August 20, 2015 — Thursday — Downtown, Chicago — 4:31 PM
Mark drifted above the city—arms loose at his sides, the late-afternoon sun catching on the black, blue, and yellow of his suit. He wasn't heading anywhere in particular. He was just… flying. Letting the wind slide past his face. Letting himself enjoy, for once, the simple freedom of not being trapped behind a counter, timing fries and wiping tables.
Chicago unfurled beneath him—streets laid out in a perfect grid, glass towers reflecting the orange-tinged sky, Lake Michigan glittering in the distance like a sheet of steel.
And then he saw it.
A flash of orange—massive—tearing open the air in the middle of an avenue like a wound ripped into reality.
A portal.
Mark narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is that?"
A heartbeat later, he snapped his body around in midair and shot toward the commotion.
When he got close enough, the scene resolved into something his brain refused to accept for a split second.
Green creatures were pouring out of the portal. Dozens of them. Blue, militaristic uniforms. Strange rifles raised. Orange energy bolts ripping through the street in every direction.
Cars detonated. Storefronts shattered. People ran screaming, tripping over each other in blind panic.
Mark dropped like a meteor.
BOOM!
He hit the street hard enough to crack the asphalt beneath his boots. He lifted his head, taking it all in—five of the aliens directly in front of him, another half-dozen behind, more scattered down the avenue in chaotic clusters.
"Hey!" Mark shouted, fists tightening. "I don't know who you are, but you picked the wrong city!"
The closest one swung its weapon toward him.
FWOOOOSH!
A blast of orange energy slammed into Mark's chest. He rocked back half a step—not from pain, but from the sheer force of the impact.
Mark surged forward and drove a punch into the alien's face.
The creature went flying, smashing into a parked car and crumpling the hood like tin foil.
Another bolt fired.
Mark dodged—badly. The shot clipped his shoulder, twisting him in the air.
Doesn't hurt… but it's annoying as hell.
He snapped back toward the next one. A kick to the chest. The alien dropped. Mark landed, pivoting—
And froze.
A woman was down on the pavement, clutching her leg, blood spilling between her fingers. A man was trying to drag her but seemed locked in place by terror. Three kids were huddled behind an overturned car, crying hard enough their shoulders shook.
Injured people. Civilians. Right in the middle of it all.
Mark launched toward them—
But before he could reach them—
FWOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH!
Three blasts hammered into his back at once.
Mark hit the pavement face-first and skidded, the rough asphalt scraping the front of his mask.
He pushed up fast, spinning around.
Five of the aliens were advancing, weapons leveled.
Mark didn't hesitate.
He shot forward, scooped the injured woman and the man up in his arms, lifted into the air, and dropped them on a safer stretch of sidewalk farther back from the fighting. Then he went back—grabbed the three kids and carried them away, setting them down behind a concrete barrier where the bolts couldn't reach.
FWOOOOSH!
Another blast caught him in the chest.
Mark slammed down again.
"Damn it!"
He rose, breath heavier now, shoulders squared.
And the aliens just kept coming.
More portals were opening. More of them were stepping through.
Then he heard it—the steady chopping thrum of rotors.
Mark looked up.
A news helicopter hovered above the avenue, camera pointed straight at him. A station logo gleamed along the side.
Mark stared at the advancing aliens, drew in a breath—
And went in again.
Meanwhile — The Grayson House — 4:40 PM
Kai was sprawled on the couch exactly the way he always was—legs propped on the coffee table, an empty mug beside him, some old action movie playing on the TV. Explosions. Shouting. The kind of noise he didn't even register anymore.
Then the screen cut.
"BREAKING NEWS — LIVE FEED"
The image shifted—helicopter footage from above. Downtown Chicago. A glowing orange tear in the sky. Green creatures swarming the street.
And right in the middle of it—
Invincible.
Alone.
Dropping one alien. Taking a blast. Falling. Getting back up. Sprinting to pull civilians away. Taking more hits.
Kai didn't move. He just watched.
Viktor appeared on the opposite end of the couch—sitting like he belonged there, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Kai with a sharp, quiet intensity.
"Again," Viktor said, voice low and precise. "Everything's happening… and you're on the outside. Same mistake. Every time."
Kai's jaw locked.
His fingers dug into the cushion.
On the TV, Mark took another blast. Went down. Got up again.
Kai felt something settle in his chest—not pain, not fear, but something worse. Something he couldn't mute this time.
He's not ready. He's going to get hurt.
Viktor kept going. "You said you didn't need to be a hero anymore. That Mark has powers now. That it was enough." A pause—just long enough to sting. "Look at him, Kai. Does that look like enough?"
Kai stood—fast, decisive. He bolted up the stairs, stripped down, and threw on the black-and-gray suit in seconds.
Mask.
Boots.
Gloves.
He came back down, crossed the living room, yanked open the back door—
And shot into the sky.
WHOOOOSH!
Air tore like fabric behind him. The house shuddered faintly under the shockwave.
Minutes Later — Downtown, Chicago — 4:44 PM
The chaos had spilled across three full blocks.
Flaxans moved in formation—blue uniforms stained with human blood, weapons raised, that crooked, ugly grin carved across their faces as they fired without pause.
FWOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH!
Red energy bolts tore through the air—slamming into cars, chewing through building fronts, ripping into people.
A man in a suit went down—one blast took his right leg clean off at the knee. He screamed as he collapsed, blood spraying across the hot asphalt.
A woman sprinted with a child clutched to her chest—one bolt hit her squarely. Her body jolted, punctured through, and the child slipped from her arms, tumbling onto the ground.
An old man tried to crouch behind a car—one blast punched through the glass, through him, and detonated the police cruiser behind. The vehicle buckled and burst, metal twisting as flames licked upward.
Bodies lay everywhere. Blood smeared the sidewalks. Screams echoed between the towers like trapped ghosts.
Across the street, the Flaxans had erected a barricade—alien metal that folded on itself, locking into place, shaping solid cover in seconds. Behind it, more green soldiers reloaded and laughed like it was entertainment.
Police were pinned on the opposite side—crouched behind cruisers, firearms raised, returning fire. But the bullets sparked and ricocheted off the alien barrier, doing nothing.
FWOOOOSH!
A blast hit a cop in the legs. He screamed and dropped. The cruiser behind him exploded—fuel igniting, metal blooming outward—his body thrown upward before it hit the street, unmoving.
At the center of it all—
Mark.
He panted through clenched teeth. Blood spattered across his suit.
Not his.
A man had been hit right in front of him—bursting in an instant, like a water balloon.
Stay calm, Mark. Stay calm. It's just you right now. You can do this.
He lunged.
A Flaxan swung its rifle toward him. Mark flew in—boot to the chest. The alien shot back and hit the pavement hard enough to crack it.
Another fired. Mark dodged and grabbed the weapon mid-swing, ripping it from the Flaxan's hands. He slammed the stock into its face. Blood sprayed.
Two more rushed him. Mark pivoted—fist to the first, elbow to the second. Both dropped.
Three came together. Mark skimmed low, swept their legs with a spinning kick, then landed, grabbed one by the throat, and hurled it into the other two.
Eight Flaxans lay around him in less than twenty seconds.
Mark turned, breathing hard, scanning for the next cluster—
And stopped.
Froze.
The scene in front of him ripped the air out of his lungs.
An elderly woman lay on the ground—gray hair matted with blood. She dragged herself forward with nothing but her arms, fingers clawing at the asphalt, pulling inch by inch.
"Help…" Her voice barely existed. Rough. Broken.
Around her—bodies. At least ten. Men, women, a child. Dead. Burned. Punctured. Still.
And the Flaxans kept advancing. No mercy. That grin still there, like it was a game.
One of them stepped in front of the woman. Lifted its rifle. Aimed directly at her head.
Mark snapped back into motion.
He grabbed a chunk of concrete—big, heavy, rebar jutting out like a rusted spear. He flew and screamed.
"NO!"
He threw.
The slab hit the Flaxan in the chest like a cannon shot. The creature flew back, skidding across the street. Its face was marked---a fresh scar cutting across its left eye.
Mark landed in front of the woman, turning his back to the oncoming Flaxans—shielding her. He crouched fast and lifted her carefully into his arms.
"Are you okay?" Mark said, words rushing out as his eyes scanned her for more injuries. "I'm here. Are you hurt—"
She didn't have the strength to answer. She just shut her eyes against his chest.
Mark shot upward.
He flew—dodged one blast, then another, then three at once—twisting midair, turning his body into a shield over her.
FWOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH!
More shots came. From too many angles. He wouldn't be able to dodge—
WHOOOOSH!
A gray figure knifed through the air at maximum speed, slicing the wind like a blade.
Kai slid into place.
He took the blasts on his forearms and chest—without even flinching.
He matched Mark's pace in midair, guiding him through the firestorm.
"Did I take too long?" Kai said, calm despite the speed.
Mark glared at him. "Like hell you did!"
They moved together—bursting out of the kill zone, crossing two streets in seconds, landing near a parked ambulance.
Mark set the woman down gently. Paramedics rushed in with a stretcher and equipment.
Mark stood there, staring, still half-shocked—hands trembling just slightly.
So many people died. So many people I couldn't—
Kai looked at him. "Now isn't the time for that." His voice came out firm. "Save the regret for later." A beat. "We've got an alien army to put down."
Mark clenched his fists and nodded.
A decorated officer pushed through the nearby cops—captain, maybe lieutenant—holding his injured arm, blood running between his fingers.
"Who are you?" he demanded, authoritative but exhausted.
Mark's eyes stayed on the stretcher. Kai turned to the police.
"He's Invincible." Kai said. He flicked his thumb at himself. "I'm Infinity." He pointed toward the advancing Flaxans. "Pull your people back. Now. This is ours."
Mark turned to Kai. Their eyes met for a second.
Then they launched.
WHOOOOSH!
They cut through the sky side by side, synchronized.
As they rocketed toward the Flaxans, Kai spoke—low enough to be private, loud enough that Mark heard every word.
"Mark, I know you're good." Kai said, eyes forward. "But this isn't the time for mercy." He glanced at his brother. "The faster they die, the more people we save." A pause, cold and simple. "It's our people or theirs."
Mark's jaw tightened. Silence—one hard second.
"I know." Mark said.
And they accelerated.
Straight into the heart of the alien formation.
Together.
They dropped like meteors.
BOOM! BOOM!
They landed in the middle of the Flaxan line—craters punching into the street, shockwaves hurling five soldiers backward.
Kai moved first.
No hesitation. No restraint.
He grabbed the nearest Flaxan by the throat, squeezed—bone snapped—and threw the limp body into two others, dropping all three. He spun and drove a side kick into another's chest hard enough to punch through—ribs bursting out the back in a spray of blood.
Mark took the right flank.
He punched one Flaxan in the jaw—its head whipped around too far, neck breaking. Mark didn't slow. He flew low, seized another by the leg, spun like a hammer, and slammed it into the pavement three times before letting go.
A Flaxan fired. Mark dodged, closed the distance, drove a fist into its stomach. It folded. Mark ended it with a knee to the face.
Knockout. Or death. He didn't check.
Kai on the other side was pure brutality.
He grabbed a Flaxan by the arm and tore it off—blood arcing—then used the severed limb like a club, smashing another across the head. He tossed it aside and surged forward, punching straight through a face—skull rupturing.
Ten down.
Mark climbed for altitude, gathered momentum, then came down with both fists—slamming the street in the middle of a group of six. The shockwave launched them upward. Mark followed and hit each one midair—fist, fist, kick, elbow—clean, relentless.
Sixteen.
Kai seized two at once—one head in each hand—and smashed them together.
CRACK.
He let the bodies drop, then spun and hurled another Flaxan into the metal barricade hard enough to punch straight through.
Forty-one.
They crossed paths in the center of the fight—Mark sweeping left, Kai cutting right—movement so fluid it looked rehearsed.
A Flaxan tried to shoot Mark. Kai flashed in, snapped the rifle in half, and snapped the Flaxan with it.
Another went for Kai from behind. Mark rocketed in—flying kick straight to the chest.
Perfect synchronization.
Ninety-seven.
Then they saw it.
A tank emerged from the portal—an alien war vehicle the size of a bus. Pristine white armor, black edging, blue energy pulsing beneath the plating. Its main cannon rotated, charging with a rising whine.
Kai and Mark looked at each other.
No words.
They didn't need them.
They moved.
The tank fired—one massive beam of blue energy, thick as a tree trunk.
They split—Kai left, Mark right—missing the beam by inches.
They circled the tank in a blur—confusing the targeting system, the cannon trying to track but failing.
Kai dove from above. Mark came from below.
Kai grabbed the cannon turret with both hands and yanked—muscles tightening, metal screaming. Mark kicked the base at the same time.
CRAAACK!
The turret ripped free.
Kai spun midair, used the turret like a spear, and hurled it into the tank's main body.
Mark drove forward with both fists.
BOOOOM!
They hit together.
The tank exploded—a blue-white fireball, fragments of metal ripping outward, shockwave shattering windows for three blocks.
Kai and Mark burst through the blast cloud on the far side, covered in soot—unhurt.
They landed.
Another fifty-two down since the tank.
And it still wasn't over.
The portal was still open. More soldiers poured out. More tanks rolled through.
And in the middle of it all—
Bodies. Civilians down. Some cops still dragging the wounded. People shaking behind wrecked cars, praying the next bolt didn't find them.
Mark stopped, looking around, fists tightening until his gloves creaked. Frustration boiled over.
"We have to save people!" Mark shouted, gesturing at the civilians. "But we can't do that without stopping them first—and people are going to die! Damn it!"
FWOOOOSH!
A shot cut the air toward them.
It wouldn't hurt them, but—
A pink wall materialized.
Solid. Bright. Instant.
The blast hit, bounced, and ricocheted into a nearby building, blowing out a window.
Eve descended and landed beside them—pink suit, red hair whipping in the wind, hands glowing with molecular light.
"I don't know who these green guys are," Eve said, eyes locked on the Flaxans, "but it's time we make them run."
An anti-grav engine whined.
A hover-bike dropped in—Robot at the controls, Dupli-Kate behind him, Rex Splode hanging off the side like he'd been born there.
They touched down.
Robot stepped off, his green optics scanning. "Analysis: alien invasion force, advanced technology, over two hundred hostile beings, more arriving through the portal." He turned his head toward Kai and Mark. "The assistance arrived at the right time."
Dupli-Kate was already splitting—one becoming two, two becoming four, four becoming eight. Every copy wore the same determined expression.
Rex flexed his hands—orange spheres forming between his fingers, bright and unstable.
Eve glanced at the brothers, then at the rest of the team.
She smiled.
"Teen Team," Eve said, lifting her hands as pink energy pulsed. "Let's work."
And the six of them surged forward.
Together.
Against the alien army.
Robot positioned himself at the center—eyes tracking everything, calculating in milliseconds.
"Invincible, Infinity, Atom Eve—neutralize vehicles. Priority maximum." Robot's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. His head snapped ninety degrees. "Rex Splode, Dupli-Kate—civilian evacuation. Sector three has seventeen victims pinned."
"Got it!" Rex yelled, already sprinting.
Dupli-Kate's copies scattered in every direction, each one grabbing civilians, hauling the wounded toward safety.
"More incoming—move!" Mark shouted.
"I've got cover!" Eve said.
Pink energy erupted—platforms in the air, solid ramps, barriers that swallowed incoming fire.
Kai shot left. Mark shot right. They spiraled around the first tank.
"Invincible, distract it!" Kai shouted.
Mark understood instantly—he flew straight into the cannon's line, baiting the shot. The tank fired. Mark dodged at the last second.
Kai dove from behind, hands sinking into the rear plating. He ripped the armor off like paper and threw it into the second tank beside it.
"Now, Eve!"
Eve shaped the air into solid spears—pink lances that punched into the tank's exposed interior.
An internal detonation. Black smoke poured out.
Two tanks down.
Another was already aiming.
Robot cut in. "Trajectory calculated. Invincible—three degrees left in 1.2 seconds."
Mark obeyed without question.
The beam passed exactly where he'd been a heartbeat earlier.
"Infinity—optimal approach: forty-five degrees. Maximum velocity."
Kai launched—precisely as Robot predicted. He struck the joint between turret and chassis. Metal cracked.
Eve finished—altering the fracture into something brittle, something doomed.
The tank collapsed into pieces.
Flaxans kept advancing in waves.
Fifty. Sixty. Eighty.
Kai dropped into the middle of them.
Pure chaos.
He grabbed one by the helmet and spun, using it as a shield while bolts drilled into its body. When it turned too heavy with damage, he threw it away and drove a fist through the next one's chest, blood bursting.
Mark flew in a straight line—tearing through the formation like a bullet. Every Flaxan in his path was hit, hurled back, crushed into the street—knocked out or killed.
Eve reshaped the battlefield—walls blooming beneath Flaxans and launching them upward, platforms vanishing to make them fall, rifles turning into useless rubber in their hands.
"Two hundred thirty-four hostiles neutralized," Robot announced, still directing. "Rex, sector two has—"
"I see it!" Rex cut in, sliding between wreckage. He touched a destroyed car—controlled blast, clean and precise—opening a path. Three civilians sprinted through.
Dupli-Kate—now twelve copies—formed a living chain, passing the injured hand-to-hand until they reached the ambulances.
"Invincible, your right!" Eve shouted.
Mark turned—five Flaxans firing. Eve raised a barrier. The bolts ricocheted. Mark surged through and struck all five in sequence.
Kai, on the far side, snapped necks with mechanical efficiency—no wasted movement, no hesitation.
There were too many fallen Flaxans to count anymore.
A few blocks away—on the rooftop of a building five blocks out—Omni-Man watched.
Arms crossed. Red cape tugging in the wind. His face was calm, but something bright flickered behind his eyes—satisfaction. Pride.
He'd been there long enough to see everything.
Mark fighting alone.
Kai's arrival.
The two of them tearing through that first tank together.
My sons.
A small smile formed—brief, genuine.
He could've intervened ten minutes ago.
But he hadn't.
Because he needed to see it.
Needed to see them in motion—together—how they were meant to be.
The smile faded the moment more poured out of the portal. More Flaxans. More weapons.
Enough.
Omni-Man launched.
WHOOOOOOSH!
Mark's fist crushed through a Flaxan's jaw when the shockwave hit.
He turned—
A red blur carved the sky.
Omni-Man dropped into the enemy line like a meteor.
BOOM!
Twenty Flaxans were thrown upward from the landing alone.
Nolan didn't stop. He cut through five of them in one motion. Spun. Swept another ten. Flew low—breaking, crushing, tearing through fifteen more in less than three seconds.
"Da— Omni-Man!" Mark shouted, stunned.
Nolan didn't answer. He just kept moving.
Brutal efficiency. Decades of experience packed into every angle, every shift of weight.
Kai had one by the throat—fingers set, ready to snap—
And froze.
The Flaxan was… changing.
Its green skin wrinkled, turning pale—gray-white—then darkening like something rotting. Its body shrank, hunching, collapsing inward as if time itself was crushing it.
"What the hell…" Kai muttered.
The Flaxan groaned—its voice scraping older, rougher. Its eyes lost focus.
And then it died.
Of old age.
In five seconds.
Kai released the body and stared at the others.
It was happening to all of them.
Aging. Cracking. Bending. Moaning. Screaming alien words no one understood—words that sounded like panic.
"They're… dying?" Eve asked, lowering her hands.
Robot's optics flashed as he scanned. "Negative. They are aging. Accelerated rate. Hypothesis: temporal dilation between dimensions. Time flows differently in their origin environment."
The Flaxans that could still move ran—stumbling, dragging their comrades, panicked and terrified. They fled back toward the portals.
One by one, they vanished.
The portal began to close—the huge orange ring shrinking, flickering, collapsing into nothing.
And then—silence.
Smoke. Wreckage. Bodies of the ones who hadn't made it back in time—now ancient husks, decayed into brittle ruin in seconds.
The heroes stood still, watching.
Omni-Man landed beside his sons and looked at the sealed air where the portal had been.
"Well," he said calmly, "after this, they won't be coming back."
Mark was still breathing hard. Kai wiped blood off his hand.
Eve looked around at the destruction—civilians being evacuated, paramedics running, the dead under white sheets.
Robot was already calculating casualties, damage, next steps.
But for the moment—
It was over.
Minutes Later — Over the skies of Chicago — 5:12 PM
The sky was stained with smoke.
Nolan, Kai, and Mark flew together in a loose triangular formation. They flew through the wind that carried the stink of fire, scorched concrete, and something metallic.
Below them—sirens screamed. Ambulances. Fire engines. News helicopters circling like vultures.
They were flying slowly. Much slower than they could.
Mark kept staring down—jaw tight, eyes fixed on shattered streets, flashing red lights, and the white tarps covering bodies they hadn't saved.
Kai flew posture rigid, visor hiding a gaze that refused to settle on anything for too long. He shoved every image, every sound, every dying scream somewhere deep—somewhere numb.
The silence between them weighed more than any conversation.
Nolan noticed. He angled his head slightly, looking between his sons. He recognized that expression.
He'd seen it on soldiers a thousand times across centuries—
the first time they truly understood what war costs.
"You did good work down there," he said, firm but gentle.
Kai didn't answer. He just kept flying.
Mark swallowed. His voice came out low, almost stolen by the wind. "So… does this happen a lot? I mean… is it always like that?"
Nolan's head turned a little more, eyes forward. "Thankfully, no." A pause—careful words. "I know that wasn't pleasant. But you were always going to face something like this eventually."
They kept flying. The silence returned—dense, suffocating.
Then Nolan continued, stronger now. "What you did saved a lot of people." He looked between them. "And with the two of you holding off an alien invasion—hundreds—without backup…" He let the implication hang. "We didn't even need the Guardians. Do you understand how incredible you were together?"
Mark finally managed a smile—small, but real. The first since the fight ended.
Kai glanced at him from the corner of his visor. Said nothing.
Because nothing changed what had happened down there. Nothing erased the bodies. Nothing justified the screams.
But it was finished.
Nolan shifted closer to Kai, like he could read the shape of the thoughts behind the mask. "You too, Kai." His voice carried the weight of experience. "Even if you don't show it like Mark does—don't drown yourself thinking you should've done more." A beat. "You both won. And you did what you could."
Kai gave a small nod.
Acceptance, silent.
Then Nolan's expression changed.
His gaze dipped. He pressed something to his ear—listening to a communicator only he could hear.
His face hardened.
"Looks like today isn't done yet." He glanced at them, voice turning into command. "Try to keep up. Lakeside Mall. Now."
And he accelerated.
WHOOOOSH!
Kai and Mark traded a look—exhaustion, frustration, and something stubborn beneath it.
Then they shot after their father.
Cutting across Chicago's sky again.
Because the job never ended.
Never.
Minutes Later — Lakeside Mall — 5:16 PM
Nolan dropped like a missile.
CRASH!
The roof of the mall detonated—glass, metal, and concrete cascading down in a storm of debris. People screamed and scattered. Alarms erupted. Sunlight poured through the new hole in a golden shaft thick with dust.
Nolan didn't slow. He flew straight to a teen sprawled across a bench—limp, unconscious, one arm hanging off the side.
Kai and Mark landed behind him, cracking the marble.
Nolan grabbed the boy by both wrists, yanking him upright, shaking him hard. "You—wake up! WAKE UP!"
The boy groaned, his head lolling.
Nolan didn't wait. He ripped the shirt open—buttons snapping, fabric tearing.
And there it was.
A mechanical chest-plate. Silver metal. Bonded to skin with surgical adhesive. And in the center—
00:00:04
A green LED pulsed. The digital countdown dropped.
"Talk!" Nolan shook him again, eyes wide. "WHO DID THIS TO YOU?"
00:00:03
The boy's eyes fluttered open—confused, unfocused, not understanding where he was or what he was looking at. "Did… what?"
00:00:02
No time.
Nolan didn't hesitate.
He gripped the boy by the shoulders—locked in, immovable—then twisted his torso and threw.
With everything he had.
WHOOOOSH!
The boy shot through the hole in the roof—rocketing upward, higher, higher, becoming a tiny speck against the clouds.
00:00:01
Mark stared up, mouth parted.
Kai stood motionless beside him.
People in the mall stopped running. They looked up too. Some pointed. Some lifted phones with shaking hands.
00:00:00
KABOOOOOM!
The explosion tore the sky apart.
A fireball—orange and red—blossomed three hundred meters above the mall.
No debris fell.
Everything vanished inside the blast.
Silence.
No one screamed.
No one cheered.
No one moved.
Just… silence.
Mark took a step forward, staring at the torn ceiling, the open sky, the empty space where the boy had been.
"That kid," Mark said, voice rough, cracked. "He was one of the ones who went missing from my school."
Nolan turned his head slowly, looking at him.
Mark's fists closed.
Another one.
Another dead kid.
Another name they couldn't save.
Mark kept staring upward like the boy might come back—like the explosion hadn't happened—like there was still time.
But there wasn't.
There never was.
Nolan placed a heavy hand on Mark's shoulder. "There was no choice," he said quietly. "If he exploded in here… two hundred people would be dead."
Kai looked around—security rushing, cameras watching, people filming with trembling hands.
Missing students… and now bombs…
That's not coincidence.
Nolan removed his hand. "Let's go." He pointed toward the broken roof. "There's nothing else we can do here."
Mark swallowed hard. Both brothers nodded.
The three of them lifted off—exiting through the same hole they'd made—leaving the mall behind.
Another victim.
Another face that would blur into headlines.
They flew home in silence—loose formation. The sun was nearly down now, Chicago lighting beneath them like a constellation turned upside-down.
They landed in the backyard.
Kai and Mark went in first—heavy steps, shoulders low, the smell of smoke still clinging to them. Nolan followed and shut the door.
They went upstairs to change.
Downstairs, Debbie was setting the table—plates, utensils, napkins. She heard the steps overhead, glanced up, and saw the three of them moving in a quiet line.
Minutes later they came back down.
Normal clothes. Wet hair. Faces still loaded with weight.
Debbie paused with the serving dish in her hands, eyes on her sons. "I'm used to your father coming home late…" Her head tilted. "But I guess I should've known you two would start doing it too."
Mark passed her without meeting her eyes. "Hey, Mom."
He pulled out a chair—the scrape across wood snapping the silence—and sat down hard.
Kai gave a small nod and sat as well.
Debbie watched—brows knitting. She'd seen that heaviness before, over the years.
Nolan stepped in behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, kissed the side of her neck.
Debbie murmured, "What bit them?"
Nolan released her gently and walked to the table. "It was a rough day for them." He sat, adjusting his napkin. "An alien attack downtown. A lot of casualties."
Debbie set the dish down and took her seat, eyes moving between her sons as they began eating in silence.
"I know you did everything you could," she said softly, firm beneath the kindness. "The fact that you feel bad about it… that just means you have hearts." A pause. "You won't always save everyone. What matters is that you tried."
Forks scraped plates. Quiet chewing. The clock counting seconds.
Mark swallowed and dabbed his mouth with the napkin. "That kid at the mall," he said, staring at his plate. "He disappeared a few days ago. Todd's still missing too."
Kai reached for more potatoes, then glanced sideways with a dry, crooked half-smile. "Could've been Todd today."
Debbie's fork stopped. Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Nolan cut a piece of meat, chewed, swallowed before he answered. "A bomb was attached to a young man today. We couldn't save him." He looked at Debbie. "Mark recognized him as one of the students who went missing from their school."
Debbie turned to Kai, eyes wide. "Kai—my God. And you wanted someone else to explode?"
Kai gave the same thin, shameless half-smile and kept eating. "If you'd seen the punch he threw in Mark's face before Mark got his powers, you'd want him to explode too."
Mark lifted his fork, shaking his head. "Let's not—okay? It's done." He glanced at Kai. "And you did give him a lesson that day. People said he complained about his nose for a week before he vanished. I'm pretty sure you broke it."
Debbie stared at them, caught between concern and disbelief. "I'm starting to regret letting you two go to the same school."
They ate in silence for a few more seconds.
Then Kai spoke, the tone cutting cleaner now. "I think the bomb incidents are tied to the missing students." He lifted his water. "Someone disappears—and then the bombs happen."
Nolan nodded, slicing another piece. "When Mark said the boy was from his school, I thought the same."
Mark looked between them and set his fork down. "So what do we do now?"
Debbie reached out without missing a beat. "Right now? Right now you can pass me the potatoes."
Nolan gave her a small smile and slid the dish over.
Then his gaze returned to his sons. "Now you watch." His voice lowered. "You pay attention. You look for anything abnormal." A pause—grave. "Something tells me the disappearances and the bombs won't stop here."
Mark nodded slowly. "Kai—we should talk to Robot about this tonight."
Kai nodded and kept eating, but his eyes were already moving behind the calm—calculating, connecting pieces.
And Debbie watched the three of them—her husband, her sons—and felt that familiar, fragile shift in her chest.
Somehow, sitting at the same table still pulled them back into place.
Even so… hero life had arrived for the entire family now.
It wasn't just Nolan coming home late anymore.
It was all three of them.
And she knew—deep down—
This was only the beginning.
Later That Night — Teen Team Operations Base — 11:25 PM
Chicago glittered beyond the broken clouds—city lights reflecting off the low ceiling of night and turning it into a diffuse orange halo against the black sky.
Kai and Mark cut through the air and dropped through the base's circular roof opening.
Inside, the headquarters thrummed with electronic life. Workbenches crowded with disassembled equipment. The sharp scent of solder, machine oil, and circuit-ozone hanging in the air like a signature.
Robot was hunched over a worktable—metallic fingers manipulating tiny components with surgical precision. Around him stood three humanoid drones in various stages of disassembly, wiring exposed like open veins.
"Impressive," Robot murmured—more to himself than to anyone else. "The processor inside these video games is powerful enough to manage this unit for years with an error margin below ten percent." He rolled a chip between his fingers under a strip of LED light. "If we hadn't stopped the Mauler Twins, an army of these drones would have been an enormous problem. Fascinating. Simply fascinating."
Kai and Mark landed—boots thudding against painted concrete.
"Robot?" Mark called.
Robot didn't turn right away. He finished soldering a connection—brief spark, the smell of melted metal—then finally faced them, green optics glowing.
"Hello. Invincible. Infinity." His mechanical voice echoed through the open space. "Good work today against the alien incursion. Without you, casualties would have been significantly higher." His head tilted slightly. "How may I assist you?"
Mark nodded and stepped closer to the worktable. "I think we found something about the bomb case." His eyes swept the room. "Is Eve here?"
Robot returned to the drone—tightening a screw, adjusting a servo's alignment. "She is not. She and Rex are on a mission." His gaze remained on his work. "But I can inform her upon their return. What happened?"
Kai spoke then, arms folding across his chest. "The mall explosions are connected to the missing students from our school."
Robot stopped.
He turned fully, optics scanning—green light tracking over both of them from head to toe.
"The residue patterns at the blast sites indicated an organic trigger mechanism. I already determined the devices were attached to young subjects." A pause. "I did not know they were from your school. How did you confirm this?"
Kai stepped in, bracing a hand on the table. "Invincible recognized the last boy. He's one of the missing students from our school." His gaze locked onto Robot's glowing eyes. "If you line up the numbers—missing students versus explosions—we currently have two more missing than we have blasts."
Robot opened his mouth to respond—
WHOOOOSH!
A rush of air from above.
All three looked up.
Eve dropped through the opening, pink energy shimmering around her. Rex came with her—standing on a floating pink platform Eve kept suspended beneath his boots, arms crossed, expression tired.
Eve looked at the twins and a small smile formed. "Well, look at our new friends—Invincible and Infinity." She tilted her head, curious. "What are you doing here?"
Kai glanced at her, voice dry. "Why the surprise? You showed us the place. Were we not supposed to come?"
Rex hopped off the platform and hit the floor with an exhausted sigh. Eve descended beside him.
She gave that sharp little smirk only she could pull off. "I just didn't expect to see you here." A beat. "So—what do we owe the honor of your illustrious presence?"
Mark spoke, serious. "We think the mall explosions are related to the missing students from our school."
Rex's eyes widened as he drifted closer to Eve, an arm sliding around her waist. "Jesus—what a mess." He threw his hands up, exasperated. "This day never ends. Aliens, robberies, rock men, and now students-as-bombs."
Her attention slid from the twins to Robot, amusement thinning into focus. "Any idea who's behind it?"
Robot turned back to his monitors, metallic fingers already typing. "Not yet." Data streamed across the adjacent screen too fast for any human eye to follow. "However, I will investigate individuals associated with your school."
He paused, head turning slightly. "If I discover anything, I will inform you." Another beat. "For now, I recommend all of you return to your residences and rest. It has been a long day."
Rex stretched his arms over his head with a groan. "Finally—someone sane. That's why you're in charge." He tugged Eve closer by the waist and kissed her cheek. "Bye, babe. I'm out."
Mark and Kai exchanged a look and nodded once.
Mark spoke as his eyes lifted toward the roof opening. "We'll head out too."
Eve waved. "See you tomorrow."
The twins lifted off—shooting up through the hole in the ceiling and plunging into Chicago's night.
And as they vanished into the sky, Robot went back to work.
Investigating.
Calculating.
Searching.
Because someone was turning students into bombs.
And they needed to find out who—
Before someone else exploded.
The Next Day — August 21, 2015 — Friday — Reginald Vel Johnson High School — 11:30 AM
The lunch bell screamed—high and grating. Doors flew open in a chain reaction, and students spilled into the hallways like a tide. Conversations flared. Laughter bounced off lockers. Metal slammed.
Side by side, Mark and Kai drifted toward the cafeteria—Mark with his backpack slung over one shoulder, Kai with his hands buried in his pockets, wearing that bored expression like armor.
"Dude… I've been thinking about something." Mark glanced over.
A slight tilt of the head—one brow lifting, impatient but listening.
"Is being a hero… what you expected?" Mark adjusted his strap. "I mean, the responsibility. The weight. Sure, there's the cool part too, but… you know."
Kai kept his pace, eyes ahead. "Honestly? I already knew it'd be like this." A small shrug. "In the end, it's exactly what Dad always says—do what needs to be done."
That answer sat in Mark's chest, heavy in a different way. Yesterday still hadn't loosened its grip.
And it wasn't just Mark.
For Kai—Grey long before any of this, someone who could shove feelings into that hollow place and pretend they never existed—yesterday had been different. This time, they didn't deserve it. Too many deaths. Too close. Too visible.
They threaded past a cluster of girls laughing, then a few guys from a school team arguing about some game.
"I think you're right…" Mark said at last—then, as if his brain panicked at the weight and tried to drag him somewhere safer, something else surfaced. Lighter. Familiar. "I remembered something last night before I fell asleep… You remember when we were younger? The first time Eve showed up on TV, you watched her fight those freak creatures, and then you went out running afterward." A faint smirk tugged at him. "Now we're heroes, and yesterday we saved the city with her. That's insane, right?"
"Yeah." The word came out flat—present, but not really.
Mark tried again, pushing humor like a lever under a stuck door. "You were a fan of hers, weren't you?" He hesitated, then went for it. "Did it bother you seeing her with her boyfriend yesterday?"
Kai stopped so abruptly Mark almost bumped him.
A full turn—blank disbelief, borderline offended. "I couldn't care less." He squinted like Mark had insulted his intelligence. "But seriously—where do you even come up with this stuff?"
Mark laughed—just enough to loosen the knot in his throat—then the laugh faded into a sigh. "I don't know. I couldn't sleep. Everything from yesterday kept replaying, and then my brain just started jumping between thoughts." He exhaled. "Life's really unpredictable."
Kai held him in that look for a beat, one brow still raised… then resumed walking. "How did you even land there?" A dry edge slipped in. "You into her or something?"
"No, no." Mark waved both hands fast. "She's pretty, sure, but she has a boyfriend… and I thought maybe you were interested."
"No way. If it wasn't clear yet, I'm done with relationships. If it's up to me, the path is clear for you."
The answer only made it clearer what Mark already knew: that Kiana had hurt him, but it was a subject that wasn't even mentioned.
The cafeteria swallowed them—stale reheated food, amplified chatter, chairs dragging across tile. They got into line. Mark grabbed a tray; Kai followed.
A familiar presence slid in beside them.
"So… what are the In—" Eve let the word hang for a second, smirking. "—inseparable brothers plotting?"
"And the name jokes never end." Kai's tone was pure deadpan.
Mark greeted her with a small wave, grateful for the distraction. "We were talking about how, before I got powers, Kai was kind of a fan of yours. He used to watch you on TV."
Eve turned her attention to Kai, one brow lifting. "You watched?"
A long, theatrical sigh answered first. "Absolutely." Kai's voice dripped with irony. "I built a shrine for you too. Prayed for good luck every night."
Mark and Eve laughed—genuine, the first clean crack in the tension they'd been carrying since yesterday.
Eve leaned into it, tilting her head. "If you want an autograph, I can arrange that."
"Perfect." Kai didn't miss a beat. "Put it on Mark's forehead. That way I can admire it every time I have to listen to his award-winning fiction."
They laughed again, shuffling forward with the line.
The menu board did them no favors.
Chicken soup.Only chicken soup.
"Chicken soup?" Kai stared like the universe had personally betrayed him. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm starting to miss Oakwood."
Mark side-eyed the tray like he was trying to accept it emotionally. "At least it's protein—and at least I won't have to hear you complain about it."
They took their food, found a table, and sat—Eve across from them, the brothers side by side.
Eve's expression shifted first. "About what we talked about…" Her tone softened. "What do you think about all this?"
Mark speared a piece of chicken, lifted it, inspected it with full seriousness. "I think it's ridiculous." He frowned. "Chicken soup for lunch? Have mercy."
Eve blinked once, then pointed with her spoon. "No—about the explosions." Her gaze sharpened. "Did you see anything weird today?"
Kai's mouth twitched with a quiet, humorless sound.
Mark answered anyway, halfway serious now, eyes drifting toward the windows. "I don't know. Did Robot say anything?" He exhaled. "Yesterday was heavy, so I've been trying not to think about it too much."
Eve's attention slid to Kai. "And you?"
"I kept an eye out." He raised his spoon, calm. "Didn't see anything."
Eve set her fork down a little harder than necessary. "You two look like you don't even care."
"If we didn't care, we wouldn't have gone to you last night." Mark spread one hand. "But let's be real—there's no lead. Unless one of us can sniff out bombs like a bloodhound, there's nothing we can actually do."
A small shrug from Kai—silent agreement.
Eve looked away, stirring her soup. "Yeah…" A quieter breath. "You're probably right. We're not going to find anything like this without a clue."
They finished in thoughtful silence—not awkward, just heavy.
Trays scraped. Trash clattered. What was left got dumped.
"I wish it was just a monster we could punch until the problem stopped," Mark muttered as he slid his tray onto the stack. "But apparently it's never that simple."
"Fighting is the easy part." Eve adjusted her hair as they walked.
"Honestly, I think that's the only part I'm actually good for." Mark jerked his thumb at Kai. "And Kai's still better than me. I'm learning."
Eve tilted her head. "You'll get as good as him. He's better because he has more experience, that's all."
Mark stared at her, amused and offended at the same time. "Thanks, Eve. We got powers at the same time, and you just said he's better."
Eve flicked a glance at Kai—so quick it was almost nothing—then recovered from the slip with a smirk. "You're welcome. No need to thank me." A short laugh. "That's not what I meant. Combat experience. He fought at that other school—boxing, right?"
Mark blinked, then nodded. "Yeah."
Eve checked her phone. "Let's go outside. I'll see if Robot found anything."
They cut through the hallway and pushed open a side door toward the parking lot. Fresh air hit them. Harsh midday sun.
Mark kept talking beside Eve—something about the next class, some assignment he'd forgotten.
A step behind, Kai let it wash over him.
Watching.Always watching.
They climbed to the roof.
Sunlight slammed into them, making all three squint. Hot concrete. Wind carrying the smell of the city—exhaust and cafeteria food.
Eve and Mark sat on the parapet with their legs dangling over the edge above the parking lot, Chicago stretching out beyond the courts. Kai stayed on his feet, elbows resting on the concrete, attention fixed on the skyline.
Eve dialed and waited with the phone at her ear. "Robot? It's me. Find anything?"
Mark studied her face while she listened.
She ended the call and pocketed the phone.
"So?" Mark asked.
"Nothing yet." Eve stretched, arching her back, legs swinging lazily. "He said he doesn't think it'll lead anywhere, but he's still digging into people connected to the school."
"I just hope we figure it out before yesterday happens again." Mark's breath came out heavier than he wanted.
A beat—then, quietly: "Yeah." Kai's voice stayed even, but the line in his face didn't.
Thoughts rose without Viktor forcing them this time—logic dragging them up from the dark.
If I hadn't moved. If I'd chosen not to go help Mark…It could've been so much worse.
Silence settled for a few seconds. Only wind. Cars far below. Distant voices in the courtyard.
Eve looked between them, then focused on Mark. "You're the one who said you're trying not to think about it." Her head tilted. "Do you want to talk about yesterday?"
Kai remained quiet, listening from the edge of his vision.
Mark's eyes dropped to the parking lot—anything but her face. "It's just…" His voice lowered. "I froze." He swallowed. "If Kai hadn't shown up, I think I would've ruined everything. A lot of people died because of me."
Eve widened her eyes—exaggerated on purpose—then cut in with a half-smile. "Are you kidding?" She pointed at him. "A lot of people lived because of you." Her finger flicked briefly toward Kai. "Because of your brother too. But the point is—everyone freezes the first time it gets ugly."
Kai shifted his weight, turning slightly off the ledge, one foot braced against the parapet, posture loose but distant. "Mark, you were the first one there." A pause. "I only showed up because I saw you on TV." Another beat. "So everyone who survived—those people are alive because of you." His gaze drifted away. "And even with me there… if Teen Team hadn't shown up, even more would've died."
"I guess…" Mark's shoulders eased a fraction.
Then he glanced at Eve again, brow furrowing. "I'm glad you guys came." A pause, confused. "I don't get how I never recognized you before. Same school, I'd even seen Kai watching you on TV, and you don't even wear a mask."
Eve laughed, tucking hair behind her ear. "It's psychological. You don't expect to find a superhero at school… so you don't see a hero at school."
"That makes sense." Mark's smile returned, faint but real.
Kai let dry humor cut through. "After yesterday, Teen Team's about to become everyone's favorite hero team."
Eve met it halfway—half-joke, half-truth. "I think we already are… now that Young Team doesn't exist anymore."
Kai's brow lifted—small, almost invisible.
Young Team.A memory stirred, old and sharp beneath the numbness.
Mark straightened, thinking out loud. "I wish I'd gotten a chance to meet the heroes from Young Team." He frowned. "I mean… some of them just quit, right? Did they ever think about joining Teen Team? Like… Grey, Reflex, Silver—"
Eve's eyes flicked toward Kai—
—and before she could answer, Kai pushed off the parapet. "That's it. I'm heading to class. This conversation's getting too morbid for me."
They watched him walk toward the metal door, hands still in his pockets.
Halfway there, he slowed and turned back, a faintly lost look crossing his face. "What class is it again? Biology?"
"Physics." Eve rolled her eyes, smirking. "And we have it together, by the way."
A lazy wave—no full turn—and then the door slammed.
CLANG.
Mark's guilt crept back in. "Damn. I think I hit a sore spot. Vortex was his best friend."
Eve's eyebrow rose. "Something tells me that's not what bothered him."
"It's not?"
Eve looked away, fixed her hair again, then shrugged before she said too much. "I didn't know they were best friends." A softer beat. "That must've been hard for him..."
The wind swept past them, ruffling Eve's hair.
On the other side of the heavy door, the air was still. Kai descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the concrete shaft. Sunlight cut through the narrow windows, striping the floor.
Viktor appeared beside him—as he always did when Kai needed to hear the voice he kept avoiding.
"What a mess," Viktor muttered, shaking his head. "All it takes is anything even adjacent to Kiana and you dip out of reality."
Kai kept descending, bored eyes locked on the steps. "You're the one who brought it up. I was heading to class."
Viktor sped up and stopped in front of him halfway down the flight—blocking the path.
"So that's your choice?" Viktor crossed his arms. "Let the misunderstanding rot?"
Kai stopped. Still wearing that careless face, staring straight at Viktor. "It's not a choice." His voice stayed calm. "There was just no reason to talk about any of that right now."
Viktor's eyes sharpened. "Letting Eve think it was Mark is the same thing you did back then—letting Mark take credit for everything." He leaned closer. "Remember? Those two girls in elementary school." His tone hardened. "I know you think he's some chosen one meant to save the Earth, but this… feels wrong." A beat. "You saw it yourself—without you yesterday would've been a disaster. And what about you being Grey?"
Kai held his gaze. His voice stayed even. "It's not the time to tell him I've been lying to his face for years. Mark is already dealing with too much."
Viktor stared at him, serious. "You have serious communication issues." His jaw flexed. "And it annoys the hell out of me."
Then he exhaled, shoulders loosening with a shrug.
"But… yeah. On that part, I agree." He paused. "And in a way, you're dealing with too."
His tone dipped, quieting.
"Watching those people die hit you too, didn't it?" Viktor's eyes narrowed. "Different from the cartel trash you put down—people who deserved it."
Kai didn't answer.
He just started down again, slipping past Viktor.
Viktor followed, hands still in his pockets. "You haven't used the void powers in a while. With the blue eyes, you probably could've saved more people yesterday." He glanced at Kai. "And you know you don't have to do it alone. If you don't want the 'blue-eyed guy' running the command center, I can switch with you." A pause, sharper. "Are you afraid of losing control… or are you just following Elise and Cosmic's medical orders?"
They were already in the hallway.
He stopped—staring at nothing, like he was trying to pull an honest answer out of his own chest.
But nothing came.
"I don't know," he admitted, barely above a murmur.
Viktor shrugged. "Either way… with those ridiculous physical stats you inherited from your dad, you probably won't need the void at all."
The classroom swallowed him. Silence, then the familiar mask clicking into place—disinterest, perfectly set.
Corner seat. A slouch. Arms crossed.
Waiting.
Waiting for something he didn't even know the shape of.
Maybe a miracle—some sudden progress from Mark. Something that would peel the responsibility off his shoulders—the guilt—of watching the world from the outside like he didn't belong to it.
Because in some way, he knew he shouldn't be here.
He never should've been.
Same Day — End of Class — Reginald Vel Johnson High School — 2:30 PM
The final bell shrieked—sharp and ugly—signaling the end of last period. Chairs scraped. Conversations detonated. Students poured out of classrooms in a flood.
Mark, Kai, and Eve stepped out of Physics together. As they crossed the threshold, their teacher's voice boomed from inside.
"And I hope this doesn't happen again!"
Mark muttered just outside the door—low, but loud enough. "Asshole."
Kai laughed—short, real. "It wouldn't have happened if you two hadn't been talking the whole class."
Mark kept going, irritation spilling out in his hands as he gestured. "So anyone who talks in class is dating now? That was so stupid."
Eve stared ahead, unfazed.
When they reached the front of the school—fresh air hitting their faces, sun still bright—Eve pulled out her phone. The screen lit up. She read something, one brow lifting as a crooked smile tugged at her mouth.
She locked the screen and turned to them.
"You're not gonna believe this," she said. "Robot just told me one of our teachers used to be a weapons engineer at Globaltech."
Kai and Mark looked at each other.
"Who?" Mark asked.
"David Niles," Eve replied. "Our physics teacher."
Kai laughed and shook his head. "Looks like the opportunity to get revenge showed up sooner than expected, Mark."
"Very funny," Mark shot back, deadpan.
Eve was already jogging forward—pink energy flickering over her skin as her clothes began to shift. Her hero suit formed around her in a clean, seamless ripple.
"Move," she called, motioning them along. "I'll explain on the way!"
A Few Minutes Later — David Niles' House — 2:44 PM
They touched down near the house already in costume.
Old construction. Two stories. Peeling paint. A yard that had given up trying months ago.
Mark scanned the street. "Okay. What's the plan?"
Eve lifted her hands, pink light pooling around her fingers. "We ask questions. If it's really him, we restrain him and hand him over to the police."
Across the street, a car rolled in.
An old gray sedan—faded paint, dented bumper—the same one that had been seen leaving the mall after last week's blast.
The teacher stepped out.
Green shirt under a cheap wool sweater. Worn slacks. Thinning hair on top, gray at the sides. Thin-framed glasses.
He unlocked his front door.
But before he could close it—
WHOOSH!
The three of them shot to the entrance.
Mark landed a step ahead of the other two, blocking the doorway.
"Sir!" Mark barked. "Step away from the door!"
The teacher stopped. Looked over the three heroes from behind his glasses.
His voice came out completely indifferent.
"I didn't expect to be caught this early…"
Eve exchanged a look with Mark, confused. "Is he… admitting it?"
The teacher turned and walked inside.
"Very well," he said casually. "Mark, Samantha, and Kai—come in."
Mark and Eve froze.
Kai lingered a step behind them, suspicion already sharpening into something colder.
Eve entered first, eyes sweeping the simple living room—old furniture, cheap carpet. "How did you—"
The teacher turned with a faintly amused expression, tugging his sweater off slowly.
"Are you kidding me?" he said. "You don't even wear a mask." He pointed at the twins. "And you two wear masks, but… one of you has bleached white hair, the other has dark hair. You're the same trio from my class."
Kai looked at Eve with a smug tilt to his head.
"Yeah. About that 'psychological disguise' thing."
The teacher hung the sweater on a hook like this was a parent-teacher meeting.
"Look," he said, calm. "I have no intention of resisting."
He walked to a door on the side of the room.
"Follow me. I'll show you where the two students are."
His hand rested on the knob. He paused, almost considerate.
"One of them hasn't even been reported missing yet."
The three of them followed—still trying to understand what kind of insanity they'd just stepped into.
But Kai's unease kept rising.
Too calm. Too easy. Too ready.
The side door opened onto a set of stairs going down.
Cold concrete. The smell of mold and chemicals.
They descended into the basement.
At the bottom, the teacher spread his arms with theatrical pride.
"Behold," he said. "The trash."
"Trash?" Mark repeated, brow furrowing.
The teacher flicked the light switch.
CLICK.
And the room revealed itself.
Workbenches covered in circuitry, wiring, batteries—components unmistakably used to construct the bombs. Two tilted gurneys in the center.
On the first, a student slumped forward, unconscious. His chest had already been fitted with a metal frame—bolted and fused into place—ready to receive the device.
On the second gurney—
Todd.
Unconscious, but not yet operated on.
Kai stopped.
Jaw locked. Fists clenching.
Something burned up inside him—not normal anger. Something deeper. Something sickening.
Surgery to turn a person into a bomb.
Metal grafted onto a living body.
Human beings reduced to delivery systems.
It was beyond any line that made sense.
Mark and Eve ignored the teacher and rushed to the gurneys.
The teacher continued speaking, voice calm and instructive—as if he was still teaching Physics.
"These unconscious young men… and the ones who exploded before them… are responsible for my son's suicide." He adjusted his glasses. "It led to my divorce. And eventually, the loss of my job."
Kai's anger kept rising, but a part of him still tried to force meaning into it.
So it's his kid. That's why.
The teacher kept going, as if presenting a masterpiece.
"Don't misunderstand," he said. "I didn't do this out of vengeance. Not for my son. That would be too cliché."
Kai turned toward him.
For a brief instant, behind the mask—
his eyes flashed blue.
Eve checked Todd's pulse. He was breathing—out cold, but alive. She moved quickly toward Mark, who was trying to figure out how the frame had been attached to the other student's chest.
The teacher adjusted his glasses again.
"This was a domino effect," he said. "They destroyed my career. My life." He gestured casually at the benches. "This is punishment—for all the sadness those monsters caused."
Mark spun toward him, voice tight. "That thing—on his chest—what did you do? Is it connected to his body?"
The teacher's hand drifted to his tie. He slid it aside, then began unbuttoning his shirt.
"One by one, the same thing I did to all of them," he said, voice steady. "I turned them into living bombs." Another button. "A shame I didn't have time to finish Todd." Another button. "This was my crusade to wipe out every piece of filth and—"
Kai moved.
WHOOSH!
"—Argh!"
Kai's hand shot out and locked around the man's throat, lifting him clean off the ground.
Kai's voice came out razor-thin—controlled fury.
"I could almost understand if you said they deserved it." His grip tightened. "But do you know how many innocents died in those malls because of the students you sent there?"
The teacher choked, hands clawing uselessly at Kai's wrist, feet kicking in the air.
Kai drove a fist into his face.
CRACK!
Nowhere near full strength—but enough to cave in half his face. Nose shattering. Jaw unhinging. Blood spraying.
"You talk about trash… monsters…" Kai tightened his grip on the throat.
What was left of the teacher's face wheezed—blood bubbling between his lips.
His voice dropped to ice. "But the real piece of trash here is you."
His second punch landed.
CRACK!
A third.
CRACK!
"Stop!" Mark shouted as he and Eve rushed in.
Mark grabbed Kai's wrist. Eve slammed a pink barrier between them, forcing distance.
Kai exhaled—long and the blue in his eyes faded back to normal behind of his mask.
He released the teacher.
The man hit the concrete like a sack.
THUD.
Mark stared down at the body, then at Kai. "Did you—did you kill him?"
Eve crouched to check vital signs.
Then she froze.
Her gaze locked on the teacher's chest—beneath the half-open shirt.
"…What is that?"
She yanked the fabric aside.
A metal plate grafted to his chest too.
A device.
Green LED blinking.
"—Oh my God." Eve's voice turned sharp. "He has one too."
00:00:05
All three of them went still.
00:00:04
Kai's mind snapped through the math instantly. Can't throw him. We're underground. He'd detonate before we even clear the house.
00:00:03
But Mark's jaw clenched.
He grabbed the teacher by the shoulders and launched upward.
CRASH!
He punched through the basement ceiling—concrete exploding, dust erupting.
"No!" Kai shouted, rocketing after him.
00:00:02
Mark tore through the first floor, then the second—
Before he could clear the roof, Kai caught him midair.
He ripped the teacher out of Mark's hands with a violent pull—
And shoved Mark down hard.
WHOOOSH!
Mark dropped fast, stabilizing before he slammed through the house again.
He looked up, eyes wide.
"KAI!"
00:00:01
Kai accelerated.
Maximum speed.
Muscles burning. Air screaming.
The house vanished beneath him, shrinking into a forgotten dot as the sky darkened toward the edge of space, oxygen thinning.
Mark chased after him as fast as he could—
But he wasn't fast enough.
00:00:00
KABOOOOOM!
A violent orange flare swallowed the sky.
A massive fireball—visible for miles—its shockwave slamming into Mark and blasting him down toward the street like a kicked stone.
Eve, bursting out through the wrecked roof, saw the explosion and Mark hovering in the air above the road, stunned.
She flew to him instantly.
"Oh my God—are you okay?" Her eyes darted upward. "Where's Kai?"
Mark stared at the sky, voice cracking.
"He…"
And then—
CRASH!
Kai dropped from above.
He clipped a parked car on the way down, crumpling it like foil, then slammed into the asphalt and tore a crater into the street.
BOOOOM!
Dust and debris erupted.
Mark and Eve shot into the cloud of pulverized concrete.
Kai was already forcing himself upright—uniform shredded, mask split nearly in half, white hair a mess, body coated in concrete dust and scorched residue.
"—Damn it," Kai spat.
"Holy shit, you're alive!" Mark started, voice mixing relief and fury. "What did you think you were doing?"
Kai wiped dust from his face, coughing grit. "Me? What were you thinking? You flew him up first!"
"I already had him!" Mark snapped, stepping closer. "Why steal him from me?"
Kai jabbed a finger up at the sky, furious. "Because I'm faster!" He took another step, eyes sharp. "And congrats—we just learned our durability can tank a bomb." He took a step closer. "But shit... are you stupid? Why did you fly after me? What if the blast was stronger than our durability?"
"I went to help you! If it was bigger than our durability, you'd be dead already!" Mark shot back, also stepping in.
"And how the hell were you going to help if I already had him? If it was bigger, it would've just killed both of us." Kai threw his arms wide. "I was going to throw him clear, but I saw you coming. I had to keep climbing!"
The two stared at each other in silence...
Until Eve broke the silence with a laugh—quiet at first, then louder—cutting through their shouting like a knife.
They both looked at her.
She shook her head, eyes locked on them, voice full of exhausted relief.
"At least you're both alive."
Mark dragged a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I guess."
Kai yanked at what was left of his uniform, trying to fix it. The fabric ripped clean off in his hand.
He stared at it, incredulous. "Great. My suit's done."
Mark's mouth twitched into a half-smile. "I think you just set the record for fastest suit destruction."
"And whose fault is that?" Kai snapped back—yet somehow the heat had already drained out of his voice.
They both let out a short laugh.
Real this time.
The tension, the fear neither of them would admit to feeling—it finally bled out between the cracks.
Eve looked at them with one hand on her forehead, shaking her head… but her expression softened with relief.
Because in the end—explosion, danger, stupidity, all of it—
They were alive.
And that was what mattered.
Not long after, the low rumble of engines rolled in.
Police cars and ambulances sealed off the street. Yellow tape snapped into place around the teacher's ruined house. Curious neighbors gathered behind the perimeter. Red and blue lights flickered against shattered windows, mixing with the dust still hanging in the air.
A sweep of green light passed over the block.
Robot arrived, hovering above the street, surrounded by half a dozen drones that spread out in formation—scanning the house, the basement, the entire property for any trace of active explosive technology. Each drone emitted a steady hum, lights pulsing as they mapped every wall, pipe, and chunk of broken concrete.
"Scan complete," Robot reported after several minutes. "No additional active devices detected in the area."
The two boys found in the basement—the student already fitted with the chest frame and Todd, still intact—were secured on gurneys and rushed into ambulances. Oxygen masks. Neck braces. Paramedics firing off rapid technical terms that disappeared into the general noise.
Doors slammed.
Sirens howled.
The vehicles pulled away toward the hospital.
Eve, Mark, and Kai stayed.
Standing on the sidewalk, watching it all until it was done. Police questions. Quick notes. Neighbor whispers. Robot's drones returning to their holding bay.
No one mentioned what Kai had done to the teacher.
Not there.
Not on the way back.
And in a strange way… it made sense.
A week of human bombs. An alien invasion. Near-deaths at the edge of the atmosphere. A teacher turning students into weapons. A hero carrying a man into the sky and surviving the blast.
In the middle of all that, a moment of rage almost felt like… just another detail.
Even Kai didn't think about it.
At least—not yet.
When it was finally over, Eve gave them a tired wave. Mark answered with a weak smile. Kai with a brief nod.
Then they split off.
The twins flew home under a sky still bright with late afternoon, the city below already trying—again—to stitch itself back into something it could call normal.
With the bomb incidents resolved, it almost felt like things might finally calm down.
Almost.
But only almost.
Interlude — Part 1: The Strongest of Earth
Next Day — August 22, 2015 — Saturday — Guardians Headquarters — Utah, USA — 8:12 AM (UTC-6)
The Guardians' base was wedged between Utah's mountains—impossible to spot with the naked eye, buried beneath layers of rock and reinforced concrete. Inside, everything was cold light and white metal: wide corridors, handleless automatic doors, floors polished enough to mirror the holographic panels floating in midair.
At the center of the complex sat a circular chamber—the team's heart. A ring of monitors projected satellite imagery, energy readings, and global communications traffic. Overhead, a translucent dome allowed in only a filtered tone of sky, as if even sunlight needed clearance to enter.
On the main wall, the central display flashed.
A message surfaced in red letters, paired with a heavy alarm that vibrated through the entire structure.
"Emergency Button for Guardians Assembly Activated."
The base—empty up until that instant—woke up.
Systems energized. Platforms shifted. The center of the room lit up—ready to receive the greatest heroes on the planet.
And across different points on Earth, bracelets began blinking red.
Deep Under the Sea — Atlantis
In the ocean's dark depths, where sunlight no longer reached, Atlantis glowed like a city of glass and coral—bioluminescent towers, translucent domes, enormous sea creatures drifting slowly around the structures like living shadows guarding the kingdom.
Inside the grand main hall, Aquarus sat on his throne—an ornate seat carved from shells and blue stone, decorated with algae and salvaged metals from shipwrecks. His skin was a washed mix of bluish green and ash-gray, fishlike traits set into a humanoid frame. His eyes looked tired, fixed on nothing.
A scepter rested nearby.
He didn't even bother touching it.
Bored.
The silence of the hall broke with a sharp beep.
Aquarus lowered his gaze to his wrist. The bracelet on his fin-arm began blinking red, the glow cutting across his face.
He stared for a second.
Then he smiled—small, but genuine.
"Finally," he murmured, rising from the throne. "A little action."
With one fluid movement, he launched forward. His body sliced through the water like a spear, vanishing through one of the great arches leading out into open sea.
Moscow, Russia — 5:12 PM (UTC+3)
In a Moscow park, the world felt like it belonged to someone else.
Gray sky. Tall trees framing a wide lawn where only a handful of people braved the cold. A checkered blanket lay spread across the grass. On top of it: an open picnic basket, sliced fruit, bread, and two mugs of coffee still steaming.
Josef—the world knew him as Red Rush—sat there without a mask, wearing casual clothes, hair neat, doing his best to look like an ordinary man.
Olga sat across from him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I just think you should be nicer to Aquarus," she said in Russian, absently picking at a piece of bread. "He has so few friends who don't live in the ocean. He's trying to fit in, you know?"
Josef smiled faintly, leaning back on his hands, trying to relax.
"I'll try," he said. He looked up at the sky. "I promise."
She narrowed her eyes, studying him. "Promise for real? Because sometimes it sounds like you're only promising to end the conversation."
He drew a breath, about to answer—
And vanished.
To anyone normal, he'd disappeared. To Josef, the world was simply too slow.
Cars on nearby streets crawled like they were trapped in gelatin. Birds crossing the sky looked like statues hung in midair. Even the steam rising off the coffee seemed to climb in slow motion.
He wasn't in the park anymore.
A factory on the outskirts—alarms blaring, metal doors forced open, sparks spitting from a broken transformer. Kursk, the villain, stood in heavy gear with electricity dancing over his body as he charged down an industrial corridor.
Josef was already there.
In less than a blink, he'd circled him three times, wrapped thick wires torn from a coil around Kursk, binding the cables tight and anchoring him to a support post. The villain barely had time to register what was happening.
"You have the right to remain annoying," Red Rush said, a half-smile at the corner of his mouth—
And then he was gone again.
Back to the park.
To Olga, it looked like he'd only breathed in and blinked.
"I'm here," Josef said, resettling into the exact same posture. "And I really do promise. I'll try to be better with him."
She stared at him, irritated. "You left."
Josef blinked, ready to deny it—but before he could, she pointed at him.
He was still wearing the red suit from the fraction of a second ago.
Josef lifted both hands, sheepish. "For… one second."
"Every time," Olga snapped, crossing her arms. "It must be miserable for you to be with me. I can see it on your face."
He sighed, expression tired. "It's hard to explain."
"Try." Her tone sharpened. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you can't stand being with me long enough to finish a conversation."
Josef glanced around. Everything was normal again. Everything was slow. People walking, kids running, a dog sniffing a tree—everything dragging along.
"You know how my speed works," he began, looking back at her. "To me, the whole world moves in slow motion. Every second stretches. Every word drags." He paused. "Normal conversations are… agonizingly slow."
Olga's eyes hardened. "So I'm boring to you."
"No," he said quickly, leaning forward. "That's not it. You're the only thing that's still worth slowing down for." He reached out and touched her hand. "But sometimes… it's hard to stay still when I know everything is happening at once."
She hesitated. Looked at his hand over hers. The resentment was still there—just softer now.
"You could've taken the suit off, at least," she muttered. "You promised."
Josef looked down at himself—still half in costume beneath the open shirt, the emblem visible, like he'd never fully finished becoming 'civilian.'
He gave an awkward smile. "Okay. That one's on me." He exhaled. "I just… I don't want you to think I prefer the world over you."
She fell quiet for a moment, then let out a slow breath. "Then prove it."
Josef leaned in—slowly enough to match her time. He rested his forehead against hers first, then kissed her—calm and lingering—trying, for one moment, to forget the slow-motion world outside.
That was when the bracelet on his wrist lit up.
Urgent red.
A beep that somehow sounded louder than everything else.
Josef pulled back by an inch, already knowing what it meant.
Olga saw it too.
"Go," she said—no drama, just resignation. "Go save the world."
He smiled, sad. "I'll be back in an instant."
And in a breath of wind, the cloth on the grass fluttered, the bread shifted in the basket, and the coffee trembled inside the mugs.
Red Rush was already sprinting toward Guardians Headquarters.
Some Studio — Downtown
Harsh lights. White backdrop. Low music playing from a portable radio. A model stood in place, shifting poses with every camera click. One assistant called quick instructions while others adjusted reflectors.
In the middle of the crew, a woman who looked perfectly ordinary held a professional camera.
The bracelet on her wrist lit up red.
She glanced down at the glow, biting her lip lightly.
"Last sequence," she called out. "Two more poses and we wrap!"
She forced a smile and waved.
Two clicks later, she was gone.
On the roof of the building, seconds later, Green Ghost flew—now fully suited, cape whipping behind her, body turning intangible as she slid through the rooftop to reach open air.
Midnight City — Rooftop of a Residential Building
Darkwing stood atop a three-story building. Night hadn't fallen yet, but he preferred shadows—black cape, full mask, his silhouette cut sharp against the sky.
Three armed criminals lay on the ground already unconscious. A fourth tried to crawl toward a dropped weapon.
A blade buried itself into the rooftop in front of his hand.
"No," Darkwing said simply, walking toward him. His voice was deep—too calm.
The criminal raised both hands, shaking.
That was when the bracelet on Darkwing's arm lit up.
Red light slicing through the dark.
He looked at it for a second. Then at the city. Then at the man on the ground.
"Today's your lucky day," he murmured.
He stepped off the ledge without hesitation—cape flaring like wings—and vanished down the side of the building toward the Guardians' rendezvous point.
Behind him, the criminal stayed frozen, unsure whether to run, thank him, or faint.
Abandoned Building — Somewhere in Rural America
Cracked concrete floor. A broken window letting in a band of light. Splintered wood, old boxes, dust floating in the air.
Martian Man crouched in front of a child. The girl—no older than eight—stared up at him with huge, fascinated eyes.
"So you can stretch all the way to that line?" she asked, thrilled.
"I think I can," Martian Man replied, smiling softly.
"Show me!" She nearly bounced in place. "You can do it!"
He smiled wider. There was something comforting about talking to someone who asked for nothing except a simple trick.
Then the bracelet on his arm lit up red.
He looked down, expression turning serious.
The child followed his gaze. "Is… that a hero call?"
"It is," Martian Man said, rising. "I need to go help my friends."
The girl nodded like she'd just learned something deeply important. "Okay. But are you coming back?"
"Of course."
Top of a Commercial Tower — Boston
Holly stood at the edge of a glass skyscraper—impeccable executive attire, straight from a corporate meeting. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her expression stern as she watched the city below like a general surveying a battlefield.
Her gaze dipped to the bracelet.
The red pulse washed over her face, and for a beat she went completely still.
Behind her, a glass door opened.
Connie stepped out—red hair cut short just below her jaw, green eyes tracking from Holly to the bracelet.
"Already?" Connie said, voice edged with disappointment. "We were supposed to be together today. Guess there goes our the romantic date."
"I'll be back soon," Holly said.
Then she raised a hand to the eagle-shaped ornament on her chest.
At her touch, armor materialized around her—gold and blue metal plates forming from nothing, locking into place over jacket, jeans, everything. The helmet came last, descending like a crown.
War Woman drew in a slow breath.
And launched herself off the building, flying toward Utah.
In the Air — Somewhere Above the Northern Continent
The Immortal flew alone, cutting through clouds at a speed that left any aircraft behind. Wind hammered his face, but it didn't bother him—flying was as natural as walking.
The bracelet on his arm vibrated and flashed red.
He glanced at it for a second without slowing.
Then he shifted course midair—hard curve, body tilting, clouds parting around him. Now he was heading for a familiar point already burned into memory: the Guardians' base in Utah's mountains.
He didn't hesitate.
Because when that call came, something was about to happen.
Interlude — Part 2: Planet Supervisor
Somewhere in space, an orange, muscular, one-eyed creature drifted through the void like he was out for an evening stroll.
Space around him was a black ocean pricked with distant stars, thin white scratches of nebulas far away, nameless planets sliding past like rocks along the roadside. The contrast with him was almost comical: an intergalactic outfit that looked like a human uniform thrown together in a hurry—open red jacket, utility belt packed with compartments, boots worn by countless "routine evaluations."
He pulled a small communicator from his belt—something between a walkie-talkie and a folding tablet, crowded with projections and data written in alphabets no language on Earth could recognize. The screen lit up, reflecting in the single huge eye centered on his forehead.
The symbols rearranged until they formed the next target's name.
Planet Urath, he read mentally, with a strange accent that somehow made every word sound more musical.
His eye narrowed as he stared at the marked point on the star map. Lines traced the route—gravity curves, asteroid fields, solar systems he'd need to skirt.
Time to run the scheduled test on… Urath.
He smirked, sliding the communicator back onto his belt as he adjusted his direction with a casual twist of hip and shoulder—like changing lanes on an empty highway.
Here we go.
He accelerated.
The space ahead stretched into a long trail of light.
Another planet on the list.
Another routine evaluation.