Life can Change: What a Marvel Part 2 (2 of 3) (Patreon)

Mark floated there for another heartbeat, the cheers washing over him, but he didn't let it pull him under. His eyes scanned the crowd one last time, sweeping across the faces in an effort to check if he'd missed anyone. He saw the woman he'd saved earlier, now bandaged and sitting up in the ambulance, her tear-streaked face breaking into a grateful smile as their gazes met. No one else seemed critically hurt out here; the fires were contained to the edges, the debris scattered but not trapping anyone new. A few stragglers limped toward safety, but the worsy of it was over and had settled into something manageable, with first responders finally pushing through the gridlock.

"You're all safe now," he called out again. "Help each other. Stay clear of the building." Then, he turned mid-air and rocketed toward the Marriott's shattered lobby. He burst through what used to be the main entrance, or what was left of it. The air inside hit him like a punch straight to his nose, it was full of dust and smoke, the tang of blood mixing with the that of charred wood and melted plastic.

The explosion had gutted the place. Chandeliers lay shattered on the marble floor, walls had buckled inward, exposing twisted rebar and crumbling concrete, the reception desk was reduced to splintered wreckage. Flames licked at the edges of overturned furniture, and the ceiling sagged dangerously in spots, groaning under its own weight. Deeper in, toward the conference halls where that scientific convention had been underway, the damage was even worse; whole sections caved in, beams dangled like broken bones, and the faint hiss of leaking gas lines warneddd of possible sexondary blasts. Mark would need to move fast if he was going to find any survivors.

Mark hovered just above the ground, his boots crunching on glass as he landed lightly, eyes darting through the haze. "Is anyone in here?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the ruined walls. "Call out if you're hurt! I'm here to help!"

He moved forward, while his senses weren't too extreme he did have rather good hearing and eyesight similar to a bird of prey. Viltrumites were a species who evolved to fly, so it wasn't to strange that he could see much better than a human could. That's why he was able to hear the first cry. It came from the left, near what looked like the remnants of a ballroom. "Help... over here..." Mark zeroed in, flying wuickly toward him. There, pinned under a collapsed section of balcony, was a man in a suit, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle, blood soaking through his pants. Beside him, a woman clutched his hand, her face smeared with ash, coughing violently but otherwise unharmed.

"Hold on!" Mark called, dropping down beside them. He gripped the edge of the massive concrete slab—easily a ton or more, riddled with embedded steel rods and lifted it with ease. It crashed to the floor with a thunderous boom, sending vibrations through the ground, but the pair was free. The man gasped in relief, wincing as Mark carefully scooped him up in a fireman's carry. "I've got you. Both of you. Can you walk?" he asked the woman, who nodded shakily, clutching his arm for support.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her cheeks. "We thought... we thought no one was coming."

Mark gave her a reassuring smile. "If it wasn't me there would always have been someone else. Now come on let's get you out, I'm going to carry you if you don't mind." She nodded rapidly so Mark picked her up, and flew them back through the lobby and out into the fresh air, where medics swarmed to take over.

But he wasn't done. He zoomed straight back inside, deeper now, where he heard another sound, a child's sob. "Anyone hurt? Call out!" he yelled again in a booming voice. The cry led him to a stairwell partially buried under rubble. There, huddled in a pocket of space beneath a fallen beam, was a family, a mother shielding two kids, one no older than five, the other maybe ten. The beam pinned the mother's arm, and debris blocked their escape.

"I'm here," Mark said softly, kneeling to meet their eyes through the gap. The kids stared at him wide-eyed, the younger one clutching a stuffed bear. "You're gonna be okay. Just stay still." He braced both hands against the beam, and pushed upward with controlled force being careful not to cause the pocket to collapse. It groaned in protest, bending slightly as he lifted it inch by inch, enough to free the mother's arm. She cried out in pain but pulled back, gathering her kids close. Mark then tore through the surrounding rubble as he cleared a path.

The mother looked up at him, awe mixing with gratitude. "Who... who are you?" She asked.

He paused, helping them to their feet, the kids clinging to his arms. "Just someone who wants to help," he said with a wink behind the plastic mask. "Come on, let's get you to safety." He lifted the family effortlessly—one kid on each shoulder, the mother in his arms—and flew them out, the cheers outside growing louder as he emerged again, depositing them gently with the growing crowd of rescuers. He then turned back around and rushed straight back. There were more in there and he wasn't leaving until every last one was out.

Mark flew back into the shattered depths of the Marriott without pausing, his makeshift cape fluttering as he plunged deeper into the smoke filled corridors. He strained his senses looking for any sign of life amid the structure that seemed ready to collapse at any moment. He pushed past the lobby and into the twisted maze of conference halls and rooms, the destruction worsening with every step as walls bowed inward and floors buckled under piles of debris, but as he ventured further a bad feeling crept over him, something that made his skin prickle with unease. The air shifted around him then, charged with a strange sort of energy that brushed against his skin like static electricity, raising the hairs on his arms and neck.

He landed on the cracked tile floor with a soft thud that sent dust swirling upward, his boots crunching over scattered shards of glass as he walked forward, scanning the area for any flicker of movement or whisper that might signal someone trapped and injured.

His ears strained as he heard a voice break through the silence. "Help!" It said calling out for help from somewhere in the wreckage ahead.

Mark launched himself forward in a blur, flying t over heaps of rubble until he reached the source in one of the exhibition rooms where three people huddled amid together, the boy with tousled blonde hair stumbled back in shock at his sudden appearance while the girl with matching blonde locks clutched at the boy's arm for support, and on the floor lay an old man with disheveled grey hair trapped beneath a massive twisted metal contraption that looked like it had once been part of an elaborate scientific display.

The boy nearly toppled backward onto the floor, his eyes widening in alarm, "Who the hell are you?!" He shouted.

Mark raised his hands palms out in a calming gesture, "Hey, easy... I'm here to help, that's all," he said trying to diffuse the situation.

The girl didn't really eeem to care as much as the boy who he was as she grabbed his arm. "Please, my dad's under there, he's hurt bad, you have to get him out," the girl begged.

"Hang on, I've got him, just stay back a bit so I don't accidentally knock anything loose," Mark said without missing a beat, stepping forward to grip the edges of the contraption with both hands, his muscles coiling under the blue suit as he lifted it cleanly off the old man in one fluid motion, the metal screeching in protest before he tossed it aside with a resounding crash that echoed through the chamber.

The man seemed to cough, but breath a sigh of relief as the pressure was taken off his body. His daughter rushed towards his side to make sure he was okay, though it seemed he had a concussion."We... we're all in danger... the rig, it's... energies wild... tearing through... holes where they shouldn't," the old man muttered in a haze of delirium, his words slurring together as he rambled on about unchecked power spiking and dimensions fracturing like glass, the sentences tumbling out jumbled and fragmentedd, but Mark pieced enough together to grasp the core warning. "Is that what caused the explosion? Some kind of overload in your experiment?" Mark asked, kneeling closer to make sure the old man was stable while gently checking for any obvious bleeding or broken bones.

"No... I saw the guy who did it, he came out of nowhere," the boy said as he shook his head firmly, "He was yelling something about mutants and cures, like we were the bad guys here."

Mark opened his mouth to ask more but before the words could form he felt goosebumps erupt across the back of his neck like a warning siren. He quickly spun and seized a large slab of fallen rubble nearby, heaving it upright and planting it like a shield in front of the three just as a massive explosion erupted from the darkness that would have obliterated the group behind him.

Mark peered past the edge of the improvised barrier through the clearing smoke and locked eyes on a man standing amid the flames. He was a tanned man with a thick beard across his face, though the edges of his beard look like they'd been singed; he was clad in what appeared to be a patched together army uniform stained with dust and blood from the explosion.

"You should've just died in the first blast—it would've made this easier for all of us," the man said with a thick accent, sneering as he rubbed his palms together with a malicious gleam in his eyes, "But no, you had to play hero in that stupid costume, dragging this out like some fool."

"Is this the one who caused the explosion—the guy you saw?" Mark asked the blonde boy, who nodded rapidly in confirmation as his face paled further,"Yeah, that's him, he's the one who set off the first bomb,"

Though before he could ask anything more the older man grabbed his arm. "We can't waste any more time, the experiment the Richard's boy was working on, it's gone critical... it could rip a hole straight through reality if we don't stop it, the energies are building too fast," the older man said as he propped himself up on one elbow with a grimace of pain.

"I can't see it anywhere, everything's such a mess, it could've been thrown anywhere," the girl said as she scanned the debris frantically, while she helped move the old man.

"It must've fallen into the basement during the blast—down through the floor cracks, that's the only place it could be," the older man said with a cough, wincing as he tried to sit up fully.

"Don't worry, we'll handle it right after I take care of this guy, stay behind the slab and keep your heads down," Mark said, as he stepped out from behind the shield with his cape billowing slightly in the breeze that had kicked up drafts, "Whatever your problem is, blowing up innocent people isn't the answer—surrender now before anyone else gets hurt."

"My name is Samir," the man who caused the explosion said as he straightened his posture, "and I'm here to protect my people from the monsters in this room; you and your kind who think you can play God with our futures."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked with narrowed eyes under the mask, "This was a science convention, what monsters could possibly be here? These are just researchers trying to make the world better."

"I'm a mutant," Samir explained with a bitter laugh, "Your so called scientists here were developing multiple technologies that would fix congenital birth defects... but in doing so would completely wipe out my kind. You may call it progress, but it in truth genocide in the form of a lab coat, simply wiping us out because you fear what we can become."

"I won't let that happen," Samir said, his voice hardening as he continued, "Ever since I was born, I've known I was different from you humans—better, stronger, with powers that set me apart. I've lived among you my whole life, but I never felt like I belonged... until I found the brotherhood. Now I have a real home."

"In my old life I fought against the west, against the disease that is capitalism, but I realise now the only disease are human beings," he added before spitting on the ground. Samir raised his hands then with a malicious grin spreading across his face, his palms beginning to gleam with an unnatural sheen as sweat beaded and changed into volatile nitroglycerin that started to crackle.

Samir launched another explosion from his palms with a shout as the nitroglycerin ignited in a flash, hurling a wave of force directly at Mark, who clapped his hands together to create a concussive blast that canceled out the incoming detonation and scattered sparks across the floor.

Without missing a beat, he blitzed forward and grabbed Samir by the shirt collar, lifting him off the ground,"This isn't the way, Samir... I get it, mutants have it rough out there, and the world's scared of what it doesn't understand, but blowing up a convention and killing innocents isn't fighting for your people; it's just making enemies and turning the whole world against mutants, giving them every reason to hate you," he said firmly.

"You're a traitor to your own kind," Samir snarled as he spat on Mark's mask, his face contorted in rage, "You side with these weaklings? You think you can lecture me while wearing that ridiculous costume? Our power is a gift and you would use it as a slave to the humans."

Samir twisted in Mark's grip, his skin heated up and sweat poured out, transforming into nitroglycerin that caused his whole body to erupt in a massive explosion from every pore, throwing Mark back through the air while ripping off chunks of his unitard and cape, which tore away from his chest and thighs to expose toned skin glistening with sweat as well as his mask. Mark flipped mid-air, stopped his momentum, and floated there "Damn it," he muttered, as he glanced down at the shreds hanging off him.

"Humans have always hated us," Samir growled while staggering up, wiping blood from his lip before, "They can't accept we're the next step in evolution. The superior ones; Homo sapiens wiped out Neanderthals, so it's only fair we return the favor and rise from their ashes, stronger and purer, with no more hiding in their shadows!" He declared.

He then looked Mark straight in the eye, an almost manic gaze starring directly into his soul. "Kindness? Compassion?" He spat on the ground. "Those have no place here, those concepts don't exist in this world and they mean nothing to higher life forms."

"Superior? By murdering people who just want to help?" Mark shot back as he floated closer with clenched fists, "We are not beasts driven by appetite and fear; we are beings of choice, and choice is the only mark of progress that matters. Our history is not a ladder of the strong crushing the weak, it is a long, stubborn lesson that equality is indivisible, that the rights of one life are the concern of all lives, and that power has meaning only when it protects those who do not have it."

Samir just glared at him, but Mark didn't take any notice and continued speaking.

"You speak of compassion as if it were a defect, as if restraint were weakness, as if equality were a concession granted by the victorious. No. Equality is the starting point, the non-negotiable premise. If your vision demands that others kneel or die, your vision has already failed, because it cannot survive contact with people who have conscience.

We are capable of more than harm; we can reason, we can listen, we can build a future in which strength is measured by how little it is used. Every advance we honor was born from cooperation over conquest, and the simple recognition that the person before you is as real as you are. That is the evolution that matters.

Stand down Samir... please. Choose the harder path: justice without cruelty, power with accountability, purpose without blood. If you cannot, then understand this—your violence ends here, not out of hatred, but out of duty to those you would hurt."

With his face twisting further in rage, Samir rubbed his palms again to build up nitroglycerin and unleashed more explosions, the first detonating to Mark's left and blowing a hole in the wall as debris rained down, the second exploding right under Mark's feet to crack the floor and send shards flying up, and the third whistling straight at his chest. Mark dodged the first by flying right as the blast missed by inches, twisted left for the second while the heat singed his torn suit, and flew up for the third as the fireball passed under him, "You think this proves anything? All I see is a guy too addicted to his own power and too cowardly to try and find another way than senseless killing!"

Diving down fast, Mark aimed his shoulder at Samir's midsection, connecting solidly and sending Samir flying back to slam into the wall, which cracked on impact and gave way, causing him to crash through into the next room amid a cascade of debris where he coughed and pushed rubble off.

"That's enough," Mark said strongly as he floated through the hole and landed in front of Samir, lifting him up by the collar before adding, "I'm taking you in; you've hurt too many today... people who didn't deserve it, folks who don't even know what a mutant is, let alone want to hurt you, so this ends now."

"You... you don't know," Samir groaned while rubbing his palms weakly, "The brotherhood... they showed me the truth; humans are the disease, and we'll cure the world of them!" He groaned out. Rubbing harder as nitroglycerin sparked and an orb formed in his hand, he tried for another explosion, but Mark grabbed the hand quickly and squeezed, stopping the reaction and causing the blast to fizzle out in a puff of smoke.

"It's over," Mark said before tapping Samir lightly on the head, knocking him out as his eyes rolled back and he went limp.

Mark sighed as he lowered him to the ground and turned toward the exhibition room, he had to get that out experiment under control before something happened; only for a female voice to shout from behind him, "Watch out—behind you!"

Spinning too late, Mark took a punch to the jaw that actually stung and sent him crashing through one wall amid exploding dust, then another where metal bent and broke, and a third before he skidded ten feet on the ground, tasting blood in his mouth.

Pushing up, he looked back to see a large man kneeling by Samir and checking his pulse, murmuring, "You okay, brother? Hang in there, we got you."

Mark wiped his mouth and zoomed back with the air whistling, drawing his fist for a strike, though his eyes widened when he saw someone step out "Who the hell—"

An incredibly fat blond man stepped in the path to block like a wall, and Mark's punch hit his chest with an echo that felt like concrete, pushing him back several feet as his feet skidded and left deep grooves in the floor. The blond man's eyes widened as he exclaimed, "What the—nobody moves me like that! How'd you do that?"

"Who are you?" Mark demanded while hovering ready with fists up.

"Get up and go, take Samir outta here!" the fat man barked at the large one, squaring his shoulders before adding, "I'll handle this clown in the ripped-up tights—go, now!"

"I don't think so." Mark moved fast by zooming around the fat man, aiming at the large man's head as he stood up, and connecting harder with a loud crack that dropped him, cratering the ground with a thud and leaving him down, out cold.

The fat man swung wide with his fist cutting the air, but Mark ducked under it as the swing missed by a large margin, then punched the gut solidly with no give as the fat man didn't budge.

"That all you got?" the fat man said with a grin.

Mark hit stronger in the same spot with force that thumped, but the fat man laughed, declaring, "I'm the Blob, kid, you can't hurt me; swing all day, and I'll just stand here and watch you tire out."

"Oh yeah?" Mark grinned before zooming left to punch the arm with a thud, right for the leg with another thud, and circling faster to land punches on the chest with thud thud, then the side with more thuds, dozens per second as each hit echoed like gunfire.

The Blob grunted while trying to grab Mark with hands that swiped empty air, "Stand still, you flying pest! I'll squash you!" He growled.

Mark kept going with a punch to the ribs, to the back, to the shoulder, building speed as the Blob swung again and missed, the punches piling on until the Blob started to sway. Mark finished with an uppercut at half power that hit under the chin with a crack, lifting the Blob off his feet by two feet before he crashed down hard, shaking the ground and going out cold.

Mark pushed him over with a boot, "Stay down," he commanded.

As he walked arches the giant of the man collapse on the ground he started to think about the brotherhood or whatever they had called them. 'A mutant terrorist group? That sounds dangerous,' he thought to himself. He'd need to get more information on them, how many there were, their powers. He had to stop more incidents like this from happening.

He was soon broken out of his thoughts when the girl and boy called for help with panic in their voices, "Hey—over here! It's getting worse! Hurry!" They shouted.

Mark zoomed over, "What's wrong—" The floor crumbled under them as cracks spread fast and blue energy shone through, pulsing brightly to light their faces while the light grew and the energy buzzed louder.

"Get out now," Mark instructed them, a stern expresssion on his face, "Can you help your father?" He asked the boy, to which the boy nodded resolutely by grabbing his arm for support, "Alright get going."

"I can shut it off if I have a minute to study it," the girl said with resolutely, "I know the basics, Reed showed me how it worked," she added.

"No Sue it's too dangerous," her father said while shaking his head, "We need to run now while we still can," he insisted.

"If we don't stop it Dad then who knows what might happen? It could level the block!" she argued.

Mark hesitated as he looked at the cracks and felt the energy buzz louder, then nodded, "Okay let's go," before picking her up and telling her, "Hold on tight." He flew across the room and through a floor hole where debris fell around them, a chunk missing his head by inches and another grazing his arm, into the basement where the air shook and vibrated with static energy.

Two people were there: a skinny guy with glasses trapped under rubble, passed out, and a larger man heaving at the rubble with all his might though sweat poured down his face from the effort without success.

Mark set her down, "Get started on the device," he told her to which she nodded and ran to it.

Mark zoomed to the man who was murmuring, "Come on, Reed, buddy, you can't do this now; wake up!" under his breath in worry.

The man startled at Mark's touch, "Whoa! who are you?" He shouted in fright.

"Don't worry, I'll get him out," Mark said before lifting the rubble with ease, "Take your friend and get out—fast." He told the man who quickly worked to get his friend out.

"Thanks, man," the larger one said gratefully as he hoisted Reed over his shoulder with a grunt, "Come on, we gotta get you out, hang in there."

Mark joined the girl at the device where she pressed buttons on the console with rapid keystrokes that danced across the flickering screens. Mark scanned it, tracing the energy flows, stabilizers, and anchors, realizing this was a trans-dimensional teleportation device. "Shit if this does blow up the whole city is going to be irradiated with cosmic radiation," Mark commented as he watched her work.

"How did you know that?" she asked in shock while glancing up. She didn't expect the big buff hero in front of her to be a geeky science nerd type.

"It's a trans dimensional teleporter, you can tell from the way the generated energy is trying to bend space," Mark replied, as he pointed at the screen.

"That's exactly it," she replied, the shock still apparent on her face. "It's a prototype for jumps between dimensions."

The larger man chuckled, "Think he's just a big dumb brute? Guy's got brains under the mask." or at least what used to be his mask. 'There goes my secret identity...' he thought to himself.

The woman turned back to the screen and refocused on trying to get everything under control and shut down the device; but she struggled as error codes kept flashing red and the energy surged in erratic pulses that shook the walls, causing more debris to fall while, "It's not responding, damn it!" She said hitting the console.

"What can I di to help?" Mark asked.

"Those pylons, I can't control them remotely; I need access but they need to be done one by one, in sequence," she explained, as she pointed to each one of the pylons that surrounded the building energy in the middle.

"Easy. I'll get right on it," Mark said. "Just give me the signal."

"Now! Northwest!" she shouted abruptly.

Mark rocketed across the basement, weaving between cracked pillars and hanging cables. He reached the first pylon. He gripped the maintenance rail, slid back the panel, and exposed the control lattice. His fingers flew across the interface. With a press, twist, and a quick bypass, the pylon pulsed, a blue ring formed around its top.

"Eastern pair!" she called.

Mark took off, flying low under a collapsed support beam. He skidded to a stop before the next two pylons, positioned side by side. The left one sparked intermittently. He knelt, accessed the primary node beneath the casing, and rotated the calibration dial until the current aligned with the system's magnetic field. It locked with a click. The right one required a more hands on bypass. He extended his finger and jammed it into the conduit. The lights blinked twice, and the energy field wrapped neatly around both pylons as they synced.

"Southern, then central relay!" she barked.

The core in the center of the room roared louder, shedding arcs of plasma. The walls groaned under the pressure, and the concrete floor split down the middle. Mark blitzed to the southern pylon. Smoke veiled its base, and a loose cable snapped toward him like a whip. He dodged it, slammed his palm against the access pad and tore it off. When it opened he rotated the inner core chamber manually, aligning the internal rings with the main hub. The pylon surged into harmony with the rest.

One left.

He shot upward,, and flew toward the central relay. Sparks showered the room as the core's charge intensified. He landed in a crouch, slid the locking bracket open, and triggered the last override using a short-range pulse from its own power cell. The central relay lit up in sequence with the rest.

All five pylons stabilized. The energy field around the core locked into perfect balance.

Then, without warning, the core flared. A sudden spike of power burst outward in a flood of blinding blue light, so bright it swallowed the room in an instant and left everything shaking. The ground lurched as if something massive had just slammed into the foundation from below, and the walls cracked louder than before, lines spreading fast across the concrete like glass under pressure.

"What's happening?" Mark shouted, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes as the light grew harsher, stepping in front of her to block the wild bursts of energy that cracked through the air.

"I don't know!" she said, panic etched into her voice as her fingers flew across the keys, the glow of the screen flickering with error after error. Her eyes darted over the diagnostics, scanning lines of code that kept rewriting themselves, until the truth hit her like a punch to the chest and she froze, "It's been sabotaged! The whole system's locked, there's no override!" She cried out as she looked at Mark hopelessly.

Mark cursed under his breath before shooting to the main console in a blur, his narrowing as he scanned the cascade of red error codes flooding the screen, his hands started moving in sync with his thoughts as he began parsing the corrupted data.

She stood frozen for a second, face pale with horror as the energy pulsing from the core turned violent, surging outward in rapid bursts that jumped between the pylons like chained lightning, the arcs thickening with each pulse until they began to carve scars into the concrete and metal, the air filling with a crackling roar that seemed to shake the air itself, promising a catastrophic chain reaction that would tear the building apart and take the city with it.

"It's not over," Mark said with a calm voice and a smile as he looked at the woman, while rerouting the power into the auxiliary conduits buried beneath the foundation, locking in commands to amplify the magnetic containment fields and force the unstable anomaly inward instead of letting it expand, building toward a self-sustaining implosion that would fold the entire breach back onto itself.

"What's your name?" He asked the woman trying to keep her calm. "I'm Mark, its good to meet you, tho you I could think of better circumstances."

The woman found herself laughing despite herself. "I'm Susan, but my friends call me Sue," she replied.

"Then don't worry Sue, everything is going to be fine," Mark said with a grin, before getting back to work.

She moved to his side, watching the paths he created on the display as the energy matrix shifted from spiraling chaos into a loop of folded fields, her skepticism faded fast as she saw him reinforcing the magnetic lattice, building containment in multiple layers, feeding the energy back into the system until it passed the threshold and began pulling inward, the external surge now collapsing toward its own center.

Her mind raced as she ran the math, visualizing exponential energy decay curves and compression thresholds, calculating the radius of the implosion and realizing with a sharp intake of breath that it would consume the building in radiation but collapse with enough control to prevent a full-scale detonation, allowing the radiation to be absorbed and redirected as raw force back into the grid with minimal external fallout. "That's genius..." she couldn't help but mutter.

Mark confirmed the sequence with one final keystroke, locking in the override and sealing the containment protocol as the timer ticked down in red, and without a word he scooped her up into a secure hold, his arms locked around her as he launched them both down the corridor with a shockwave already building behind them, the roar of it shaking the foundations as the core began its collapse.

He moved as fast as he could, threading between steel supports that cracked and snapped under the pressure, diving through walls that had already begun to give way, energy tendrils lashing out from behind like whips made of raw plasma that tore through concrete and air alike. Bursting through the basement ceiling, he broke into the main lobby where the others stood waiting in a cluster, still having not gotten out yet, the old man gripping the boy's hand while the two men looked toward the stairs with wide eyes, the walls already groaning as the force of the collapse reached upward through the building.

Mark set her down beside them, barely touching the ground before turning again, as he prepared to launch back toward the breach, but her voice stopped him. lWhat are you doing?" she shouted as the walls cracked deeper and the lights above shattered in sparks.

"I can't leave them," Mark said without looking back, then he vanished into the collapsing hallwa, flying through smoke and falling debris as he swept through the rubble, collecting the unconscious mutants left behind in the blast zone, lifting them over his shoulders, their bodies limp as the walls began to fall around him.

'Shit,' he thought as the floor behind him gave way and a wave of plasma erupted upward through the breach, flooding the space with a surge of energy that lit the air in blue-white flame, burning with a intense fire that passed through every layer of matter.

He exploded through the lobby again, flying under beams that fell like guillotines, avoiding deadly rainfalls of steel and stone as he shouted to the others, voice echoing through the chamber, "Get out, now!"

The detonation wave was right behind him now, pulsing with force that twisted the air into shimmering sheets of distorted light, and with no time to hesitate he threw the unconscious mutants through the shattered entrance, their bodies tumbling to safety as the explosion neared critical mass. Turning, he lunged for the others, arms stretching to gather them in one final desperate sweep, but the wave caught him first, slamming into them all with a surge of energy that passed through flesh and bone like lightning through water, burning and freezing at once, every nerve ending alight as their cells drank in the foreign radiation and began to shift.

The world vanished in a white blaze.

_____________________________________

"In the aftermath of last week's shocking attack on the downtown Marriott research facility, officials have confirmed that the explosion was the result of a coordinated strike by a rogue mutant faction, believed to be protesting the center's ongoing work in reversing genetic deformities through synthetic gene therapy."

"Initial estimates suggested dozens, possibly hundreds, would be killed in the resulting plasma detonation," she continued, her voice swelling with emotion, "but what happened next... changed everything."

She paused, leaning forward slightly as the screen shifted to blurry cellphone footage of a blue and white blur streaking through the collapsing structure, caught in split-second frames of light and impact.

"A hero appeared. We don't know his name. We don't know where he came from. But sources from inside the investigation now confirm that this individual not only saved nearly every person inside that building, including staff, security, and even several of the attackers—but he also stopped the expanding energy wave before it could consume half the block. According to experts, the containment sequence he triggered rerouted the energy inward and collapsed the anomaly before it could destabilize further."

"We may never know who you are," she said, "but from the bottom of our hearts, thank you."

The screen faded to a still image of the Baxter Foundation's logo. Magneto reached forward and turned the volume down with a thought, the dial sliding silently beneath his power.

"Find out who he is," he said without turning.

Mystique stepped forward. "If he's one of us?"

Magneto's eyes didn't leave the screen.

"Bring him to me."

"And if he isn't?"

He didn't blink.

"Kill him."

_____________________________________

"In the aftermath of last week's shocking attack on the downtown Marriott research facility, officials have confirmed that the explosion was the result of a coordinated strike by a rogue mutant faction, believed to be protesting the center's ongoing work in reversing genetic deformities through synthetic gene therapy."

"Initial estimates suggested dozens, possibly hundreds, would be killed in the resulting plasma detonation," she continued, her voice swelling with emotion, "but what happened next... changed everything."

She paused, leaning forward slightly as the screen shifted to blurry cellphone footage of a blue and white blur streaking through the collapsing structure, caught in split-second frames of light and impact.

"A hero appeared. We don't know his name. We don't know where he came from. But sources from inside the investigation now confirm that this individual not only saved nearly every person inside that building, including staff, security, and even several of the attackers—but he also stopped the expanding energy wave before it could consume half the block. According to experts, the containment sequence he triggered rerouted the energy inward and collapsed the anomaly before it could destabilize further."

"We may never know who you are," she said, "but from the bottom of our hearts, thank you."

The screen cut to another headline.

"In other news, five individuals caught in the same cosmic radiation event that nearly destroyed the building have now been transferred into the care of the Baxter Foundation. Franklin Storm, along with his children Susan and Johnny Storm, and researchers Reed Richards and Ben Grimm, were all exposed to a high concentration of experimental energy during the implosion. While their conditions remain classified, all five have undergone what officials describe as 'extraordinary physiological changes' and will now work under strict supervision to assist with both recovery efforts and further containment research."

Mark exhaled slowly and reached for the remote, his thumb pressing the power button without hesitation. The screen went black.

From where she sat curled up on his lap, Natalie glanced up at him, her cheek resting against his chest. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Mark shook his head, the motion gentle. "It's just tiring to watch. They've been playing it over and over."

She smirked and poked at his ribs lightly. "It was a big deal."

"Yeah yeah," Mark said, smiling now as he wrapped both arms around her and shifted, pulling her closer with a grin. "But there's something else I'd rather do instead."

Natalie giggled, her voice soft and warm against his neck as she laughed and let him draw her in. Mark leaned down and captured Natalie's lips in a deep kiss, his hands sliding up her back to pull her flush against him as their mouths moved together with building heat that made her heart race. She responded eagerly, parting her lips to let his tongue slip in and explore, tasting her sweetness while he nipped at her bottom lip just hard enough to draw a soft gasp from her. "Mmm," she moaned, shifting on his lap to straddle him fully, her thighs pressing against his hips as she ground down slowly, feeling his growing hardness through his pants and rubbing against it in circles that teased them both.

The kiss intensified as he nipped harder, making her arch into him, her fingers tangling in his hair to tug gently and draw a low groan from his throat that vibrated against her mouth. "You drive me crazy," he murmured against her lips, as one hand slipped under her shirt, fingers tracing her bare skin up to her bra before unhooking it with a quick flick that let her breasts spill free. Natalie arched further, "Ahh," moaning when his thumb brushed her nipple, circling it slowly until it hardened under his touch, sending sparks of pleasure straight to her core.

She yanked at his shirt impatiently, pulling it off to expose his toned chest, her nails raking lightly down his abs as she leaned in to kiss him again, hungrier now, her body rocking against his erection with more urgency. "I love how hard you get for me," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear as she reached down to palm him through his pants, feeling him twitch under her hand.

Mark groaned, his hips bucking up instinctively, before flipping them so she was beneath him on the couch, his weight pinning her in place as he peeled off her shirt and bra completely, his mouth latching onto one breast to suck firmly while his hand kneaded the other.

"You taste so good," he said, as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, "I want to feel you come for me." Natalie whimpered, "Mmm, yes," as his free hand dipped into her pants, fingers sliding over her panties to rub her clit through the damp fabric, feeling her wetness soak through and coat his fingertips. She bucked against his hand, grinding for more friction, "Ahh, Mark," moaning louder when he pushed the panties aside and slipped two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that perfect spot deep within while his thumb circled her clit.

He pumped slowly at first, building the pressure as she clenched around him, then faster, his fingers thrusting in and out with slick sounds that filled the room. "You're so wet for me already," he growled, kissing down her stomach while hooking his fingers deeper, making her hips lift off the couch. Natalie gripped his hair, pulling him lower, "Mmm, don't stop," moaning as he pulled off her pants and underwear in one smooth motion, spreading her legs wide to expose her completely.

Mark lowered his mouth to her pussy, tongue licking her folds in long, flat strokes before sucking on her clit. "Ahh, yes!" she moaned, her thighs trembling as he ate her out relentlessly, his fingers still thrusting deep to stretch her while his tongue flicked faster. She came hard after a few more strokes, clenching around his fingers with a cry of "Ahh!" her body shaking as waves of pleasure rolled through her, leaving her breathless and slick.

Mark pulled back, licking his lips with a satisfied grin as he shed his pants and boxers, freeing his thick cock that stood hard and wss leaking pre-cum. He positioned himself between her legs, rubbing the tip against her slick entrance to tease her, coating himself in her wetness. "You ready for me?" he asked.

"Yes, fuck me!" she begged, pulling him down for a messy kiss as he thrust inside her in one smooth motion, filling her completely and stretching her walls around his length. He groaned at the tight heat enveloping him, holding still for a moment to let her adjust before starting with deep strokes that built to a faster rhythm, his hips snapping against hers with each push. Natalie wrapped her legs around him, nails digging into his back, "Mmm, harder," moaning as he pounded into her, their bodies slapping together.

"You're so tight... fuck, you feel amazing," he said, slamming deeper as she met his thrusts, her pussy clenching around him with every slide. He flipped her over onto her hands and knees without pulling out, gripping her hips to thrust even harder from behind, one hand reaching around to rub her clit in quick circles. "Come for me again, I want to feel you squeeze my cock," he growled, angling his hips to hit her g-spot repeatedly.

"Ahh, yes! right there!" she moaned, pushing back to take him deeper as the pressure built, her second orgasm crashing over her and making her walls flutter around him. Mark followed soon after, thrusting a few more times before he thrust as deep as he could letting his cum erupt inside her, filling her completely and triggering another mini orgasm for her. They collapsed together on the couch, breathing heavy and tangled in each other, her head on his chest as he held her close, tracing lazy patterns on her back while they caught their breath.

...

Mark's breathing was quiet now, his arm draped loosely around Natalie's waist, his chest rising and falling slowly indictating he was in a deep sleep, something that he'd been doing a lot since the Marriott explosion. For a while, Natalie let herself stay there, curled against him, listening to the silence of the apartment and the beating of his heart. But after a few more minutes, she carefully untangled herself, moving carefully to keep from waking him.

She slid off the couch, her bare feet quiet on the floor, and crossed the room to the bathroom. Natalie stood in front of the mirror, her eyes scanning her own reflection, her hair was tousled, her make up was smeared, but she liked it... she liked the reason behind it.  She turned away but paused as she looked at her phone. She picked it up. She had tried to ignore it, but she couldn't, her cover was in danger of being blown.

UNKNOWN:

"Meet me. Address attached."

Below the text was a pinpoint location in Hell's Kitchen.

A second message was below it, this time a video.

She tapped it, and the screen lit up with shaky footage from the Marriott explosion. Smoke filled the frame, debris raining down, people screaming. Then, from the corner, she saw herself flipping over a flipped SUV , rushing forward and scooping a crying child out from under falling rubble before vanishing into the smoke again.

Natalie stared at it in silence, her jaw tightening. Her hand twitched at her side, curling into a fist, and for a split second she drew it back, ready to drive it into the mirror. But she stopped herself just in time, breathing hard through her nose. While it wasn't damning evidence it would cast her in a suspicious light, and it would only take one crack before more started to appear.

She turned back to the phone and typed.

NATALIE:

"When."

The reply came instantly.

UNKNOWN:

"Now."

Her grip tightened around the phone. Whoever this was, they didn't just have footage, they had her name, her number, and knew enough to reach out.

Shit.

She couldn't go to Shield yet, if she told them then they would just er on the safe side and pull her out... but she didn't want to be pulled out. She didn't want to go. Not yet at least. She turned off the bathroom light and moved fast, quietly pulling open the drawer beneath the sink, reaching to the back and grabbing her emergency gear. Tight black jacket. Dark jeans. Boots that didn't make a sound. She clipped the sidearm to her belt, just in case, and covered it with her coat. She moved back into the living room and looked at Mark still sleeping peacefully on the couch.

She slipped out the door and into the night.

'Shit,' she thought again as she turned the corner onto the street. She'd seen the address before. Been there once or twice when Mark brought her around early on. She knew the owner quite well.

Luke's Bar.

Inside, the bar was mostly empty. The lights were dim. No music played. Just the clink of a glass being set down behind the counter. Luke stood alone at the bar, polishing a glass. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers with no surprise at all.

Natalie's stomach turned.

Luke leaned against the bar, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he fixed Natalie with an angry gaze. "Who are you really, and what do you want with Mark?" He finally spoke.

Natalie blinked, her expression shifting to one of wide-eyed confusion that would have fooled most people. "What do you mean Luke you know who I am—Mark's girlfriend. We've met before. Was it you who sent me the messsge? That wasn't very nice you know, especially videoing me like that."

Luke didn't smile or soften, instead reaching under the bar to pull out a manila envelope that he slid across the counter toward her. "Don't play dumb with me. I did some digging after I recorded that footage, and it turns out you and Mark have met before, long before you say you did."

Natalie opened the envelope slowly, pulling out a stack of grainy CCTV printouts from the Stark Expo, the images showing her in a sleek dress weaving through the crowd during the drone attack. She kept her face neutral, but inside her mind raced, wondering how he had gotten these since SHIELD protocols should have wiped every server clean months ago, leaving no trace of Natalie Rushman or her involvement.

"I checked the guest list," Luke said as he tapped one of the photos where her face was clearest. "Natalie Roma never went to the Stark Expo, though a Natalie Rushman did; some notary or assistant tied to Stark Industries back then."

Natalie felt a jolt of shock run through her, but she hid it behind a small, disbelieving laugh, tucking the photos back into the envelope. "This is crazy. Must be a mix-up or a lookalike, people say that all the time."

"Stop pretending," Luke said, his voice rising just enough to show the edge of frustration as he leaned forward. "Tell me who you are and what you want with Mark, or I'll go straight to him myself."

Natalie hesitated, her hand inching toward her coat where the sidearm was hidden, her training kicking in with the instinct to neutralize the threat, but she stopped herself, exhaling slowly as she met his eyes. "I am a government agent, though I won't say which agency."

"That's fine, I don't care about that," Luke replied, his expression unchanging. "Only what your plans are for my friend."

"Observation mostly," she admitted quietly. "Find any weaknesses, his intentions for being here on Earth." She didn't find any joy or relief in the truth coming out, the weight that had been on her for weeks just seemed to grow heavier.

Luke's face darkened with disgust, his fists clenching on the bar as anger flashed in his eyes. "He really likes you, you know. You're one of the only things he talks about; lights up like I've never seen when he mentions your name," he growled out as he looked at her. "He has to know the truth," Luke said after a beat. "You need to tell Mark everything."

Panic surged through Natalie, her eyes widening slightly as she leaned forward, her voice urgent and pleading. "Please—"

Luke cut her off. "Mark is my best friend and one of the best people I know," Luke said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to let you keep stringing him along like this."

"I'm not!" Natalie shouted abruptly, her usual calm facade cracking as her voice echoed in the empty bar, her hands trembling on the counter.

A moment of silence stretched between them after her outburst, Luke just stood there looking at her while Natalie looked down at the bar; the mask she wore having fully dropped away. "I'm not pretending," she said quieter now, her voice breaking just a little as she looked down. "At first, Mark was just like any other assignment, in fact, it seemed easy to get into his life and start dating. But as it went on, and I spent every day with him, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into a pit until it got to the point I missed him whenever he left for the day, even if it was just to grab coffee."

"He just has a way with people," she continued, her eyes distant as the words flowed more freely. "He looks at me as if I'm so beautiful... he makes me believe it too—even after everything I've done, he makes me believe I'm beautiful."

"He rushed off to save people at the Marriott," she added, "I've never met such an incredible person."

"I love him... I don't know how or when it happened, but I feel it," she finished, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as a tear escaped.

"If Natalie Roma is the one who gets to be with Mark, then that's the only person I ever want to be," she whispered.

Silence filled the bar again, Natalie felt herself being crushed under the weight of her own guilt, the weight of her regret and the weight of her sadness that all of this was coming to an end. The silence was unbroken until Luke sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I believe you," he said finally. "You seem to have it bad for Mark—real bad."

"But you can't keep lying to him," he added, "Not about something this big... he deserves the truth."

Natalie nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping as she stood up from the stool. "You're right. He needs to know... I just... I just wanted this to last a little longer."

She turned toward the door, pausing to look back at him. "Luke... you're a good friend."

_____________________________________

(Five Months later)

For days, the world couldn't stop talking about him.

He had no official title. No agency claimed him. No way to see his entire face, only a name that had begun to spread across headlines, feeds, and conversations like fire through dry grass.

Invincible.

The name came from a paramedic that was on the scene during the Marriott explosion.

"He flew straight into the breach. Walked out carrying six people with concrete falling all around him. Not a scratch on him. I don't know what else to call someone like that. He looked invincible."

That clip played everywhere.

From there, the flood began.

On television, anchors reported it to death, especially when Invincible started to show up again. "

This is the seventh confirmed incident where Invincible has intervened in a major disaster, appearing and disappearing without a trace. Authorities still have no idea who he is, or how he does what he does."

On the street, people had their own theories.

"He's military, has to be. You don't fly like that unless someone trained you and given you some pretty high tech."

"No way. He's not one of us. Not even close. My cousin said he saw him lift a freight truck with one hand."

"I think he's a mutant. Or maybe an alien. He just shows up, and then gone. You ever see him land? No? Exactly."

Some loved him.

An elderly woman interviewed outside a damaged apartment complex clasped her hands over her chest and smiled.

"I don't care if he's from Mars. He saved my little grandson. That's all I need to know."

A child in a hospital gown held up a crayon drawing: a man flying above flames, smiling as he pulled people from wreckage.

Others were less trusting.

"What's he hiding? Nobody's that selfless without an angle," one political pundit growled on a morning panel. "It's possible that he's an experimental android made by the Russians, he's here to infiltrate us and gain our trust... then BAM!!!"

The Daily Bugle ran the headline:

"SAVIOR OR THREAT? WHO HOLDS INVINCIBLE ACCOUNTABLE?"

The New York Times countered with:

"INVINCIBLE UNMASKED? Speculation Runs Wild Over Hero's Identity"

Meanwhile, a blurry video surfaced online—unofficial footage of Invincible holding a collapsing bridge in place while families ran across it.

"It looked like his arms were breaking," the witness said. "But he didn't move. He just held. Then he flew off. Like it was nothing, without even asking for anything in return."

People began to wonder if he ever slept. If he ever ate. If he even bled.

A conspiracy podcast released a three-part series arguing that Invincible was not a person at all, but a weapon—"a living satellite"—deployed by some unknown government or alien force.

"He doesn't talk to the press. Doesn't take credit. Doesn't even stay long enough to be thanked. That doesn't seem the slight bit suspicious to you? Exactly it's because he's not a man at all but a mechanical being."

He became trending hashtags, midnight debates, university essays.

#InvincibleSavesAgain

#WhoIsInvincible

#NYsFinestFlyer

#MutantOrMartian

On Facebook, a poll under the profile of New York Style Magazine asked:

"Is Invincible the hottest man in New York?"

✔️ Yes

⬜ No

⬜ I want to marry him

One talk show brought in a panel of celebrities just to answer one question: "Would you date Invincible?"

A social media influencer with three million followers tearfully declared: "He flew past my building once. I saw him. I just felt it. That's my man and he doesn't even know it."

Some people hated him.

Some worshipped him.

Most felt happy to know he was looking out for them.

And at the center of it all... Mark. Sitting alone in his apartment. Watching the screen flicker as another news segment played. He rubbed a hand over his face, and reached for the remote.

Click.

The screen went black, and Mark breathed heavily before getting up.

Truth be told he had been in a rut.

Since the truth came out about Natalie something inside him had hollowed out. She had tried to explain herself and reassure him that she wasn't lying that at first it might've been a lie but it wasn't now. He wasn't a sucker though, he'd grown up in Gotham city and wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.

It hadn't broken him, but it had carved something out of him.

And what filled the space was work.

If someone needed saving, he was there. Fire, flood, traffic pileup, armed robbery, missing hiker, collapsing building—Invincible never stopped. His new suit reflected that, reinforced polymers, lightweight Kevlar, he'd gotten in touch with Tony Stark for that, who was more than happy to help since he owed him one from the Stark Expo.

He never did any interviews and he rarely spoke to anyone or stuck around. He just offered whatever help he could before leaving.

Tonight, though, he was home—at least in body.

He moved slowly through the apartment, peeled the suit off and set it down on the kitchen counter. The city lights cast pale orange squares across the floor. His limbs felt fine, no worse than usual, but his mind was heavy. Like his thoughts had weights tied to them.

He cracked open the fridge and grabbed a beer.

He leaned against the counter and took a sip, eyes falling on a familiar sight.

Two salt and pepper shakers, shaped like little penguins. Stupid, wobbly, ceramic things. Natalie had bought them. Said he needed something in his apartment that wasn't black, grey, or emotionally repressed.

Mark stared at them. For a moment, they were louder than the city outside. He picked them up slowly and slid them into a cabinet. Out of sight.

Knock knock.

He set the beer down and walked to the door. When he opened it, Jessica Jones stormed in without waiting for permission. "Where's your whiskey?" she asked.

"Top cupboard," Mark muttered, while rolling his eyes.

Luke Cage followed, far more polite, and pulled Mark in for a firm handshake and a tight hug, "You doing good, brother?" He asked.

Mark nodded. "Hanging in there."

Jessica was already halfway through twisting the cap off the bottle when Mark stepped back inside.

"Hey, don't drink all of it," he said. "That's the good stuff."

Jessica took a long swig straight from the neck. "Why do you think we're friends? You're the only guy I know packing hundred-dollar liquor."

Mark rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle from her, pouring two glasses—one for himself, one for Luke—before tossing it back to her. She caught it with one hand before winking at him and taking a big gulp from it. It had taken time for them to get here, the two of them. Jessica and Mark had not hit it off at first.

When they first met, Jessica had walked into Trish's apartment and punched him square in the jaw. Accused him of abusing Trish. Said she'd seen the bruises. Of course it had been the result of some rather rough sex between the two, and that Trish just liked it rough. Of course Jessica didn't believe him. And was ready to beat him bloody over the idea that he wasn't treating her best friend right.

Once the misunderstanding was cleared, they... adjusted. He respected that she was willing to fight for someone she loved. She respected that he didn't gold a grudge over it. And after a few awkward drinks and a lot of grumbling, they realized they weren't so different. Jessica was glad she found someone similar to herself. Since then, he, Jessica, and Luke had become something close to a unit. They were also the only two people who knew he was Invincible. Jessica figured it out herself—PI instincts—and Luke had been there during the Marriott incident.

"So what's this about?" Mark asked, settling onto the couch.

Jessica stretched out on the other end, boots up, drink in hand. She flicked on the TV.

"Was his idea," she said, gesturing lazily toward Luke with the neck of the bottle. "He thinks you've been depressed and working too hard."

Mark looked at Luke, who let out a slow sigh, "You're my friend Mark," Luke said. "I've been worried."

Mark shrugged. "I feel great."

Jessica snorted. "Sure you do."

"Hey I am!" Mark replied.

She smirked. "You look like a puppy about to be put down."

Mark flicked a bottle cap at her. It hit her square in the forehead. "Hey!" she snapped, and whipped a throw pillow at him. It caught him in the chest.

"Mark," Luke said interrupting them, "you've been throwing yourself into this hero thing. And yeah, that's good. People need someone like you. But you've been going nonstop. Every day. You don't sleep. You don't take time for yourself."

"I don't need as much sleep," Mark muttered.

"Doesn't mean you should skip it for three days at a time," Luke shot back.

"He's right," Jessica added, "You've been brooding like a ghost since that Natalie mess. Dude, you need to get over her already."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," they both said in unison.

Mark let out a long breath. "Fine. Maybe I have a little." He drained the whiskey in one long gulp.

"But it's over now. Natalie or whatever her name is, used me. Lied to me. It's done. I just need time. I'll get over her."

Luke and Jessica exchanged a glance.

Then Luke leaned forward. "Listen... we think you should take a break. Not quit. Just—shift gears. Recharge. And I figured maybe you could circle back to that teleportation device. The one from the Marriott."

"You said you wanted to reverse engineer it," Jessica said. "Make it less 'likely to vaporize a city block.'"

Mark nodded. "Yeah, but I needed Reed Richards for that. And the he's still locked down in the Baxter Building."

Luke nodded. "I heard. Which is why I found someone else."

He reached into his coat and slid a file across the table.

Mark raised an eyebrow.

Jessica scoffed. "Creepy that you have a file on someone you're not investigating, by the way."

Luke ignored her. "Dr. Jane Foster. Astrophysicist. Recently started working on Einstein-Rosen bridges—interdimensional travel. The kind of thing that overlaps with that device."

Mark flipped through the file. Publications. Credentials. Field data. excerpts. "This... actually sounds interesting," he said.

"So you'll do it?" Luke asked.

Mark leaned back, thought about it. Then sighed. "Fine. I have been a little tired lately. A break might help."

"Wooo!" Jessica whooped, raising her drink. "Now can we get drunk?"

"No problem here," Luke said, snatching the bottle from her hands.

Mark laughed, before looking at his friends, grateful that he had them. "Let's get the party started."