Chapter 43 — Look Up at the Sky - Invincible to Infinity - ISEKAI

August 27, 2015 — Thursday — Downtown Chicago — 2:44 PM

The sky split open above the heart of the city.

A glare tore through the air over the main avenue, folding the atmosphere like cloth set on fire. The portal expanded in pulsing arcs of orange energy until it stabilized into a perfect circle that spilled light and metal. From within, the second invasion began.

Twelve Flaxan vehicles crossed first—silver spheres spitting plasma bursts that detonated against asphalt and the faces of skyscrapers. Right behind them, the Flaxans surged in mass: white-and-gray armor, chest insignias, energy rifles humming with the same nervous pitch as the portal itself.

But this time, Chicago wasn't unprepared.

The Teen Team was already on the field.

Explosions thundered between buildings, yet none of them struck civilians—the perimeter had been cleared with coordinated evacuation protocols. Distant sirens braided into the metallic whine of alien weaponry slicing the air.

In the center of the avenue, Robot hovered above the ground, his redesigned frame shifting with mathematically perfect precision—modular arms, lateral projectors, parts sliding and locking as if the machine were constantly rewriting itself. Tactical holograms blinked in front of him, mapping the Flaxan advance, tracking heat, dissecting portal frequencies.

"Attention: contain lateral forces and prevent vertical advancement. Civil reinforcements arriving in thirty seconds," he transmitted through the encrypted channel, his voice clean and steady inside every comm.

Dupli-Kate multiplied at the front—dozens of copies forming a living wall, each wielding an energized baton. They moved like synchronized choreography, striking and retreating, making room for Rex Splode as he lobbed shining, condensed spheres of energy that detonated in precise arcs, dropping clusters of soldiers in short, geometric lines of destruction.

Amid the chaos, a new figure raised her hands.

White vapor threaded around her as the temperature plunged—first a subtle bite in the air, then a controlled storm. Frost—blonde, sharp-featured, eyes like a clean cut of winter. White-and-blue combat gear, reinforced boots, posture locked like a weapon. Beautiful, sure—but only the way a blizzard is beautiful: pristine and merciless. She swept her arms in an arc.

The ground answered.

Crystals erupted from nothing, growing into razor towers that formed a translucent ring around a group of Flaxan soldiers, trapping them in a frozen collar. She snapped her fingers.

The sound was sharp.

Bodies shattered like glass.

Robot's optics narrowed. Effective.

Robot watched from above, calculating thermal deltas in silence. Effective.

His optics narrowed. "I intend to formally invite her to the team," he projected through comms as autonomous units fired micro-turrets into the fray.

Another fissure opened in the sky. The portal flared brighter.

Three Flaxan tanks emerged—white, faceted hulks with twin turrets, red lines glowing along their sides. The entire street trembled under their weight.

Eve cut in a second later—pink light slicing the air, her body wrapped in a shimmering aura, hair lifting with the energy. "Who is that?" she demanded, pointing toward Frost as an alien shot vanished against the shield she raised.

Robot rotated his torso to answer—then his sensors screamed. "Heavy targets detected. Three units."

The tanks began charging. Each cannon's core tightened into a throbbing, concentrated glow—an artillery strike meant to erase the block.

Before the sound could even fully form, the air vibrated.

Two streaks ripped through the sky like meteor trails, tearing atmosphere with them.

Invincible and Infinity arrived.

The brothers' sonic wake made nearby flags whip and snap. Dust fell. Glass trembled. A muffled thunder rolled between buildings.

They slipped between the tanks without braking. Mark grabbed the left turret and crushed the armor plating hard enough to bend the weapon's axis. Kai caught the opposite tank, hands on metal, eyes fixed—steel shrieked under his grip. And then, in perfect sync, they twisted the outer turrets until both barrels pointed inward at the middle tank—one facing the other.

A breath of energy passed through the space.

Three shots.

Three pillars of light collided in the same place.

The central tank blew apart like a small warhead—alien metal and black blood flung into the air. The flash swallowed the other two in a chain reaction so violent the portal itself stuttered, emitting a warped dimensional glitch like a throat choking.

Burning fragments rained down, melting asphalt.

Across the street, Frost threw both hands up and raised a wall of translucent ice to shield the buildings from the shockwave. Eve mirrored her, snapping a rose-colored barrier into place to complete the protective arc.

No one inside the evacuation perimeter saw the fire.

When the light faded, the brothers landed together—one on each side of the impact crater, dust curling around their boots, the air stinking of ozone.

Rex Splode spun an explosive sphere in his palm and grinned. "And here come the 'blow-everything-up' brothers. Looks like the team's complete."

Mark adjusted his uniform, sweeping the wreckage with his eyes. "Who's the new member?"

Rex shrugged with a half laugh. "Not a member. Let's call it… a trial run."

A plasma shot sliced in from above. Rex didn't notice. A Flaxan aimed from behind a wrecked car. Before the discharge could hit, Frost flicked her wrist—an ice wall erupted in front of Rex. The plasma froze on impact, then shattered into a thousand glittering shards that fell like crystal snow.

She glanced sideways, arm still extended. "I'm guessing that counts as passing?"

One Dupli-Kate laughed while punching a Flaxan in the process. "Absolutely."

Eve and Rex pushed the rear line while Frost approached the newly arrived brothers, the air around her visibly cooling.

Mark blinked.

Up close, she was distractingly beautiful—blonde hair framing a face that belonged in civilian life, not a warzone. High cheekbones, lips parted slightly as frost curled from her breath, eyes the exact shade of glacial ice. The kind of face that would make anyone look twice, except she carried herself like a bladed instrument.

"Frost." She formed a spear of solid ice in her hand—translucent, alive. Her voice was smooth, controlled. "As you can see... I can freeze anything."

She proved it mid-sentence. A Flaxan leapt toward them—and locked in midair, frost crawling over armor and skin. Terror widened its eyes a fraction before it disintegrated into glittering shards.

The fight surged again.

Mark launched first, tearing the air with supersonic speed. He smashed through more than twenty Flaxans in a straight line before they could even turn, crushing bodies into bodies and tossing several back toward the portal. Kai followed in a lateral arc, dropped, and punched the ground—shockwave rippling outward, hurling another twenty into the air.

Frost used the lift. Ice pillars stabbed up beneath each rising enemy, freezing them from the ground to the chest—then she snapped her wrists. Pillars broke. Shards and dust fell like a rain of glass.

Above, Eve spread her arms. Pink constructs expanded around her—blades, domes, spheres—spinning like a living constellation. Each one fired precise streaks of energy into the alien ranks.

Rex tossed custom charges in rhythm with Eve's strikes, chaining explosions that bent the invading flow and funneled them into the kill zone where Kai and Mark tore through at close range.

The brothers moved like they'd practiced it for years. Mark hit high, Kai hit low; one shifted, the other covered the blind spot. The gap between reactions looked rehearsed. A whole line of Flaxans got shoved back toward the portal, the invasion cut cleanly in half.

Robot recalibrated from above. "They are not aging this time. They're anchored. Time-differential isn't affecting them." His tone stayed neutral, but the warning was sharp. "Priority: destroy their generators."

Frost was already moving—skating on her own ice through the debris like the battlefield had become a frozen rail. She pointed at a glowing unit strapped to a commander's back. Cold snapped out in a pale-blue thread.

The generator froze from the inside out.

She cracked her fingers. Crystal shattered. Purple vapor poured out.

Kai and Mark dropped another commander in the same instant. Mark hurled it upward; Kai rotated and drove an uppercut that tore the air like a meteor. The alien body broke under the impact, fragments burning as they got sucked near the portal's edge.

Eve used the opening—hands up, telekinetic force shoving an entire column of invaders back into the dimensional throat. Frost dropped to one knee, breathing hard, snow-fine ice clinging to her uniform. "Did we do it?"

A new roar answered her.

More troops poured out.

Hundreds now.

The avenue shook beneath metal boots.

Robot spun his sensors, a low electronic whine rising as he processed. "Negative," he reported, cold. "Even without generators, they continue advancing. No cellular degradation detected. Something is wrong."

Mark dove through another wave, kicking two soldiers off their feet and narrowly dodging a shot that detonated behind him. "Then what the hell is keeping them stable?"

Robot's optics sharpened. Thermal spectrum zoomed into the portal—and for the first time, his feed locked onto their wrists. Rows of Flaxans carried the same black, thin bracelet pulsing with intermittent orange light.

"It's the wristbands," Robot concluded, compartments opening along his frame. His arms unfolded—modules detaching into compact drones that shot upward, spiraling into a hovering swarm above the team. "Temporal anchor devices. They decouple cellular function from dimensional time differential. If we disable them, they will experience time normally again."

Kai's gaze flicked across the fight. "How long?"

Robot's displays flickered at high speed. "Fifteen minutes to calibrate the electromagnetic pulse. It must propagate across the portal boundary. You must hold the field until then."

Rex let out a brittle laugh. "Fifteen minutes? We're screwed."

The portal widened—energy pumping like a lung trying to explode. The avenue trembled. Windows vibrated. A harsh alien roar spilled out of the vortex.

And then he stepped through.

A taller Flaxan in reinforced armor, face split by a scar that ran from the top of his forehead to his jaw—through a milky, dead eye. The same scar Mark had given him during the first invasion.

Now he was leading.

His armor was different: black reinforced plating, a pulse cannon mounted into his left forearm, the other arm fully bionic. The metallic rasp of his breathing cut through the battlefield like a reminder—this wasn't just a soldier.

He was a survivor.

Kai and Mark eased back, lining up shoulder to shoulder while Frost pushed herself upright behind them, braced against a wall of ice.

"Everyone ready," Eve warned, tension vibrating in her voice. "That one looks like the leader."

The scarred Flaxan lifted his bionic arm and aimed straight at them. The discharge lit the street—an orange beam tearing half the avenue.

Mark dodged—barely. The wave passed inches away, ripping chunks of asphalt free and flinging them into a shattered storefront.

Then a shadow cut through the clouds.

The sound wasn't a boom.

It was absence—air being emptied by something stronger than the atmosphere could argue with.

Omni-Man dropped through the sky.

His landing shook the ground, a shockwave disintegrating debris in a wide radius. He stood there—white and red immaculate, expression cold, eyes narrowed beneath soot and smoke.

"Robot," his voice came firm, effortless, "cut whatever you need to cut, but finish that pulse. The rest is mine."

Somewhere far away, Cecil watched through unseen feeds, approving every one of Robot's decisions.

Omni-Man rolled his fist, wiping dried alien blood off his knuckles, then looked over his shoulder at his sons.

"Move."

That was all it took.

Mark went first. Kai followed a heartbeat behind.

Three streaks—red-white, blue-yellow, black-silver—vanished in the same direction.

What followed was something the Teen Team could barely track.

Viltrumites in motion weren't made for cameras. They were a mixture of speed and brutality so clean it looked like violence turned into art.

Omni-Man carved through the first wave with a single horizontal sweep. There was no visible impact—just bodies halting, then falling apart a second later, black blood and armor fragments drifting.

Mark slammed the right flank with rapid, consecutive blows, deforming chestplates like clay. He spun, dropped in a tight spiral, and split another soldier into pieces with a kick.

Kai moved with painful precision, like he could feel the exact bone structure under every strike. He hit the ground—crater swallowing eight at once.

Omni-Man rose, caught a fresh tank the moment it cleared the portal, and ripped the engine out in midair. He threw it like a meteor at the scarred leader.

Another armored Flaxan intercepted with a glowing orange shield and deflected—Mark appeared in its blind spot and cracked its jaw. Kai followed with a body shot. The alien twisted, half its armor shattered.

More soldiers tried to protect their leader.

The three Viltrumites met them in a ballet of collision—each blow displacing air hard enough to ruffle hair two blocks away.

Kai pinned two bionic arms in place, setting them up for Omni-Man, who dropped in like a spear. His fists punched through both chests in dull, wet impacts. He tore out their hearts and crushed them, black blood spraying.

"Two down," he stated flatly, tossing the remains aside.

Mark drove another Flaxan into the asphalt with a heavy slam. "Robot—pulse!"

Above, Robot's drone swarm spun tighter, golden spheres vibrating with stored power. Tiny sparks snapped between them.

"Three seconds," Robot announced.

The pulse expanded outward in a silent, invisible wave—concentric rings of electromagnetic force.

Across the battlefield, wristbands began to smoke. Then glow. Then burst.

Screams tore through the air.

Flaxan bodies aged in seconds—skin wrinkling, muscle collapsing, bones shrinking inside armor. Empty suits clattered onto the asphalt. Those still pouring through the portal didn't even make it to the ground before they crumbled into dust.

The scarred leader shouted an order to retreat.

The remaining Flaxans ran back toward the portal.

Omni-Man didn't allow it.

His eyes hardened. The gesture was minimal—his palm opening slightly.

For his sons, it was a command without words.

Kai and Mark exchanged one look—and dove with him.

They hit the retreating Flaxans like a living storm.

Omni-Man grabbed the first by the throat and crushed the helmet until black blood leaked through seams. He threw the body into another, snapping both with the impact.

Kai swept the left side faster than anyone could track. Every punch caved armor. Every kick left craters. He caught runners by the legs, swung them like hammers, and threw them back into the crowd.

Mark surged behind them, breaking ranks like an avalanche. He ripped rifles away and hurled them back so hard they pierced helmets and bodies in a single line.

Omni-Man intercepted a ship trying to pull out through the portal. He crushed the hull, punched through the engine, and the explosion swallowed nearby soldiers. Burning fragments rained down the avenue.

Kai cut through the center, arms wide, strikes chained—each impact blooming into black blood and metal splinters. A Flaxan attacked from behind; Kai clamped a hand on its helmet and squeezed until the neck snapped with a dry, final crack.

Mark and Omni-Man moved together—father and son in synchronized brutality. Omni-Man dismantled with direct, merciless blows, while Mark finished openings with concussive follow-through that turned air into a weapon.

They swept the avenue clean.

When the final wave tried to cross the portal, the three hit them together—red-white, blue-yellow, black-silver—and the sonic discharge from their combined momentum split the air. What remained was fragments, dust, and a silence that felt impossible after that kind of fury.

More than half the invasion force was obliterated before it ever reached the portal.

In the center of the street, the scarred leader looked straight at Mark one last time before stepping through—rage flickering, then swallowed as the portal destabilized and collapsed into nothing.

Omni-Man lifted his gaze, expression unchanged. Kai and Mark hovered behind him, watching the last of it die.

Silence.

Wind carried the stink of burned metal and ozone.

Robot's drones drifted over wreckage, gathering data. Eve and Frost approached, exhausted.

"Final readings," Robot reported. "Temporal field neutralized. No biological signatures remain."

Frost bent over, hands on her knees, breath steaming. She looked up, voice hoarse. "You're… insane. Is it always like this?"

Kai and Mark shared a look, but neither answered.

Omni-Man wiped alien blood off his sleeve, then spoke serenely. "Good work. They shouldn't return now."

And he flew off—red cutting the horizon, leaving behind the echo of a perfect massacre. A victory that made the air heavy and the conscience dangerously light.

Mark pulled in a breath. Kai just stared at the sky. Something in him kept whispering that this wasn't simply "good work." But for now… it was fine.

They stayed longer, helping control the aftermath. When they finally separated, the GDA's unseen cameras captured everything—archiving not only the triumph…

…but the first official record of Nolan Grayson fighting beside both sons.

The most powerful force the planet has ever seen.

Four Hours Later — Global Defense Agency (G.D.A.) — 6:42 PM

The room was far too discreet to be the nerve center of global defense.

Concrete walls painted a neutral gray, warm light from three recessed lamps in the low ceiling, no windows. At the back, two massive screens covered almost the entire wall, replaying the Flaxan invasion in slow motion—looping like a wound the world refused to close.

Cecil stood with his arms crossed.

On-screen, the Teen Team held the line under Robot's direction. Rex Splode tore corridors open with controlled detonations. Dupli-Kate multiplied into a living shield. Invincible and Infinity carved through the carnage like twin blades. Eve shoved aliens back into the portal while Frost froze entire ranks, erasing them as if she were crossing names off a list.

And then Omni-Man entered the frame like a living storm.

Donald stood a few steps behind, tablet tucked under his arm, glasses catching the screens' light. The same sequence of frames looped endlessly. The air itself felt stuck.

Cecil didn't look away. "Updates on the Guardians' condition?"

Donald unlocked the tablet and let the readings bloom across the display. The glow etched sharp lines across his face. "No changes since the last check." His finger slid through flat charts, barely trembling. "EEGs remain nearly flat. Vitals are stable, but there's no meaningful neural activity. No prognosis for improvement."

The footage froze on Omni-Man tearing through a Flaxan craft barehanded, metal splitting around him like wet paper.

Cecil exhaled slowly. "Maximum secrecy stays in effect." No hesitation. No softness. "Until Sunday, nobody outside the medical circle even suspects there are machines breathing for them."

Donald nodded, lowering the clipboard at last. "When we announce the deaths, only a select group will know what's really happening." A pause, then the habitual adjustment of his glasses. "And the decoys are ready, like you asked."

"And Damien?" Cecil asked.

Donald's voice dipped half a tone. "He reached out again." He didn't look up. "He suspects Nolan. He said it outright."

Silence settled—short, heavy, and complete.

Cecil tapped a remote. The image returned, zoomed in: Omni-Man crushing the hull of a ship with one hand. "That day…" The words hung for a second. "When Nolan came here."

"You told him the truth." Donald didn't blink. The tablet pressed against his chest like a shield. "That they were… stuck in limbo. That we didn't know if they'd wake up. But you made it clear Cosmic brought them back."

Cecil took two steps, stopping before he got too close to the table, too close to the weight in the room.

"The gurneys," Donald said, voice low. His free hand made a vague gesture, as if the picture still burned behind his eyes. "The decoys under the sheets. The right weight. The right blood. In plain sight." His jaw tightened. "Even we couldn't tell them apart from the real bodies we hid behind the other doors."

Cecil made a minimal motion, as if crossing an item off a list. "If he wanted to cut loose ends, that was the moment. No thinking required."

Donald's voice dropped lower, too low for any hidden mic to love. "He walked past it and did nothing." A beat. His gaze held Cecil's. "And he didn't try to 'finish it' later, even knowing the supposed location of where they're being kept."

Cecil looked away for a fraction of a second, resignation flashing across his face like a crack. "And… from what we've seen, if he wanted to…" The words came out heavier. "…you, me, and Cosmic wouldn't be breathing right now."

The hum of the paused screens filled what neither of them said out loud.

Cecil shut the monitors off with a dry click. The screens went black, faintly reflecting the ceiling lights like dark mirrors. "Now comes the part where we do what has to be done."

Donald didn't blink. "Yes, sir." He lifted the clipboard again and slid a cold list of protocols across. "Contrary to what you told Nolan—open caskets." His finger moved down the page, each item clinically precise. "And inside them, our decoy bodies. Perfect appearance. Texture. Color. Enough for any mother to believe. Enough for any camera to zoom in."

Cecil gave a small nod, like swallowing something bitter without making a face. "For everyone. Families, press, government, heroes, agents… and Damien." His arms crossed again. "They're dead."

Donald drew in a steadying breath. "And the real ones stay here." He lowered the tablet until it sat parallel to the floor. "Kept alive by machines. Locked behind doors that officially don't exist."

Cecil turned slightly toward him. "Exactly." Final. Absolute. "If they wake up someday, it's a pleasant surprise. If they don't… the world gets an ending to that story."

Donald hesitated, tablet suspended. "And Cosmic?"

"Only him." Cecil walked to the table and set one hand on its cold surface. He glanced at Donald over his shoulder. "He brought the bodies back. If anything else happens, he'll recognize it. Nobody else. The fewer people who know, the lower the chance someone talks."

The phone on the table rang, sharp and mechanical.

Cecil hit speaker without ceremony. A secretary's voice cut in, crisp and professional. "Sir, your guest is here."

He ended the call immediately. "Send him in."

The door slid open with a soft pneumatic sigh.

Robot crossed the threshold—compact metal frame, green eyes softly lit, steps precise against polished concrete. He stopped a few meters in, mechanical hands settling at his sides.

Cecil turned fully, leaning his hip on the edge of the table. "I assume you're wondering why you're here." He nodded toward the chair across from him. "But given what we know about you, you can probably guess. As you've noticed, the Guardians have been off the board for days."

Robot tilted his head—the closest thing to a human gesture, performed by something that wasn't human at all—and sat. "Yes. I noticed. I haven't discovered why, but it must be serious." His voice remained perfectly modulated. "In any case, I'm honored you have such confidence in my abilities."

Cecil exchanged a quick glance with Donald, then looked back at Robot. "The truth is, the Guardians were attacked." He let the sentence settle. "And going forward, there may not be Guardians anymore."

Robot stayed still, but his eyes blinked once—green—processing.

"You'd been considered as a potential new member even before this," Cecil continued. "Now, whether they wake up or not, it's time to talk about what comes next."

Robot's tone stayed polite. "That is unfortunate. I acknowledge the loss."

Cecil nodded once, without comment. "Bottom line: we want you working with us. You'll either join the Guardians or form a new team if the Guardians are… no longer an option. You'll be the leader. Use your current members however you see fit, or build a new roster. You'll have full agency support."

Donald stepped forward, clipboard back in hand. "We plan to hold a recruitment meeting next week, depending on how things develop. If you accept, give me a list of who you want to work with. I'll notify them."

Robot looked from Donald to Cecil. "I would be honored to participate and to work with you. I will inform my team of the status change."

Cecil extended his hand. Robot took it—firm, precise, no hesitation.

"Welcome aboard." Cecil released the grip and thumbed toward Donald behind him. "Donald is our liaison with superhumans. I don't handle that side anymore. He's your contact inside the government." A humorless half-smile. "I only show up if something goes very wrong. Basically, pray we never meet again."

Donald adjusted his glasses, professional half-smile in place. "I'll send details through a secure channel. And until next week, you'll follow the operating framework we've prepared. What we told you about the Guardians remains classified until we release an official statement. If you need anything, contact me directly."

Robot nodded once. "Understood. Thank you for your trust."

He stood and walked back to the door, posture upright, no rush. The door slid open; he stepped out and vanished into the corridor.

When it closed, Donald looked at Cecil. "Do you think he can handle it?"

Cecil picked up a pipe from the table and lit it calmly, letting smoke curl from the bowl. "He's the best option we've got." His eyes drifted to the dark monitors. "And if the Guardians don't wake up…" Smoke flowed from his nose, slow and steady. "There's always Plan B."

Somewhere Else — A Remote Peak in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado — 6:45 PM (UTC-6)

The air was too thin for comfort.

Nolan sat on the edge of a jagged rock formation that cut the sky like a blade, snow dusting the uneven stone—except where he sat. Heat from his body melted any crystals within half a meter. Below him, kilometers of empty space and smaller ridges rolled toward the horizon. No civilization. No witnesses.

Only wind, cold, and silence.

He looked at his hands—still faintly stained with dried alien blood he hadn't fully washed away. He slowly closed his fists, feeling bone and muscle align with terrifying perfection.

"Mark. Kai." His voice was low, swallowed by wind. "I need to tell you something."

He stopped.

No. Wrong. That opening was wrong.

He drew a breath—not because he needed oxygen, but because the motion arranged thoughts into a line—and tried again.

"There's something about me… about us… you need to know." Mechanical. Too rehearsed. "Viltrumites aren't what you think. We came to—"

He cut himself off, frowning.

To what. Conquer? Dominate?

How did you explain a thousand years of empire to two boys who still believed saving cats from trees mattered?

Nolan dragged his hands down his face, beard scraping his palms. He tilted his head back, staring at the darkening sky where stars began to appear—each point a system he knew, worlds Viltrum had touched, altered, taken.

He started again.

"You're both Viltrumites. And being Viltrumite means…" He faltered. "It means responsibilities beyond this planet. Beyond this…"

The word stuck in his throat like a bone.

"...family."

The last word sounded wrong in his mouth. Family, like a concept that no longer fit the Viltrumite tongue.

He stood, shaking snow from his boots, and walked to the edge of the cliff, looking into the abyss. One step and he'd fall. It wouldn't matter.

"The truth is, Viltrum sent agents to prepare strategic planets," he said at last, voice firmer—mission-report tone. "I'm one of them. My mission is to ensure that when the Empire annexes Earth, there is no meaningful resistance."

Silence.

Wind battered his face, but it was nothing.

"And you two… you're proof Earth is compatible." His fists tightened. "You're confirmation human blood can take ours more than ninety-nine percent of the time." His jaw clenched. "And the day will come when you'll have to follow your destiny."

He stopped again.

Nolan exhaled, frustration building like pressure without a release. There was no way to translate it for someone raised here—someone raised on flawed heroes and broken justice, on a species he saw as inefficient and temporary.

How did you tell them saving lives was just training.

He stood there longer than he meant to, watching the sun finally disappear. Darkness swallowed the mountains. The stars sharpened.

Each one a reminder.

Each one a world.

Nolan set his teeth, turned his back on the cliff.

And flew.

He left the peak behind as a red shadow carving through the night with no destination.

He'd tell them later.

When the moment was right.

August 28, 2015 — Friday — Reginald Vel Johnson High School — 2:35 PM

The dismissal bell tore through the rooms with an electric buzz. Doors popped open in a wave and the hallways filled with voices, laughter, the metallic slam of lockers.

Kai, Mark, and William descended the front steps together, flowing with the crowd dispersing across the parking lot and sidewalks. Late-summer sun hit their faces, warm enough to cling.

William adjusted his backpack strap, wearing that crooked smile like he'd been building a theory for days and finally liked the shape of it.

Mark paused near the gate and looked at Kai. The two shared a quick nod—simple, familiar.

William's expression sharpened into something more direct. Arms crossed, he leaned forward slightly. "So why aren't you leaving together today?" There was intention in the question. A deliberate pause. Then he pressed, like he was poking a bruise on purpose. "Off saving the world in different places?"

"Mark has a date," Mark cut in fast, raising a hand before William could fire off more.

"It's with Amber," Mark added. "We're meeting right outside."

William's grin widened, the kind that said I knew it, but he let it rest—for now.

Footsteps rushed up behind them. Eve appeared, red hair bouncing, backpack slung over one shoulder. She slowed when she saw them and lifted a casual hand.

"What's up?" she said, slipping into the group naturally and looking from one to the other. "What're we talking about?"

William turned to her, still wearing that smug smile. "Mark's date."

Eve's head tilted—barely—and her eyes flicked sideways. Something tightened at the corner of her mouth, a micro-tension that vanished almost instantly. She looked past the parking lot like the sky had suddenly become interesting, and the discomfort slid away as if it never existed.

Mark raised his brows at her. "What'd you want to tell us?"

Eve crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg. "Robot says he wants to talk to the whole team later."

Kai let out a dry exhale that almost became a laugh. "Good thing we're not members."

"That's not what people are saying," Eve replied with a shrug and a half-smile, already turning away. "Either way, you're invited."

She waved without looking back and crossed the parking lot, disappearing behind a line of cars.

The brothers stood there a moment as the school noise thinned around them. Kai turned to Mark, hands still in his pockets.

"What do you want to do about William?" His tone was calm, but the weight was real. "That's the third time he's hinted we're heroes. He's suspicious."

Mark ran a hand through his hair, eyes following the direction William had gone. "I don't know." Then he looked back at Kai, narrowing his eyes. "It's your bleached hair. It's obvious. White hair isn't normal."

Kai exhaled with a sarcastic look. "Right. Nothing to do with the fact we're twins with nearly identical uniforms."

"It doesn't help," Mark insisted. "Maybe we should tell him. Before he runs his mouth. He's trustworthy, he'll keep it if we ask."

Kai held his gaze, then nodded once. "You decide."

And he started walking away, unhurried.

"I'm going home to enjoy an afternoon doing nothing," he tossed over his shoulder. "Have fun on your date."

Mark watched Kai vanish into the school buildings. Then he inhaled, adjusted his backpack, and headed for the spot where Amber was waiting.

She was leaning against the railing by the side gate, her bag at her feet, phone in one hand, an empty plastic cup in the other. Loose blonde hair caught the sunlight like a halo.

When she noticed him, she slid the phone into her back pocket and straightened up.

"You're not as late as I expected," she said, a half-smile on her lips.

Mark shrugged, stopping in front of her. "I almost showed up late on purpose. So you'd think I'm more interesting than I actually am."

Amber laughed lightly as she picked up her bag. "Then I'd just think you're like half the guys here."

"Fair," Mark agreed. "Better not risk it."

They left through the gate, merging into the flow of students on the sidewalks. Cars crawled past. Someone blasted music from a parked vehicle, throwing distant hip-hop into the air.

"So…" Mark adjusted his strap. "Walk to the theater or take the bus?"

"It's close," Amber said, sliding into position beside him. "We'll walk and pretend we're healthy."

"Pretending is the best part of exercise," Mark muttered.

She bumped his arm with a laugh.

They walked a few blocks, passing small houses with uneven lawns, corner shops, a food truck selling hot dogs. The air smelled like frying oil and gasoline.

"About that letter…" Amber started, eyes forward, fingers fidgeting. "I almost didn't give it to you."

Mark turned to her. "Why?"

She let out a sound between a sigh and a laugh. "Because I saw you with Eve a few times. You two walking together, talking. I thought, 'Okay… that's it, they've got something.'"

Mark chuckled. "Me and Eve? No. We just end up in the same messes."

"I figured that out," Amber said with a shrug. "But for a while I hesitated. Then I decided to try anyway." Her lips curved. "And you actually responded, which was already more than I expected."

"If I didn't, that would've been stupid," Mark said. "The letter was cool. And… you are too."

Amber turned her head, a small smile rising at the corner of her mouth. "That was almost a decent compliment, Grayson."

"I'll get better with time."

The theater appeared at the next corner, neon marquee glowing, posters framed behind glass, teens clustered out front with oversized popcorn buckets.

"You already know what you want?" Mark asked at the ticket booth.

Amber leaned closer to the posters. "Rom-com? No."

"Thank God."

"Horror?" she tested.

"I'm in," Mark said. "Just don't laugh if I jump out of my seat."

"I'll try not to judge out loud," she replied, scanning until she picked one. "This one looks good."

"Done."

They bought tickets and stepped into the lobby. The smell of butter and sugar was thick. Lines formed at the concession stand. Mark stared at the menu with the seriousness of a student facing finals.

"Do you want the family-of-four combo," he asked, "or are we pretending you eat normal amounts?"

"If you pay for the giant one, I'll sacrifice myself and help," Amber said.

"Fair."

He bought a large bucket and two sodas, handed her a cup. As they walked toward the hallway, she naturally hooked her hand around his forearm, guiding them.

Mark noticed the touch, but didn't freeze. He just shifted the popcorn to his other hand and matched her pace.

"You always grab everyone's arm?" he asked lightly, "or did I unlock a bonus?"

"Don't ruin it," Amber shot back, but she didn't let go.

Inside, the room wasn't packed. They found seats mid-row. Mark sank into his chair, bag at his feet, popcorn between them. The lights dimmed.

Trailers flashed—explosions, screams, dramatic taglines—washing over their faces. Amber stole popcorn in irregular handfuls, sometimes reaching into his side on purpose.

"You know you have your own side," Mark murmured.

"Yours tastes better," she said without looking.

When the movie started, sound swallowed the room. A quiet opening scene, empty park, trees moving like something was breathing behind them. Mark relaxed into the seat, tossing low comments when characters made obviously terrible decisions.

"Why is he going alone into the dark alley?" Mark whispered. "There's 'bad idea' written on his forehead."

Amber muffled a laugh. "You talk like you've never done anything stupid."

"I have," Mark said. "Just not with suspense music playing in the background."

Around the midpoint, when the tension climbed and the protagonist finally made a decision that wasn't suicidal, Amber shifted. Her arm pressed a little firmer against his. Her hand drifted, brushing his.

Mark glanced at her. She didn't pull away.

For a few seconds, the movie went muffled—only the moment stayed, quiet and inevitable.

Amber turned toward him, her face lit by the screen. Her gaze dipped from his eyes to his mouth.

"If you stay that frozen," she murmured, low enough that only he could hear, "I'm gonna think I read this wrong."

Mark's mouth tugged into a small smile. "Keep reading."

She closed the distance first. The kiss came firm and direct—no hesitation. Mark met her without delay, his free hand rising to her face, thumb brushing the line of her jaw.

When they separated a few seconds later, Amber leaned back into the chair, eyes returning to the screen, but the corner of her mouth stayed lifted.

The movie continued. They sat closer, shared the bucket until only salt remained at the bottom. Every so often one of them whispered a quick comment, testing the line between the film and the space between them.

When the credits rolled and the lights rose, Mark checked the time.

Past seven, but still within the mental limit he'd set. Another obligation sat in the corner of his mind—something that never came with popcorn.

"You leaving me already on the first date?" Amber asked as she stood, empty cup in hand.

"I've got something in a bit," Mark admitted, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "Nothing crazy, but I should go. I can still walk you partway."

"Relax, I don't need a full escort," Amber said. "But if you want to earn points, you can at least take me to the corner."

"Deal."

Outside, the sky was sliding into orange dusk. The wind had cooled. Streetlights flickered on.

They walked side by side. Amber rolled the empty cup between her fingers.

"You free tomorrow?" Mark asked. "We could do something in daylight. Something with fewer people screaming on a screen."

"I'm with my family tomorrow," Amber said. "All day. But Sunday I'm free."

"Sunday works," Mark replied, smiling.

At the corner, she stopped and fully turned to him.

"So… Sunday."

"Sunday," Mark confirmed.

She leaned in again. The kiss was shorter this time, but just as certain.

"Go do your mysterious thing," Amber said, stepping back.

She walked off toward her street, and Mark stayed still long enough to watch her turn the corner.

Same Day — Teen Team Operations Base — 7:35 PM

The circular opening in the base's ceiling framed a slice of the darkening sky. Two silhouettes dropped through it—Mark first, then Kai—boots hitting painted metal with a clean, heavy thud.

Robot stood near the central workbench, surrounded by Eve, Rex, Dupli-Kate, and the girl who'd fought alongside them against the Flaxans—Frost. Posture straight but slightly tense, like she was still getting used to being here.

Robot's mechanical head turned toward the brothers. His green optics blinked once.

"I did not expect you to come."

Mark walked up, jerking a thumb behind him. "Sorry we're late. I had to go pick him up, or Infinity genuinely wasn't going to show."

Kai shrugged, wearing his usual calm like armor.

Robot watched them for a moment, processing. Then he pivoted fully to face the entire gathered team.

"First, welcome officially to the team, Frost."

Frost nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

Robot stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. His voice remained calibrated—no emotion, but the weight was unmistakable.

"However, that is not why I gathered you." A measured pause. "Directly: if there is one thing I have learned thus far, it is that circumstances change." His optics brightened a fraction. "I have been invited to join the Global Guardians."

Silence held for half a second.

Then Eve stepped forward, her face breaking into a wide smile. "That's incredible, Robot!"

Rex clapped once, raising a fist. "Dude, congrats! I'm positive you'll make things better over there."

Dupli-Kate smiled, eyes shining. Frost nodded again, respectful. Mark and Kai exchanged a quick look—surprised, but not shocked.

Robot tilted his head slightly, accepting the congratulations without any dramatic display.

"Yes. With their resources, I will be able to execute more beneficial operations and increase my effectiveness." He turned, looking at each member in sequence. "But do not consider only my position. The reason I called you here is that joining them requires me to leave the Teen Team. I cannot belong to two teams simultaneously and maintain optimal performance."

Eve crossed the distance and hugged Robot—firm, brief, functional.

Dupli-Kate stepped in immediately after and hugged him too, ignoring the rigidity of his metal frame. "We're going to miss you."

Robot froze for a moment, as if computing the appropriate response. Then he returned the embrace with one hand on her shoulder—mechanical, but as sincere as he could be.

When she pulled away, Robot returned to the center and resumed his formal stance.

"There is more." He raised a hand, fingers spreading as if presenting invisible data. "These facilities will remain open for your private use as a base. I will also assist whenever possible." A pause. "However, there is a possibility I will bring some of you with me to the Guardians. I do not yet have every detail, and it may not be possible for everyone—but I will keep you informed."

Rex let out a low whistle, sliding an arm around Eve's shoulders. "Well, if Robot is leaving, I think it's obvious who becomes the leader."

Eve caught Rex's hand on her shoulder naturally, but turned with an ironic smile. "You? Seriously?"

Dupli-Kate crossed her arms and shook her head. "Not in your wildest dreams, Rex."

"Hey, I have leadership experience!" Rex protested, gesturing with his free hand. "And charisma. And strategic explosions."

"You've got confidence, I'll give you that," Eve corrected, eyebrow raised, amused.

Mark let out a quiet laugh.

Then Eve turned toward the new addition. "Changing subjects… Frost, right? We haven't actually talked. Your welcome kind of turned into a weird goodbye." She exhaled with a smile. "Tell us more about you."

Everyone turned to Frost.

Frost straightened, gaze sharpening—as if she'd rehearsed this answer a few times.

"Yeah. I'm Frost. It's… kind of obvious," she admitted, glancing at her own name like she'd learned to accept it. "I can create ice. Manipulate temperature around my hands, freeze surfaces, form solid barriers." She lifted her palm; a thin layer of frost crawled across her skin. "But there's a limit. Like… stamina. An internal energy I have to control. If I use too much, I get exhausted." A small, self-aware smirk. "I hope I can contribute to the team—" she corrected herself, the smirk sharpening, "—assuming there's still going to be a team."

The frost vanished and she lowered her hand.

"Cool," Mark said. "How did you get your powers?"

Frost hesitated for a second—eyes flicking away before returning.

"A serum. Experimental. It was supposed to stay secret, but the person responsible for it died a year ago." She crossed her arms, voice firmer now. "So I decided to use what I have to help people. Being a superhero felt like the right thing to do."

Eve nodded, approving. "Then welcome. We need good people." She paused, then added carefully, "Are you still in school? If it's not too soon to ask. We usually end up figuring out each other's identities sooner or later."

Frost smiled. "Oakwood. Senior year."

Mark's head snapped toward Kai instantly, eyebrows lifting. "You already knew her?"

Kai stayed quiet for two seconds, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Frost's face. Then he shrugged.

"She looks familiar, but I don't know. Big school." He flicked a look at her mask. "And she's wearing a mask, genius."

Frost looked at him, expression neutral—but there was something there. A flash of recognition she didn't speak aloud.

Kai glanced away, his jaw tightening for the briefest moment.

Great. Just great. She's going to recognize the white hair from the Brandon fight… or from some stupid clip online. The thought tasted bitter. I should delete that profile. I don't even use it. The past always comes back to haunt me.

He stayed where he was, staring at the metal floor like it might contain an answer etched into it.

And the night carried on—conversations about the Teen Team's future, the Global Guardians, and the new member who'd joined them on the worst possible day.

Meanwhile, Somewhere Else — 8:42 PM

The library occupied part of the mansion's second floor: mahogany shelves climbing to the ceiling, filled with books no one opened anymore. Light came from three lamps placed with intent—low and warm, the kind that hid more than it revealed.

Markus Grimshaw was sunk into a leather armchair near a closed window. The robe he wore was expensive—Italian silk, perfect tailoring—yet it hung off him like he'd put it on without thinking. He looked like someone who hadn't seen sunlight in far too long. Hollow eyes. Shoulders slumped.

Soft steps approached over the Persian rug—controlled, nearly silent.

Sanford stopped at the armchair, holding a phone in a gloved hand. "Sir. Your phone. I managed to connect the call."

Markus lifted his head slowly, as if the movement itself cost him something. He took the device without looking directly at the butler.

"Thank you, Sanford."

He pressed the phone to his ear. His posture changed instantly—spine straightening, his free hand tightening on the armrest. When he spoke, the desperation came out too fast to hide.

"It's been long enough. I need your help. I need that suit." The words tumbled, urgent and raw. "I'm nothing without my powers. That suit is my only hope. The Guardians cut me from the team—I just want my life back."

On the other end, a voice replied low and patient, firm in a way that tried to hold him together.

"Black Samson… no, Markus." Art's tone stayed gentle, steady. "I'm doing everything I can. It's nearly finished, but I still need a few more days to run safety tests." A brief pause. "You know I want to help you."

Markus closed his eyes, swallowing hard. The hand holding the phone trembled before it steadied again.

"Yeah… I understand, Art."

Two seconds of silence. Then the call ended.

He lowered the phone slowly, extending it toward Sanford without looking. The butler took it carefully, as though it were fragile.

"Anything else, sir?"

Markus didn't answer. He sank back into the chair, the silk robe sliding off one shoulder, and stared into the empty space between the shelves.

Sanford waited three seconds. Then turned and left, his steps dissolving down the hallway.

The library returned to silence.

And Markus Grimshaw—Black Samson, former Global Guardian—remained there, swallowed by his own shadow, waiting for a suit that might give him back the man he used to be.

August 30, 2015 — Sunday — The Grayson House — 9:02 AM

Saturday had passed without incident—no alien invasion, no explosive robots, no villains trying to turn Chicago into rubble. Just the kind of quiet that never lasted long enough to trust.

Sunday began with Mark waking early, fully dressed before the sun had finished climbing. When Kai came downstairs in pajamas—hair messy, eyes half-lidded—Mark already had his sneakers tied and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Bye!" Mark waved from the doorway before anyone could reply.

The door shut with a loud thud.

Kai paused mid-step, blinking slowly as he processed a moment that lasted three seconds.

Way too excited for a Sunday morning.

He finished descending and dragged his feet toward the kitchen. The smell of coffee lingered, but the table was empty. No eggs. No toast. Nothing.

Nolan stood by the window, posture rigid, watching Debbie. She held a cup of coffee with both hands like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Nolan's expression was hard. Controlled. The kind of seriousness he only wore when something had gone completely wrong.

Kai stopped at the kitchen entrance.

Nolan acknowledged him with the slightest turn of his head, then returned his gaze to Debbie.

"I wanted to tell you before it's on the news." His voice was calm, heavy.

Kai's eyes opened fully. The sleep vanished. Debbie didn't move, but her fingers tightened around the cup.

Nolan exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping a fraction.

"About the Guardians…" A brief, deliberate pause. "They're dead. The GDA is announcing it soon."

Silence hit like a steel door slamming shut.

Kai felt something tighten in his chest. His eyes widened slightly. His jaw locked for one second before he forced his face back into control.

Debbie made a strangled sound—half breath, half broken sob—and set the cup on the counter with a trembling hand.

"My God." She covered her mouth, eyes wide. "First that young hero team… now the Guardians?"

She looked from Nolan to Kai, fear genuine and unfiltered.

"Sometimes I think this hero thing is too dangerous."

Nolan stepped in and hugged her—mechanical, functional, no warmth. Three seconds. Then he pulled back, hands on her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes.

"The three of us are stronger than every hero combined," he said with absolute certainty. "You don't have to worry."

Debbie nodded, but the fear didn't fully leave her gaze.

Kai stepped forward and folded his arms. "What happened?"

Nolan's eyes met his. Stone. "They were murdered."

Debbie's breath hitched again.

Kai stood still, mind accelerating.

Murdered. Not an accident. Not a mission gone bad. Someone had entered the Global Guardians' base—the strongest team on the planet—and killed all of them.

"And do they know who did it?" Kai asked, voice far more controlled than he felt. "Any leads?"

"No." Nolan didn't hesitate.

Kai's gaze drifted, his thoughts spinning into names.

Russell—strong enough. But dead.I made sure of that.

An unknown villain. Something from space. Another dimension.

And then—inevitable as gravity—the thought surfaced.

Dad.

Kai glanced at Nolan—posture firm, expression neutral, arms crossed like he was reporting the weather.

Viltrumite. Stronger than anyone on Earth. He could do it alone.

And there was that cold violence Kai had seen sometimes—an emptiness behind Nolan's eyes that didn't belong to an Earth hero.

But then the memory pushed back: Nolan teaching them to fly. Nolan sitting at the dinner table. Nolan kissing Debbie. Nolan looking at them with something that resembled pride.

No. It can't be.

Kai shoved the thought down before it could take root.

If it was him… it would've happened when Mark and I revealed our powers. Why wait now?

Deep down, the truth was simple: he wanted to believe it wasn't Nolan.

The TV in the living room came on—Debbie had turned it on. A news anchor filled the screen, expression grave, background red with white letters:

BREAKING NEWS.

"…confirmed by the Global Defense Agency. The Global Guardians were found dead at their headquarters in Utah. Circumstances remain under investigation, but internal sources indicate a coordinated attack…"

Debbie sat on the couch, eyes glued to the screen.

Nolan stood behind her, watching in silence.

Kai remained in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, looking at the TV but not truly seeing it.

"…the memorial will be held tomorrow, Monday, with open caskets for the public to pay their respects…"

Open caskets.

Nolan's brow tightened—barely a millimeter, but it was there.

So the GDA gave up…

The broadcast rolled on. Clips of the Guardians in action. Immortal shattering tanks. War Woman crushing enemy lines. Red Rush pulling civilians out of collapsing buildings.

Heroes reduced to footage.

Mark didn't find out until later—after his date with Amber. He walked in wearing a smile that died the moment he saw the news.

Not long after, Nolan's phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it and answered without leaving the room.

"Hello."

The call lasted under two minutes. Nolan stood near the window, face closed, replying in short fragments—"Yes." "Understood." "We're coming."

He ended the call and turned toward his sons, who sat on the couch watching the news loop.

"Boys. Get ready. Something happened." Nolan crossed his arms. "Art called. We're going to see him."

Kai and Mark exchanged a glance—quick, heavy, obvious.

Chapter 44 - Chapter 43 — Look Up at the Sky