Life can Change: What a Marvel Part 3 Update (10k -> 25k) (Patreon)

(Continuation of my Mark in the MCU, still not done yet and will probably end up being one of the longest parts tbh, since that’s the case I’m just letting everyone read it. Anyway enjoy.)

In a high-security conference room within a classified SHIELD facility. Nick Fury stood in the centre of the room with numerous screens surrounding him, each one displaying a blurred figure. "Director Fury," Hawley began, "Mark Grayson is an unprecedented security risk to global stability. Every day he operates as this... Invincible, acting as a hero without our permission, without oversight, he undermines the structures we've built to maintain order. An individual with that power cannot roam unchecked."

Fury tilted his head, barely concealing an annoyed expression. "With all due respect, Councilor, Grayson's not a risk, he's a kid doing what he thinks is right. He's not out there starting wars or toppling governments; he's pulling people out of burning buildings. You call that a threat?"

Alexander Pierce cleared his throat. "Intentions don't negate capability, Director. He can level cities, cross continents in minutes, and answers to no one. What happens when his version of 'the right thing' shifts? We need him under control... our control."

Fury snorted, leaning forward. "Control? You think you can leash someone like Grayson without him noticing? He's not some asset you can lock in a vault. He's a person, Pierce, and he's doing more good out there than half the ops we've greenlit in the last decade."

Gideon Malick, smirked coldly. "Your reports say he's resisted SHIELD's overtures Fury which makes him unpredictable. Unpredictable is dangerous. The Marriott incident proved he can act before we can even get a team out there, without our clearance."

Yen tapped the table. "He's a vigilante, making decisions that should be ours. The public loves him now, every day their trust grows in him, having that many followers is dangerous, and that's not even mentioning the Mutants who will come out of hiding now—inspired by his actions."

Singh nodded in agreement. "The data's clear, his power levels are off the charts, and who knows if that cosmic radiation exposure affected him like it did the rest of the people at the Marriot. An independent operator with that capability is a liability we cannot tolerate."

Rockwell crossed his arms. "Enough talk. He's a weapon walking free. Every day he's out there, he's a loose cannon. Bring him to our side, Fury, or we'll find someone who can."

Fury's jaw tightened. "You're all missing the point. Grayson's not the enemy, he's not out for power or to cause chaos. He's saving lives because he believes it's right. You force him into a corner, and you'll create the exact problem you're trying to prevent. Give me time to do this my way, or you'll regret it when he pushes back."

Hawley's eyes narrowed. "You've had time, Director. The Council is unanimous, bring Mark Grayson under SHIELD's authority, effective immediately. Use your agents, use incentives, use force if you have to, but he will be on our side or neutralized as a threat. Those are your orders."

Fury leaned back. "I'll work on Grayson, but I'm not dragging him in like some criminal, not when he's doing our job better than we are at keeping people safe. You want him on a leash, you better be ready for the consequences when he breaks it."

Pierce shifted topics, his voice cutting through the standoff. "And your operations in Greenland? We've poured resources into your excavation, what progress have you made?"

Fury's lips pressed into a thin line. "Greenland's been a dry well so far. The site's yielding minimal data, and the conditions are a logistical nightmare. But I'm not ready to pull the plug, it's still a possibility the Valkyrie is in the area."

Malick scoffed. "You're wasting our budget on a hunch, Fury. Shut down the Greenland operation immediately and get back to Project Pegasus. We need results, not another wild goose chase."

Fury crossed his arms tighter, looking up at them with a complete lack of care to any of what they were saying. "I'll redirect resources when I'm convinced Greenland's a dead end. Pegasus is on track, there is no need to redirect resources."

Hawley's face hardened. "You're treading on thin ice, Director. End the Greenland operation, focus on Pegasus, and bring Grayson in now. We're watching you closely, if there is anymore insubordination, then the Council might have a discussion on whether a replacement Director—"

Fury turned and walked out, no longer needing to hear whatever else they were going to say. They'd make their threats and whine at him, but until a better candidate came along they wouldn't do shit to remove him from his position. He stormed down the corridor, his boots echoing off the metal floors as he muttered under his breath. "Stupid sons of bitches, thinking they can micromanage the world from their desks. Grayson is a damn weapon we should be thanking god is on our side, I'm not going to alienate him and potentially turn him against humanity just to satisfy their need for control."

Maria Hill fell into step beside him, her tablet in hand and expression as stern as ever. "Sir."

Fury glanced at her without slowing. "Hill. Status on Grayson?" 

"He's off the grid," Maria replied evenly.

Fury stopped dead, turning to face her with a scowl. "What do you mean off the grid? We have eyes everywhere."

"None of our satellites can track him," she said. "He's just gone, completely vanished from all surveillance."

"Damn it," Fury growled, rubbing his temple. "Find him for me now. Figure out a way to track him that does not rely on these satellites, they've been too unreliable as of late."

"Yes sir," Maria said with a nod. 

They resumed walking, the corridor branching off toward ops as Fury shifted topics without preamble. "What about Romanoff? Likelihood she can reestablish her cover and get back in close?"

Maria hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Unsure, sir. She's still acting strange since her cover was blown.... distant, off her game."

Fury's annoyance flared. "If Romanoff is not up to the task, get someone else on Grayson, I don't want any more mistakes or anything that might trigger the target."

Maria met his gaze steadily. "Understood."

They reached a junction, and Fury peeled off toward his office with a curt nod. "Keep me posted, hourly if you have to."

Maria headed the other way making her way for the training room, the distant thuds of impacts growing louder until she pushed through the door. Natasha was there, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, sports bra clinging to her sweat-slicked skin and tight leggings hugging her form as she hammered a heavy bag with powerful strikes, each hit landing with a loud thud.

Maria waited a moment till she was done before speaking. "Romanoff," she said loud enough to catch her attention. 

Natasha stopped mid-punch, grabbing the bag to steady it as she turned, wiping sweat from her brow and reaching for a water bottle. "Hill. You got something for me?"

Maria leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "Intense session. You working out some frustration?" She said ignoring her question. 

Natasha walked over to a bench and sat down, before she took a long drink, capping the bottle with a shrug. "Just staying in shape. You need something?" She asked again. 

Maria nodded, getting to the point. "It's about the Grayson assignment."

Natasha set the bottle down, her posture straightening. Desperation, excitement, nervousness flashed through her all at once, but was immediately pressed down by the overarching feeling to see him. "I can be ready in an hour," she said, doing a good job of controlling her emotions.

Maria shook her head. "You misunderstand. You're not the chosen agent... we're assigning someone else."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, annoyance flashing across her face. "Why? I know him better than anyone; I am the best choice."

Maria held her ground. "We believe you're emotionally compromised, on top of your cover already being blown. Mark seeing you again could cause him to grow volatile."

Natasha stepped closer, her voice edged with anger. "I'm not compromised and even if my cover is blow I can still reconnect with Mark! I'll spin the story, make it work. You pull me now, you lose the best shot at bringing him in."

Maria listed it out calmly. "Distracted during briefings. Angry outbursts in training. Impulsive decisions. Purposely withholding information on the target. That's compromised, Romanoff."

Natasha just stood there, her fists clenching at her sides as the words sank in, no retort coming this time. She knew she was compromised, but she wanted to see Mark again, she knew if she tried to make contact with him without shields permission then they'd likely throw her in a black site. Everyone was jumpy when it came to Mark, they think the slightest provocation will set him off and he'll destroy the world. 'Shows how little they know him...' she thought to herself. 

Maria softened her tone slightly. "A new agent's been assigned... I came here to tell you that you'll  be briefing her on everything she needs to know."

Natasha opened her mouth to argue again, but paused mid-sentence, her face paling as she clamped a hand over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom, dropping to her knees by the toilet to throw up violently.

Maria rushed after her, kneeling beside her with concern. "Natasha! Are you okay?"

Natasha heaved again, spitting into the bowl before wiping her mouth shakily. "I'm fine... just not feeling well lately... something I ate, probably."

Maria frowned, still worried but standing up. "Take it easy. Being reassigned from Grayson is for the best right now, trust me."

She left the room, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Natasha alone on the floor, breathing heavily as she leaned against the wall as the nausea slowly ebbed. Her stomach calmed, but her chest felt heavier with every second. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the memory wouldn't loosen its grip. It clung to her like a scar that had etched itself to her very soull.

Mark...

Her reflection in the mirror wavered, her own face blurred by tears she hadn't noticed falling. She tried to force herself to look away, but the past pulled her back.

*Flashback*

Natalie sat stiffly on the edge of Mark's couch in his Harlem apartment, her knees pressed together, her fingers laced tightly in her lap. This was the night. She had told Luke that she was going to tell Mark the truth and tonight was finally the night she was going to do it. She didn't want to. She didn't want this to end. Even now her mind was concocting ways in which she could try and lie or manipulate; all in an effort to keep this amazing thing she found by chance. 

She looked over to the other side of the apartment. Mark moved around the small kitchen, humming under his breath as he poured two glasses of wine. He was relaxed, barefoot, his shirt untucked and his hair messy—just how she liked it. He looked at home, at ease, the way she had grown to love him most.

"Red or white?" he asked, flashing her a grin.

"Red's fine," she murmured. Quieter than she meant, her throat was dry... as if even her own body didn't want her speaking. 

He brought the glasses over, setting one in front of her before dropping onto the couch beside her. The cushions shifted, his shoulder brushing hers, his warmth seeping into her like it always did. He leaned back, one arm slung casually across the back of the couch.

"You're quiet tonight," he said softly. "That's not like you."

She forced a small smile. "Just tired."

Mark studied her face for a moment, then grinned again, trying to lighten the air. "Then it's a good thing I was planning to surprise you. I've been thinking about a trip. Somewhere far, I was thinking maybe Greece or anywhere on the Mediterranean. Just you and me."

Before she could respond, he stood suddenly, pulled her up, and spun her in a circle. She laughed despite the pain in her chest, clinging to his shoulders, her hair brushing his cheek.

"Picture it," he said, lowering her slowly until their foreheads touched. "Sunset on a beach. Drinks with umbrellas. Drinking sex on the beach while having sex on the beach, if you ask now I'm sure you could get some time off."

He kissed her then, and for a moment she almost let herself drown in it, to let the lie stretch just a little longer. Her hands cupped his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. But the words she'd buried pressed harder against her ribs. She broke the kiss, her lips trembling. "Mark, wait. Please... we need to talk."

He blinked, still smiling faintly. "Alright. Serious talk time." He flopped back onto the couch, patting the space beside him. "What's up?"

Her hands shook as she sat again. She clasped them together, pressing them so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She couldn't even look at him. She was an Agent of Shield for gods sake why was this so hard! "Mark," she whispered. "My name isn't Natalie Roma."

He chuckled going along with the joke. "Okay... so what, you've been lying about your last name? Are you secretly royalty or something?"

She looked up, and the tears already in her eyes told him it wasn't a joke. His smile faltered.

"My name is Natasha Romanoff," she said, her voice much calmer now only because if it wavered, she'd never get it out. "I work for an organization called SHIELD."

The room seemed to freeze. Mark's expression went blank, as if the words hadn't made sense.

Natasha forced herself to keep going. "They noticed you after the Stark Expo. The things you did. The strength. The speed, your ability to fly. They assigned me to you. To watch you. To figure out what you are, what you can do, if you were dangerous."

The glass in Mark's hand tilted, spilling wine onto the carpet, but he didn't seem to notice. He just stared at her like he was a statue.

"I didn't plan this," she said quickly, the panic rising in her voice. "I didn't plan to care about you. But I did. I do. Mark, I swear—"

He stood up so fast the couch shifted under her. He dragged both hands over his face, pacing across the living room, muttering under his breath. "No. No, this isn't real. Tell me this isn't real."

"Mark, please—"

"Don't," he snapped, spinning to face her, his hand up like a shield. His voice cracked with the effort to stay calm. "Don't say my name like that...."

He paced around for a few seconds, his breathing seemingly getting more ragged. "It was all a lie... all of it, you lied to me..." 

She stood too, reaching out despite the warning in his eyes. "It wasn't all a lie. What I felt... it was real. Every moment we spent together I—"

"Was it?" His voice was louder now, breaking as his chest heaved. "Because when I look back, it all makes sense now... everything you did to get close to me. You smiling at me, you laughing at my stupid jokes, you telling me you loved me! God, was all of that just your special training? Was I just a file you had to update every night?"

Tears streaked her face. "No. I changed. You changed me. I fell in love with you, Mark. I didn't expect it, but it happened... I love you."

He slammed his fist against the wall, hard enough to crack the wall. She flinched. He turned away, his shoulders shaking looking guilty for scaring her. "You were in my bed, we made love...  And the whole time you were writing reports for someone else to read. Do you know what that feels like? To know I opened myself up, told you things I've never told anyone, and you were just collecting data?"

"I stopped reporting everything," she whispered, almost choking on the words. "After a while I couldn't. I kept things back. I tried to protect you. I didn't want them to use you."

He let out a bitter laugh, wiping at his eyes. "Now you're protecting me? Now you're telling the truth? Where the hell was this honesty months ago? You could've told me any day, Natasha. Any night. Instead you waited... and for what? Why did you wait?"

Natasha looked down at her feet. "It was Luke..." she mumbled. 

"What?" Mark said. 

"Luke found out about me, he gave me an ultimatum of telling you or he would do it himself... but I promise Mark I would've told you eventually! I would've!" She said trying to reach out for him.

Mark shook his head. "I guess I have Luke to thank for showing your true colour." He turned away. 

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she reached for him again. "I'll leave SHIELD. I'll walk away from all of it. I just don't want to lose you."

Mark turned, his face twisted with hurt so raw it hollowed her out. "You already did. You lost me the moment you chose to lie every day we were together." His voice broke slightly. "I trusted you. More than anyone. And you burned that to the ground."

Her chest caved in at his words. She tried again, desperate, her voice shaking. "Please, Mark. Don't shut me out. Don't let this be the end."

He stood there for a long moment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breath coming in shuddering pulls. Finally he shook his head. "I can't do this. I can't look at you and not see this thing... please leave, just please get out of here..."

Her vision blurred, her body trembling so hard she thought her knees might give out. She forced herself to nod. "I'll give you that... I am sorry I hurt you..."

He didn't answer. He turned his back, staring out the window at the wash of city lights, his reflection faint in the glass.Natasha lingered, her hand on the door, her heart screaming to fight harder. But she knew she couldn't win tonight. Her voice broke on the words as she whispered them into the quiet. "I love you."

The door clicked shut behind her.

*Flashback End*

Back in the bathroom, Natasha gripped the sink as the memory faded, her knuckles white, her reflection unrecognizable in the blurred mirror. She splashed cold water on her face, but it did nothing to wash away the ache inside her. She hadn't lost him to death or danger. She had lost him to herself. To her choices. And now SHIELD was pulling her off the assignment, making it that much harder to be with him. 

"I'll find a way..." she whispered to herself. 

_____________________________________

'So... here's the thing,' 

'I've been... seeing people. Darcy. Colleen. Trisha. And when I say seeing, I mean... yeah, sleeping with them too. Not all together in like a four way? Five way?. But at different times.'

'At first it felt fine. No strings, just fun. But the longer it goes on... the more it feels wrong. Like I'm lying. Even if technically I'm not. They're my friends, and it's not like they can't see other people either... it just never comes up.'

They're my friends though and I don't want to lie even if by omission... I don't want to lose them.'

'So what do I do? Do I tell them? Be honest and tell them all about each other? Do I stop having sex with them and just stay friends?'

'I don't know. What do you think?'

A second of silence. Two. Then a voice answered, cutting across his thoughts.

'No offence, Mark, but the reason I had you haul me up here wasn't so you could dump your teenage soap opera on me. Which, I'll admit, I am extremely jealous of.'

Mark's eyes flicked sideways floating next to him above planet earth was Tony Stark, inside one of his Iron Man suits. Though this one was much more bulkier than they usually were; a design Tony mentioned was made for space walking. 

Tony had contacted Mark and asked if he could fly him up here as he had lost contact with one of his important satellites. While he could've gotten up here himself it was much easier to ask him and Mark wasn't going to ignore a chance to get a favour from Tony. It also gave Mark a chance to get some perspective from someone who wasn't Luke or Jessica, both of whom who have as little experience in love as they do in living normal existences. 

Mark folded his arms and gave him a light shrug. 'You're a known womanizer. I figured you might have some advice.'

'Advice?' His metal-clad fingers adjusted a circuit board as he replied. 'Kid, my advice is simple. Hit it and quit it. You'll save yourself a lot of late-night heart-to-hearts and whining about "feelings."'

Mark rolled his eyes. 'That's... terrible advice.'

'Hey, it worked for me. For years.' Tony twisted a panel back into place, his thrusters adjusting to keep him steady. 'Though in fairness, most of those women didn't want to see me again anyway. Saves you the trouble of awkward phone calls.'

Mark sighed, drifting a little closer, his arms still crossed. 'That's exactly what I don't want. They're not strangers. They're people I care about. Friends. While it's been fun doing the other stuff it's not worth it if it ends up upsetting everyone, I don't want to wreck our friendships.'

'So don't wreck it. Simple. Pick one, cut the others loose. Standard play.'

'I can't just pick one,' Mark shot back 'I'm not really looking for a relationship at the moment... I'm still not over... yeah I'm just not looking for one. So what do I do?'

'Grow a backbone and do it anyway,' Tony replied. 'Trust me, it's less painful than stringing them all along until it blows up in your face.'

Mark scowled, drifting until he was upside down compared to Tony. 'I don't want to string anyone along. That's why I'm asking you.'

Tony chuckled in his head, the sound dry as dust. 'You're asking the guy who once juggled a Vanity Fair reporter and a Maxim model in the same week. Kid, you might as well be asking Hulk for fashion tips.'

Mark smirked despite himself, but it faded quickly. 'So you're saying I should tell them. All of them. Be honest.'

Tony finished soldering a connection, flicked his wrist, and watched the diagnostic lights on the satellite flicker to green. 'What I'm saying is, if you want to keep them as friends, stop sleeping with them. You're not built for casual. You're not me. Boy Scout like you... more than one woman would tear you apart.'

Mark sighed . 'And if I tell them the truth, and I lose them anyway?'

'Then at least you didn't lie.'

Mark was silent, staring down at the planet turning slowly below. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Only the faint sparks from Tony's work broke the stillness. Finally Mark breathed out in annoyance. 'I hate that you're probably right.'

'Of course I'm right,' Tony replied smugly. He tapped the satellite, checking it was stable, and turned back toward Mark. His visor caught the sunlight. 'I am quite literally one of the smartest men in the world, why would t you want my advice.'

Mark gave him a flat look. 'Don't flatter yourself.'

'Kid, if I didn't flatter myself, who would?' Tony fired a short burst from his thrusters, drifting toward the next section of the satellite. 'Now quit brooding and hold the panel steady while I finish this. And for God's sake, stop thinking about your love life while we're six hundred miles above the planet. It's making me nauseous.'

Mark gave him a flat look. 'Don't flatter yourself.'

'Kid, if I didn't flatter myself, who would?' Tony fired a short burst from his thrusters, drifting toward the next section of the satellite. 'Now quit brooding and hold the panel steady while I finish this. And for God's sake, stop thinking about your love life while we're six hundred miles above the planet. It's making me nauseous.'

Mark glanced at the tangle of open panels and dangling wires. 'How'd you even lose connection to this thing in the first place?'

'That's what I'm trying to find out,' Tony said, his gauntlet laser flicking against a circuit. The diagnostic lights blinked red, then green, then back to red, a stuttering pattern that didn't seem to changed.

Mark tilted his head while he watched, his mind already deconstructing the piece of technology. 'Looks like someone's messed with it.'

Tony didn't look up. 'Don't start with the conspiracy theories, kid. Satellites glitch. It happens. Weather, radiation, random space junk, it's a crapshoot.' But his tone carried a flicker of doubt, as if even he wasn't sure.

'I could help,' Mark offered.

That got Tony to scoff out loud in his mind. 'What do you know about this kind of tech? Your idea of fixing things is punching them until they stop moving.'

Mark smirked. 'I'm sure I know one or two things.'

Tony snorted, shaking his helmet slightly. 'Yeah, sure. Next you'll tell me you're secretly an MIT grad. Look, no offense, but the day I need muscle-brain help on satellite software is the day I hang up the suit.'

Mark chuckled, letting the comment slide.

Tony leaned closer to the circuit board, his thrusters humming faintly as he adjusted the wiring. The red lights flickered to amber, then to green, staying that way this time. He nodded to himself. 'Nearly finished up anyway. Give me a minute and we'll be good to head back down.'

Mark drifted lazily beside the satellite, his arms folded. 'You sure you don't want to make a detour to the moon first? Not every day you get a ride like this.'

'I'm good,' Tony replied flatly. 'No booze, no Pepper, no tech to tinker with. Moon might as well be the desert. Hard pass.'

Mark rolled his eyes. 'Fine. Be a killjoy.'

Tony flicked his wrist and the last panel locked into place. The diagnostic lights pulsed steady green, the satellite realigning its dish toward Earth. 'And just like that she's alive. Satellite's back online. God, I'm good.'

'Congratulations,' Mark said dryly.

'Save it. Let's get out of here.'

Mark hooked an arm under Tony, adjusting his hold before angling toward Earth. Tony's thought-voice went up half an octave. 'Seriously? You have to carry me like a damn princess?'

'Unless you want to burn up on reentry,' Mark replied. He tightened his grip and surged forward.

The planet expanded beneath them, the blue curve swelling as they plunged faster. The upper atmosphere caught them, friction blooming in streaks of flame. Tony screamed the entire way down.

'Jesus Christ, this is insane! Do you have to go this fast? Do you have any idea what reentry turbulence feels like in this suit?'

'You're fine,' Mark said calmly, his face deadpan even as the air tore in flaming arcs around them.

'Fine? I'm being carried bridal-style by a super-powered mutant through a fireball at Mach whatever-the-hell, we have very different definitions of fine!'

They broke through the flames into clean air, clouds rushing beneath them. Mark leveled out, holding Tony steady as the turbulence eased. Tony exhaled hard, then flicked a switch on his gauntlet. His thrusters adjusted pitch, the bulk of his suit shifting. 'Alright, space mode off. I've got it from here.' Mark released him, hovering back as Tony caught himself and floated next to him. 

Tony gave a little shake of his helmet. 'You know, I'd have felt a hell of a lot cooler if I wasn't just carried halfway across the stratosphere like Snow White waiting for her prince.'

Mark smirked. 'You looked adorable.'

'Bite me.' Tony steadied his altitude, then angled slightly toward the city skyline in the distance. 'Thanks for the lift though, Mark. And seriously swing by sometime. My doors are always open.'

Mark nodded. 'Will do.'

With that, they split paths, Tony banking toward his Malibu House while Mark cut a different line through the clouds. Mark cut across the Atlantic in minutes, the roar of the wind carrying his laughter with it. He pushed faster, testing himself, the air splitting in a thunderous crack as he broke the sound barrier again. The coastline of Italy spread out beneath him, sun-washed and golden, until he slowed his descent and dropped gently onto the cobbled street just outside a corner pizzeria. 

Here was a couple of special people that he visited relatively often since he became a hero; an older married couple who he had saved during their Anniversary in New York, he'd also helped the Husband in finding a proper gift for the wife—he'd gone across the world and fished out a beautiful antique necklace from the wreckage of a Spanish frigate—not that he'd ever told him where he got it from.  Though needless to say she loved the gift and Mark had earned a good friend in return who said he would eat for free as long as they lived. It was pretty lucky that their food happened to be some of the best he'd tasted. 

The smell of wood smoke and dough drifted out into the evening air. A painted sign above the doorway read Trattoria Russo, and inside, familiar voices echoed. Mark ducked through the door, the little brass bell jingling above his head.

"'Guarda chi c'è! Il nostro eroe!'" (Look who it is! Our hero!) Marco Russo beamed from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel.

Mark grinned, raising a hand in greeting. "'Ciao, Marco. Come va? La schiena ti dà ancora problemi?'" (Hi, Marco. How are you? Is your back still giving you trouble?)

Marco chuckled, shaking his head. "'Solo quando Sofia mi costringe a spostare i tavoli. Lei dice che sono pigro.'" (Only when Sofia makes me move the tables. She says I'm lazy.)

From the kitchen came Sofia's voice. "'Perché sei pigro!'" (Because you are lazy!) She appeared a moment later, carrying a tray, her face lighting up when she saw Mark. "'Tesoro! Sei troppo magro. Non stai mangiando abbastanza.'" (Darling! You're too skinny. You're not eating enough.)

Mark laughed, spreading his arms. "'Mangio più di chiunque altro che conosca. Solo voi pensate che non sia abbastanza.'" (I eat more than anyone I know. Only you two think it's not enough.)

Sofia set the tray down and came over to pinch his cheek like he was family. "'Per noi sei sempre un figlio. E i figli devono mangiare.'" (To us, you'll always be like a son. And sons need to eat.)

Mark smiled, touched in a way he couldn't quite put into words. "'E voi? Come stanno i nipoti?'" (And you two? How are the grandchildren?)

Marco's face softened, pride glowing in his eyes. "'Alessio ha imparato ad andare in bicicletta la settimana scorsa. Ha detto che voleva correre veloce come te.'" (Alessio learned to ride a bike last week. He said he wanted to go as fast as you.)

Mark chuckled. "'Allora dovrò fargli vedere qualche trucco.'" (Then I'll have to show him some tricks.)

Sofia leaned against the counter, smiling warmly. "'E tu? Sempre in giro per il mondo, a salvare vite. Non ti fermi mai.'" (And you? Always running around the world, saving lives. You never stop.)

Mark shrugged. "'Se mi fermo troppo, divento nervoso. E poi non mi fate mancare il riposo quando passo di qui.'" (If I stop too long, I get restless. And besides, you two make sure I don't miss out on rest when I stop by here.)

Marco winked. "'Vuoi il solito, vero?'" (You want the usual, right?)

Mark smirked. "'Sai già la risposta.'" (You already know the answer.)

Sofia tilted her head, teasing. "'E stasera sarà solo per te, o dividerai con quella ragazza speciale?'" (And tonight will it be just for you, or will you share with that special girl?)

Mark chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "'Qualcosa del genere.'" (Something like that.)

Sofia wagged a finger at him. "'Un uomo forte come te ha bisogno di una donna che lo tenga con i piedi per terra. Senza, voleresti via per sempre.'" (A strong man like you needs a woman to keep you grounded. Without one, you'd fly away forever.)

Mark laughed and went along with it. "'Forse hai ragione.'" (Maybe you're right.)

Marco returned from the oven with two steaming pizzas, sliding them carefully into a paper bag. "'Ecco qui, amico mio.'" (Here you go, my friend.)

Mark reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded bill, but Marco waved it away instantly. "'Mai. Preferirei chiudere la pizzeria che prendere soldi dall'uomo che ci ha salvati.'" (Never. I would rather close the pizzeria than take money from the man who saved us.)

Mark sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. He set the money aside. "'Va bene. Ma la prossima settimana andiamo a pescare. Niente scuse.'" (Fine. But next week we're going fishing. No excuses.)

Marco grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "'Affare fatto.'" (Deal.)

Mark held the bag close, smiling at them both. "'Grazie, amici miei. Ci vediamo presto.'" (Thank you, my friends. I'll see you soon.)

"'A presto, Signor Invincibile!'" (See you soon, Mr. Invincible!) they called as he pushed out into the street.

A heartbeat later, he crouched, then shot into the sky, leaving the trattoria as he carved a line through the clouds, turning his path back toward New York. 

Mark soared through the clouds, the warm bag of pizzas pressed close to his chest. Even at altitude, the scent of dough and melted cheese cut through the chill air. He could have been back in New York in minutes if he pushed himself, but instead he kept his speed just shy of a blur. Old habits guided him.. The flight home was never just about getting home. It was about enjoying it, plus he'd always be able to see if someone needed help. 

The faint sound of a shout reached him, carried on the wind. His head turned toward the cliffs where the sea hammered against  the clifff. He descended in a controlled dive, spotting a lone climber dangling halfway up, his harness twisted, one leg shaking violently as his grip began to slip. A small group of hikers waited anxiously at the base, one holding a phone high, but the roar of waves drowned out their voices.

Mark slowed and landed lightly just below the man. "'Ehi! Non muoverti. Ti prendo io!'" (Hey! Don't move. I've got you!) he called.

The climber looked down, his eyes wide in disbelief. "'Invincibile? Sei tu? Aiutami, ti prego! Sto scivolando!'" (Invincible? Is that you? Help me, please! I'm slipping!)

Mark floated up until he was level with him, keeping a few feet of space so the man wouldn't feel crowded. "'Calma. Come ti chiami?'" (Easy. What's your name?)

"'Luca. Luca Rossi,'" the man gasped, fingers trembling around the rope. "'L'ancoraggio è saltato. Non riesco a risalire.'" (The anchor broke. I can't climb up.)

"'Va bene, Luca. Ti prenderò in braccio e scendiamo insieme. Non mollare finché non te lo dico io. Ci siamo, va tutto bene.'" (Alright, Luca. I'm going to hold you and take us down together. Don't let go until I say so. We've got this, you're going to be fine.)

Sweat beaded on Luca's forehead as he nodded quickly. "'Va bene, va bene, basta che fai presto.'" (Okay, okay, just do it quickly.)

Mark shifted the pizza bag under one arm and slipped the other around Luca's waist, feeling the man's rapid heartbeat through his jacket. With his grip secure on the harness, he said, "'Al tre. Uno, due, tre.'" (On three. One, two, three.) He lifted them both with effortlessly and glided down toward the waiting hikers.

The group rushed forward as Mark set Luca carefully on his feet. His legs buckled, but Mark steadied him. "'Stai bene? Niente rotto?'" (You good? Nothing broken?)

Luca shook his head, still breathless. "'No... sto bene. Dio, grazie. Mi hai salvato la vita. Pensavo fosse finita.'" (No... I'm okay. God, thank you. You saved my life. I thought it was over.)

A woman hurried up and threw her arms around him. "'Dio mio, Luca, stai bene?'" (My God, Luca, are you okay?)

Luca held her tightly, then turned back to Mark with tears in his eyes. He pulled him into a quick embrace, gripping his shoulder. "'Sei arrivato dal nulla. Come posso ringraziarti?'" (You came from nowhere. How can I thank you?)

Mark smiled, easing back. "'Controlla meglio l'attrezzatura la prossima volta. La montagna non scappa.'" (Double-check your gear next time. The mountain will still be there tomorrow.)

A young hiker with a backpack called out, holding up his phone. "'Una foto, per favore? I miei figli non ci crederanno mai.'" (A photo, please? My kids will never believe this.)

Mark chuckled. "'Va bene, ma facciamola veloce. Devo andare.'" (Alright, but make it quick. I've got somewhere to be.) He posed with them, Luca front and center, before waving as he rose back into the sky. Luca's voice followed him up the cliff face. "'Invincibile, sei una leggenda! Vieni a trovarci quando vuoi!'" (Invincible, you're a legend! Come visit anytime!)

Mark gave a final wave and cut upward through the clouds. It wasn't a world-ending crisis, but that was the point. The small saves mattered too, and they were his favourites. 

The Atlantic stretched endless beneath him as he shot across it at high speeds. The pizzas were still warm, secure against his side—and hopefully he'd be able to keep them warm this time. He angled forward, accelerating until the horizon curved. He almost missed it, the flicker of red against the dark waves. A flare. His eyes narrowed. It was a ship. Mark dropped altitude fast, breaking through the clouds. Below him, a freighter listed dangerously, its deck awash with water. Lifeboats hung half-lowered. Crew scrambled as the sea claimed the vessel inch by inch.

"Hang on!" Mark shouted as he slowed over the deck.

The captain looked and saw Mark before he shouted up, "Flooding in the engine room! We've got crew trapped below. Pumps are dead, we're losing her fast!" Not caring about the flying man, just entirely focused on his ship. 

Mark's eyes tracked the angle of the hull, the waterline climbing too quickly. He held the pizza bag carefully, securing it under his arm. "Get the rest to the boats. I'll get them out."

He dropped down, forcing open a sealed hatch, being careful so the structure wouldn't split further. Cold water rushed past him as he slipped inside, the narrow corridors half-flooded and tilted. Voices echoed from a blocked door, fists pounding desperately as they tried to get out. "Stand back!" Mark called. He gripped the frame and ripped it loose with a single pull, tossing it aside. Five crew members spilled out, drenched and coughing.

"You're Invincible," one of them gasped, clinging to his arm.

"That's me, now hurry to the life boats. Is there anyone else here?"

They pointed further down. Mark guided them back toward the hatch, then forced open two more doors, pulling another couple crew into the hallways. He carried the injured in his arm, water rising to his waist as he broke through blockages of steel and debris. Back on deck, he deposited the last man near the lifeboats, where the captain checked his crew off one by one. "That's all of them," the captain shouted. "But the ship won't last another minute!"

Mark looked at the hull groaning under its own weight. "Then let's give her a push."

Before the captain could argue, Mark ducked under the ship, pressing his shoulder into the keel. The steel screamed as he lifted, pulling the vessel slowly upright. Water cascaded off the deck in torrents, containers sliding but holding. He clenched his jaw, balancing the weight in one hand while his other pressed the pizza bag snug against his side. From the lifeboats, the crew stared in disbelief as the freighter rose above the waves. Phones lit up, recording the impossible sight.

"You're carrying her!" the captain yelled, his voice breaking. 

"Just making sure she makes it home," Mark said with a smile. 

He flew carefully toward the nearest stretch of coast, lights from a Portuguese coast guard station shining across the water. The ship ground into the shallows, tilted but intact. Rescue teams swarmed, their spotlights finding the crew as they climbed down to safety. The captain came forward with wide eyes. "We'd be at the bottom of the ocean if not for you. Anything you need it's yours."

Mark shook his hand. "Just take care of your people."

One of the younger sailors, the woman from before, hugged him tightly. "Thank you. You saved all of us."

He returned the embrace lightly, then stepped back. "Stay safe."

Cheers followed him as he lifted off, vanishing into the clouds before news helicopters could close in.

...

The Manhattan skyline glowed beneath him as Mark descended, weaving between towers until he leveled out above one of the tallest buildings. He touched down softly on the rooftop, the bag of pizzas still secure under his arm. Jessica was already there, sprawled half on her side against a metal vent, a half-empty bottle of whiskey balanced loosely in her hand. Her hair was a mess, her jacket wrinkled, but she looked right at home thirty stories up.

Mark folded his arms. "You know it's a little early for that, right?"

Without looking up, Jessica lifted her free hand and flipped him off.

Mark smirked and walked over, dropping down beside her. "Real classy."

She squinted at the bag. "Tell me you didn't fly all the way here with food again."

He pulled out a box and cracked it open. "Two words. Russo's Pizza."

Jessica sat up immediately, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "From Italy?"

"From Italy."

She snatched a slice and bit into it, then groaned. "Cold. You really brought me cold pizza?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "I flew across the Atlantic with it. You want fresh, you can book a flight next time."

Jessica chewed, unimpressed. "You're Invincible. You telling me you can't keep a pizza warm?"

He gave her a look. "Pretty sure keeping a ship from sinking takes priority over reheating your dinner."

She grinned, satisfied at getting a rise out of him. "Depends on how hungry a girl is."

They ate in silence for a minute, looking at the city that stretched out in every direction. Eventually Jessica wiped her hands on her jeans and asked, "So, how's your day? Saving the world, kissing babies, that sort of thing?"

Mark shrugged. "Went to space. Stopped a guy from falling off a cliff. Kept a freighter from going under. Delivered pizza."

"Wow," she said dryly. "A real humanitarian."

He nudged her shoulder. "What about you?"

Jessica snorted. "No clients. Again. Turns out people don't like paying a PI who drinks before lunch."

"Maybe try a real job for once," Mark shot back.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Excuse me?"

"You know, something steady. Something where you don't spend half the day drunk on rooftops."

Jessica stood, dusted off her jeans, then casually kicked him in the side. The impact made him slide backward off the roof. He hovered just below the ledge, floating with his arms crossed, unimpressed.

She leaned over, smirking. "How's the view down there?"

He floated back up, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Hilarious. Really."

Jessica plopped back down, tugging the whiskey bottle back into her lap. "You love it."

Mark rolled his eyes but sat again, reaching for another slice. They let the city noise fill the space for a while, comfortable in the quiet. Mark liked these moments with Jessica, the way they could just exist without filling every second with words, sharing cold pizza on a rooftop while the world spun on beneath them. It was their ritual, much like the ones he had with his other close friends. With Luke he had sitting on a Harlem rooftop to watch the sunset dip below the skyline while cracking open a few beers and trading stories about the day, or now with Darcy in New Mexico, stargazing from a desert ridge and talking about life's absurdities. Each one grounded him in a different way, a reminder that even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, there were pockets of normalcy where he could just be Mark, not Invincible. 

He liked it. 

Jessica chewed slowly, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "You've been quiet tonight. That's not like you."

Mark shrugged, tearing the tip off his slice. "Long day."

"Long day saving the world or long day brooding about your love life?" she asked, smirking before taking a swig from her bottle.

"Both," Mark admitted with half a grin, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Jessica leaned her head back against the metal vent. "You know, for someone who can fly across the ocean in under an hour, you've got this habit of carrying around more baggage than a 747."

Mark chuckled. "That's... true."

"Uh-huh." She glanced at him again, more serious now. "This about what went down out west?"

Mark's hand stilled on the pizza box. "Out west?"

Jessica nodded. "New Mexico. Don't look at me like that, it was all over the news. People screaming about some giant machine tearing through the desert, and guess whose name kept coming up?"

"Like jeez Mark me and Luke only sent you down there cause we thought you'd relax a bit," she said with a chuckle. 

Mark sighed, setting his half-eaten slice back in the box as he leaned against the rooftop ledge. The city lights twinkled far below like scattered diamonds. "Yeah, New Mexico. It started as a trip to talk science with Jane. But it turned into... well, chaos."

Jessica arched a brow, taking another pull from her bottle before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah I know that part get to the part where the giant robot shows up? Spill it, Grayson. Don't leave me hanging."

He rubbed the back of his neck, piecing it together as he spoke. "Okay, so I get there, meet Jane and her team. Erik, this old Norse expert, and Darcy, her intern. They're chasing these weird storms that pop up out of nowhere, leaving behind energy signatures that don't make sense. Turns out, one of them spits out this guy, he's tall, blond and built like a tank. They tase him, or more specifically Darcy taxes him."

Jessica snorted, nearly choking on her whiskey. "They tased him? Nice. And let me guess, he's not just some drunk hiker?"

Mark shook his head, grinning faintly at the memory. "Nope. Calls himself Thor... Yeah, that Thor, god of thunder from the myths. He was banished from Asgard by his dad, Odin, for being a hothead. Lost his hammer though it was thrown to Earth too."

"We bonded over beer, he learns some humility, but then his family sends this robot thing to wipe him out and cover up the mess."

She stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing, slapping her knee. "Thor? As in hammer-swinging, lightning-zapping Viking god? Come on, Mark, did you hit your head out there? Or is this some elaborate prank to see if I'll buy it?"

"I'm serious," Mark insisted, though he couldn't help chuckling at her reaction. "The guy's from another realm. Asgard's like this advanced world connected by wormholes they call the Bifrost. His brother Loki tricked him into exile. We fought the destroyer in the desert. But while I was fighting it I got sucked into the Bifrost, ended up on Jotunheim, this ice planet, frost giants everywhere."

Jessica waved a hand, still laughing. "Frost giants? Now you're just messing with me. What, did you bump into elves and dwarves too? Or was Santa there with his reindeer?"

Mark leaned forward, his tone earnest. "Jess, I swear. Fought an army of them when they thought I was an invader. Then the Bifrost got stuck open on purpose by Loki. He was about to blow the whole planet, but I absorbed the energy to shut it down, damn thing nearly killed me. I managed to get to Asgard after, the Asgardians healed me up. Thor got his hammer back, we feasted. Mead that actually got me drunk. It was wild."

She wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter dying down to chuckles. "Okay, okay. If you're not bullshitting, that's the craziest story you've ever told. Asgard? Real gods? You're saying you partied with Vikings in space?"

"Pretty much," Mark said, shrugging with a grin. "Thor's a good guy. Arrogant at first, but he grew. His friends, the Warriors Three and Sif, they're like something out of a legend."

Jessica shook her head, taking another swig. "If anyone else said this, I'd call bullshit and walk away. But you've got that honest face. Still, gods and wormholes? Sounds like a bad acid trip."

"Trust me, I lived it," Mark replied, reaching for the bottle. "Felt real enough when I was getting blasted across the desert."

She passed it over, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "Alright, assuming you're not insane—what now? You buddies with thunder boy? Planning a playdate in space?"

Mark took a sip, handing the bottle back. "Something like that. He's got king stuff to handle, but yeah—"

Bzzzt

Marks phone vibrated before he could finish his thought. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and half-smiled.

Darcy: Hey space boy! You forget about our stargazing rematch tonight? Miss your arms already... don't keep a girl waiting. 🌌😘

Jessica leaned over, catching just enough of the screen before he tilted the phone away. "Ooh, who's got you grinning like an idiot? Let me guess, desert intern checking in?"

Mark rolled his eyes and slid the phone back into his pocket as he stood, brushing crumbs from his lap. "Darcy. The intern from New Mexico. We had plans tonight. Guess I lost track of time up here with you."

Jessica's smirk turned wicked. "Plans, huh?."

"Shut up," Mark said with a laugh, shaking his head as he picked up the empty pizza box. "It's just hanging out. Nothing like that."

"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, propping herself up on her elbows. "Go get her, tiger."

Mark grinned, leaning down to ruffle her hair. She swatted his hand away with a glare. "Noted. Catch you later, Jess. Try not to get into trouble."

"Like that's possible," she called after him as he stepped off the ledge and dropped to the ground before shooting upward, the city lights blurring below in a streak of gold and neon. He pushed westward at full speed heading down south towards New Mexico and hopefully an opportunity to get lucky. 

_____________________________________

In a secure SHIELD facility buried deep beneath the Nevada desert, alarms blared through the corridors as red emergency lights flashede. Scientists and staff fled in panic while guards in tactical gear rushed the other way with rifles primed and their safeties off. 

"Intruders in Sector 4, multiple hostiles, engage and lethal force is advised!" The attackers however had already made it very deep into the base, far enough that most of the people they tried to radio were already dead. 

The rest of the guards moved into standard formation and raised their rifles. They did so just as the intruders walked around the corner; they expected to face an enemy spec ops squad, perhaps a terrorist group. What they didn't expect was to face three men. One who looked like a human/lion hybrid, the other a toad-human and the last one an old man wearing a cape. 

The confusion this caused them managed to give the three men the initiative. Which they took, as these men were none other than Sabertooth, Toad and Magneto. 

Sabertooth charged before they could adjust. The first guard recovered and fired, numerous bullets flying through the corridor. Sabertooth dropped low to the ground and slid under the fire, then came up into the man's chest. His claws punched straight through Kevlar, ribs snapping under the force. He shoved forward until his claws tore out the man's back in a spray. Sabertooth ripped his hand free and slammed the dying guard into his teammates, knocking two of them off balance. The next in line fired on reflex. The rounds stitched into the wall as Sabertooth dragged the first body in front of him like a shield. Bullets thudded into the corpse, jerking it in his grip. He snarled and flung the body forward. It crashed into the shooter, knocking him flat. Sabertooth followed, stomping down with one boot until the man's skull caved in against the floor.

Toad vaulted over sabertooth, springing off the wall. His tongue lashed out and coiled around a rifle barrel. With one hard yank he tore it free and flipped over the man holding it. Mid-spin, Toad snapped his leg across the guard's jaw. The helmet cracked, teeth spraying out as the man crumpled. Toad landed on his shoulders, slammed both knees into the base of his neck, and rode him to the ground. Another guard tried to fire, but Toad spat a line of corrosive saliva straight into his visor. The liquid hissed, eating through the polymer. The man screamed as it burned into his face. Toad cut him off with a kick that bent his knee sideways and left him howling on the ground.

Behind them, Magneto entered as if he had all the time in the world. A second detachment of guards open fired on the three of them after witnessing the horror of what happened to the first. Magneto raised one hand. Every bullet froze mid-air, inches from their targets. With a curl of his fingers, he reversed their path. The rounds tore back through the shooters' throats and helmets. Three dropped instantly, gurgling as blood pooled across the floor. The surviving guards broke formation, panic flashing across their faces. Sabertooth pounced on the nearest. He caught the man's wrist as he tried to draw a sidearm, twisted it until the bone broke through the skin, then slashed across his midsection. His belly split open, intestines spilling down his legs. Sabertooth shoved him into the wall and left him to die choking on his own blood.

One desperate guard rushed in with a baton crackling with electricity. He swung at Sabertooth. Sabertooth stepped in, letting the strike hit across his shoulder, then drove his claws up under the man's chin. They tore through his throat and came out the top of his skull. The body jerked, spasming, before he ripped free and tossed it aside.

At the rear, another guard unslung a shotgun. He managed to get off one round. The blast ripped across Sabertooth's ribs, tearing cloth and skin. Sabertooth roared, staggered, then lunged through the smoke. Before the guard could reload, Magneto pinched two fingers together. The shotgun barrel crumpled flat. Toad leapt from the wall, both boots slamming into the man's chest. The impact drove the guard back into the deck with enough force to snap his spine.

The last man tried to retreat down the hall, shouting into his radio. Sabertooth was on him in three strides. He caught the man's collar, spun him, and smashed him headfirst into the wall. The helmet split, blood spraying across the concrete. The body slumped, twitching.

Magneto raised his hand again, tearing a steel beam free from the ceiling. It bent and twisted around the final survivor's arms and chest, pinning him to the floor in a bloody heap. The man thrashed, sputtering, but couldn't break free.

The corridor was silent now, apart from alarms and the groans of the half-dead. Blood slicked the floor. Rifles lay in pieces. Shredded bodies were strewn across the hall, some still twitching, most already still. 

"Forward," Magneto said. "The lab is ahead."

Sabertooth bared his teeth, stepping through a pool of blood without hesitation. Toad hopped after and followed. Magneto walked behind them floating over the blood. A few corridors later the Brotherhood reached the final blast door. It was reinforced, steel layered over a hydraulic lock. Magneto stopped in front of it, his hand rising. Metal groaned as bolts tore free from their housings and hinges buckled inward. The entire frame twisted like foil. Sabertooth shoved the remains aside and stalked in first, shoulders brushing the doorframe. His claws dripped with blood from the corridor fight, leaving streaks across the white tiles.

The room froze. Scientists stood rooted at benches and consoles, their eyes wide behind their glasses. A few screamed and dove for cover, others raised their hands, shaking. "Run!" One of them shouted before turning around. 

Sabertooth moved fast. He snatched a man by the throat before he could run, lifted him off the ground, and hurled him across a workstation. The impact shattered the table, shards of glassware scattering across the floor. Another scientist scrambled for the emergency door, but Toad bounded across the lab and lashed out his tongue. It wrapped around the man's ankle, dragged him back kicking and clawing. Toad landed on his chest, pinning him down with his knees, and struck him in the face until blood sprayed across the tiles.

Magneto followed them in, his cape brushing the floor. He raised both hands, and every loose tool and instrument in the room lifted from the benches. Scalpels, clamps, screwdrivers—all floated in the air like shrapnel waiting to fly. He gestured, and they shot across the room, embedding themselves in walls, consoles, and human flesh alike. Three scientists were pinned against the walls, their arms and legs nailed in place, screaming as steel dug into muscle.

Sabertooth prowled among the others, dragging one out by his collar and throwing him at Toad's feet. Toad spat a stream of acid onto the man's lab coat, the fabric hissing and burning away as it touched skin. The scientist shrieked and writhed, but Toad pressed a foot on his chest and kept him pinned, watching with cruel satisfaction as the flesh blistered.

The room filled with panic. One woman cried out, "We're researchers! Please! we're not combat staff, we don't know what you want!"

Magneto spoke in a calm voice. "You are not here by accident. SHIELD does not waste resources on simple research. There is something more beneath this facility. A device. A project. You will tell me where it is."

The scientists exchanged terrified looks, no one speaking.

Sabertooth reached down and tore the jaw clean off the nearest man with a swipe of his claws. Blood sprayed across the floor. The man collapsed, gurgling in shock, dead before he hit the ground. The silence afterward was deafening.

Magneto stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the group. "It is called the GeoCore Stabilizer." His hand closed slowly into a fist. Metal rods from a nearby rack twisted around two men, constricting tighter and tighter until bones cracked and ribs snapped through skin. Their screams filled the lab, then cut short as the rods crushed their chests flat. The broken bodies sagged in the bindings, dripping blood.

Another scientist sobbed. "We... we don't know what that is—"

Toad struck before he could finish. His tongue shot out, wrapped around the man's neck, and pulled hard. The cartilage gave way with a sharp pop. The body twitched once, then slumped. Toad spat him out and licked his lips.

Magneto's voice sharpened. "Where is it?"

Silence. Only the whimpering of those still alive.

Sabertooth grabbed a woman by the hair, dragged her forward, and raked his claws across her stomach in one savage motion. Her intestines spilled onto the floor, steaming in the cold air. She collapsed forward, gasping once before she went still.

Magneto turned his gaze on the last cluster of survivors. "Every moment you hesitate, another of you dies. Where is it?"

They wept, shaking, pressed against the corner. Still no one spoke.

Magneto extended his hand. Metal tools rose from the floor, reshaping into jagged spikes. With a flick, they shot forward and skewered two more. Their blood ran down the clean tiles, staining the white floor red. That was enough. A young technician broke, dropping to his knees with his hands raised high. "It's not here! They moved it last week. Please I can show you in the logs. Just don't... don't kill me."

Magneto lowered his hand slightly, the weapons dropping back to the ground. 

"Then show me where they are."

_____________________________________

In the Baxter Building on the 34th floor, in a private room on the south side, Susan Storm... or Sue, as her friends knew her stood in front of the mirror. "Come on," she muttered to herself. What stared back was not her reflection but emptiness, just the blank wall behind where her body should have been. "Come on, focus." 

She had practiced this numerous times since the accident, so she knew the drill. Calm your thoughts. Take control. It is your body. Slowly but surely, she started to reappear; her blonde hair materializing first in soft waves framing her face, followed by bright blue eyes that blinked into view, then the rest of her features sharpening, high cheekbones, full lips, and a defined jawline leading down to her neck and shoulders.

She breathed a sigh of relief, rolling her neck to shake off the tension. She supposed it could be worse. Ben had it bad, his body transformed into a hulking mass of orange rock that made every movement a struggle, while her brother Johnny could burst into flames at will, but risked burning everything around him if he lost control. Reed stretched like rubber, which came with its own set of complications, and her father had escaped unscathed at least they hadn't been able to see any of the cosmic ray effects in his body despite his blood being irradiated by it. 

Compared to that Invisibility and the occasional force field felt manageable by comparison, though the daily ritual of willing herself visible still unnerved her.

Sue reached for the hem of her pajama top, pulling it over her head to reveal her body. Breadts that sat high on her chest with rounded curves and nipples centered on each, leading down to a flat stomach with faint lines of muscle from her active lifestyle, hips that flared out slightly from her waist, and legs toned from years of running and yoga. She slid off the pajama bottoms next, exposing thighs that met at a patch of trimmed blonde hair above her folds, her skin smooth and pale from lack of sun during quarantine. Stepping into the shower, she turned on the hot water, letting it cascade over her shoulders and down her back, soaking her hair as she lathered soap across her arms, chest, and stomach, her hands gliding over the curves of her breasts and the dip of her waist before rinsing clean.

As the steam filled the stall, her mind wandered back to the incident at the Marriott—the cosmic ray explosion that had changed everything. It started as a routine science convention, her father's foundation showcasing various scientific experiments, including Reed Richards' prototype for trans-dimensional travel, a device meant to bridge realities through controlled wormholes. But something went wrong... sabotage, she suspected, though she hadn't voiced it yet. 

The core overloaded and it would've ended up destroying the city if not for one person. 

For Mark. 

Or invincible as he was now called, he stepped in and contained it, his quick thinking turning a city-level catastrophe into a contained implosion. That blast had altered them on a cellular level. They called it an accident publicly, but Sue knew better—the tampering was definitely deliebrate, though she couldn't pinpoint who. 

SHIELD had swooped in immediately after, quarantining them in the Baxter Building for weeks of tests to check if they were dangerous or contagious, isolating them from the world with no calls, no visitors, just endless scans and questions. Being stuck with Johnny was torture, her brother turned every moment into a joke or a complaint, his flames accidentally scorching furniture more than once. Reed buried himself in guilt, convinced his design flaw caused it all, while Ben sank into depression over his monstrous appearance, barely speaking some days. 

Her father tried to mediate, but his admiration for Reed clouded everything, having invited him personally after months of praise. The tension built like a pressure cooker, and Sue kept her sabotage theory quiet, not trusting Reed or Ben enough yet—they were the only ones with the expertise to tamper with the device apart from herself and her father—and knowing Johnny couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it she couldn't tell him about her thoughts. 

The only person she trusted at the moment was Mark. He had saved them all without hesitation, a true hero who flew into danger and out again like it was nothing, and his genius shone through when he helped stabilize the core. How he had contained the explosion was nothing short of amazing, even she hadn't been able to think of it!

She hadn't stopped thinking about him since, replaying their brief conversation in her mind, wishing she could contact him, but trapped in this lockdown with no way out she couldn't. If anyone could help unravel the sabotage, it was him.

Sue turned off the water, stepping out to towel dry, the steam clearing from the mirror as she wrapped herself briefly before heading back to her room. She dressed in a white button-up blouse tucked into slim black pants that hugged her legs, paired withboots and a light gray cardigan draped over her shoulders for the chill in the building's AC. She pulled her blonde hair into a neat bun, securing it with a clip, then sighed deeply, her reflection staring back with tired eyes before she turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her as she adjusted her cardigan, her mind already wandering to the day's potential experiments. Before she could take more than a few steps, Johnny came barreling around the corner, his eyes wide with excitement and a grin splitting his face.

"Sue! Hey, Sue! Guess what?" he said, skidding to a stop in front of her and grabbing her arms.

She pulled back slightly, her expression souring. "What, Johnny? And slow down, have you been drinking Dynojuice before breakfast again?"

He ignored her words, bouncing on his heels. "SHIELD's here! Some agent's upstairs talking to Dad right now, come on, this has gotta be it!"

Sue's face hardened, her dislike for SHIELD bubbling up immediately after weeks of being caged in the building like lab rats, poked and prodded without a say. "SHIELD? Great... I can't wait for our next battery of tests."

Johnny waved off her sarcasm, still buzzing. "Nah, this could be good! Maybe they're finally letting us out, no more lockdown, no more tests. Freedom, sis!"

She crossed her arms. "Do you even know what they want, or are you just hyped for no reason?"

He shook his head, but his grin didn't fade. "No clue, but it's gotta be about us getting out, why else would they show up now? This is it, I can feel—" His excitement peaked, and suddenly his hair burst into flames, the tips flickering orange as heat radiated off him.

Sue stepped back, chiding him sharply. "Johnny—control it! You're gonna set off the sprinklers again."

Johnny blinked, patting his head quickly to snuff out the fire with a sheepish look. "Sorry, sorry, got carried away. It's out, see?"

Sue sighed, rubbing her temple. "Let's just go see what they want before you burn the place down."

They headed to the elevator and rode up to the 35th floor, the conference room where her father, Reed, and Ben were already seated around a large table with Agent Coulson at the head, his suit impeccable and his expression neutral as always. Coulson looked up as they entered. "Thank you both for coming, please have a seat."

Sue rolled her eyes but sat next to her father, crossing her arms tightly while Johnny plopped down beside Ben, immediately leaning forward. "So, is this the part where you finally let us out of this damn building?" Johnny asked, not waiting for Coulson to start. "Cause I've been climbing the walls. Literally! Sometimes. When do we get our lives back? Is it today? Please say today."

Coulson opened his mouth to respond, but Johnny kept going. "And what about our powers? You guys done poking us? Cause if I have to sit through one more scan—"

Ben growled from his seat, his rocky form shifting with irritation. "Kid, shut it and let the man talk, you're giving me a headache."

Johnny shot him a glare. "Hey, I'm just asking what we're all thinking—"

"Johnny," Sue chimed in firmly, "sit down and listen."

Johnny huffed but leaned back, crossing his arms as Coulson cleared his throat.

"Thank you," Coulson said. "First, I want to thank all of you for your patience during this process and apologize for the confinement, it's not something we take lightly. Our scientists have determined that the incident at the Marriott was a one-off event, and any secondary effects are limited to your unique abilities. You're not contagious or a danger to the public in that sense."

Johnny fist-pumped under the table, but Coulson continued. "Quarantine will be lifted effective immediately, you're free to resume your lives."

Franklin leaned forward. "That's a relief, Agent, but I sense there's more."

Coulson nodded. "There is. The reason I'm here today is because SHIELD wants to work with the Baxter Foundation for the foreseeable future, partner on projects that could benefit from your expertise and... recent developments."

Franklin shook his head immediately. "Absolutely not. I won't make weapons for the government, that's why I broke away from those contracts in the first place; this foundation is for pure science, not military applications."

Coulson raised a hand reassuringly. "I understand your concerns, Doctor Storm, and I can guarantee that the projects we're proposing won't be used as weapons. This is about technology advancement, saving lives, exploring the unknown. We're not asking you to build bombs; we're asking for collaboration on tech that could change the world for the better."

Reed tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "You'll have to give us more than assurances, Agent Coulsen, what kind of projects?"

Sue interrupted the back-and-forth, her voice cutting in. "Yeah, let's hear what exactly would we be working on?"

Coulson leaned back slightly. "For starters, a device called the GeoCore Stabilizer. Our scientists hit a dead end with it, and we think your team could get it operational."

Reed's interest piqued. "What does it do?"

Coulson explained. "Its job is to stabilize earthquakes and protect against tsunamis by dispersing the magnetic and seismic stresses inside the Earth's crust. It works by generating a controlled, rotating magnetohydrodynamic field around molten metal deposits deep underground. This keeps pressure from building in tectonic plates, potentially saving millions of lives from natural disasters."

Reed's eyes widened, leaning forward. "That's incredible... the implications for global safety alone... modulating crustal stresses in real time? We'd need to refine the MHD field calibration, but with the right data..."

Sue nodded slowly, impressed by the humanitarian angle. "It doesn't sound like a weapon...."

Franklin rubbed his chin, still hesitant but swayed by the description. "If it's truly non-military..."

Coulson pressed gently. "It is and we have more like it. Will you work with us?"

Franklin glanced at Sue and Reed, who both nodded encouragingly. "Alright we'll give it a shot, but if anything smells like weaponry, we're out."

Coulson smiled faintly. "Fair enough. Thank you— we'll send more information soon, along with the device itself. You're free to come and go as you please now, but for security reasons, we'd appreciate it if you continued living in the Baxter Building for the time being."

They agreed with murmurs around the table, and Coulson stood, shaking hands before heading out. Johnny bolted from his seat the second the door closed, pumping his fist. "Yes! Freedom! I'm outta here!"

Sue walked quickly behind him, her steps extremely fatst as she ignored her father's calls from the room—"Sue, wait, we should discuss this!"—her mind set on finally escaping the confines that had felt like a prison for too long; she needed to get out, to breathe fresh air and clear her head.

...

Sue sighed a big breath as she walked out onto the streets of Manhattan, the wind brushing against her face and tugging at her bun, a welcome change from the stale air of the Baxter Building's recycled ventilation. The balcony up there offered a view, but it couldn't match the actual city; the honk of taxis, the chatter of pedestrians weaving past her, the faint smell of pretzels from a nearby cart. Even if calling New York's air "fresh" made her smirk at the irony, being out here felt like freedom after weeks locked inside, and she let herself soak it in, as she moved through the crowd.

She tucked her hands into her cardigan pockets, dodging a guy on a skateboard who nearly clipped her, muttering an apology over his shoulder. The bustle of the city was... nice, especially after being kept inside for so long, but even as she enjoyed her walk her thoughts kept drifting to Mark—Invincible, the guy who saved her, her family, and half a city without a thought. She wanted to reach out, to talk about the sabotage she suspected at the Marriott, to pick his brain on the GeoCore Stabilizer now that SHIELD was handing it over. He was a genius, not just a hero, and she trusted him in a way she couldn't yet extend to Reed or Ben, not with her doubts lingering.

The problem was finding him. No phone number, no address, just a name and a face from a day she wasn't even sure she remembered properly. She passed a newsstand, the headlines screaming about Invincible's latest save, a blurry photo of him lifting a bus in Chicago. "Guy gets around," she muttered, pausing to glance at the paper before moving on, sidestepping a spilled coffee cup someone had left on the corner. SHIELD's lockdown had cut her off from the world, but now that she was free, maybe she could track him down, though she wasn't exactly a manhunter, so that might be more difficult than she thought. Perhaps she would run into him in the city, it seemed to be the place he frequented the most. A long shot, but it was something.

A street performer strumming a guitar caught her ear, the melody cutting through thee sounds of the cars, and she tossed a dollar into his open case, earning a nod of thanks. She kept walking, her mind turning over possibilities. Social media was a mess of fan pages and conspiracy threads about Invincible, but sifting through them might yield a lead. The thought of seeing him again, not as a savior in a cape but as Mark, the guy who talked her through stabilizing a device that could have leveled a city, made her smile faintly. She stepped around a group of tourists snapping photos of a billboard, the wind picking up and carrying the scent of hot dogs from a vendor nearby.

Rumble

Sue's stomach let out a loud, unladylike growl, loud enough that she glanced around, half-expecting passersby to stare, but the Manhattan crowd kept moving thankfully. She needed food, she hadn't had breakfast yet. What to have though? She wanted something she hadn't eaten in a while, something to celebrate being out of the Baxter Building. The walk felt too good to cut short, so she decided to head to Chinatown, where the streets were always filled with vendors and restaurants serving dishes that could make her forget the past weeks of confinement and boring food.Smiling at the thought of her freedom, she weaved through the bustling sidewalks, dodging a bike courier and sidestepping a spilled soda can as she headed south.

When she reached Chinatown, the air hit her with the warm scents of sizzling dumplings, roasted duck, and spiced broth, each stall and restaurant vying for her attention. She wandered for a moment, stomach rumbling again, struggling to choose between the neon-lit noodle shops and steaming bao carts. Finally, her eyes landed on a small place tucked between a pharmacy and a tea shop, its sign reading "Mr. Wong's" in faded red letters. It looked cozy, unpretentious, and busy enough to promise good food. 

She pushed through the door, the bell jingling softly.

Inside, the restaurant hummed with the chatter of a few lunchtime regulars, the tables packed close under paper lanterns. A waitress with a warm smile and a notepad approached as Sue slid into a booth by the window. "Welcome to Mr. Wong's, what can I get started for you?"

Sue scanned the menu quickly. "I'll have the beef noodle soup, extra chili, and an iced tea, please."

The waitress jotted it down, then looked up with a grin. "Good choice, good choice, you're gonna love it. A good choice for such beautiful girl."

Sue smiled, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Thank you, that's really sweet."

As the waitress walked off, Sue pulled out her notebook, its pages worn from constant use, and flipped to her notes on the Marriott incident. She had been piecing together the sabotage, scribbling theories about how someone had tampered with Reed's trans-dimensional device to trigger the cosmic ray explosion. On a fresh page, she listed the names she remembered being near the exhibit that day:

Franklin Storm

Johnny Storm

Susan Storm

Ben Grimm

Reed Richards

David Greiger

Sasha Goodman

Lauren Phillips

Michael Philips

Aria Alexandra

Victor Von Doom

There were others, faces she couldn't place, but these stood out, scientists, assistants, and attendees close enough to have had access. She tapped her pen against the page, frowning. Everyone on the list was brilliant enough to pull it off. But without a motive, it was impossible to pin down a suspect. What would they gain? She sighed, circling Doom's name absently, his arrogance at the convention lingering in her memory, but no clear evidence tied anyone to the act. He had tried to hit on her early in the day, but she had brushed him off due to how busy she was. After that he'd just left? She wasn't entirely sure where he went after that. 

Her thoughts were interrupted as the waitress returned, setting down a steaming bowl of beef noodle soup, red with chili oil, and a tall glass of iced tea. "Here you go enjoy!"

Sue smiled, tucking her notebook to the side. "Thanks so much." She took a sip of the tea, cool and slightly sweet, then dug into the soup, the rich broth warming her instantly as tender beef and chewy noodles hit her tongue with a kick of heat. It was better than she'd hoped, the flavors a stark contrast to the bland cafeteria food of quarantine. She savored it, letting the meal distract her from the puzzle in her notebook.

As she ate, another woman walked in, her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail, moving with an easy confidence as she greeted the owner at the counter. "Hey, Mr. Wong, long time no see! Can you make me the usual? I'm starving."

Mr. Wong chuckled, waving her off like a favorite niece. "Always in a rush, huh? Usual order, kung pao chicken, extra spicy?"

"You know me too well," the woman said, leaning on the counter as they chatted like family, her laugh carrying across the small restaurant.

Sue glanced up briefly, then returned to her soup, absentmindedly jotting a few more notes with her free hand, a question mark next to Doom's name, a scribble about checking security footage if SHIELD ever released it. Her mind drifted back to Mark, wondering if he had seen something that day that could point her in the right direction, her need to find him growing stronger with every bite.

Sue glanced up from her notebook as the door to Mr. Wong's swung open, admitting a group of five men in dark jackets, their postures aggressive and eyes scanning the room like predators. They zeroed in on Mr. Wong behind the counter, who paled instantly.

One, the leader with a scar across his cheek, slammed a fist on the wood. "Wong, you old fool! you haven't paid your protection money this month. We don't run charity here."

Mr. Wong bowed his head, hands trembling as he wiped the counter. "Please I apologize, business has been slow. Just a little extra time, a week maybe? I'll have it then."

The leader sneered, pulling a short sword from under his jacket. "Time? You think we're a bank?" He slashed the blade down, carving a deep gash into the counter with a splintering crack. Wood chips flew, and Mr. Wong flinched back.

The woman from before stood up from her table, her voice firm. "Hey stop bothering Mr. Wong and get out of here. He doesn't owe you anything."

Mr. Wong waved frantically. "No miss please don't get involved. They'll hurt you. Just sit down."

She ignored him, stepping forward. "I said leave."

The leader laughed, turning to her with a leer. "Look at this bitch thinking she's tough. Stay out of men's business, or I'll make you regret it." He shoved her shoulder hard.

She twisted into the shove, her elbow snapping up to crack against his nose with a crunch. Blood sprayed as he staggered, and she grabbed his arm, flipping him over her hip onto a table that shattered under his weight.

The others charged. One swung a fist; she ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him so he face-planted into a chair. Another grabbed a stool to swing like a bat; she sidestepped, using his momentum to yank him forward into the counter, his head bouncing off the edge. The third pulled a knife, slashing wildly; she blocked with a menu tray, disarming him with a twist that sent the blade flying into a wall, then kicked a nearby mop bucket into his path, tripping him face-first into the spill. The fourth tried to grab her from behind; she elbowed his gut, flipped over his shoulder using a table for leverage, and drove her knee into his back, sending him crashing through a stack of crates.

The last one, recovering from the initial shock, drew a gun while she finished the fourth, aiming at her back.

Sue shouted, "No!" and reached out instinctively. An invisible force field shimmered into existence, blocking the bullet mid-air with a ping, the round flattening harmlessly against the barrier.

Colleen spun at the sound, delivering a final kick to her opponent, then stared as Sue extended the field, slamming it forward into the gunman and sending him flying into the wall with a thud, knocking him out cold.

The restaurant fell silent everyone shocked, Mr. Wong's mouth agape, the few remaining customers frozen in their seats.

Colleen calmed first, breathing steady as she straightened up and turned to Sue. "Thank you... that was... incredible."

Sue lowered her hand, the field vanishing as she nodded shakily. "You're welcome."

"I'm Colleen Wing," the woman replied, extending a hand with a grateful smile.

_____________________________________

"So, where are we going again?" he asked.

Darcy threw a grin over her shoulder. "You'll see. Somewhere fun, you need a break, space boy."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "A break from saving people?"

"A break from running yourself ragged," she shot back. "C'mon, trust me."

He did need a break. That much was obvious in the way he followed without another word. When they rounded the corner, the arcade lights hit them and Darcy's grin widened. 

"There," she said, gesturing toward the door. "Time to test those so-called super reflexes."

Mark let out a soft laugh. "You brought me to an arcade?" Mark didn't even know they had an arcade in this town. 

"Don't act disappointed. You look like you haven't touched a joystick since 2005."

"That's not true. I'm great at games." At least he was when he was a kid. 

"Then prove it," she said with a challenging smirk. 

They stepped inside, and the noise swallowed them whole. Mark blinked a few times, adjusting to the flashing colors and the blur of movement from every direction. It was very busy in here though that shouldn't be surprising considering how little entertainment there was in Puente Antiguo. Darcy, on the other hand, looked completely at home. She tugged at his arm, pulling him toward a classic fighter cabinet tucked near the back.

"Let's start with this," she said, already fishing a couple of tokens from her pocket. "Loser buys the next round."

Mark grinned and leaned closer. "You sure you want to make that bet? My reflexes are superhuman."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard the brag before. Put your money where your mouth is, Grayson."

They each picked a character. Darcy went with the ninja. Mark picked a brawler. The match started fast, Darcy's hands flying over the buttons. Her character ducked, spun, and landed a flurry of kicks before Mark even reacted.

"Wait, wait—how did you—"

Darcy didn't give him the chance to finish. Another combo sent his health bar crashing down.

Mark frowned at the screen. "That should've connected. Is my controller busted or something?"

Darcy laughed, eyes never leaving the screen. "Excuses already? Come on, big guy, don't tell me the superhero can't handle a little button-mashing."

Her character unleashed a finishing move that sent his fighter flying off the screen. Mark dropped his head, pretending to sulk. "Unbelievable."

"Get good, space boy," she teased, smirking. "That's one for me."

Mark straightened up and slid another token in. "Rematch. This time, no distractions."

"Oh, I'm shaking."

The second round went worse. Darcy dodged everything he threw, countering with the precision of someone who lived in their mother's basement. He landed one heavy punch and looked momentarily proud, at least until she unleashed a spinning kick that drained the rest of his health.

Mark stared at the screen deadpan. "I think this joystick's broken."

"Sure," Darcy said. "Blame the hardware."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You win this one. But next game something without buttons... Air hockey maybe?"

"Trying to change the battlefield?"

"Exactly."

They found an open table and both moved towards it, a smug look in Marks face as he approached. Mark slid a coin in, and the puck shot to life with a click. Darcy grinned and served. The puck zipped straight toward him, and he blocked it cleanly, sending it back twice as fast.

"See? Reflexes," he said.

Darcy returned it off the side, sneaking it past his guard and into the goal. "One-zero. Keep up, hero."

Mark scowled playfully. "Beginner's luck."

The next serve was faster. He put spin on it, but she caught the angle perfectly and scored again.

"Two-zero. Wow, are you even trying?"

"I'm warming up," he said, grinning.

They went back and forth, trading shots and taunts. When Mark finally scored, he threw his arms up like he had just won a championship. "Yes! That's what I'm talking about!"

Darcy just smirked. "Cute. Still losing though."

By the end, the score was 7–4 in her favor. Mark leaned on the table, breathless but laughing. "You're ruthless."

She shrugged. "You make it easy."

"Alright, you got me," Mark admitted, tossing her more tokens. "Dance game next?"

They stepped onto the DDR platform, arrows scrolling up the screen to pulsing beats. Darcy nailed the steps, her moves fluid and on-point. Mark kept up at first, his super reflexes syncing perfectly, but he overthought a combo and missed, stumbling slightly. "Damn these patterns are tricky."

Darcy laughed, hitting a perfect streak. "Get good! You're supposed to be invincible, not invincibly bad at rhythm."

"That was a lame joke," he said with a chuckle. Mark tried again on the next song, focusing harder, landing a flurry of steps that boosted his score. "See? Getting the hang of it." But she pulled ahead, ending with a high combo while he tripped on a double arrow.

She high-fived him anyway. "Not bad for a newbie. Hungry?"

Mark nodded "I could eat," he replied as they hopped off the dance pads. Mark and Darcy made their way to the snack bar at the back of the arcade, the counter sticky with spilled soda and littered with empty candy wrappers from the kids ahead of them. The waitress, a college-aged girl with pink-streaked hair and a name tag reading "Kayla," leaned over the counter as they approached, her eyes lighting up when she saw Mark.

"Hey there... what can I get for you two?" Kayla asked, her gaze lingering on Mark a little too long, a smile playing on her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Darcy stepped up beside him, looping her arm through his possessively. "Nachos, extra cheese, jalapeños, the works. And a couple of sodas."

Kayla nodded, but her attention stayed on Mark. "Nachos it is. You look familiar... you come here often?" She batted her lashes, ignoring Darcy entirely as she punched in the order.

Mark shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. "Uh, first time here, actually. Just visiting."

Darcy cleared her throat loudly, her fingers tightening on his arm. "Yeah visiting me, so how long on those nachos?"

Kayla finally glanced at her, the smile fading just a touch. "Five minutes. I'll bring 'em over if you want." She winked at Mark. "Extra service for cute customers."

Mark's cheeks flushed slightly, and he stammered, "Thanks, but we'll wait here, no need to trouble yourself."

As Kayla turned to prep the order, Darcy pulled him aside, her voice a mock whisper. "Extra service? Please. She was two seconds from slipping you her number or dragging you to the bathroom."

Mark chuckled nervously, glancing back at the counter. "What? No, she was just being friendly."

"Friendly? She practically undressed you with her eyes," Darcy said, rolling hers but keeping her tone light, though a hint of cattiness crept in. "If I wasn't here, she'd have you between her legs before you could unbuckle that belt."

Mark laughed, trying to play it off. "You're exaggerating."

Darcy bumped his hip with hers. "Lucky for you, I'm here to fight off the other women, they'd eat you alive if I wasn't here."

Before Mark could respond, Kayla called out, "Nachos up!" She slid the tray over, her fingers brushing his as he took it. "Enjoy. Come back if you need... anything else."

"Thanks," Mark said quickly, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed the tray and steered Darcy toward a nearby table.

They settled into a booth, the nachos steaming between them, piled high with melted cheese, jalapeños, sour cream, and guac. Darcy dove in first, pulling a loaded chip free and crunching into it with a satisfied hum. "Okay, these are worth the flirting," she moaned before eating a few more. "So how is  New York?"

Mark grabbed a chip, dipping it generously. "Same old, same old. Fought some street-level stuff, nothing major. But get thisc the mayor tried to give me the key to the city at a press thing. I didn't do it though, it felt kind of weird if I'm honest."

Darcy's eyes widened, mid-bite. "The key to the city? That's huge! Why didn't you take it? You'd be like, official New York royalty."

Mark shrugged, chewing thoughtfully. "I don't want people thinking I'm just New York's hero. I want folks everywhere to feel safe, not like I'm tied to one place. I've been trying to expand out of America more—Europe, Asia, wherever the calls come from—but it's hard being everywhere at once. One crisis ends, another starts."

Darcy nodded, licking cheese from her fingers. "You work too hard, you know that? It took weeks to get you back here for this date, I had to practically beg."

Mark raised a brow, smirking. "It's a date now? Thought we were just hanging out, playing games."

She flushed slightly, but played it off with a grin, popping another chip. "Could be. Depends on how the night goes."

They ate in comfortable silence, the nachos disappearing quickly as Darcy sighed contentedly after a particularly loaded bite. "God, I love junk food—melty, greasy perfection. It's the one thing that never lets me down."

Mark chuckled, watching her. "Yeah, but keep inhaling it like that, and you'll end up regretting it."

She snorted, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Please Ever since puberty, all the fat just goes to two places." She grabbed her breasts playfully, giving them a little shake. "See? Built-in storage."

Mark coughed on his soda, nearly spitting it out as he set the cup down, his face turning red. "Jesus Darcy, warn a guy."

She laughed, leaning forward. "What? Too much? Come on, you're Invincible, you can't handle little ol me?" She asked grabbing them again. 

He cleared his throat, changing the subject quickly. "So, how's work at Jane's? Still chasing the bifrost, or has it calmed down?"

Darcy leaned back, munching another chip. "Good, actually, she's been way more relaxed since you told her the boy toy's safe up in space-god land. Less yelling about stuff and more actual science. Though Erik's still grumbling about everything."

Mark nodded, grabbing the last nacho. "Glad to hear it. She's onto something big with those wormholes, her recent data looks very promising."

Darcy watched him for a moment, then noticed a group of teenage girls at a nearby game glancing over, whispering and giggling as they eyed Mark. Her expression shifted, a playful glint in her eye as she grabbed his arm. "Hey want to give them something to stare at? We could do it right here."

Mark blinked, confused. "Do what?"

She smirked, licking her lips slowly. "You know... make a scene."

His eyes widened, and he coughed again, glancing around at the crowded arcade. "What? Here? Darcy, we can't there are kids everywhere!"

She leaned in closer, her voice teasing. "Come on, it'd be fun show them how it's done."

"No way," he said, trying to sound firm but failing as his nervousness showed. "That's a terrible idea we'd get kicked out, or worse."

Darcy pouted, then tugged her shirt down just a bit lower, the neckline dipping until the edges of her areola peeked out. "You sure? Last chance..."

Mark's gaze flicked down involuntarily, then back up, his face heating. "Okay, fine... but not here. Bathroom?"

She grinned triumphantly, standing up. "Lead the way, hero."

He grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd toward the restrooms, his heart racing as they ducked inside. Mark pulled Darcy into the single-stall bathroom, the door slamming shut behind them as he fumbled for the lock, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls. The space was cramped, barely enough room for the sink, toilet, and a paper towel dispenser, and they bumped into the sink immediately, her hip knocking against the edge with a thud. "Ow! watch it, hero," she giggled, but she didn't pull away, instead yanking him closer by his shirt collar for a kiss.

Their lips met hard, tongues tangling right away as he backed her against the door, his hands roaming up her sides under her top. She moaned softly into his mouth, "Mmm," pressing her body against his, her fingers digging into his hair to pull him deeper. He fondled her breasts through her shirt, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened, making her arch into his touch. "You like that?" he murmured against her lips, nipping at her bottom one.

She broke the kiss with a grin, her breath hot on his neck. "You can't keep your eyes off my tits, can you? I see you staring, go ahead, they're all yours." She dirty-talked in a teasing whisper, guiding his hands lower as she bumped her elbow into the towel dispenser, sending a roll of paper tumbling to the floor. They both laughed, the sound muffled as he kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring her mouth while she ground against his thigh.

Mark lifted her slightly, setting her on the sink edge, but it wobbled under her weight, nearly tipping them both. "Whoa careful," he chuckled, steadying her with one arm while fondling her breast with the other, squeezing gently. "This place isn't built for a guy my size it seems."

"Or horny interns," she shot back, her hand sliding down to unzip his pants, fingers brushing his growing erection. "Mmm, already hard for me?" She pushed him back toward the toilet, her lips on his neck as she nipped and sucked. He sat down on the closed lid with a thump, pulling her between his legs.

Darcy knelt slowly, her eyes locked on his as she tugged his pants down further, freeing his cock. "Look at you, a big boy everywhere, huh?" She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly at first, then leaned in to take him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip. Mark groaned, his head falling back against the wall with a soft bang. She sucked him deeper, bobbing her head while her hand worked the base, the rhythm building as she hummed around him. "Mmm," she moaned, the vibration sending shivers through him.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, guiding her gently. "God, Darcy... that feels amazing." She picked up the pace, her cheeks hollowing as she took him fully, gagging slightly but pushing through with a wink up at him. After a few minutes, she pulled back, strings of saliva connecting them, and smirked. "Time for the main event."

She stood, unbuttoning her shirt to reveal her bra, then unclasped it, letting her large breasts spill free. "You want these, don't you? Been staring all night." She pushed them onto his lap on the toilet, pressing her tits together around his cock, starting a slow titjob as she slid up and down, her soft skin enveloping him completely. Mark thrust gently between them, groaning at the sensation, his hands reaching up to fondle her nipples. "Fuck yes, your tits are perfect," he said roughly.

She moaned as she made eye contact with him "Squeeze them harder... I know you want to cum all over them." The motion built, her breasts bouncing as she worked him, but he pulled her up for a kiss, tasting himself on her lips. "Mmm," she moaned into his mouth, then dropped back down, taking him deep again to finish him off. He tensed, groaning as he came in her mouth, pulse after pulse that she swallowed with a satisfied hum.

After, she stood up, wiping her lips with a grin, then surprised him by lifting one leg high, resting her foot beside his ear while still standing, her body bending like a gymnast's as her thigh stretched effortlessly. Mark's eyes widened. "Whoa, how are you doing that? You're like... double-jointed or something?"

She laughed, holding the pose. "Yoga's a hell of a workout. Now fuck me, and it better be hard."

Mark stood, pulling her against him for another deep kiss, his hands fondling her breasts roughly as she moaned, "Mmm, yes! Maul my tits." He pushed her against the wall, but they bumped the paper towel dispenser again, rolls spilling everywhere with a clatter. Laughing, he lifted her leg higher—impressed again by how easily she held it—and thrust into her, starting slow but building as she urged, "Harder! fuck me harder!"

He obliged, pounding deeper, her back sliding up the wall with each thrust. She bit his shoulder to muffle a cry, but whispered, "Pull my tits, squeeze them." Mark groped her breasts hard, pinching her nipples as she moaned loudly, "Ahh, yes!" He tried to shush her, "Quiet. people will hear," but she shook her head, gasping, "Don't care fuck me!"

Her moans echoed in the small space, growing louder as she came hard, her body clenching around him with a shuddering "Ahh!" that pushed him over the edge, exploding inside her with a groan. Darcy giggled breathlessly, slumping against him. "That wasn't too bad, for a bathroom quickie."

Mark chuckled, still catching his breath. "Not too bad?"

"Maybe you'll do better in a few more rounds," she said with a wink.

He shook his head as he laughed. "I wish I could, but I need to get going soon."

Darcy teased, pouting playfully. "Cumming and gunning already? Hit it and quit it, huh?"

Mark rolled his eyes, pulling her in for one last kiss. "You make a good side piece," he said, rubbing her head messily and making her laugh as she swatted him away.

They cleaned up quickly, adjusting clothes in the mirror before unlocking the door and stepping out. People in the arcade stared, some whispering, others smirking knowingly as heads turned their way.

Darcy flushed, whispering, "I guess I was a little too loud."

Mark chuckled awkwardly as he straightened his shirt, his face still flushed from the intensity of the bathroom encounter, the small space now feeling even tighter. "We... we should probably go," he said, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding her gaze. "Before someone calls security or something."

Darcy pouted, buttoning her shirt with a dramatic sigh, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Aw, already? And here I thought you had super stamina. Fine, party pooper let's bounce."

They slipped out of the food hall together, and stepped back into the arcade proper. Heads turned immediately, a group of teens at a nearby racing game whispered and snickered, an older woman at the prize counter shot them a disapproving glare, and even the clerk behind the snack bar raised an eyebrow. Mark kept his head down, guiding Darcy toward the exit with a hand on her lower back, but she burst out laughing once they hit the cool night air outside.

"Oh my God, did you see that old woman's face?" Darcy said, linking her arm through his as they started down the road back toward Jane's lab, the streetlights casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. "She looked like she was about to call the cops. Priceless."

Mark shook his head, still chuckling despite the embarrassment burning in his cheeks. "Yeah, I saw. Pretty sure the whole arcade heard us, thanks to you and those moans. We probably scarred some kids for life."

Darcy shrugged unapologetically, leaning into him as they walked, her steps light and bouncy. "Hey, if they're old enough for arcades, they're old enough for a little education. Besides, you weren't exactly quiet yourself, Mr. 'Oh God, Darcy.'"

He groaned, playfully shoving her shoulder. "I did not say that. And even if I did, it's your fault, you started with the titjob talk. How's a guy supposed to stay silent?"

She grinned up at him, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. "Admit it, you loved every second. Next time, we find a quieter spot so we don't have to stop at just one."

Mark smiled, the tension easing as the lab's lights came into view at the end of the road, the desert night air carrying a faint chill that made her press closer. "Next time, huh? Bold assumption. But yeah, it was... fun. Unexpected, but fun."

Darcy tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "I know you can't get enough of me," she said with a grin

Before he could reply, a low rumble echoed in the distance, faint at first like thunder on the horizon, but growing louder with each second, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. Mark stopped walking, his head tilting as he listened, the sound building into something mechanical and ominous.

"Wait a minute," he said, his easy smile fading as he scanned the darkened streets ahead, the rumble intensifying until it shook the windows of nearby buildings.

Darcy frowned, glancing around. "What is that? Earthquake?"

Mark's expression switched to serious mode in an instant, his body tensing like a coiled spring. "Run, get back to the lab, now!"

She blinked, confusion turning to alarm. "What? What's going on?"

"Run!" he shouted, giving her a gentle but firm push toward safety as the rumble peaked.

The moment the word left his mouth, a huge man in a red metal suit and a dome-like helmet crashed through a nearby building, bricks and glass exploding outward in a shower of debris that scattered across the road.

Mark flew directly at him, intent on tackling the intruder before he could cause more damage, rocketing forward with his shoulder braced for impact. But to Mark's surprise, the clash didn't budge the man—instead, he was barreled over like a ragdoll, the man's momentum carrying them both through the road as laughter boomed from the helmet.

The man grabbed Mark mid-tackle, slamming him into the ground with bone-jarring force that cracked the pavement, then lifted him again and smashed him down repeatedly while still charging forward, each impact sending shockwaves through Mark's body. "You think you can stop me, punk?" the man roared.

He ran through the next building, dragging Mark along like a battering ram, concrete shattering around them as screams erupted from inside. Mark grunted with each hit, pain flaring despite his durability—the guy's strength was insane, like hitting a freight train. Another building crumbled in their path, glass raining down as the juggernaut headbutted Mark hard, the dome helmet clanging against his skull with a ring that dazed him, followed by a brutal kick that launched him through several more structures, walls exploding in clouds of dust until he tumbled out of town into the desert sand, skidding to a stop in a plume of dirt.

Mark created a small crater where he landed and groaned slightly as he got up, shaking off the debris. "What the fuck was that?" he muttered to himself, feeling bruises forming even on his tough skin—it felt like he had been hit by a truck, the raw power lingering in his aching muscles. He stood up, then spun in place at superspeed, shedding his civilian clothes to reveal his costume underneath, he had decided to always wear his costume under his civilian clothes for situations exactly like this, making quick changes easier.

Mark flew back toward town, spotting the juggernaut emerging from a shattered house, his red armor dented as he kicked aside a fallen beam. "Who are you?" Mark shouted as he landed hard, cracking the ground beneath his feet.

The juggernaut turned, his dome helmet reflecting the moonlight as he laughed deeply. "I'm the Juggernaut, bitch, and I'm gonna enjoy turning your face into paste."

Mark narrowed his eyes. "What do you want? Why attack here?"

The juggernaut cracked his knuckles, the metal grinding. "Want? I want to smash that pretty-boy hero grin off your skull. You prance around like some savior, thinking you're better than the rest of us? There's no such thing as heroes kid, everyone's rotten at the core, scratching for power, for money, for a piece of the pie. You act like you're above it, saving the day with your cape and bullshit morals? Makes me sick. The world's a jungle, and I'm the apex predator, now watch as I prove it by breaking you in half."

"Blah blah blah, I'm a villain," Mark interrupted, cutting off the rant with a roll of his eyes before flying at him, punching the juggernaut square in the stomach. The impact echoed like thunder, sending the armored behemoth flying back through the air farther than Mark expected. Mark flew after him at speed, catching up mid-flight and grabbing the juggernaut by the helmet. "Where'd all that strength from earlier go?" he taunted, twisting to hurl him downward.

The juggernaut spat back graphically, "Fuck you, you flying prick? I'll rip your spine out and use it as a jump rope!" as he plummeted, but Mark slammed him into the desert ground with meteor-like force, the impact forming a deep crater that shook the earth.

The juggernaut groaned but pushed himself up, his armor cracked in places but holding, blood trickling from a split lip visible through the visor. "What the fuck is with this guy," Mark muttered, hovering above as the juggernaut roared and started charging again, his footsteps thundering like an avalanche.

Mark readied himself, throwing a punch as the juggernaut closed in, but it did nothing, the armored fist glanced off like hitting steel, and Mark was tackled again, the juggernaut's grip like a vice around his waist. "Got you now, hero!" he bellowed, picking up speed across the sand, each step a quake as he drove Mark through boulders that shattered on impact. 

Mark struggled, twisting in the hold to throw punches at the helmet that rang out but barely did anything, the juggernaut laughed maniacally. "Feel that? That's unstoppable momentum, nothing stops the Juggernaut!" He leaped high, slamming Mark into the ground with a suplex that buried them both in sand, then yanked him up by the leg and swung him like a club into a rocky outcrop, the stone exploding on contact.

Pain flared through Mark's ribs as the juggernaut kept the assault going, stomping down on his chest with a boot that cracked bone before hauling him up for a series of haymakers that snapped Mark's head back with each blow. "You think you're tough? I'll break every bone in your body!" He charged again, building speed across the desert, ramming Mark into mesas that crumbled like paper, the impacts blurring Mark's vision as blood trickled from his mouth.

Mark tried to break free, prying at the arms locked around him, but the grip held like iron, the juggernaut's momentum making escape impossible as they barreled through the landscape, cacti and rocks shattering in their wake. "Give up yet, punk?" the juggernaut taunted, jumping high to pile-drive Mark into a dry riverbed, the ground splitting open under the force.

Mark gasped for air, stars dancing in his eyes, but caught both fists as the juggernaut launched punch after punch, his arms straining against the onslaught. With a surge of strength, he kicked upward, connecting with the juggernaut's chin and sending him soaring high into the air like a launched rocket.

Mark bolted after him, drawing his fist back as he climbed higher, the air thinning around them. "This ends now!" He threw a serious punch mid-air, his knuckles cracking against his chest with a boom that echoed across the desert, launching the juggernaut even further skyward.

Mark kept ascending, pushing his speed until he couldn't even see the juggernaut anymore, then stopped and raced back down, accelerating faster and faster, the air igniting around him in a sonic boom as he met the juggernaut mid-descent and delivered a sledgehammer blow with both hands that cracked the air like thunder, sending the armored figure plummeting down to form a crater nearly half a kilometer wide, sand billowing up in a massive cloud.

The juggernaut lay there, injured with his armor cracked in multiple places, blood seeping from rents in the metal, but he still pushed himself up on shaking arms, roaring defiance. "What the fuck is with this guy," Mark muttered, hovering above, his own body aching from the brutal hits, bruises forming under his suit.

The juggernaut staggered to his feet. "I'm gonna kill you, rip you apart and feed you to the vultures!"

But before he could charge again, a swirling portal appeared behind him, crackling with energy that yanked him backward through it, his roar cutting off as the rift sealed shut. Mark frowned, diving toward it, but he didn't make it in time the portal vanished with a pop, leaving him alone in the cratered desert, questions swirling in his mind about who these people were and why they had targeted him. He floated there for a moment, catching his breath, before turning back toward town to check on Darcy and the others.

Mark soared back toward Puente Antiguo, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the chaotic encounter with the juggernaut, confusion gnawing at him over who this guy was and why he had attacked with such relentless fury. The portal that swallowed him left more questions than answers—who was pulling the strings, and what kind of tech or power could summon something like that out of nowhere? The desert night blurred beneath him as he flew, his bruised ribs aching with each breath, whoever this juggernaut was, he hit harder than anything Mark had faced in a while.

The town came into view, its streets loudl with panic—people shouting, running for cover, car alarms blaring from the destruction left in the juggernaut's wake. Police cruisers lined the main road, their lights flashing red and blue as officers tried to direct the crowd and cordon off the shattered buildings. Mark scanned the chaos from above, his eyes locking onto Darcy near the lab's entrance. She looked unharmed, and relief washed over him as he confirmed she was safe.

He dove down to the sheriff's station, landing lightly in front of a cluster of officers who startled at his sudden appearance in the Invincible suit. "It's okay," he said, raising his hands to calm them. "The guy who did this—he's gone. I fought him off, pushed him out of town. It's over now, so no need to panic. Just focus on getting everyone safe."

The sheriff, a grizzled man with a mustache, nodded quickly, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you, Invincible, we'd be picking up bodies without you. We'll handle the cleanup."

Mark gave a curt nod. "Call if you need me." He launched back into the sky, veering to a secluded alley behind a shuttered gas station where he landed and quickly stripped off his costume, stuffing it into a hidden pocket in his jacket. He pulled on his civilian clothes and jogged back to meet Darcy, who was still outside the lab.

"Mark!" Darcy spotted him and rushed over, grabbing his arms and looking him up and down like she was checking for broken bones. "Oh my God, are you okay? What the hell was that? That huge guy in the red armor just smashed through everything, and you went flying—literally flying! Did you beat him? Where'd he go? Was he some kind of mutant? Or an alien? Or a robot? I saw you hit him, like, boom, and then he was gone, and—"

"Darcy, breathe," Mark tried, holding up a hand, but she barreled on without pause.

"—the whole town's freaking out, and I thought you were dead for a second because he was slamming you through buildings like you were nothing, and what was that portal thing? Did you see it? I mean, what the hell, Mark, who was that guy—"

Mark laughed, cutting her off by leaning in and kissing her softly, his hands cupping her face. She froze mid-sentence, her eyes fluttering shut before she melted into the kiss, her hands gripping his hoodie. When he pulled back, she blinked at him, finally quiet, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

"Okay, that works," he said, chuckling. "I've gotta head out tonight."

Darcy hit his side playfully, giggling as she fell into step beside him. "You're such a tease, bailing on me after all that. Rude."Darcy glanced up at him, her tone lighter but still curious. "Seriously though, you're okay, right? That guy looked like he could bench press a tank."

"I'm fine," Mark assured her, smiling. "Just a little bruised. He was tough, but I've dealt with worse."

Darcy lingered at the door, pulling him in for one more quick kiss before stepping inside. "Don't be a stranger, space boy."

Mark grinned. "I won't. Take care, Darcy."

As soon as she was inside, he slipped around the corner, out of sight, and launched back into the sky, the desert falling away beneath him as he pushed eastward toward New York at full speed, the wind roaring in his ears. He needed answers. The man's raw power and that mysterious portal weren't random; someone had sent him, and Mark wasn't about to wait for them to strike again. His mind raced through possibilities—mutants, tech-enhanced mercenaries, or something worse—but he'd start digging when he got back home. The juggernaut's words about heroes being a lie gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on t getting home.

...

Mark touched down on the rooftop of his Harlem apartment building just after midnight, the city lights below a glittering sea that blurred from his high-speed descent. He had meant to get home earlier, but a multi-car pileup on I-95 demanded his attention, followed by a bank robbery in Queens where he punched the thieves out mid-escape and left them for the cops. The detours added hours, but saving lives didn't come with a schedule. He glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then spun at superspeed, shedding his Invincible suit in a whirl of fabric that he folded neatly into a compact bundle. Slinging the bundle over his shoulder like a gym bag, he headed down the fire escape stairs to his floor, unlocking the door with a quiet click.

Inside, the apartment was dark, lit only by the glow of the TV flickering on mute with some late-night infomercial. Jessica lay sprawled on his couch, her dark hair fanned out across the armrest, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched loosely in her hand as she snored softly, her leather jacket rumpled like she had crashed there hours ago.

Mark chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he set his bag down. "Damn alcoholic, you gotta stop breaking into my apartment," he muttered, though there was no heat in it, he didn't mind that she treated his place like a second home, especially on rough nights.

He walked over and scooped her up effortlessly, lifting her like a sleepy cat in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder without waking. She murmured something incoherent, shifting slightly as he carried her to the bedroom, then tossed her gently onto the bed. Jessica bounced once, grumbled, and blindly grabbed a pillow, hurling it at him before burrowing deeper into the covers and getting comfortable with a sigh.

Mark caught the pillow mid-air, rolling his eyes with a smirk. "Sweet dreams, Jess." He tossed it back onto the bed and closed the door softly behind him.

Back in the living room, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Mark picked it up, seeing "Trish" on the display, and answered quietly to avoid waking Jessica. "Hey, Trish, it's Mark."

Trish's voice came through, laced with worry but softening at his greeting. "Mark? Oh, thank God, is Jess there? She hasn't answered my texts all night, and you know how she gets when she's in one of her moods."

"Yeah, don't worry, she's here, crashed on my couch earlier but I just moved her to the bed. She's out cold, whiskey bottle and all, but safe. I'll make sure she calls you in the morning."

Trish exhaled in relief. "You're a lifesaver, Mark—seriously, I don't know what she'd do without you watching her back. How are you holding up anyway?"

Mark leaned against the counter, glancing toward the bedroom door. "I'm fine, been busy, but fine. How about you?"

She laughed lightly, her tone shifting to something warmer. "Yeah, got invited to this celebrity bash, red carpet, champagne, the works. Just got home, actually. It was fun, but exhausting rubbing elbows with egos bigger than the room."

"Sounds like a blast," Mark said with a chuckle. "Wish I could've seen you work the crowd."

Trish's voice dropped a notch, turning playful and seductive. "You should've been there, could've been my plus-one. Speaking of... When are we grabbing that dinner? It's been too long since we... caught up properly."

Mark felt a familiar warmth creep in, his mind flashing to their last "catch-up". "I'd love to... soon, I promise. Just been slammed lately, you know how it is."

"I get it," she said understandingly, though a hint of teasing lingered. "But don't make me wait forever, Mark. Miss that smile of yours... among other things."

He chuckled softly. "Noted. Get some rest, talk soon."

"Night," she replied, the call ending with a click.

Mark set the phone down, running a hand through his hair as he headed to another room, his workshop, tucked in the back of the apartment like a hidden lair. The space blended elements of a library, lab, and garage: shelves lined with dog-eared books on physics, engineering, and mythology mingled with workbenches cluttered with circuit boards, soldering irons, and half-assembled gadgets; a pegboard held tools from wrenches to oscilloscopes, while a corner desk housed a high-end computer setup with multiple monitors glowing softly. Blueprints and sketches pinned to corkboards covered one wall, ideas for energy absorbers and flight stabilizers scribbled in his handwriting.

He flicked on the desk lamp and sat at the computer, cracking his knuckles before diving in. First, he hacked into the camera feeds from Puente Antiguo. The town security cams, a few ATMs, even a gas station's CCTV, piecing together timestamps from the juggernaut's rampage. The footage showed the armored figure bursting from an alley, buildings crumbling in his path like paper. Mark isolated the clearest frame and printed it out, the inkjet whirring as the image emerged.

He pinned it to the board on the far wall, where other photos stared back: Fred Dukes in a grainy mugshot, his massive frame barely fitting the frame; Samir captured mid-explosion from a security still; Michael Doon in a blurry photo; Alex Siska from a news clip; question marks scrawled beside Jessica Jones and Luke Cage; and now Juggernaut? with a fresh red pin.

Mutants, at least suspected mutants, that was what Mark had been investigating over the past few months. He didn't know how or why, but more and more people with powers were popping up, abilities that defied science in ways that screamed either evolution or experimentation. The mutant phenomenon was real, whispers in the news and underground forums painting them as the next step or a threat, but details were scarce. This was the second incident where he had fought one head-on—the first with Samir might have been a fluke, a lone radical, but Juggernaut's attack felt targeted, personal. If they were as powerful or in the same league as that force, he could have serious trouble on his hands, especially if organized groups were involved.

He needed to find someone who knew more about this than he did. Surely there was an expert out there—a scientist, a mutant advocate, or even SHIELD, though the thought of reaching out to Fury made his stomach turn after their last run-in. Mark leaned back in his chair, staring at the board as connections formed in his mind: Dukes and Juggernaut both unbreakable tanks, Samir with explosive powers, Doon and Siska had less dangerous powers but both were uncontrolled at the timeme. Jessica and Luke were friends, their abilities unexplained but fitting the pattern. Were they mutants too? Luke had said he got his powers in jail from some kind of experiment, but it's possible that the trauma from it had simply triggered his x gene. Jessica wasn't sure how she got hers only that they developed after the car crash that killed her family. 

Pushing away from the desk, Mark paced the room, his mind whirring. Books on genetics and evolution lined one shelf but nothing concrete. He needed leads, contacts. He needed an expert that was the key.

He stopped at the window, gazing out at the Harlem lights, the city awake even at this hour. "Where do I start?" he muttered to himself.

...

Jessica woke with a pounding headache, the kind that felt like someone was drilling into her skull, and groaned as she inhaled, catching a pleasant whiff grom the sheets. The scent relaxed her into the sheets for a moment, the soft bedding tempting her to stay curled up, but she pushed against the comfort, knowing it was too easy to get lost in it. With a grunt, she shoved herself off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cool hardwood as she shuffled to the bathroom, her rumpled tank top and sweatpants clinging to her from a restless night. She rummaged through Mark's medicine cabinet, popped an aspirin with a grimace, and swallowed it dry before splashing water on her face to shake off the haze.

She wandered into the next room, Mark's workshop, where he stood at a cluttered table covered with folders, loose papers, and a glowing computer screen displaying security footage stills. He was flipping through a file, his brow furrowed in concentration, but looked up when she entered. "Good morning," he said with a half-smile, leaning against the table.

"Nothing good about it," Jessica muttered, slumping into a swivel chair and kicking her legs up onto a nearby crate, the chair creaking as she spun it slowly. "When'd you get back?"

"Late last night," Mark replied, setting the file down. "When'd you break in this time?"

"Sometime in the evening," she said, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling as the chair spun lazily. "Lost track after the fifth whiskey. You been up all night again?"

Mark nodded, his eyes flicking to the board on the wall. "Yeah... got attacked yesterday."

Jessica stopped spinning abruptly, her feet hitting the floor as she sat up. "Attacked? By who?"

"Some asshole calling himself the Juggernaut," he said, gesturing to the board where a grainy photo of a massive figure in red armor and a dome helmet was pinned next to others. "I'm trying to dig up what I can on him, but it's not easy, guy's a ghost, no records, no actual name."

Jessica hummed, squinting at the board with its array of faces and question marks; Fred Dukes, Samir, Michael Doon, Alex Siska, even her own and Luke's with tentative scribbles beside them. "You're still on this whole mutant thing, huh?"

Mark rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "It's not a thing Jess, it's becoming a regular occurrence. First Samir and Fred, now this guy? Both crazy strong, both with powers that scream mutant. I'm not paranoid; something's up."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You know, I could take a look at this for you... poke around, see what my contacts know."

His eyes lit up. "Really? You'd do—"

"Gonna have to charge you, though," she cut in, smirking. "Haven't had a case in a bit, so I need the cash. Rent doesn't pay itself."

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course it's not free. Maybe I should start charging you for all the booze you've swiped from my stash, pretty sure you owe me a distillery by now."

Jessica snorted, spinning the chair again. "What, you want me to go homeless? I'm a charity case, Grayson—have a heart."

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Mark said, waving her off with a grin. "Not like I need the cash. Just don't expect me to cover your bar tab too."

She smirked back, propping her boots back up. "Don't worry, I'll make more progress on this than you have with your pinboard detective act."

Mark sighed, leaning back in his chair, hoping he wouldn't regret this. "Just don't get yourself in too deep Jess, guys like Juggernaut don't play nice."

Before she could reply, the police scanner on the table crackled to life, a dispatcher's voice cutting through: "All units, be advised high-speed pursuit in progress, suspect vehicle is a black sedan, heading eastbound on 125th Street, Harlem. Suspect is armed and dangerous, proceed with caution."

Mark sighed, rubbing his temples. "Guess it's back to work." He stepped behind a partition, spinning at superspeed to change into his Invincible costume, the familiar blue fabric snapping into place as he tucked his civilian clothes away.

Jessica shook her head as he moved toward the window, her voice dry but laced with concern. "You're gonna collapse from exhaustion one of these days, you know."

He flashed her a grin over his shoulder. "Somebody's gotta do it." Then he launched out the window, the glass rattling slightly as he vanished into the morning sky.

Jessica leaned back, staring at the board with its web of photos and notes, muttering to herself, "Dumbass hero complex." But a small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed a pen and started jotting down names to call.

_____________________________________

In the Baxter Building's lab, Reed Richards hunched over the GeoCore Stabilizer, his elongated arms stretching across the console to adjust a series of calibration dials, the device itself a small cylinder of reinforced alloy and glowing conduits that vibratedd faintly under his palms. Franklin Storm stood nearby, arms crossed as he monitored the readouts on a secondary screen, while Sue positioned herself at the safety controls, her fingers hovering over the emergency shutdown sequence. The air buzzed with the low whine causing Reed to make a few adjustments. The GeoCore's potential immense but volatile, they were dealing with something that could alter tectonic forces, and one misstep could turn the room into a magnetic storm.

"Alright, initiating test phase two," Reed announced as he input the final commando. "Field generation at 20 percent, keeping it low to test containment. Sue, stand if we spike."

"Ready," Sue replied, her eyes fixed on the gauges.

Franklin nodded approvingly. "Proceed Reed, this could be the breakthrough. If we stabilize the MHD rotation."

Reed tapped enter, and the GeoCore whirred to life, blue arcs flickering along its surface as the electromagnetic field engaged. The readouts climbed steadily... 10 percent... 15 percent... until a glitch in the feedback loop caused a surge, the field spiking to 40 percent in an instant. Metal objects in the room—tools, a wrench on the bench, loose screws from the floor—jerked upward like marionettes, rattling toward the core.

"Reed shut it down!" Sue shouted, her hands snapping forward as a shimmering force field bloomed around them, the invisible barrier catching the flying debris mid-air with dull thuds and clangs. A heavy vise clamped against the edge, vibrating violently, while a metal stool skidded across the floor before slamming into the field and bouncing off harmlessly.

Reed's fingers flew over the keys, sweat beading on his forehead as he overrode the sequence. "Hold it! manual abort initiating now!" The field destabilized with a whine, the core dimming as the pull reversed, and the metal objects dropped in a clattering heap around the room.

The sound faded, leaving only their heavy breathing. Reed pulled back from the console, rubbing his temples. "Damn it that was my fault. I miscalibrated the damping resistor; it fed back into the primary coil. Sorry, everyone."

Franklin placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice calm but firm. "No harm done, Reed, but let's not tempt fate again. That thing's got enough juice to magnetize the whole city if we push it, let's take a break for today."

Sue dropped her force field with a exhale, the air rippling faintly as it dissipated, and flexed her fingers. "Good call on the break, Dad. My head's ringing from that surge."

Franklin nodded. "Take the afternoon, clear your heads. We'll reconvene tomorrow with fresh eyes."

Sue agreed with a quick breath, wiping her brow as she headed for the door. The hallway felt cooler, a relief after the contained heat of the test chamber. She turned the corner toward the elevators when a familiar voice called out.

"Sue you okay? That looked pretty bad from the observation feed."

She turned and smiled, spotting Natasha leaning against the wall with a water bottle in hand, her red hair tied back in a ponytail. "Yeah, Nat... I'm fine. Just a little too close for comfort."

Natasha handed her the bottle, her green eyes concerned. "Here hydrate. The device looks like it makes you all sweat buckets, how is everything going so far?"

Sue accepted it gratefully, twisting the cap off for a long sip, the cool water soothing her dry throat. "Thanks. And yeah, the GeoCore's a beast, it's way more complex than the specs SHIELD sent over. The MHD field's supposed to rotate at precise intervals to disperse seismic stress, but the feedback loops are fighting us every step. And it doesn't help that SHIELD is rushing us like we can flip a switch and save the world tomorrow."

Natasha nodded understandingly, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the lounge. "I get it, pressure from above never makes science easier. I'll talk to Coulson, see if I can get him to lay off a bit. Buy you some breathing room."

Sue glanced at her feeling a little relieved. "That'd mean a lot, Nat—really. Coulson's decent, but he's got that by-the-book vibe that makes everything feel like a deadline."

Nearly a month had passed since SHIELD lifted the lockdown, freeing them from the isolation that had felt like a cage, but Coulson had wasted no time assigning Natasha Romanoff as their official liaison—a "representative," he called it, to handle requests, flag issues, and ensure "smooth collaboration." Sue and Nat had clicked almost immediately, bonding over shared frustrations with bureaucracy. Johnny was happy that she was assigned too, which he made clear when he flirted with her relentlessly, of course, but Nat took it in stride with a good-natured deflection that made Sue laugh.

Sue had done her own digging on Nat early on, curiosity overriding caution as she hacked into SHIELD's servers—which was surprisingly easy. Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow, was a legend in covert ops: highly skilled in espionage, combat, and infiltration, with a file full of redacted missions. It surprised Sue that someone of her caliber was playing babysitter to a bunch of accidental supers, but when she asked over drinks one night, Nat shrugged it off with a wry smile. "Director Fury thinks my last mission compromised me so he's got me on easy duty as a courtesy. Beats desk work, I guess." That conversation had led to them getting drunk in the lounge, trading stories about bosses before it devolved into rants about men in general. It was cathartic, the kind of friendship Sue hadn't realized she craved, different from the intellectual circles she grew up in with her father. 

Sue smiled as she drank from the bottle Nat had given her, the cool water steadying her. It was nice having a female friend so different from her, they balanced each other. "Speaking of easy duty," Sue said, "you still coming to the dojo tonight? Colleen's been asking about you."

Nat shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Wouldn't miss it."

Sue knew Nat probably wasn't learning anything at the dojo—Black Widow didn't need basic self-defense tips—but she came anyway, showing up with that support that made Sue like her more. Plus, the three of them got along like they'd known each other forever, trading jabs during sparring and stories over tea afterward. "Good, it's more fun with you there. Johnny's been begging to join, but I think we know why he wants to join."

Nat laughed softly. "Let him try, I could use a sparring partner."

They reached the lounge on the 35th floor, the door sliding open to reveal Johnny sprawled on the couch in front of the TV, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he channel-surfed with the remote. He perked up the second Nat walked in, sitting bolt upright and flashing his trademark grin. "Nat! Hey, looking fierce as always. You know, I was just thinking about you."

Natasha took it good-naturedly, her expression amused but distant as she grabbed a water from the mini-fridge. "Hello Johnny, always a pleasure to see you again."

Johnny laughed, undeterred, leaning forward. "So I was thinking how about we go out together, you know a night on the town? I'll show you how to destress."

Sue watched from the doorway, rolling her eyes as she moved to the couch, sinking into the opposite end. The TV screen flickered with a news report; a bank robbery in Queens. She frowned, leaning in closer, her heart picking up when Invincible streaked into frame, his blue-and-white form diving between the robbers and cops, disarming one with a punch that sent the gun flying and scooping up a fallen officer before the crossfire hit.

It was Mark... always Mark, showing up exactly when people needed him, no fanfare, just action. She hadn't been able to contact him since the Marriott, despite her best efforts. She'd scoured news archives, fan forums, even tried cross-referencing the name "Mark" with superhero sightings, but New York had too many Marks—plumbers, teachers, stockbrokers. It was like finding a needle in a stack of needles, and that needle could also just up up and away whenever it wanted. 

Nat's phone buzzed at that moment, vibrating on the coffee table. She picked it up, glancing at the screen before stepping toward the window for privacy. "Romanoff here." Her voice dropped to a professional tone as she started speaking.

Sue kept her eyes on the TV, watching Mark haul the last robber into a police van, the crowd cheering faintly in the background. He nodded to the officers, then shot into the sky without a word, vanishing as quickly as he appeared. She bit her lip. The news cut to commercials, and she leaned back, frustration simmering inside her.

After a moment, Nat hung up and turned back to the room, her expression neutral but her posture a touch tighter. "Bad timing can't do lunch today. I've been called back to headquarters."

Sue looked up, concerned. "Everything okay?"

Nat nodded, forcing a smile. "Just a routine update, nothing major. I'll meet you at Colleen's dojo later though."

Sue nodded, standing. "Sounds good. See you there."

"Goodbye," Nat said, giving a quick wave before heading out, her boots echoing down the hall.

The door clicked shut, and Johnny immediately grabbed Sue's shoulder, spinning her toward him with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Sis! Come on, hook a brother up, tell Nat I'm perfect for her. I'm charming, I can light up a room, literally. What's not to love?"

Sue brushed his hand off, rolling her eyes as she shrugged out of his grip. "Go away Johnny you're being a pest. Nat's too good for you; she'd eat you alive, and not in the fun way, in the black widow way."

He pouted, flopping back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "You're such a buzzkill, always ruining my shot. One date, that's all I ask."

She headed for the door, shaking her head. "Find your own match. I'm going out Ineed some air." The door swung shut behind her, leaving Johnny muttering to the empty room as she stepped into the elevator.

...

Natasha strode into SHIELD headquarters, the sleek corridors filled with agents who nodded or offered quick greetings as she passed. "Morning, Clint," she said to Hawkeye as he jogged by with a gear bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey Nat, can't speak I'm off to Kate's netball game, Fury's waiting for you," he called back. She waved without slowing, the Black Widow persona in place as she headed for the director's office.

Inside, Nick Fury leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his eye scanning a tablet while Coulson stood nearby, flipping through a stack of reports. Maria Hill sat at the conference table. Natasha closed the door behind her, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, what's so urgent I had to skip lunch for this?"

Fury glanced up, gesturing to a chair. "Thanks for coming in, Romanoff. Have a seat, we've got a situation."

Coulson nodded. "We appreciate you making time, Natasha. It's about the recent attacks on our facilities."

She sat, crossing her legs. "Who are they?"

Coulson set his reports down. "They're a group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Mutants, led by Erik Lehnsherr, also known as Magneto. He's a mutant with the ability to manipulate magnetic fields and metal—extremely powerful, extremely dangerous. The Brotherhood's been hitting our bases, targeting specific tech and data."

Fury took over, his gravelly voice cutting through. "We planted false information trails at the last base they hit, pointing them to dead ends, but Lehnsherr's too smart to stay fooled for long. He'll realize he's been played soon enough, and they'll widen their search."

Natasha leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "What are they after?"

"The GeoCore Stabilizer," Fury replied without hesitation.

"Why?" she pressed.

Coulson hesitated, glancing at Fury before answering. "Unknown, but speculation points to Lehnsherr's powers. The GeoCore manipulates magnetohydrodynamic fields deep in the Earth's crust—similar principles to how he controls metal. It could amplify his abilities, or worse, be repurposed into something catastrophic."

Natasha nodded, processing the information. "What's the plan? Are we moving the GeoCore and the team at Baxter?"

"Negative," Fury said.

She tilted her head, suspicion creeping in. "Why not? 

The Baxter building isn't secure, if they attacked they'd easily break through."

Fury met her gaze unflinchingly. "Moving it now would make it more likely to be detected. It stays where it is."

Natasha's eyes narrowed further, her voice dropping to a dangerous edge as she stood. "You're using them as bait, aren't you? The Storms, Reed, Ben, you're dangling them to draw Magneto out."

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension thick. Coulson cleared his throat, trying to smooth it over. "It's a controlled operation Natasha, we're monitoring the situation closely, ensuring their safety while we track the Brotherhood's movements."

Fury didn't bother softening it. "Whatever Lehnsherr's planning, it's not good, and we can't keep counting on Invincible to pull our asses out of the fire. This is how we flush them out. The Baxter team won't be in danger we've got layers of security, agents on standby."

Natasha's anger flared, her fists clenching as she stepped forward. "You're gambling with their lives, Director! People I know, people who don't deserve to be pawns in your chess game." Her voice rose, but as she moved, a wave of nausea hit hard, her vision blurring with a dizzy spin that made her stumble. She clutched the table for support, her knees buckling.

"Natasha!" Coulson was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arm, while Hill rushed over, concern etched on her face.

"Romanoff, you okay?" Fury asked, a little worry in his voice. 

She tried to wave them off, her breathing shallow. "I'm fine... just..." Her words slurred, the room tilting as darkness crept in, and she collapsed, their voices fading into a muffled haze as they shouted for a doctor.

...

When Natasha woke, she was in a medical bay, lying on a bed in a patient gown. Her head throbbed, but the dizziness had eased. She sat up slowly, groaning, which caught the attention of a doctor; a middle-aged woman with a clipboard who hurried over with a cup of water.

"Take it easy, Agent Romanoff," the doctor said, handing her the cup. "You had a pretty bad fall there, gave everyone a scare."

Natasha sipped the water, her throat dry. "I'm fine really. Just got lightheaded."

The doctor nodded, jotting notes. "Have you felt nauseous or sick before this? Any dizzy spells recently?"

Natasha hesitated, then admitted, "Only in the last few months, on and off. Nothing major."

The doctor scribbled more, her expression neutral. "Any fatigue? Mood swings? Changes in appetite?"

Natasha frowned, setting the cup down. "Some, yeah. What's the problem? Flu or something?" she joked.

The doctor handed her a small bottle of tablets. "These will help with the nausea, it's to be expected and should subside in a few weeks."

Natasha's confusion deepened. "Expected? What are you talking about, what's the problem?"

The doctor chuckled softly, adjusting her glasses. "I wouldn't really call it a problem."

Natasha's brow furrowed, her patience thinning. "What's going on? Spell it out."

The doctor's smile faded, replaced by a slight frown. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" Natasha asked a little angrily.

The doctor met her eyes. "Miss Romanoff, you're pregnant."