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

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."