"Today is the first day of the rest of your life" Unknown
GUARDIANS OF THE GLOBE TRAINING FACILITY - 8:00 AM
The new Guardians filed into the empty training hall, some looking more awake than others. The space was massive—high ceilings, reinforced walls, equipment stations along the perimeter. Natural light streamed through skylights above, illuminating the polished floor.
Invincible and Robot stood at the center, waiting.
Mark's voice carried across the space, loud and energetic. "Good morning, Guardians! Hope you're all awake because we've got a lot to do today!"
Some groans. A few nervous laughs. Monster Girl yawned, showing all her human teeth before transforming briefly—a flash of green and yellow eyes—then shifting back.
"Before we get started," Mark continued, "let's do introductions. We're going to be working together for a long time, so we should actually know each other. Not just codenames and powers, but who you are. I'll start: I'm Invincible. I'm a college student when I'm not doing this. I like flying, building things, and apparently getting myself into impossible situations." He gestured to Robot. "This is Robot. He's the smartest person I know, and he's going to be co-leading this team with me."
Robot's mechanical head nodded. "Your turn. Please state your name, background, and relevant capabilities."
Eve stepped forward first, her arms crossed. "Atom Eve. I can manipulate matter at the molecular level. I've been doing the hero thing for a while now with the Teen Team." She shot a pointed, angry look at Rex. "And I take this job seriously."
Rex shifted uncomfortably under her glare but said nothing.
Monster Girl went next. "Amanda. Monster Girl when I'm transformed. I can turn into that big green thing you saw yesterday." She paused, her expression troubled. "But every time I transform, I age backward. When I change back, I'm younger than I was before. It's... complicated."
Mark gave Robot a significant look. That's going to be a problem long-term. We'll need to address it.
Robot's green eyes flickered in acknowledgment and understanding.
Blue Rush stepped forward next, his blue and silver suit gleaming. "I am Yevgeny. Blue Rush." His Russian accent was thick but clear. "I am cousin of Josef Kowalski. Red Rush. He was greatest hero I know. I try to honor his memory by being fast. By being strong. By protecting people like he did."
The room went quiet for a moment, everyone processing that.
Throwbolt broke the silence. "Jessica. Throwbolt. Electrical manipulation and generation. I can create currents up to ten million volts, and I'm working on increasing that. I'm also an electrical engineer when I'm not doing this." She smiled. "So if you need anything fixed, I'm your girl."
Bulletproof was next. "Marcus. Bulletproof. I'm invulnerable to pretty much everything—bullets, explosions, energy blasts, you name it. I've been doing street-level heroics for about five years. This..." He gestured around the facility. "This is a step up."
Shrinking Rae adjusted her glasses. "Rae. Shrinking Rae. I can reduce my size down to microscopic levels. Great for reconnaissance, infiltration, and places where a full-sized person can't go. I'm also studying entomology—the study of insects—so I understand how to move and think at that scale."
Dupli-Kate—or rather, three Dupli-Kates—spoke in unison. "Kate. Dupli-Kate. I can create copies of myself. They're all me—same thoughts, same memories, same skills. Perfect for multi-tasking and coverage." She glanced at Rex, her expression hard. "And I don't appreciate being lied to."
Rex visibly winced.
Black Samson stepped forward last. He was tall, imposing, his black and gold suit seeming to absorb the light. "Isaiah. Black Samson. I was a member of the original Guardians of the Globe."
Rex opened his mouth—probably to say something stupid about why Samson wasn't there when they died.
Mark shot him a look that could have melted steel. Zip it.
Rex's mouth snapped shut.
Robot's mechanical voice filled the silence. "We would be honored to have your experience on this team, Black Samson. Your insight into how the original Guardians operated will be invaluable."
Samson nodded. "I'll do my best."
Mark clapped his hands together. "Alright, now that we know each other, let's establish some ground rules. First: you're all getting paid for this. The GDA is funding the team, and you'll receive competitive salaries. This isn't volunteer work—this is a job."
That got everyone's attention. Several faces brightened.
"Second," Mark continued, his voice growing more serious. "If there are any problems working together—personal issues, grudges, whatever—you need to get over them. Now. As soon as you put on that suit, you're professionals. You're Guardians. That means putting the mission and the team before your personal drama. We clear?"
His eyes swept across the group, landing briefly on Rex, Eve, and Kate.
"We're all adults here," Mark said. "Act like it."
Uncomfortable silence.
"Third: You'll all be registered to my ship for quick transportation. If there's an emergency anywhere on the planet, we can be there in minutes."
Blue Rush's hand shot up. "Vhat ship?" His Russian accent made the 'W' sound like a 'V'.
Mark smirked.
Behind him, the air shimmered and rippled. The Milano decloaked, its dark orange and grey hull materializing out of thin air. It floated silently above the training floor, engines humming with barely contained power.
Everyone who hadn't seen it before—which was most of the team—stared in shock.
"Holy shit," Throwbolt breathed.
"That's incredible," Bulletproof said, his visor reflecting the ship's hull.
"You made that?" Blue rush asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
"I did," Mark confirmed. "While I was in the Flaxan dimension. It's equipped with weapons, shields, life support, faster-than-light capability—everything we might need. And it's Mine. Come on, I'll give you all a tour."
The team eagerly filed toward the Milano's lowering boarding ramp—all except Eve, who caught Mark's arm.
"Mark, can we talk? Real quick?"
Mark looked at her, saw the troubled expression on her face, and nodded. "Yeah, of course. Let me just—Robot, can you handle the tour?"
"Affirmative."
Mark and Eve stepped outside the training hall, finding a quiet corner away from prying eyes and ears.
"What's going on?" Mark asked gently.
Eve took a breath. "Rex and Kate. The whole... situation. After the funeral."
"I heard some rumors, but—"
"I caught them," Eve said flatly. "Rex and two of Kate's duplicates. In the shower. At the Teen Team hideout. While I was coming back from the funeral."
Mark winced. "Eve, I'm sorry. That's—"
"Kate apologized. All of her. She said Rex told her we were dating, that we'd talked about it, and she believed him." Eve's hands clenched into fists. "But Rex is still avoiding both of us. Won't talk to me. Won't talk to Kate. And I just—I don't know if I can work with him. Not like this."
"Eve—"
Before Mark could say anything else, blue static crackled between them, and Cecil Stedman materialized.
Mark didn't even flinch—his watch had beeped the warning three seconds earlier. "What's the problem, Cecil?"
"Rogue supervillain. Public in danger." Cecil's expression was grim. "I wouldn't be asking for your help on day one, but Omni-Man's dealing with a kaiju ten time zones away, so here we are. Is the team ready?"
"Not yet," Mark said. "First day. But me and Eve can handle it while Robot shows everyone else around. Let him know that as soon as the forensic investigation has concluded, we'll be moving into the original Guardians' headquarters."
Cecil nodded and pulled out two earpieces, handing them over. "Communication devices. We can coordinate with you en route."
Mark took them, putting one on and handing the other to Eve. "Copy that. Come on, Eve. Let's go."
Eve hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. "Right."
They launched into the air, Mark's black and red suit and Eve's pink energy trail streaking across the sky.
Cecil's voice crackled through the earpiece as they flew. "You're heading to Mount Rushmore. Target is Doc Seismic. He has a Ph.D. in seismology, so the 'doc' thing is legit. Problem is, he made himself a pair of earthquake gloves."
"What's he want?" Eve asked.
"Even he doesn't seem to know. Working theory says brain damage from a side effect of those gloves. He basically gets a concussion every time he uses them."
"So your basic mad scientist deal," Eve said.
"Have fun, guys. And try to remember—that's a national treasure down there."
MOUNT RUSHMORE - 5 MINUTES LATER
Mark and Eve arrived to the chaos.
Civilians were running in every direction, screaming and panicking. Cracks spread across the massive stone faces of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln. Chunks of rock tumbled down the mountainside.
And at the center of it all stood Doc Seismic.
He was an older man—mostly bald save for a few wispy strands of hair, with dark, sharp eyebrows and deeply lined features that showed his age. His build was lean rather than muscular, and his posture radiated intensity. He wore a white jacket with a high collar over a red shirt marked with a bold white design, white pants tucked into tall black boots with red bands near the top. A utility belt rested at his waist.
But his most defining features were the gloves—or more accurately, the red cuffs with gray circuitry wrapped around his wrists. The earthquake generators.
"You've come to pray at this obscene monument?!" Doc Seismic screamed, his voice hoarse and unhinged. "They were oppressors! Racists! Slave owners! I give you a new god worthy of worship! Bow before Doc Seismic!"
He raised his arms, preparing to bring his hands together and trigger another earthquake.
Mark turned to Eve. "Focus on evac. Get the civilians clear. Avoid the shockwaves."
"What are you—"
But Mark was already moving.
He shot forward at speeds that pushed Eve backward from the sheer force of his acceleration. He moved like lightning, grabbing tourists and park rangers, relocating them hundreds of feet away in fractions of a second, then zooming back for more.
Five people. Ten. Twenty.
Mark cleared the immediate danger zone in less than thirty seconds.
Eve created pink constructs—platforms and slides—to help move people who were farther away, guiding them to safety while Mark handled the ones in immediate danger.
Doc Seismic was still ranting, his hands raised, about to clap them together.
Mark didn't give him the chance.
He flew faster than the human eye could track, circling around behind Doc Seismic before the old man could complete his motion. Mark's hand came down in a precise strike to the side of Doc Seismic's neck—a carotid strike that cut off blood flow to the brain.
Doc Seismic's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
The earthquake gloves powered down with a faint whine.
Eve flew over, staring at the unconscious villain. "That was fast."
"Yeah," Mark said, pulling out his Flaxan scanner—a small device he'd built during his time in the other dimension. He ran it over the earthquake gloves, analyzing their construction and power signature. "Didn't want to do the whole evil villain, good guy monologue thing. Waste of time."
The scanner beeped, displaying the gloves' specifications. Mark memorized them, then grabbed both gloves and crushed them in his hands. The circuitry sparked and died.
"Cecil," Mark said into his earpiece. "It's over. Come clean up."
"Already en route. Good work."
Mark and Eve stayed behind, helping with injuries and clearing debris. Mark used his strength to move boulders and stabilize cracked sections of the monument. Eve created molecular patches to seal the worst cracks temporarily.
Within an hour, GDA teams had arrived and secured the scene.
SOMEWHERE IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN
Donald Ferguson stood on a military vessel, looking down at the kaiju Omni-Man had just defeated.
It was massive—easily the size of a city block, with tentacles that stretched hundreds of feet and a body covered in chitinous armor. One eye was as large as a car, currently rolled back and lifeless.
Mostly lifeless.
"It's big, sir," Donald said into his comm. "Really big. First time I've seen Omni-Man on the ropes like that."
The kaiju groaned—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the ship's hull.
"Also," Donald added nervously, "it might not be dead."
"Huh," Cecil's voice came through. "Put it on ice. You never know when something like that might come in handy."
"Yes, sir." Donald watched as cranes began lifting sections of the creature.
One of the tentacles suddenly moved, thrashing once before going still again.
"Oh, good God!"
Donald stumbled backward, his heart pounding.
GRAYSON HOUSEHOLD - EVENING
Debbie stood at the kitchen counter, methodically cutting carrots. The rhythmic thunk of the knife was soothing, meditative.
The back door opened and Nolan walked in, a massive grin on his face. He was carrying something wrapped in cloth—something that was dripping slightly.
"Calamari for dinner?" He unwrapped it with a flourish.
It was a kaiju tentacle. Easily as big as his arm, still twitching slightly, covered in alien slime.
Nolan's grin widened.
Debbie stared at it, then at him, then back at the tentacle.
"Get that off my counter!" She pointed her knife at him for emphasis.
"Aw, you sure?" Nolan said, chuckling. "It's considered a delicacy in some places. And an aphrodisiac."
Debbie's expression shifted slightly—half amused, half exasperated. "Like you need it."
Nolan laughed and moved the tentacle to the sink. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.
"Did you call Cecil? About putting some protection on the house?"
"I was kinda busy," Nolan said, taking a drink.
"Nolan..."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of it."
"Thank you." Debbie resumed cutting carrots.
"And hey—don't forget I just took down a freaking kaiju and saved the world. Your husband's a badass."
Debbie smiled despite herself. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Yeah, well, you're not the only badass in this family. I sold a house today that had a double homicide."
"Really?"
"Yep. Told them lightning never strikes twice."
They both laughed—then gasped as the tentacle in the sink suddenly moved again, one sucker cup attaching itself to the stainless steel.
"Are you seriously going to put that on the grill?" Debbie asked.
"Absolutely."
She shook her head but smiled. "You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I do."
TEEN TEAM HIDEOUT - NIGHT
Eve sat alone in the common area, looking at old photos on her phone.
Her and Rex. Teen Team missions. Group photos where everyone was smiling. Happier times.
She swiped through them slowly, each one a little knife in her chest.
Why does this hurt so much?
BOOM.
The sound of an explosion echoed from outside—distant but distinctive.
Eve's head snapped up. She flew toward the source, exiting through the hatch and rising above the bridge.
Fireworks.
Someone was setting off fireworks from the top of the bridge structure—small explosive charges that burst into brilliant colors against the night sky.
And sitting there, silhouetted against the lights, was Rex.
Eve flew closer. Rex saw her coming and stood up, walking toward the edge.
"Surprise!" His voice was uncertain. "Look, I screwed up, Eve. I know I did. I just... I don't know why I keep doing this. I don't want to. You know that, right? You know I love you."
Eve landed on the beam beside him. "I know... but that wasn't an apology, Rex."
"You're right. I'm sorry." He stepped closer. "Look, give me a do-over. Just this one time. I'll be better. I promise."
Eve looked at him—really looked at him. At the boy she'd cared about, who'd made her laugh, who'd fought beside her.
The boy who kept hurting her.
"It's over, Rex," she said quietly.
And she flew away.
Behind her, Rex stood alone on the bridge, watching her go.
MARK'S DORM ROOM - UPSTATE UNIVERSITY - 11:47 PM
Mark sat at his desk, working through calculus problems. His door was locked, his window was closed, and he was finally making progress on an assignment that was due tomorrow.
Tap tap tap.
Mark looked up.
Eve was floating outside his window, tears streaming down her face.
Oh no.
Mark immediately opened the window. "Eve? What's wrong?"
She flew inside and collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest. Mark wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she cried.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
Eve just shook her head, unable to speak.
"Do you... do you want to talk about it?"
"No," she managed. "Can I just... can I spend the night here? I don't want to be alone."
Mark hesitated for only a moment, knowing that inwardly he was 30 years old, but he told himself this was the last time this would happen. "Yeah. Of course."
He turned off his desk lamp, put away his assignment, and led Eve to his bed. She crawled under the covers immediately, curling up on her side.
Mark lay down beside her, leaving space between them.
Eve immediately closed that space, pressing against him, her head on his chest.
Mark wrapped an arm around her, holding her as she cried herself to sleep.
What did Rex do? Mark wondered. But he didn't ask. Didn't push.
Just held her until her breathing evened out and sleep claimed her.
SUPERMAX PRISON - UNDISCLOSED LOCATION - MIDNIGHT
The underground facility was a fortress. Reinforced concrete. Blast doors. Armed guards every fifty feet. Security systems that could detect a fly landing on the wall.
And cells specifically designed to hold supervillains.
A guard walked through the cellblock, pushing a cart of food trays. "Chow time!" he called out. "You know the drill."
He stopped at a particular cell. "Ah, Thursday. Chicken pot pie. Everybody's favorite."
The camera zoomed in on the cell's occupant—one of the Mauler Twins.
"Stay back from the door," the guard ordered.
He used his palm scan to open the food hatch and slid the tray through.
Then he moved to the opposite cell—the other Mauler Twin.
The guard repeated the process, but when he opened the food compartment, something went wrong. An error. The entire hatch opened instead of just the slot.
The Mauler Twin's massive hand shot through, grabbed the guard by the throat, and slammed him against the cell door. The guard crumpled, unconscious.
The twin used the guard's hand—still attached to his unconscious body—to activate the palm scanner.
Click.
The cell door opened.
The freed twin walked to his brother's cell, grinning. "Miss me?"
His twin looked up from his chicken pot pie. "How did you do it?"
"Simple. As the original, my intellect wasn't affected by the cloning process. I'm smarter. Always have been."
The imprisoned twin stood up. "Open the door."
"Not until you admit you're the clone."
A long pause.
"...Fine. I'm the clone. Now open it."
Click.
They ran together through the facility, taking down guards with brutal efficiency. Alarms blared. Blast doors began closing.
They reached a maintenance shaft just as the final door started to seal. One twin grabbed a ladder and threw it up into the shaft, creating an escape route.
They climbed.
THE DESERT - DAWN
The two Mauler Twins emerged from a hidden exit, blinking in the early morning sunlight.
"The city," one said, pointing. "We can—"
BOOM.
A high-powered energy weapon discharged, hitting one twin square in the chest.
The other twin reacted instantly, grabbing his brother and using him as a shield while charging toward the weapon emplacement.
He ripped the weapon from its mount and crushed it.
Then he looked down at his dying twin.
"I'll miss you," he said without emotion. "But I can always make another one."
He dropped the body and walked toward the desert, leaving his twin to die.
Above, an orange drone watched silently, recording everything.
ROBOT'S LAB - GDA HEADQUARTERS
Robot sat in darkness, surrounded by monitors. Footage of the Mauler Twin's escape played on one screen.
Cecil walked in. "Update on the team?"
"They have potential," Robot said, switching off the Mauler footage before he could see. "Invincible and Atom Eve handled their first mission efficiently. The rest are adapting to working together. We have some work to do, but I feel confident."
"Good. We'll need them ready soon."
Cecil left.
Robot sat alone in the darkness, his mechanical mind processing hundreds of calculations per second.
GRAYSON HOUSEHOLD - 2:00 AM
Debbie sat alone in the living room, working on her laptop. The lights were off—just the glow of the screen illuminating her face.
She had a pen in her mouth, chewing on it absently as she reviewed real estate listings.
The temperature dropped suddenly.
Her breath came out as fog.
The laptop screen flickered and went dark.
Debbie looked up.
Damien Darkblood stood in the corner of the room, his red skin almost glowing in the darkness, his yellow eyes fixed on her.
Debbie's hand flew to her chest. "What are you doing in my house?"
"My apologies," he said in his gravelly voice. "Didn't mean to scare."
"Seeking... information. Clues. Answers."
"Answers to what?"
"That night. The massacre. Still not clear to me." Darkblood stepped closer, his tail swishing behind him. "Seven dead. One alive. Your husband. Was hoping you could make that piece fit."
Debbie stood up, her fear turning to anger. "Well, you'll have to ask him. You need to leave. Now."
"Did. Answers were... unsatisfactory."
"I don't care. Get out of my house."
"Why do you care?" Debbie demanded. "Why does any of this matter to you?"
Darkblood's expression was unreadable. "Escaped from hell. Seek justice for others to save own soul. Husband told you nothing? Not a whisper to soothe your fears?"
"No," Debbie said quietly. "He didn't say anything."
Darkblood hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm... You have a lovely home."
The lights suddenly flicked on.
"Debbie?" Nolan stood in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. "You all right? I thought I heard something."
Debbie turned back to where Darkblood had been standing.
He was gone. Just empty air.
"I'm fine," she said, grabbing her laptop. "I was just coming to bed."
She walked past Nolan and headed upstairs.
Nolan stood in the living room, looking around. His breath came out as a visible puff of cold air.
His expression hardened into a frown.
He knew.
Darkblood had been here.
And that was a problem.