I hadn't noticed before. It felt rude to leave in the middle of the conversation, so I tucked the wrapped in my pocket.
"Do you have a family or anyone looking for you?" Carter asked.
I shook my head, "I was alone when I woke up."
"Where were you?" Carter's voice was rather soft now, like he was speaking to a wounded animal rather than a person.
I pointed to the direction I had come, "A crater over that way. There were a lot of bodies, but I didn't recognize them."
"How would you know if you recognized them?" One of the workers asked.
I shrugged, "It doesn't matter. The place blew up after I left."
"Kid," Carter put a hand on my shoulder. "Melissa can show you how to get help."
I scrunched my brow, "Who's Melissa?"
"The lady in charge," Carter replied. "You spoke to her earlier."
I made an agreeable noise, "She seems stressed."
The crowd of workers laughed.
"Don't worry about me," I said. "I've got a place to sleep, some food, and I'm tough."
Carter gave me a flat look, "Are you still hungry?"
"Are there more burritos?" I bounced in my spot as I asked.
That got another laugh.
"How old are you, kid?" Carter asked.
I shrugged. The conversation made me realize that I needed to come up with a better name. A cover story would be a good idea too. Thanks to Robot's computers I knew Invincible was Maria Grayson and Omni-Man was Nolan Grayson. It might be a little presumptuous to use Grayson as a last name, but I thought it was fitting considering I was a clone.
Clone Grayson. That would cause way too many questions. Clone. Clone. Clones aren't real. Well, I'm real, but I'm not really Invincible. I wasn't supposed to be a replacement. My creation was an experiment to see if Viltrumite abilities could be replicated via cloning. Robot had thought it had been a failure, but I just needed more time in the over.
Not real. A con? Acon sounded too close to Acorn. Conner? That could work. Conner Grayson. I liked it.
"My name is Conner," I stated proudly. "Conner Grayson."
The group of workers looked at me in shock.
"I just remembered," I added with a bright smile.
"It's nice to meet you, Conner," Carter held out his hand. "I'm Jim Carter."
I scrunched my brow, "Carter is your last name?"
He nodded.
"Why don't people call you Jim?" I asked.
He chuckled, "There are four other Jims on the crew."
I scanned the group to see the other four raise their hands briefly.
"Oh," I stood. "Do you think I could get another burrito."
Carter nodded, "They're free for the crew. Just don't abuse it."
"Thank you," I said before jogging over to the food truck.
The cook had dark bags under their eyes and was moving in slow, jerky motions. My downloaded knowledge told me these were signs of exhaustion.
"Are you ok?" I asked the cook.
The guy nodded, "Tired."
"You look tired," I said.
The cook glared at me, "Do you need something?"
"Are there any more burritos?" I asked hopefully.
The cook shook his head, "I'm closing up."
I did not pout.
"There are four other trucks," The cook motioned to either side of his spot. "They're still open."
"Thanks," I replied with a smile.
I returned to the group with a basket piled high with chicken strips and potato wedges. The workers stared at me as I took a seat.
"Damn, kid," One of the workers scoffed. "Do you think you got enough?"
I beamed, "They're closing up and didn't want the food to go to waste."
"Just don't make yourself sick," Carter said. "We're a couple of days ahead of schedule thanks to you."
"Lay off him," Another worker cut in. "The kid needs a good meal… or five."
A single chime signaled the end of the lunch break. I looked down at the still full basket of food. It was almost painful to have to throw away the rest of it.
Carter held out his cooler, "Here."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Carter nodded.
"Thank you," I said as I carefully packed the food into the cooler.
He patted me on my shoulder, "No problem, kid. We'll make sure to heat it up so you can eat at the end of the shift."
- § -
The shift ended four hours later. I kept working with the next group after a short break to eat my leftovers. We had managed to clear the block with a focus on rescuing people before calling it an evening. That was when the night crew arrived.
"Kid," The lady that had originally told me where to go said. "Go home. You did a lot of good work today. Get some rest and come back tomorrow."
I looked around the area and let out a sigh. We had cleared a lot of the rubble from the street. I had personally found around thirty survivors. Those were the ones that I focused on instead of all of the bodies. I didn't want to think about how many of those there were.
"Ok," I said after a moment.
My clothes were covered in dirt and grime. There was a camp shower for the workers, but I didn't have anything to wear other than the dirty clothes I had on. I wasn't going to show up tomorrow wearing a business suit, which meant I'd be here in basketball shorts and an oversized tank-top. I needed to make sure to bring a change of clothes tomorrow so I could take a shower. The trek back to my hideout was relatively quiet. There were more crews working to clean the smaller portions of rubble. It was getting to the point that survivors were rare. They used some sort of machine to scan for people as most of the capes were busy. People were taking advantage of the chaos to take care of old grudges or grab shiny things that caught their eye.
I stopped before the building with my stolen apartment. The rest of the building had been evacuated due to the structural damage. It wasn't as bad as it looked, but it was enough to stop more squatters. The only reason I was able to find the place was due to my abilities. I leaped onto the roof and scanned the stretch for the unwanted skylight that allowed me to get into the hall outside my hideout.
The drop would be dangerous to non-powered people. There was a good chunk of floor missing which would sent someone down a few stories to street level. They would be looking at a broken leg at least and there was very little chance of being rescued.
I closed the door to the apartment behind me and scanned the area. It didn't look like anyone had been here while I was gone. I wasn't going to stick around if the original owner showed up. Once I was sure I was alone I headed to the bedroom and passed out. The bed was insanely comfortable. Or I was just really tired.
- § -
It turns out that Viltrumites didn't need much sleep. I woke up a couple hours later feeling fully rested and ready to go. Thanks to my search yesterday I knew where some supplies were located. I grabbed a gym bag then packed a couple of the least insulting clothing options. Another trip to the aide station I visited yesterday to see if I could get some more clothes. Pawning the expensive watches might be too far, but getting rid of these ridiculous clothes was perfectly fine. They didn't look like they had worn more than once at the most.
I had no idea what time it was. It was still dark out, but the cleanup crews were making steady progress. The aide station had transitioned into an open-air camp for those that needed it. Most of the stations were closed. There was only one person and a police officer standing guard still handing things out. They didn't trigger any sort of identification from my downloaded knowledge. I took that to mean they were volunteering of their own accord rather than being assigned by the GDA.
"Hello," I said as I approached. "Are there still clothes available?"
The cop crossed their arms, "What's in the bag?"
"Gym clothes," I set the bag on the table. "Perfect for working out. Not good for search and rescue."
The lady at the desk started to remove the clothes. Her eyes went wide as she read the labels.
"Are you sure you want to donate these?" The lady asked.
I nodded, "I have some gym clothes. Those aren't good for moving rubble."
She shrugged and put the clothes to the side, "Feel free to pick out what you need."
"Thanks," I moved to the bins to start my search.
"Don't forget the toiletries," She said.
I nodded. A few minutes later I had a few pairs of jeans, some new socks, and a couple shirts to swap out. These ones were new and still in their packaging unlike the donations from my previous visit. Each shirt had a different logo from a variety of businesses. Someone saw the opportunity to get some advertising in.
"Do you have somewhere I can change?" I asked the pair.
The police officer spoke this time, "There's a changing area and shower room right over there. Disaster relief units were brought in last night. You can't miss them."
I gave them a lazy salute then headed where they directed. The next street over was filled with portable trailers that looked like suped up RVs. Most were marked as sleeping rooms. There were ones marked as bathrooms spaced every few plots. The brief encounter with hot water was enough to feel clean. I picked the closest one, took a shower, and changed into some fresh clothes. A quick look in the mirror told me I wouldn't need to worry about shaving. My face was impeccably smooth while the hair on my head was now a little sheen of fuzz. Hopefully I would have actual stubble soon. At least I had the hint of eyebrows now.
It was a short walk to the worksite now that I knew where I was going. The lady from the other day waved me over.
"Good to see you're back, kid," The woman offered me a cup of coffee.
I took it, sniffed it, and set it down on the table. She smiled at that.
"Not a fan?" She asked.
I shook my head, "Thank you, no."
"Calm down, kid," She shook her head. "You did a lot of good work yesterday. I didn't catch your name, I'm Cheryl."
"Conner," I replied with a nod.
"Are you a cape?" She asked.
I nodded again, "I'm strong."
"I can see that," Cheryl patted my shoulder. "You're a couple hours early for the next shift."
I shrugged, "I'm awake. Did you go home at all?"
"That's not what we're talking about," She sighed. "I'm an adult, this is my job, I am supposed to be here. Is there anyone out there looking for you?"
I shook my head, "I don't know."
"You don't know," She prompted me to provide more.
I shrugged, "I woke up in a crater yesterday." I ran a hand over my head. "Bald, naked, and no idea what was going on. I don't think I have any family."
"What about your name?" Cheryl asked.
I stopped myself from shrugging again, "I like the sound of it."
We stood in silence for a bit watching the crew work.
"Has there been any more survivors?" I asked.
She shook her head. I took a deep breath and let it out.
"I can't just stand around," My words were undermined by the sudden growling of my stomach.
Cheryl raised her eyebrows as the sound faded, "Get some food. The work isn't going anywhere."
The burrito truck was there again; this time they were making breakfast. I only had one this time since it was still early. Taking the extra at the end of the day was fine, but I wasn't going to be the reason someone didn't get a meal.
I devoured the glorious combination of eggs, tortilla, potatoes, and sausage then went back to get instructions from Cheryl. Soon the world fell away to lifting chunks of rubble and putting them somewhere else. Starting a casual conversation while handling the rubble from a building didn't feel right. It left the area in silence aside from the occasional words traded when absolutely necessary.
The silence made the time stretch into a liminal experience. I would have had no idea how much of the day had passed if it wasn't for the sun and the meal breaks. Most of the crew returned to work on the site again. The almost jovial air from yesterday had vanished. It was hard to be anywhere near lighthearted considering the only people we found were corpses.
"Hey, kid," Cheryl called me over at the end of the day.
It was the first voice attempt at conversation I had heard the entire day. I dusted myself off as I made my way over to her.
She held out an envelope, "For you."
"What is it?" I stared at the envelope.
Cheryl gave a small smile, "Your pay."
"Pay?" I asked. "I'm volunteering."
Cheryl shook her head, "Kid, we're a week ahead of schedule thanks to you. We all agree."
"Oh," I looked down at the envelope. "Thank you." I stared at the envelope for another long moment. "I'm going to take a shower."
Cheryl laughed, "Go for it, kid."
"Same time tomorrow?" I asked.
She shook her head, "We're done here."
I scrunched my brow then took a look around the street. We had indeed cleared the street of rubble. The buildings, while destroyed, were free of wreckage.
"Like I said, kid," Cheryl patted me on the shoulder. "You are the reason we were able to save so many people yesterday. We would have had to wait for the right equipment and another crew if you hadn't been here."
"Oh," I didn't know what else to say.
She dusted her hand off from the brief contact, "Go take a shower."
"Are there other crews that need help?" I asked.
She shook her head, "The crew is being split and sent where we're needed."
I didn't know what to say after that. Instead, I went to take a shower. I had no idea what to do with the money. There wasn't much I needed at the moment. The city did have areas that had escaped the destruction they were mostly the suburbs. I had a map of the city in my head, but that was different than actually walking the streets.
The envelope was still there when I got out of the shower. I was almost hoping it would be gone. It would be a relief not to have to deal with it. The city was going to need a bit more time to rebuild before I could actually use it. I tucked the envelope in my pocket and started to walk to my hideout.
I could see how much the cleanup had made my way through the city. The progress was rather impressive. I didn't have to climb over any wreckage or stop to clear a path once. There were a few people outside on the street as well. It had only been other aid workers yesterday.
My hideout had been cleared up as well. It didn't look like any of the tenants had returned yet. The wreckage had been removed, exposing a good chunk of the interior of the building on the side opposite my hideout.
I leaped onto the roof to avoid the stairs. They were exposed to the exterior and were missing a chunk between the levels. There was an impromptu skylight that I used as an entryway. I paused once I landed.
There was someone in the apartment. I could hear someone walking. The footsteps inside stopped once I got to the door. I paused for a moment to see if it would stay closed. It started to drift open a moment later. The downloaded knowledge didn't include minor repairs or a suite of handyman skills. I could probably prop up something against it.
"Are you coming, kid?" A rough voice called from deeper inside the apartment.
I shrugged. The voice connected to a profile for Cecil Stedman, current director of the GDA. Robot was already gathering information to replace the man. He was a baseline human, which meant the contingency plans focused on bypassing the attached security. Killing him would be easy once the teleporter was disabled and his panic-button couldn't broadcast.
"The water isn't working so I can't offer you a drink," I said as I entered the apartment properly.
The profile said that he had a facial scar, but it wasn't as bad as it did in the pictures. He held a tumbler of a dark liquid that I couldn't identify. Viltrumites weren't able to get drunk on standard liquor so it would be a waste to drink. There was also the fact that my donor wasn't twenty-one years old, so I wasn't either.
"This is a nice place you found," Cecil stated.
I nodded, "Do you know if the owner is alive?"
"He wasn't as lucky," Cecil replied.
My shoulders sunk a little, "Oh."
"You're not in our database," Cecil said without pausing.
I shrugged. The only thing that saved me from to being identified as a clone was that it was supposedly impossible to successfully clone a Viltrumite. There was a nice little chunk of secret projects Robot had discovered and had been downloaded into my head. Cecil had unsuccessfully tried to clone Omni-Man many, many times.
"We've been watching you," Cecil said without waiting for a reply. "It took us a moment with all the recovery efforts. You've been doing good work."
I grinned, "Thanks."
"Where did you come from, kid?" Cecil asked.
I sighed, "I woke up the other day in a crater and walked out to see things had been trashed." I shrugged. "People needed help and I'm strong. It made sense to do what I could."
"After you broke into an apartment, stole clothes, and stopped by an aid station," Cecil added.
I nodded, "Walking around naked would have brought too much attention."
"You woke up in a crater, and your first instinct is to help people," Cecil stated. "That allows you to make a choice." He paused. "Do you want to come work for me. We test your abilities, give you a real place to sleep and clothes that fit, and you keep helping people."
I took a breath to brace myself, "Or?"
"Or you don't," Cecil shrugged. "You're a wildcard, kid. It's up to you. Keep going with no support, squatting in an apartment building that's been condemned, and living off whatever you can scrounge. How long do you think it will take before you have to start stealing to survive?"
I frowned, "I got paid today."
"Destruction on a scale like this isn't as common as you would think," Cecil countered.
I stared at him for a moment, "Alien invasion, monster attacks, and rogue capes beg to differ."
"You remember all of that, but not your name?" Cecil asked.
I shrugged, "I have a name."
"Conner Grayson," Cecil stated. "Interesting choice."
I smiled, "I liked the sound of it."
"Where did you hear it?" Cecil said it casually.
I pointed to the bookshelf, "Nolan Grayson."
"Nolan Grayson?" Cecil asked.
I wouldn't have noticed the slight tension in his shoulders if I hadn't been looking for a reaction.
"He writes travel books," I plucked one from the shelf and held it out to him. "I liked the sound of Grayson and came up with Conner on my own." I shrugged. "Rolex didn't feel right."
Cecil took the book and flipped through it, "Nolan Grayson was killed in the chaos. He has a family. They might not appreciate you using the name." He motioned to the bookshelf. "Why not Orwell or Salinger?"
"I don't think I look like a Salinger," I replied. "Grayson sounds like someone that could be your neighbor."
Cecil put the book back on the shelf, "What's your answer, kid?"
"I eat a lot," I replied.
Cecil cocked an eyebrow at my statement, "We have food."
"Do you have burritos?" I asked hopefully.
Cecil let out a single chuckle, "Yes, we have burritos."
"You should have started with that," I said with a wide smile. "What happens next?"
Cecil motioned to the window, "My people are waiting outside."
I looked out of the window to see a row of black SUVs on the street below. It was a testament to the recovery effort that vehicles could use the roads already.
"Do I get a suit?" I asked with a broad smile.
Cecil sighed, "We'll see what we can do."