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Chapter Text

As far as Greg could remember, he just one day popped into existence. Like most personifications he just appeared one day, no rhyme or reason to it. One day he popped into existence and started working for Gov, and that made sense to him. Sometimes he wondered why he appeared so late, surely the personification of radio/news should’ve appeared in the thirties or forties, but he always figured if comedy club personifications could appear out of nowhere and fight over sports teams then so couldn’t he.

Unfortunately that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

The truth is, Greg hadn’t always been ‘Greg the Sound Guy’ who worked at the Statehouse recording meetings, editing episodes of the show, and occasionally bailing the same three states out of jail. At one point Greg was named Greggory Blyth, and he lived in Washington, DC in your typical middle class home with a mother, father, and three older sisters. Greg had been raised human.

Greg was born after his mother and father kept trying, and failing, to have a boy, a ‘we won’t stop until we have x gender’ babies. From the minute he was born he was dotted on by his parents and his older sisters, getting dressed up and paraded around like a baby doll, his father dumping all his hopes and dreams onto him like he’d be the next Tom Brady, and his mother cooing over him and treating her ‘very special man’ like he was made of porcelain. For the first three years of his life, Greg’s life was charmed.

That all changed when he was four years old.

Mrs. Sarah Blyth in her spare time ran a party-planning business that all the high-end mother’s in the DC area wanted to book for their special child’s birthday and she had double-booked herself accidentally and had to leave Greg and two of his sisters with their grandmother. Grama Blyth had taken Greg ,Genevieve, and Gianna to the playground and the three kids ran around like monsters while their grandmother watched her stories on a little portable TV from the nineties. It was also worth noting that Mrs. Blyth did not let her precious baby boy run around on dangerous playgrounds for any such reason, so when Greg was granted a small amount of freedom he took full advantage.

Gene, as she was called, at one point hopped on the monkey bars without a care in the world, seamlessly jumping from bar to bar like a monkey swinging in a zoo. Greg wanted to emulate his older sister so he climbed to the monkey bars and attempted to jump and catch a bar just like her.

Except his little fingers missed the bar by mere inches, and he fell, hitting the woodchips hard and breaking his arm.

Everything went so quickly, it was practically a blur. Gene screamed for her grandmother who panicked and called 911 while Greg cried and held his arm. He didn’t like the shape of it, the angle where it bent, it was all wrong, wrong, wrong! Greg remembered the ambulance ride with the nice paramedics who gave him a lollipop and talked about dinosaurs with him, and his arrival at the hospital where his mother met him, hysterical, in a room. But then the weirdest thing happened.

His arm…was fine.

It wasn’t bent at a weird angle or hurt when he tried to move it, it was fine. Like nothing ever happened. The paramedics and doctors were so confused when the little boy rolled in, eating his lollipop, and happily discussing why a T-rex couldn’t have been the king of all dinosaurs. The grandmother swore up and down that she saw the arm broken and the paramedics attested to it, saying it was broken in the ambulance but it rested easily by Greg’s side as the doctors ran tests, unbroken. Fine. Not causing the little boy pain.

Of course Greg’s father, Mr. Matthew Blythe, a staunch businessman and a ‘man’s-man’ scoffed at everyone’s worries when everyone came home later that evening. He dismissed his wife and daughter’s concerns with a hand wave and took little Greg into the living room to watch football with him.

“You need to learn something about women Greg.” Mr. Blythe said, swigging a beer. “They’re hysterical, and will overreact to anything. Sometimes it’s better just to let them freak out and then you can laugh about it later.” And little Greg, who was still confused why his arm felt okay after it being a weird angle and hurting a lot, just nodded.

Greg’s broken arm wasn’t the only weird thing to happen to him in his early years. One night he was asleep in his room, when he was awoken to some muttered chatter seemingly coming from everywhere. At first he thought maybe his parents or one of his sisters left the TV on in the living room but when he opened the door to check, he found the living room dark and the TV silent. He went back into his room and pressed his ear against the wall that separated his room from his parents and all he heard was his dad sleeping. Greg was confused and felt a little sleepy, so he snuggled back into bed thinking maybe he could talk to his family in the morning about the mummerings. Maybe they heard it too.

The next morning Greg reported about an explosion that killed one hundred factory workers in Indiana, long before the paperboy delivered the local newspaper and his parents had even watched the news. When pressed, Greg just shrugged, he didn’t know why he knew that, and he just went back to eating his Lucky Charms like nothing else happened.

The mummerings never came up.

Chapter Text

When Greg was six, his father signed him up for youth football despite the protests from his mother. She maybe didn’t notice it, but she had become overprotective of her son since the falling incident in the park, emailing teachers everyday about any accidents he might’ve had at school, checking him over every afternoon for any signs of injury, even Greg thought that was going too far.

(The truth was, Greg was attempting to avoid injuries as much as possible, to offset his mother’s inspections. It didn’t make him popular with his classmates since he stayed away from the bigger playground, but it prevented his mother from knowing about any scraps that mysteriously healed after recess or splinters that disappeared at pick-up.)

Mr. Blythe's hand waved his wife’s fears away. “It’s not right for a boy to be this sheltered. He needs to learn to be tough! He’ll never be a man if he doesn’t know how to fight!” And so Greg’s cozy afternoons spending time with his sisters or Saturday morning cartoons were replaced with itchy uniforms, loud whistles, and rules that his six year old brain couldn’t comprehend. Luckily Greg was small for his age, so he wasn’t put in that often, the coach preferring the big, taller boys to a small Greg who could still fit in some of his sisters hand-me-downs. So Greg mostly sat on the bench during practice and games, watching the boys tackle and throw the ball around, listening to the murmurs in his head.

At least the coach’s wife thought it was ‘so cute’ that he was so well-informed about the news.

One Saturday morning, one of the bigger boys got injured during a field goal and the coach had to sub Greg in. He could hear his father whooping and hollering as Greg trotted out onto the field, and out of the corner of his eye his mother ringing her hands in worry. Greg got in position and tried to focus on the boy in front of him, hoping maybe he’d get away with a minor tackle at the very least, he could run off and his team would score. He kept his focus on the other boy as the ref counted down, putting his body in position and waited for that ever present whistle.

“And in other news, President Bush has announced he will be ending-”

Greg was so distracted by a sudden news report hitting his brain that he didn’t hear the whistle blow. He only came back to earth when the force of a small, yet strong, body hit him hard and sent him flying to the ground, hitting his back hard enough to knock his helmet off. The whistle blew again and his mother came running on the field, shrieking and crying for a doctor while his father followed, scolding her. But he changed his tune when the onfield doctor said that Greg most likely had a concussion and his parents needed to get him to a hospital, fast.

While Mr. Blythe sped to the hospital, and Greg sat in his mom’s lap as she tried to comfort him, Greg found himself praying for the concussion to still be there when they arrived. It was strange for someone to pray for a concussion, a serious medical condition that could make things go very wrong and was dangerous, but Greg didn’t want to cause his parents any more trouble than he already had. But his prayers went unanswered because when they arrived at the hospital and the doctors checked him over, they were surprised to discover Greg had no concussion. He was functioning like a normal little boy.

This made Greg’s dad furious.

“Did you do this to embarrass me???” Mr. Blythe demanded when the three returned home later that afternoon. He had dragged Greg into his bedroom with his mother to force answers out of him. “Did you do this just to get out of football?”

“N-No daddy I was hurt!” Greg whimpered, ringing his hands.

“Stop it Matthew!” Mrs. Blythe ordered by her husband's side. But Greg noted that she didn’t step forward and put herself between them, only stood by wringing his hands.

“You just wanted to get out of football didn’t you? Too much of a rough sport for a little princess???” Greg’s dad insisted, getting so close to Greg he could smell his morning coffee on his breath. Greg scampered back in fear, he’d never seen his dad act like this towards his sisters. He had a quick temper and tended to send things flying, but never towards his children.

“No!!! I don’t know what happened!” Greg insisted. Maybe if he got close enough to the edge of the bed he could fall and scamper underneath it.

“ANSWER ME. WHY DID YOU FAKE A CONCUSSION?” Mr. Blythe screamed. All at once it was like Mrs. Blythe’s mothering-instincts came back and she grabbed her husband's arm to pull him back.

“Stop it Matthew you’re hysterical!” Mrs. Blythe yelled. “Go cool off, it's been a hard day!” Mr. Blythe glared at his son one more time before storming out of his room causing his toys to shake, muttering to himself how he would not have a sissy as a son. Greg sighed in relief but looked over at his mother who watched him go.

“Mommy? Is something wrong with me?” Greg asked. Mrs. Blythe turned back to look at her son, but made no attempt to comfort him. Instead she looked almost afraid of him, searching the little boy with her eyes for any sign of why he was doing this.

“No my darling nothing’s wrong.” Mrs. Blythe said with a smile, before trotting out after her husband leaving Greg all alone. Greg curled up in his bed, listening as his father slammed shut the cabinet that held all the fancy drinks his parents only brought out during parties and barked at his wife to leave him alone. He fell back onto the bed, tears falling out of his eyes as Gene, Gianna, and Gwen came filing in to hug their little brother and wipe his tears.

What was wrong with him?

Chapter Text

Greg could never pin-point exactly when his life started going downhill and his home life became a living hell, but after the concussion incident was certainly when it began.

His mother still cared for him; she fed him, clothed him, made sure he made it to school and back in one piece, but the warmth was gone and instead replaced by, if Greg was totally honest, fear. And maybe a little contempt as well. If Greg spoke to her, her eyes would suddenly become very far away and distant or cold as steel as she barked at him to leave her alone so she could finish her house work or go and pray. The incidents had led her to become very religious and Greg and his sisters would often find her kneeling in prayer in front of the Jesus shrine she’d created in the living room or in church for hours on end. In his heart, Greg knew she was praying to make him normal even if his sisters tried to shoo that thought away.

His father on the other hand…it was like Greg couldn’t live up to his expectations. Even breathing wrong in his general direction led to such verbal abuse that Greg’s sisters learned to very quickly swept him away or their father would start drinking. Which he now did very often and was gone almost as much as their mother, only coming back when he was incoherent and often collapsing on the sofa or breaking something then blaming Greg when he was sober. Greg was as young as ten and was beginning to shut out both parents, focusing instead on learning about his ‘powers’ and his recent love for recording and videography.

Greg had a lot of time to experiment with his newfound gifts since his parents weren’t around and the other kids at school were happy to ignore him since he was ‘the weird kid who sat by the baseball field staring at the sky’. But he wasn’t just staring at the sky, he was testing his abilities and he was discovering new things everyday. For instance, unless there was a major incident going on, Greg could concentrate and tune down the news in his head whenever he wanted. He took advantage of this when his parents argued or during boring periods of class, or even the testing his mother dragged him to almost every weekend.

(The testing was awful, so many doctors, so many cat scans and x-rays, invasive procedures, blood work. The results were the same every time, nothing was wrong, but his mother refused to listen. Greg swore his mother would’ve had him exorcized if he didn’t put his foot down at thirteen and refused to go anymore, one time walking out of his mother’s car after a lengthy argument and calling for Gene to come pick him up. He never went back for testing after that.)

Greg also discovered he could ‘change the channel’ in a sense by waving his hands in front of his ears, producing a new set of news each time. He learned that if he went too far he started hearing international news, and there was one sweet sounding woman who sounded sincere at first but then started blaming the gays for everything which he tried to avoid at all costs. He became very popular on Sundays when the father’s around Greg and his sisters and mother would ask him for updates on their football teams and he could respond during all the ‘hallelujahs’ and ‘Our Father’s’.

But his greatest discovery? Sound mixing. Videography. Presenting.

It started in sixth grade when Greg’s science teacher showed the class how to dismantle and the different parts of a radio. Greg would linger behind when class was over and ask questions, learning what each part was in depth and soon joining the after school Radio Club that talked old systems and tubes most of the time. It was a nice break from the constant yelling and walking on eggshells of his house, Greg finally understood Gene’s decision to move away to college after she graduated, and it wasn’t like his parents noticed he was gone anyway. When Greg was in eighth grade, he joined the broadcast team at his middle school, learning the ins and outs of editing and sound mixing videos, doing camera work for the morning update (he was kind of sad that he never heard those in his head) and taking as many photography, camera, and film design classes he could. The ‘curse’ that God had put on him when he was very small seemed to be finally paying off, and Greg could see the end of the tunnel. When he graduated high school in four years, he’d go off to college, leave home like two of his older sisters did. He’d get an apartment in the city, or even be more daring and go to New York City, every tried to make it there. He’d study film making and sound design more seriously, become famous, and help his sisters out, while cutting his parents off in the same breath. He finally had a purpose, he finally saw a way out, he finally could, for once, be who he really was.

It happened on a weekend.

The first thing Greg noticed when he woke up was that the news in his head seemed staticy, like someone was messing with the signal. The second thing he noticed was a harsh knocking at the door followed by his mother opening the door looking like she was detached from reality, which she usually was unless she was praying.

“Your father is having an episode.” Is all Mrs. Blythe said before leaving. Greg sighed and kicked the covers off himself to go follow his mother’s silent request to go help calm his father down. It wouldn’t be a nice weekend without his father attempting to ruin it, Gene and Gianna had been smart to high tail it out of the house as soon as they turned eighteen. Greg briefly wondered if they’d be open to a visit today at their dorm. But nonetheless Greg padded out to the kitchen to find his father at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, and several bottles of liquor all around him.

Mr. Blythe fell on self-imposed hard times as Greg got older, losing his exclusive business job and running through mid-level jobs like they were toilet paper. With money becoming tight because of their uncertain job status and with two mouths to feed still living at home, Mrs. Blyth, begrudgingly, took a job at the local supermarket as a check out girl. Greg wondered as he approached his father, if his latest job, a busboy at a 50s style diner across town, was a bust for him as well. How long could Greg fake sympathy? But Greg carefully approached his father and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey dad.” Greg said softly. His dad stayed quiet. “Hey dad, it'll be okay. There’ll be other jobs.” Mrs. Blythe stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house, ringing her hands and not making an effort to approach her husband and son. Greg kept his eye roll eternal, he’d bitch about it later to Gene.

“Maybe I can get a job with mom at the supermarket.” Greg tried. “It won’t pay too much but it’ll at least cover groceries.” Mr. Blythe picked his head up and Greg held his breath. If he could just get him either out of the house or in his bedroom, he could sleep off this binge. “And hey Gwen’ll be going to college soon so that’s one less-”

CRASH!

It was so fast Greg couldn’t react at first. But Mr. Blythe dove at his son, tackling him to the ground and putting his hands on his neck in an attempt to strangle him. Greg’s mother snapped back into reality and screamed in horror.

“YOU! YOU CAUSED ALL OF THIS!” Mr. Blythe yelled his face red and breath stinking from the alcohol. Greg twisted and turned trying to kick his father off of him but couldn’t. “YOU BASTARD. YOU’RE A BASTARD. YOU RUINED MY LIFE!”

“MATTHEW GET OFF OF HIM!” Mrs. Blythe screamed frozen in place unsure what to do, but making no attempt to get her husband off her son.

“WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST BE NORMAL? WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE BEEN THE SON I ALWAYS WANTED? WHY???” Mr. Blythe roared, Greg’s face growing paler as he lost air.

“What the he-GREG!” In an instant, Greg’s father was pushed off of him and thrown into the cabinets underneath the sink and Gwen was trying to help Greg catch his breath. The irony that Greg’s dad put so much stock into getting the son he always wanted to play sports and run the world, he never looked at Gwen who was an A plus student, and an exceptional athlete who’d get scholarships to run her through all four years of college. Greg finally caught his breath to watch his dad try to stand up and attack again, but Gwen was faster. She grabbed her dad by his shirt and dragged him out of the kitchen, down the hall, and threw him into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and locking the door. Mr. Blythe banged on the door and howled for a few minutes, screaming more about how Greg was a bastard and the cause of all his misery, before finally the screaming stopped.

Greg caught his breath and scrambled to his feet, clutching his throat but turning his wrath towards his mother who went back to ringing her hands.

“The fuck was that?” Greg demanded.

“GREGGORY. Language!” Mrs. Blythe scolded.

“So you’ll yell at me for language but not the fact that your husband strangled me? He could’ve killed me!” Greg yelled as Gwen returned, also glaring at her mother.
“I-I was frozen and I didn’t know what to do-”

“You’re a real piece of work mother, you know that? You abandoned me when I was different and gave me the bare minimum of love! You took me to get tasted out the ass-”

“LANGUAGE!”

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!” Greg yelled tears burning in his eyes. “I JUST WANTED YOU. And now you’re a shell of a person who I used to call mommy! Fuck you, fuck him, and fuck everyone in this house!” Mrs. Blythe set her jaw hard, so hard it clicked, and stared down her son.

“Honor thy mother and father.” Mrs. Blythe hissed. Greg threw his hands up and stormed out of the house, each thundering footstep shaking some knick-knack or picture. Gwen glared at her mother and turned on her heel to go back to her room to ring up Gianna and tell her Greg was coming. Outside, as Greg stormed down the sidewalk into the pale moonlight, the news in his head still static, a dark cloud drifted in front of the moon.

Chapter Text

Mr. Blythe disappeared the next day.

Greg didn’t want to come home that morning but his sisters convinced him to at least grab some stuff just in case he had to stay for an extended period of time with them so he reluctantly re-entered the house expecting his father, sober now, to scream at him and his mother to do nothing but scold him with Bible verses clutching her rosary.

But when he stepped inside, he was greeted to quiet, his mother sitting on the sofa clutching her rosary as to be expected but staring at Greg with big terrified eyes as he stepped inside the door, muttering something under her breath. The kitchen had been cleaned up from the attack, like nothing had happened, and all the alcohol bottles were gone. Greg had wondered if Gwen had cleaned up, if she hadn’t run out to greet him looking pale as a sheet.

Apparently an hour after Greg left, Gwen heard the front door opened and thought it was him. She opened the door to greet him, but quickly shut it when she saw someone who was not her younger brother talking to their mother sternly. “He was so weird.” Gwen explained. “He had on this suit that looked pure night, and I couldn’t pinpoint his accent, it was like three different people were talking.” She hurried back into bed when she heard footsteps approaching but was relieved when the door being opened wasn’t hers, but her parents bedroom. The next morning, Mrs. Blythe was acting like she’d seen a ghost, and their father completely disappeared. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of him going into rage and leaving, the bedroom looked like it had the morning of the attack.

Gianna and Gene would both report, days later, that they received mysterious full-ride scholarships to their college and their rent had been capped as well.

Greg was relieved his dad was gone, he had felt no love for that man since he was a kid and quite frankly, he could’ve been thrown into space for all he cared. As for his mother? Who stared at him with horrified eyes whenever he came out and barely talked to him anymore, Greg could care less. He had a new goal now, to take as many media classes as he could and get good enough grades that he could move out when he turned eighteen and go to college for videography and sound design. He’d move in with one of his sisters and help pay rent to support himself, and take odd jobs here and there. He would never see his mother again, and he’d wash his hands of her and make a new life with his sisters.

For the last three years of high school Greg did exactly that. He put his head down and he worked. He studied hard, learned everything he could about his chosen career, and applied himself to everything. Gwen moved out Greg’s junior year, and also mysteriously received a scholarship to her dream school as well, and he and his mother barely spoke three words to each other the entire time. It was like she was officially afraid of him, and that fact made Greg die a little inside. Did she ever love him? There had to be a time she did right? Before all of this madness with the news voices started? But Greg couldn’t think of that, he could only think of his goals and getting out of that house so he could finally move out and finally live his life on his own terms.

Greg finished school with a 3.9 GPA and an acceptance letter to the dream college of his choice that specialized in various forms of media. It looked like it was finally happening at last, Greg’s dream was coming true! He headed home after graduation (his mother never attended, and for his part he did give her a ticket) to collect some things because his sisters were going to throw him a graduation party in light spirits and ready to finally relax and look forward to leaving his past behind. He came through the front door and made his way to his room, before something was splashed in his face.

“The hell?” Greg yelled turning and facing his mother who was holding a Bible and a bottle of something, Greg assumed holy water. “Mom?”

“Back! You demon!” Mrs. Blythe yelled, scurrying closer to her son. Greg noted that alongside the Bible and the holy water, she also had a knife and quickly acted accordingly.

“Mom, relax! I’m leaving! You won’t have to see me aga-ACK!” Greg gagged as more holy water was spraying in his face, then yelped when the Bible thwacked him, sending him to the ground.

“You’re a demon from hell!” Mrs. Blythe hissed, dropping the holy water but still holding onto the knife. Greg quickly backs up to the door hoping to regain his senses and get the hell out of there. “You must be killed before you wreak havoc on the world!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you???” Greg yelled, yelping again as his mom stepped on his ankle stopping him in his tracks. She stood over him smiling like a lunatic, finally dropping the Bible but holding the knife above her head.

“And God said to smite the word of demons, and the Holy Spirit will return to the believers once again!” Mrs. Blythe yelled.

“MOM!” Greg yelled, wiggling to get out of her grip. Mrs. Blythe started to bring the knife down but froze, like something grabbed her from behind. Her eyes rolled up in her skull and she collapsed, falling sideways on the Bible and revealing someone standing behind her. Greg was relieved when she initially stopped, but new horror filled his chest when he saw the person standing behind them was the same man Gwen described three years ago. In the night black suit. Staring down at his mother almost in pity, shaking his head.

“I told her.” The man said, and Greg quickly noted that Gwen was right, he did sound like several different people talking at once. “I told her if she left you alone then I wouldn’t come back again. I wish she listened.”

“W-Who are you?” Greg yelled, feeling cemented to the ground. The man sighed.

“My name is Gov.” Gov announced. He adjusted the icey-blue tie he had on. “I am a personification of the United States government.”

Greg’s entire world stopped right there. He knew of personifications, he was on Reddit, he heard the conspiracy theory that there were personifications of things wandering around the United States living their lives. He remembered the Buzzfeed Unsolved episode and, despite being a Boogara, rolling his eyes with Shane when Ryan suggested aliens. But they weren’t real ... .were they?
“D-Did you?” Greg finally found some strength and sat up, still ready to run in a moment's notice. “Did you make my dad disappear?” Gov nodded.

“I did. He was too much of a threat with the drink and all. He would’ve attacked you again. But don’t worry, I made it so he’d never hurt anyone again. Plus Loui always likes to test out his newest spells on living creatures.” Gov explained. Greg shuddered a little, he didn’t know who Loui was but he also wasn’t going to ask anymore questions about him. So he changed the subject.

“Why are you here? And what did you do to my mom?” Greg demanded.

“I am here because CDC received the report about eight years ago about a personification being born.” Gov began, crouching in front of Greg. At least his eyes were a nice brown color…at least Greg hoped they were brown and not endless night. “You were the personification, Greg.” Greg’s mouth dropped and he stood up quickly.

“What? I can’t be! I’m just Greg!” Greg yelled, gesturing at himself. Gov also stood up, a smirk on his face.

“Are you sure ‘just Greg’?” Gov asked in a teasing tone. Greg was instantly annoyed. “Or has stuff happened in your life that’s been unexplained? Can you hear things, feel things, that you couldn’t just wave off? Really think.” Greg paused, and when he paused he could hear a news report coming through the static in his head about a watermelon seller in Florida dealing with sloths stealing his wares.

The news reports.

“B-But how?” Greg asked quietly. “I-I thought…all the posts about personifications imply that they weren’t ‘born’ they just appeared or had to be made. My parents…are human. How am I a personification?” Gov lost his smirk, and looked deep in thought, like he was searching his brain for an answer.

“We don’t know.” Gov admitted slowly. “One day CDC got a blip on his radar that a personification was found and have been searching the past few years to find you. We’re not sure why you were born to human parents.” It didn’t sound like Gov was too sure of the answer, Greg could pick up on that right away. But he also wasn’t going to call out an immortal being so he decided to let it slide. Gov turned his attention to Greg’s mother, who was still unconscious.

“Now…before we go further, I want to take care of her-”

“WAIT!” Greg yelled jumping in front of Gov. He didn’t know why, it’s not like his mother deserved it, but something tugged in his heart for his mother. Who, before all this mess started, would read him bedtime stories and kiss his boo-boos (before discovering they didn’t heal) and called him her ‘special little man’. His father could go to hell, but his mother? He felt sorry for her. “Please don’t kill her. She…I hate her but she doesn’t deserve what my father got. Please Gov, spare her.” Gov contemplated Greg’s request, his eyes never giving away what he was thinking, before finally sighing.

“First you need to listen to me….”

Chapter Text

As far as Greg could remember, he just one day popped into existence. Like most personifications he just appeared one day, no rhyme or reason to it. One day he popped into existence and started working for Gov, and that made sense to him. Sometimes he wondered why he appeared so late, surely the personification of radio/news should’ve appeared in the thirties or forties, but he always figured if comedy club personifications could appear out of nowhere and fight over sports teams then so couldn’t he.

Gov ended up wiping most of Greg’s memories of his parents that night, as well as his upbringing and discovering of his powers. The first thing Greg could remember was opening his eyes and seeing Florida sitting above him smiling like a maniac, then Greg screaming and tossing Florida off the bed like a maniac, and Gov having to explain that he was just in the guest room of the Statehouse and they found him outside of a 7/11 two days ago, possibly mugged but completely uninjured.

“We had to make sure you weren’t snatched up by agents but then again I know most of them.” Gov told him with a smile, which made Greg slightly uneasy.

Now Greg the Sound Guy instead of Greg Blythe, he thrived in his role as official sound guy and videographer of the Statehouse. He really hated being the personification of news, especially when the states used him against each other to one-up one another on how ‘bad’ their news could be. Still, he had an okay life, albeit constantly terrified of what these states would do next. Gov was a great mentor too, taking him under his wing, showing him the ropes on being a personification, and really treating him like a father which Greg always weirdly felt was missing in his short life.

But personifications didn’t have fathers.

But Greg got some free time from being a personification from time to time, when he wasn’t being dragged on his next adventure by any of the chaos states. He got to occasionally see his sisters when he wasn’t busy editing or filming. Part of Greg didn’t understand why he had sisters, but if New York and Virginia had grandmas, and Gov had an aunt, he supposed he could have sisters. It was funny, they always looked at him sadly, like they knew something he didn’t. But if Greg brought it up or tried prying info out of them, they’d just handwave it away and change the subject,leaving Greg to believe maybe he was just being paranoid.

Sometimes Greg would think about how he’d outlive his sisters eventually, and they’d all slip away as death came for them but he remained the same age. He’d always watch over the families they created, however, it was the least he could do. Even if they were pretty loaded (Greg hadn’t met their spouses but they must make bank for how large their bank accounts were) he set aside money every month to split between the three when the time came, and then for each new generation of nieces, nephews, cousins, and whoever else needed it. Because Greg didn’t just want to be ‘Greg the Sound Guy’ personification of the news, he wanted to actually do something meaningful with his immortal life. Make a difference, it was the least he could do.

Gov knew he shouldn’t have lied to the boy.

He would sit in his office days after, thinking about what he told Greg, thinking how flimsy his lie was and how Cali ragged on him for days about how he was lucky he wasn’t caught. Gov would never admit it, but he knew the western state was right.

When FBI informed Gov that they had suspicions a new personification was born somewhere, he had hoped that they’d find a mid-twenties man wandering around somewhere with no memory of how he was born or where he came from. The break in the case was in 2011 when FBI called Gov hysterically that the systems were showing distress in the personification they were tracking and he had to go find them quickly. Gov quickly found the location, and came face-to-face with not only what looked like the remnants of a tornado rolling through, but a face he never thought he’d see again.

That face….the face in the bar he visited after trying to cover up Bill Clinton’s sexual escapades, that face who laughed at every joke that he told as they both got progressively drunker, that face he took back out to his car to make love to….that face who he drove home just to make sure she was safe.

He didn’t even know she was married.
Gov’s shock was soon replaced by anger, pure white anger, as he demanded Sarah tell him what happened, why did he feel a personification in distress here. As Sarah explained everything, how her husband attacked their son in a ‘slip of the mind’, a lightbulb went off in his head. The son Sarah described, the one who she claimed her husband had to ‘discipline’ because he had unnatural abilities, that was the personification in distress. Sarah had given birth to a personification.

His son.

Gov made a simple demand, he’d dispose of Matthew but she was to never even touch Greg again. When he turned eighteen, Gov would make sure he knew who he was and would be given a full-ride scholarship to the school of his choice, but there were dire consequences if Sarah touched him or allowed anyone else to hurt him. Was Gov too naive to think Sarah also wouldn’t break under pressure? Was it his fault that he left her alone to bear the burden of having a personification as a child? Or was it Sarah’s own inability to cope that sealed Greg’s fate? None of these questions would be answered, Sarah broke Gov’s one request, and she too also had to be taken care of ... .but Gov, like Greg begged, took pity on her.

Sarah didn’t remember her marriage or even having a son, but she remained confused why her daughters never contacted her again and was left with a longing for a son she knew something bad had happened to but couldn’t for the life of her remember what. Was it mercy Gov granted or another version of eternal torture until Sarah’s death? He didn’t know, and he quite frankly didn’t want to think about it.

Greg would never know who sired him, and Gov would never reveal it, for it might open up a whole slew of questions of where the rest of his parentage came from. Gov would always be there, at a distance, never revealing himself, never allowing himself to be the father Greg needed, or deserved, even if he did treat him like a son sometimes which made the states jealous.

And maybe, just maybe, this protection, or as CDC put it ‘a good healthy dose of denial’, would ease his guilt and slowly put it to rest.