1 Hour Since Return…
GDA Headquarters:
"Bone density is... frankly, absurd," the doctor muttered, looking at the holographic chart. "It's comparable to Nolan's scans. Maybe denser."
I sat on the bio-bed, shirtless. I was clean now—the GDA had scrubbed the labor camp grime off me—but I still felt the phantom weight of the gravity chamber.
"What did they have you doing there?" Cecil asked. He was standing in the corner, arms crossed. "You've grown an inch and put on ten pounds of muscle."
"Shit, slaving away mostly," I lied smoothly. "When my old man went there he didn't just fight them. He wrecked their civilization. They wanted revenge, so they built tech specifically to hold him—gravity collars, weighted chains, vision dampeners. When they grabbed me, they used all of it."
I flexed my hand, watching the tendons shift.
"They strapped me with weights meant to hold a planet-conqueror and threw me in an arena. My body kept adapting to everything they had, so they just kept increasing the amount until it was strong enough to hold me down."
Cecil narrowed his eyes. "What about the other two? They said they were in there for about two or three years and you said you were in there for six. You didn't meet at all?"
"Nope," I lied smoothly. "The Flaxans needed labor to rebuild their cities and stuff—which is why they were abducting people in the first place. While they had their hands full with me, they probably held them somewhere separate."
Cecil stared at me for a moment. He was looking for the lie. But the best lies were wrapped in truth.
"I understand, you're cleared to go," Cecil said finally. "Glad to have you back."
The door whooshed open.
"Mark!"
Eve flew in. Behind her were Kate and Rex.
"Hey, Eve," I said, hopping off the bed.
She looked relieved, but her eyes went wide when she saw me. "Whoa, you look..."
"Bigger," Kate finished, smile on her face.
"That's an understatement," Rex added.
"That labor camp diet ain't no joke," I responded.
"Where are the others?" Rex asked, looking around. "Did the two middle schoolers make it?"
"Shut up, Rex," Kate snapped.
"We're right here, Rex," a deep voice said from the doorway.
Rex turned around. His jaw hit the floor.
Robot walked in. He was wearing a GDA jumpsuit that fit him perfectly. He was tall, lean, with copper hair and a jawline that could cut glass. He looked like Rex, but better; taller, smarter, and less annoying.
And standing next to him was Monster Girl. She was fine, fierce, and undeniably an adult.
"Whoa," Rex whispered. "Who is the tall drink of water? And why does the guy look like a knock-off version of me?"
"It's me Rudy, Rex," Robot said, his voice calm. "And this is Amanda, otherwise known as Monster Girl."
"Monster Girl?" Rex choked. "But you're… older and hot."
Amanda rolled her eyes. "And you're still an idiot. Some things never change."
That got a laugh out of Kate and I.
Eve looked at the three of us. The dynamic had shifted. We weren't the rookie squad anymore. We were survivors of a war they hadn't even seen.
"We're glad you're all back," Eve said softly, putting a hand on my arm.
"It's good to be back," I said, smiling.
Two Hours Later…
The Grayson House:
I stood on the sidewalk, looking at the house. After years of living in the Citadel—a fortress of black steel and green energy—this suburban two-story looked like a dollhouse.
I walked up the steps and unlocked the door. The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I walked in. Standing by the counter, holding a cup of tea and staring at the blank wall was Debbie. She looked like she hadn't slept since the Kaiju attack. When she turned and saw me, the mug slipped from her fingers and shattered on the tile.
"Mark!"
She ran to me, buried her face in my chest and sobbed. It wasn't a polite cry; it was the wailing of a woman who had lost her husband to madness and thought she'd lost her son too.
"Hey, Ma," I whispered.
"They told me you were gone," she cried, squeezing me tight, her nails digging into my shirt. "Cecil said... he said the signal was lost. He didn't know if you were ever coming back."
"Ah, Cecil doesn't know everything," I said, rubbing her back.
We stood there for a long time. I realized then that while I had been training to protect this planet, she had just been sitting in this empty house, waiting for a ghost.
"I missed you," she said, finally pulling back and wiping her eyes. She touched my face, her fingers grazing the thick, unkempt beard I'd grown in the 'camp'. "You look older."
"It's the beard," I lied softly. "I look like a bum."
She laughed. It was a watery, weak sound, but it was real. "You really do. Go get cleaned up. I'll... I'll order pizza. Pepperoni and olive?"
"Yea sounds good."
It really does, I've been eating things that were supposed to be good for my body for the past 10 years. And I was sick of it.
I went upstairs to my room. It was exactly as I left it. Posters of science fiction movies, textbooks on the desk. It felt like walking into a museum exhibit of a life I didn't live anymore.
I locked the door.
First things first.
I reached into my tattered suit and pulled out a small reinforced case that I had Angstrom transport to the woods near my house; I prepared it before leaving the dimension. In the case held various blueprints, a training schedule I could maintain, and an advanced communication device.
I pulled up the loose floorboard under my bed—the one where I used to hide dirty mags. I placed the case inside, wedged between a stack of Hustler and Playboy.
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The beard made me look too much like Nolan.
The more I look at it, the more I kinda like it. But alas, I can't keep it.
I grabbed the razor. I shaved it all off, watching the hair fall into the sink. When I washed my face, the clean, youthful visage of Mark Grayson stared back. I looked younger, but the eyes... the eyes were different. Tougher and more seasoned.
One Week Later…
The Barbershop:
"Damn, kid. You been living under a rock?"
My barber, Big O, combed through my hair. It had grown long and shaggy over the years in the dimension, though I'd hacked at it with a knife a few times.
"Something like that," I said, sitting in the chair. "Lemme get the usual; a low fade, cleaned up at the top."
"I gotchu, my boy," The clippers buzzed to life. "Heard you had some family trouble. You good?"
"I'm getting there," I said, watching my reflection.
Thirty minutes later, I walked out looking sharp. My fade was crisp, my lining perfect. I felt like me again.
Reginald Vel Johnson High School:
Walking through the hallway felt surreal, but in the best way possible.
I kept my head down, listening to the noise. They were talking about the fight in Chicago. Everyone was.
"Did you see the shockwave?"
"I heard Invincible died."
"No way, he just vanished. Probably hiding."
"My dad says Omni-Man lost it. If his kid is anything like him, we're all screwed."
I adjusted my backpack, hiding a grim smile.
Alright, I thought. No one knows of Invincible's identity.
If they knew I was Omni-Man's son, I wouldn't be walking to Spanish class. I'd probably have to go into hiding, or risk getting mobbed by a terrifying mix of paparazzi and angry rioters.
"Dude!"
William slapped me on the back, nearly dislocating his own hand against my shoulder blade. "Ow. Jesus, Mark. You vanish for a week, and you come back looking like you ate a steroid sandwich."
He was loud. Too loud. I turned, grabbing his shoulder and steering him toward the lockers.
"Keep it down," I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to his outburst.
William's voice dropped to a frantic whisper, his eyes wide with panic. "We saw the news, man. We saw what he did. We thought you were dead."
"I'm here, man," I said, relaxing my grip. "Just been... working things out."
"That's for sure." William said, trying to return to his normal volume to keep up the act, though his voice cracked slightly. "You look like you've been bench-pressing Buicks. Seriously dude, you on that stuff?"
Before I could respond Amber walked up to us. She looked exhausted, like she hadn't slept since the attack. She saw me and stopped dead.
"Mark," she said, her voice tight. "You're back."
"Here I am," I said.
She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard. I could feel her heart hammering against my chest.
"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You had us worried. We didn't know if..."
"I'm good," I promised, returning the hug gently so I didn't accidentally crush her ribs. "Just re-examining some things."
She pulled back, wiping her eyes quickly before anyone could notice. She stepped back and eyed my arms, forcing a small, relieved smile. "Well, you definitely grew. Not bad, Grayson."
The bell rang and students flooded the halls, complaining about algebra and gossiping. That was the cue for the three of us to get to our classes.
School was relatively straightforward, nothing special happened except for everyone going through the motions of Omni-Man's betrayal. The real fun began after school.
Art Rosenbaum's Shop:
"You want... a significant upgrade?" Art asked, sketch pad in hand. "How so?"
I stood in the center of his workshop, surrounded by mannequins of the original Guardians' suits hung in the back.
"I want something practical," I said, handing him the blueprints I'd drafted in the Flaxan dimension. "The yellow and blue is fine—it's starting to become iconic. But I need tactical utility and sensors."
"Sensors?" Art raised an eyebrow.
"In the goggles," I said. "I need to be able to record data, scan frequencies, and learn from battles."
Art nodded, pulling up a fabric sample. He ran his hand over the weave. "How do you want the technology aligned?"
"Oh you don't have to worry about anything like that, here are the blueprints I went through with some technologically advanced people in the GDA." I said, handing him thorough designs. "Everything is here, it just needs to be put together."
"Sounds good," he said looking through the specs.
Three Days Later…
I put the new suit on. It fit like a second skin, but heavier, more substantial.
The base was a deep Prussian Blue, darker and serious. The boots, gloves, and 'I' insignia were a striking Golden Yellow. The goggles were wide, tinted a yellowish-white, displaying a faint HUD of altitude and velocity in my peripheral vision.
I inspired it from Booster Gold's Future's End Suit. This shit is beautiful.
"Perfect," I said, snapping the goggles into place.
Art stepped back, wiping his hands on a rag.
"You don't just look like a superhero, kid," Art said softly. "You look like a soldier."
"Good to know," I said, walking toward the exit. "Because I'm preparing for war."
I didn't wait for a response. I dashed out.
WHOOSH.
Shooting out into the afternoon sky. The HUD flared to life, green text scrolling across my peripheral vision.
[SYSTEMS ONLINE. ALTITUDE: 5,000 FT. AIRSPEED: MACH 1.]
"Time to see what this thing can do," I muttered.
Location: The Pacific Ocean:
I dove deep. The sunlight faded to black, replaced by the crushing weight of the deep sea. The suit held. I found the wreckage of an old cargo tanker, rusted into the seabed. I didn't just lift it; I dragged it across the ocean floor, fighting the resistance of the water and the silt. My muscles burned, but the smart atoms sang with energy.
Need… more… weight.
Location: Mount Loa Active Crater:
The heat was 1,200 degrees Celsius. I hovered just above the magma, letting the heat wash over me. The suit's thermal regulators whined, but the weave held. My skin turned red, stinging, but I didn't pull back. I stayed there for fifteen minutes, forcing my body to acclimate.
Location: High Altitude Storm Front:
I flew into the center of a thunderhead. I let the lightning strike me. ZZZACK. Billions of volts surged through my suit. My teeth rattled. My nerves seized. But I held my position. I forced my body to accept the current, to insulate against the shock.
Location: 8,000 Feet Above New York City:
I started in New York, then I launched myself West. BOOM. I shattered the sound barrier, then Mach 5, then Mach 10. I crossed the Atlantic, the Mediterranean, and the Asian continent. I pushed my speed until the friction turned the air around me into plasma.
Time: 48 minutes.
"Tch, not fast enough," I muttered, checking the HUD. "I need to be even faster."
2 Weeks Since My Return…
My GDA pager went off: UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT APPROACHING.
"I got it," I radioed Cecil.
"Alright, radio back if backup is needed," he responded.
I broke the atmosphere in seconds.
Floating there, looking at a star map, was a large, orange, cycloptic alien.
Ah, ole boy Allen is back.
I flew up to him, crossing my arms.
"You're back," I said.
Allen looked up, startled. "Oh! Hello! You're guy from last time, right? The Urathian Champion?" He squinted his one giant eye, scanning me up and down. "You look... different. Bigger. And that suit is much more intimidating."
"I've been working out," I said. "And it's Earth."
"Right, right," Allen said, waving his hand dismissively. "Look, I'd love to do the whole punch-and-chat routine, but I'm actually here on official Coalition business. We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
Allen lowered his voice, leaning in. "My scanners picked up a Viltrumite signature on Earth. A pure-blood. We don't know who it is, but if a Viltrumite has claimed this planet, then you're in serious danger. We need to get you out of here before they send for—"
"I know," I cut him off. "And he's already gone."
Allen paused. "What?"
"The Viltrumite," I said. "It was my father, Omni-Man."
Allen's jaw dropped. His color drained from orange to a pale peach. "Your father? A Viltrumite? On Earth?"
"Yeah," I said, my voice flat. "It got messy. He tried to conquer the planet. I stopped him. He abandoned his post and fled the solar system."
Allen floated there, stunned silence stretching between us. "You... you're a Viltrumite? And you won a fight with a pure-blood officer?"
"I survived," I corrected, as I began to tell him the details of what happened.
"Wow," he said, listening to the end of my briefing. "And I thought I had it rough."
"Yep, that's how thing went," I said. "Now, what you need to do know is to go back to your leaders and tell them Invincible is preparing for war. And tell them I'm open to an alliance to stop the Viltrumite threat."
Allen nodded slowly, tapping his wrist device frantically. "Right. Yes. Alliance. War. Got it." He looked at me with a newfound respect—and a little fear. "Uh... good luck, Invincible."
"Same to you," I said as he blasted off into hyperspace.
With that done, all I have to do now is continue training until he returned again.
Some Time Later…
Titan's Safehouse:
Titan sat at the metal table, looking at the blueprints I slid across to him.
"This is prime real estate," Titan rumbled. "Midtown."
"The future headquarters of Invincible Inc.," I commented, leaning back in my chair. "A private security and crisis management firm."
"So that's what you wanted the resources for."
"That's right," I said, leaning forward. "Now that you're the big boss man now, you have access to great connections that I don't."
"And you want me to build and supply these for you." Titan surmised.
"Correct," I stated. "In exchange, you get protection from the GDA and other threats to you and your family. We keep the city safe and running, while getting rich doing it."
Titan thought for a moment, then a smile appeared on his stone face.
"You got a deal, Invincible."
"I get the feeling that this is the beginning of a very lucrative partnership," I said standing up, adjusting my gloves. "Let's get to work."