"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Unknown
SPACE - EN ROUTE TO MARS
The Milano flew in perfect silence through the void of space, its cloaking systems engaged, rendering it invisible to all conventional sensors. Mark sat in the pilot's seat, monitoring the Mars shuttle's trajectory on his display while maintaining a safe distance.
The shuttle was massive—a joint NASA-ESA venture representing humanity's first crewed mission to Mars. Inside were six astronauts, the best and brightest Earth had to offer, completely unaware that they had a guardian angel flying alongside them.
Mark's comm crackled. "Invincible, this is Cecil. You're early."
"Only reason I could be this early is because you helped me take care of my schoolwork," Mark replied, adjusting the Milano's trajectory to match the shuttle's course corrections. "Plus, I already took care of stuff back home and said my goodbyes to the team."
"Good. I need you to stay out of sight unless something goes wrong. The mission is supposed to be a demonstration of human achievement. Having a superhero babysit them defeats the purpose."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"Yes. The real reason you're on this mission." Cecil's tone grew more serious. "We have intelligence suggesting Mars isn't as dead as we thought. There are inhabitants—Martians. They live underground, keep to themselves. But we don't know how they'll react to humans landing on their planet."
"You want me to play diplomat if things go south?"
"I want you to make sure our astronauts come home alive. Whatever it takes."
Mark looked at the shuttle, thinking about the six people inside who had no idea what was waiting for them on Mars.
Sequids, he thought. The Martians are dealing with Sequids. And if even one of those things gets off Mars...
"I'll handle it," Mark said.
"I know you will. Cecil out."
The comm went silent.
Mark leaned back in his seat, watching the red planet grow larger in his viewport. Two weeks. Two weeks to shadow the mission, deal with the Sequids, and make sure Earth didn't end up with a parasitic invasion on its hands.
No pressure.
GRAYSON HOUSEHOLD - EARTH
Debbie and Nolan sat on the couch, watching the news coverage of the Mars mission launch. The broadcast showed the shuttle climbing into the sky on pillars of fire, the commentators speaking in reverent tones about humanity's next great leap.
"This is a waste of Mark's time," Nolan said flatly.
Debbie turned to look at him. "I'm proud of him. Of what he's doing."
"He doesn't understand his responsibilities," Nolan replied, his voice hard. "Playing bodyguard to a bunch of scientists when he should be training, preparing for—"
"He just got his powers, Nolan," Debbie interrupted. "And yes, he spent thirteen years in that other dimension, but he's still young. He's still learning. You need to give him space to figure things out."
Nolan's jaw tightened. "I'm trying to teach him—"
"You've been different," Debbie said quietly. "Ever since Mark got his powers. Different in ways that worry me."
"Different how?"
"Distant. Annoyed at everything. Mean, sometimes." Debbie searched his face. "And you keep talking about Viltrum. About your people. You've mentioned them more in the past few months than in our entire time together."
Nolan stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the sky. "I want my son to know about his heritage. About where he comes from."
"But I don't know about them," Debbie said. "Not really. Just stories you've told me. Bits and pieces. You've been hiding something from me, Nolan. I can feel it. And I don't like it."
Nolan was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more vulnerable than Debbie had heard in months.
"I never thought I would have a family. On Viltrum, attachments like this were... discouraged. But then I met you." He turned to face her. "And I loved you. I still love you. But when Mark got his powers, when I saw what he could become... and after what happened with the Guardians..."
"What are you saying?"
"I don't want to lose everything," Nolan said. "I don't want to lose you. Or Mark. And I'm trying to navigate that while also preparing him for what's coming."
Debbie stood and walked over to him, taking his hand. "Then talk to me. Really talk to me. Stop shutting me out."
Nolan squeezed her hand. "Mark will be gone for two weeks. Do you remember our first trip?"
"When you took me to Rome and I dumped you?" Debbie smiled slightly despite everything.
"I was thinking we could go back. Do it right this time."
Debbie opened her mouth to protest—she had work, Olga's house to sell, responsibilities—but then she looked at her husband's face and saw genuine hope there.
"Nolan, I... I told Olga I'd sell her house."
"Her house will still be here when we get back." Nolan pulled her closer. "Hey, you asked me what we do. We do this."
He kissed her.
And for a moment, Debbie let herself believe that everything would be okay.
THE MILANO - TRAINING ROOM
Mark floated in the center of a specially designed chamber, his shirt off, sweat already coating his skin.
The room was circular, about twenty feet in diameter, with gravity generators built into both the floor and ceiling. Mark had spent weeks perfecting the system—a way to create uniform gravitational pressure from all directions, allowing him to train in enhanced gravity without being pulled to any single surface.
"Milano," Mark said. "Activate gravity training. Set to one hundred times Earth standard."
"Warning," the ship's AI responded in its neutral voice. "Current structural integrity limits maximum gravity to one hundred times Earth standard. Exceeding this threshold may result in hull damage."
"I know. That's why I said one hundred. Activate."
"Acknowledged."
The gravity generators hummed to life.
Instantly, Mark felt the pressure. It was like being crushed from all directions at once—not pulled down, but compressed. His muscles screamed in protest, his bones creaking under the strain.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to maintain his position in the center of the room, fighting against the gravitational forces trying to pull him in multiple directions.
Need to make a gravity belt, Mark thought through the strain. Something I can wear all the time. Constant resistance training without needing the ship.
He began moving through his combat forms—the techniques his father had taught him. Every movement was agony. Every punch felt like pushing through concrete. Every kick required more effort than throwing a sub.
But he pushed through.
Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut. Block. Dodge. Sweep. Guard.
His muscles burned. His lungs struggled to pull in air against the pressure. Sweat poured off him, evaporating almost instantly in the intense gravitational field.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.
At twenty minutes, Mark's vision started to blur. His movements became sloppy, less precise.
At twenty-five minutes, his arms felt like lead weights.
At thirty minutes, he gasped: "Milano. Deactivate."
The gravity shut off instantly.
Mark dropped like a stone, slamming into the floor and lying there, gasping for air. His entire body felt like one giant bruise. His muscles twitched and spasmed. His heart hammered in his chest.
But he was smiling.
Thirty minutes. Last time I could only do ten.
Progress.
He lay there for another five minutes, letting his Viltrumite healing factor do its work. The pain faded gradually, his muscles recovering, his breathing returning to normal.
By the time this trip is done, Mark thought, I'll be able to do this for hours.
ROME, ITALY
Nolan and Debbie walked through the ancient streets of Rome, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Tourists milled around them, taking photos and eating gelato, completely unaware that the most powerful man on Earth was strolling past them.
They reached L'Osteria Donato, a fancy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Nolan had made reservations—something he rarely did.
"This is new," Debbie said, looking at the elegant facade.
"Best reviews in the city," Nolan replied. "Figured we should do it right this time."
They were seated at a private table on the terrace, overlooking a small courtyard with a fountain. The waiter brought them wine and menus, speaking in rapid Italian that Nolan translated effortlessly.
After they ordered, Debbie leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Do you remember our first date?"
"How could I forget? You dumped me."
"Because you were a dick," Debbie said, but she was still smiling. "You flew me to Rome and expected me to worship you for it. Like you'd done me this huge favor."
Nolan chuckled. "I was new to Earth. Didn't understand how things worked. Dating, relationships... I thought showing off my powers would impress you."
"What impressed me was when you saved those kids from the burning building on our second date," Debbie said. "That's when I saw who you really were. Or who I thought you were."
The smile faded from Nolan's face. "Debbie—"
"I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff," she said quietly. "Like one wrong step and everything falls apart. And I don't know why."
Nolan reached across the table and took her hand. "I haven't been honest with you. About the murders."
Debbie's breath caught. "What?"
"Cecil thinks I had something to do with what happened to the Guardians," Nolan said. "Because I'm not human. Because I was the only survivor. Because he's never liked me or trusted me."
"That's insane—"
"Is it?" Nolan's grip tightened slightly. "I'm an alien, Debbie. The most powerful being on this planet. And my team died while I survived. Of course he suspects me."
"Did you—"
"No," Nolan said firmly. "But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
Debbie looked into his eyes, searching for something—truth, deception, she didn't know.
Before she could answer, a roar split the air.
A dragon kaiju—easily fifty feet long with scales like volcanic rock and wings that blotted out the sun—crashed through a building three blocks away. People screamed and ran in all directions. The dragon roared again, breathing fire that melted stone and set everything it touched ablaze.
Debbie started to stand. "Nolan, you have to—"
"Do you trust me?" Nolan asked, not moving from his seat.
"What?"
"Do you trust me, Debbie?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then trust me when I say I'm on vacation," Nolan said calmly. "Cecil can handle it."
As if on cue, a black sleek jet appeared in the sky, its engines nearly silent. The GDA insignia was painted on its side, along with a new symbol—the Guardians of the Globe emblem, redesigned and modernized.
The side door opened.
GUARDIANS OF THE GLOBE - IN ACTION
Inside the jet's cockpit, Robot sat at the controls, his mechanical hands moving with precision across the instruments. Beside him—or rather, on the dashboard—Shrinking Rae stood at her tiny size, monitoring secondary systems.
"Target acquired," Robot announced. "Dragon-class kaiju. Estimated threat level: seven out of ten. Initiating combat protocols."
"All teams, deploy," Shrinking Rae said into her comm, her voice amplified despite her size.
The cargo bay door opened.
Blue Rush jumped first—or more accurately, he ran off the edge and down the side of nearby buildings, his super-speed allowing him to run on vertical surfaces. He hit the ground and immediately became a blue blur, circling the dragon at speeds approaching Mach 2.
Civilians were everywhere—trapped under rubble, frozen in fear, scattered across the combat zone.
Blue Rush grabbed them one by one, sometimes two or three at a time, moving them to safety faster than the eye could follow. In ten seconds, he'd cleared fifty people. In twenty seconds, over a hundred.
"Evacuation zone Alpha clear!" he reported in his Russian accent, already moving to zone Beta.
Dupli-Kate came next, jumping from the jet and splitting mid-air. One became two, two became four, four became eight, eight became sixteen. By the time she landed, fifteen copies of Kate surrounded the dragon from different angles.
Each copy pulled out a Flaxan plasma rifle—sleek weapons with glowing blue energy cores, reverse-engineered from the technology Mark had brought back. The rifles hummed as they powered up.
"Fire on falling debris only!" Kate-Prime shouted. "Protect the civilians!"
The Kates opened fire, plasma bolts lancing out and vaporizing chunks of stone and metal that were falling toward panicked people. They moved as one unit, each copy covering a different sector, their coordination perfect because they all shared the same mind.
A piece of building the size of a car fell toward a family. Three Kates fired simultaneously, turning it to dust before it could hit.
"Zone Beta secure!" one Kate reported.
"Zone Delta has heavy casualties!" another Kate called out. "Need medical immediately!"
"On it," Kate-Prime responded, directing three of her copies to start triage.
Meanwhile, the dragon turned its attention to the real threats.
Eve flew in from above, her hands glowing with pink energy. She created a massive barrier directly in front of the dragon as it opened its mouth to breathe fire.
WHOOOOSH.
Flames hit the barrier and splashed outward, dissipating harmlessly. The dragon roared in frustration and charged the barrier, trying to break through with its physical mass.
"Bulletproof, now!" Eve shouted.
Marcus shot forward like a yellow and orange missile, flying at top speed directly at the dragon. He slammed into its chest with the force of a freight train, the impact creating a shockwave that shattered windows for two blocks.
The dragon stumbled backward, more surprised than hurt.
"That all you got?" Marcus taunted, floating in front of its face. "Come on, lizard breath. Hit me!"
The dragon obliged, swiping at him with claws the size of swords.
Marcus took the hit full-on, not even trying to dodge. The claws screeched across his skin, unable to penetrate. He grabbed one of the talons mid-swipe and pulled, throwing the dragon off-balance.
"Gonna need to try harder than that!" he yelled.
Throwbolt landed on a nearby building, her new white and blue costume crackling with barely contained energy. She pressed her hands against the building's electrical system, drawing power from it.
The lights in the building dimmed, then went out completely as she absorbed everything. Streetlights flickered and died. Power lines sparked as she pulled current from the entire city block.
Her body glowed with accumulated electricity—millions of volts, contained and controlled.
"Clear the area!" she warned.
Blue Rush grabbed the last few civilians near the dragon and moved them to safety.
"Clear!" he confirmed.
Throwbolt unleashed everything.
A massive bolt of lightning—thicker than a telephone pole, bright enough to leave afterimages—struck the dragon's head. The creature convulsed, its scales blackening, smoke rising from its body. It roared in pain, thrashing wildly.
One of its wild movements caught Bulletproof by surprise, sending him crashing through a building.
"I'm good!" Marcus called out, flying back out of the rubble. "Gonna feel that tomorrow though!"
The dragon was wounded now, blinded in one eye from Bulletproof's earlier attack and partially paralyzed from Throwbolt's lightning. But it was still dangerous, still capable of massive destruction.
"Rex, Monster Girl, you're up!" Robot commanded from the jet.
Rex Splode grinned, adjusting his goggles. He looked down at the dragon, pulled out his expandable staff—a weapon Robot had designed specifically for him—and charged it with explosive energy.
The staff glowed orange and red, humming with barely contained power.
"Time to show them what a Guardian can do," Rex said.
He jumped.
Amanda—Monster Girl in her human form—jumped right after him.
As they fell, Rex positioned himself for maximum impact, the staff raised above his head like a spear.
Amanda transformed mid-air.
Her body expanded rapidly, muscles bulging and multiplying, skin turning light green, eyes glowing yellow. Within seconds, she'd become a towering, masculine-looking monster—eight feet tall, massively muscled, with claws like daggers.
She fell like a meteor, the transformation adding to her momentum.
Eve created a pink construct beneath Rex, slowing his descent just enough that he maintained control but not so much that he lost momentum. He came down on the dragon's remaining good eye, driving the charged staff directly into it.
"See ya!" Rex shouted.
BOOM.
The staff exploded with the force of a small bomb, destroying the dragon's eye and sending Rex flying backward from the blast. Eve caught him with another construct, guiding him to a safe landing.
The dragon reared back, blind and enraged, trying to take flight despite its injuries.
Then Monster Girl hit it.
She landed on its neck with enough force to crater the street beneath the dragon's body. Her massive hands wrapped around the creature's throat, claws digging into scales. She roared—a sound that rivaled the dragon's own—and held it down with pure brute strength.
The dragon thrashed, trying to shake her off, but Monster Girl's grip was unbreakable. She'd fought creatures ten times her size in her monster form. This dragon was just another opponent.
"Now, Samson!" Monster Girl's voice was deeper, more guttural in this form. "Take it down!"
Inside the jet, Shrinking Ray opened the cargo bay door wider.
Black Samson stood there, his black and gold suit gleaming in the sunlight. On both wrists, he wore dark metallic bracelets that hummed with contained energy—improved versions of Doc Seismic's earthquake technology, redesigned by Robot and Mark to eliminate the brain-damaging side effects.
The bracelets channeled seismic energy, allowing the wearer to generate localized earthquakes with pinpoint precision.
"Target locked," Robot said. "Trajectory calculated. You have a clear shot."
Samson's jetpack activated, and he shot out of the cargo bay like a missile.
He flew straight down, building speed, his fists pulled back. The bracelets glowed brighter and brighter, charging with seismic energy.
Monster Girl saw him coming and released the dragon's throat at the last second, rolling away.
Samson impacted the dragon's skull.
Both bracelets discharged simultaneously, directing concentrated seismic energy directly into the creature's brain.
CRACK.
The sound was like a building collapsing. The dragon's skull fractured, the seismic waves propagating through its entire body. Every bone shattered. Every organ ruptured. The creature's nervous system overloaded and shut down instantly.
The dragon collapsed, dead before it hit the ground.
Samson stood on its head, breathing hard, the bracelets cooling down and returning to their normal dark color.
"Target neutralized," Robot reported to Cecil over the comm.
"Good work, Guardians," Cecil's voice came back. "Clean up what you can. GDA teams are en route to handle the rest."
The team regrouped in the street. Monster Girl was already shrinking, her body returning to Amanda's young, human form. She stumbled slightly, and Rex caught her.
"Easy there," he said.
"I'm fine," Amanda replied, though she looked tired. "Just need a minute."
Blue Rush stopped vibrating and became visible, taking off his goggles to wipe sweat from his face. "Good fight, comrades. Very good fight."
Dupli-Kate's copies merged back together until only one remained. She was breathing hard, the plasma rifle powered down and slung over her shoulder. "Anyone else exhausted?"
"That's what we signed up for," Bulletproof said, landing beside them. His suit was scorched and torn in places, but his skin underneath was perfectly fine. "But yeah. Exhausted."
Eve floated down, her pink energy fading. "We did good. No civilian casualties that I could see."
"Confirmed," Shrinking Rae's tiny voice came through their comms. "All civilians accounted for. A lot of injuries, but everyone's alive."
Throwbolt slid down from her building, electricity still crackling around her fingers. "Somebody remind me to eat after this. Using that much power makes me hungry."
The Guardians stood together in the street, surrounded by destruction but victorious. They'd faced a dragon kaiju and won without a single casualty. The new team was proving themselves worthy of the name as they started after damage procedures.
GDA transports began arriving, agents and medical personnel spreading out to handle the aftermath.
"Guardians, return to base," Robot ordered. "Well done, everyone."
They boarded the jet one by one, exhausted but satisfied.
As the jet lifted off and disappeared into the sky, the people of Rome began to emerge from their hiding places. They looked at the dead dragon, at the destroyed buildings, at the emergency crews already at work.
And they looked at the sky where the Guardians had disappeared.
Someone started clapping. Then another person joined. Then another.
Within minutes, the entire street was applauding, cheering for the heroes who'd saved them.
ROME - RESTAURANT TERRACE
Nolan and Debbie had watched the entire battle from their terrace, their dinner forgotten.
"The new Guardians," Debbie said softly. "They're... they're good. Really good."
Nolan's expression was unreadable. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched on the table. He watched the jet disappear into the distance.
"They're adequate," he finally said, his voice flat.
"Nolan—"
"They got lucky. The dragon was young, inexperienced. A real threat would have torn through them."
Debbie looked at him, seeing something in his face she didn't like. "You wanted them to fail."
"What? No, I—"
"You wanted them to fail so you could prove you were right. That Mark was wrong to join them. That teams are worthless." Debbie stood up. "I'm not hungry anymore. Let's go back to the hotel."
She walked away before Nolan could respond.
He sat there for a moment longer, staring at the destruction in the distance, his mind churning with thoughts he couldn't voice.
They're stronger than I expected. More coordinated. If they keep improving...
If Mark keeps leading them...
This complicates things.
Finally, he stood and followed his wife, leaving their untouched meal behind.
THE MILANO - MARS ORBIT
"Approaching Mars orbit," the Milano's AI announced. "Estimated time to surface: twenty minutes."
Mark stood in the cockpit, now wearing his full Invincible suit with the space helmet attached. The helmet was sleek, black like the rest of his suit, with a heads-up display that showed atmospheric composition, structural integrity, and combat assessments.
Through the viewport, Mars filled his vision—a vast red desert world, ancient and alien.
The Sequids are down there, Mark thought. Parasitic. Dangerous. If even one gets to Earth...
He couldn't let that happen.
The shuttle was already in its landing sequence, descending toward the predetermined landing site in Acidalia Planitia. Mark followed at a distance, keeping the Milano cloaked and out of sensor range.
The shuttle touched down in a cloud of red dust. The Milano landed about five miles away, hidden behind a rock formation.
Mark grabbed his Flaxan scanner—a handheld device he'd built that could detect energy signatures, biological markers, and analyze alien technology—and exited his ship.
Mars was cold. Dry. Dead, according to most scientists.
They had no idea.
Mark watched from a distance as the astronauts—three men and three women, all in bulky spacesuits—began collecting samples and setting up equipment. They were excited, their voices crackling over their comms about the "historic moment" and "giant leap for mankind."
Then the ground beneath them opened up.
Tendrils shot out of the sand, wrapping around the astronauts before they could react. They screamed—Mark could hear it over their comms—as they were dragged underground.
The hole closed behind them, sealing as if it had never been there.
Mark had expected this. He'd known it would happen.
He activated his scanner and flew toward where the astronauts had disappeared, scanning the ground. Energy signatures bloomed on his display—hundreds of them, all underground, forming a vast network of tunnels and caverns.
And scattered throughout that network: the distinct bio-signature of Sequids.
Parasitic organisms. Hive-minded. Capable of taking over hosts and turning entire civilizations into extensions of themselves.
Time to work, Mark thought.
He found the entrance the Martians had used—a section of rock that wasn't quite the same composition as the surrounding stone. He lifted it with one hand, revealing a tunnel that descended into darkness.
Immediately, pink squid-like creatures launched themselves at him.
Sequids.
They were small—about the size of his fist—with three tentacles each and exposed brain-like heads that pulsed with bioluminescent light. They moved fast, trying to latch onto his face, his neck, any exposed skin.
Mark swatted them away with contempt, crushing two in his hands and throwing a third so hard it splattered against the tunnel wall.
Pathetic, he thought. Without a host, they're nothing.
He walked down the tunnel, scanning continuously. More Sequids attacked, and he dealt with them efficiently—crushing, throwing, occasionally just letting them bounce off his suit when they tried to attach to him.
His Viltrumite biology made him immune to their parasitic abilities. They couldn't penetrate his skin, couldn't bond with his nervous system, couldn't take control.
The tunnel opened into a massive cavern—and Mark stopped.
Martians. Dozens of them.
They looked humanoid but distinctly alien—green skin, bald heads, red eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness. They wore simple clothing, almost toga-like, and carried weapons that looked like a cross between spears and rifles.
They all aimed those weapons at Mark.
"Do not move, Earthling," one of them said aloud, his voice deep and resonant with a slight echo.
Mark raised his hands slightly, non-threatening. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm here to help."
A Sequid launched itself at him from the darkness.
Mark caught it mid-air and crushed it without looking, tossing the remains aside.
"You should keep your dogs on a leash," he said dryly.
The Martians shifted, their weapons still trained on him but their expressions showing surprise.
"You are unaffected by the Sequid?" one asked, his red eyes narrowing.
"Oh, I'm very affected," Mark said sarcastically. "Can't you tell? I'm being controlled right now. This is my 'controlled' voice."
Silence.
Then: "Are the other humans like you?"
Mark smiled behind his helmet. "There are only a few like me. The astronauts you grabbed are regular humans. Vulnerable. But necessary for my species' development."
"You will follow us," the Martian commanded. "The Emperor will decide your fate."
"Lead the way."
MARTIAN THRONE ROOM
The Emperor of Mars sat on a throne carved from red Martian rock, his green skin darker than the other Martians, his red eyes brighter and more intelligent. He wore robes of deep purple, and a circlet of silver rested on his bald head.
Around him stood guards—larger, more muscular Martians carrying advanced weapons—and advisors in scholarly robes.
Mark was brought before him, still wearing his helmet, still carrying his scanner.
"Welcome, being of Earth," the Emperor said, his voice strong and clear. "I am Imperius, Emperor of the Martian civilization. I am told you are unaffected by the Sequids."
"That's correct," Mark said. "I'm Invincible. I was sent to protect my fellow Earth-men on their mission to Mars. I need them returned alive."
"Impossible."
Mark's expression hardened behind his helmet. "Why?"
"The Sequids are a world-destroying race," the Emperor explained, leaning forward slightly. "They have left a trail of devastation across the universe, consuming world after world, turning entire civilizations into extensions of their hive mind. They crashed on Mars centuries ago, and we have been fighting them ever since."
One of the advisors stepped forward. "Alone, the Sequids are scattered and weak. But with an appropriate host, they become unstoppable. They can access the host's knowledge, abilities, and biology. They learn. They adapt. They spread."
"Our shape-shifting abilities allow us to resist them," the Emperor continued. "We can alter our cellular structure, deny them purchase, purge them from our systems. But humans..." The Emperor's expression darkened. "If just one Sequid reaches a human host, it will access everything that human knows. Technology. Language. Weaknesses. And it will spread to others. Then to Mars. Then to Earth."
"That's why you grabbed the astronauts," Mark said, understanding. "You're trying to prevent an outbreak."
"Yes. They are scheduled for immediate execution. We cannot risk them coming in contact with a Sequid."
"I understand," Mark said.
The Martians seemed to relax slightly.
Then Mark moved.
He crossed the distance to the Emperor faster than thought, his hand wrapping around the Martian's throat and lifting him off his throne.
The guards raised their weapons, energy crackling along the barrels, but froze when they saw what Mark was holding in his other hand.
A collar. Black metal, glowing with red circuitry. Mark had clamped it around the Emperor's neck before anyone could react.
"Here's the new deal," Mark said calmly, his voice carrying through the throne room. "I don't kill your leader with this collar set to blow his head off, and you let me take care of the Sequid problem. In return, you give me your word that not a single finger—or whatever you Martians have—will be laid on the astronauts. Not one hair on their heads gets harmed."
The throne room was silent except for the Emperor's labored breathing.
The guards looked to their leader, weapons still raised but uncertain.
"Stand down," the Emperor commanded, his voice strained from Mark's grip.
The guards lowered their weapons slowly.
Mark released the Emperor's throat but didn't remove the collar. "The collar stays on as insurance. Call it a precaution. When I'm done clearing out the Sequids, when the astronauts are safely back on their shuttle, then and only then do I remove it. We clear?"
The Emperor touched the collar gingerly, feeling the energy humming through it. "You would threaten an Emperor in his own throne room?"
"I would do a lot more than threaten if it means protecting my people," Mark said. "And yours, for that matter. The Sequids are a threat to both of us. So, we can work together, or I can be creative with how I solve this problem. Your choice."
The Emperor regarded him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well. You have our cooperation, Invincible."
"Good." Mark pulled out his scanner. "Now, give me every known location of Sequid concentrations. Every nest, every cluster, every single pocket of infestation. I'll take care of them."
"Why?" the Emperor asked. "Why risk yourself for humans who are not like you? You said yourself there are only a few like you. Why protect them?"
"Because that's what heroes do," Mark said simply. "Milano, come to my location."
Outside, the cloaked ship began moving toward the cavern entrance, ready to provide whatever support Mark needed.
"Now," Mark said, pulling up a holographic display from his scanner. "Show me where these things are hiding. It's time to exterminate some parasites."
The Emperor gestured to one of his advisors, who approached cautiously and began inputting data into a device. The information transferred to Mark's scanner—locations, concentrations, behavioral patterns.
Hundreds of Sequid nests. Millions of individual organisms. All mapped out across Mars's underground network.
Mark studied the data, his mind already formulating a plan.
This is going to take a while, he thought. But it's necessary. If even one Sequid gets to Earth...
He looked at the Martian Emperor, the collar still glowing around his neck. "I'll need access to your tunnel systems. And I'll need you to evacuate your people from the areas I'll be clearing. This is going to get messy."
"Agreed," the Emperor said. "My people will clear the sectors you designate."
"One more thing," Mark said. "When I'm done—when every Sequid on this planet is dead—you're going to let the astronauts go. You're going to give them their samples, their data, everything they came for. And you're going to let them believe Mars is dead and empty. Humanity isn't ready to know about you yet."
"And if we refuse?"
Mark's expression behind his helmet was cold. "Then the collar stays on permanently, and I find a way to take care of the Sequids myself while also making sure your people never threaten mine. I don't want to be the bad guy here. But I will protect Earth. And I will protect Mars by making sure the Sequids never leave this planet. So, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. Your choice."
The Emperor's red eyes studied Mark for a long moment.
Finally: "The easy way. You have our full cooperation, Invincible. And... our respect. Few beings would dare act as you have."
"Yeah, well, I'm not most beings." Mark pulled up the Sequid nest locations on his display. "Alright. Let's go hunting."
The Martian guards parted, creating a path.
Mark walked through the parted guards, his scanner displaying the locations of the nearest Sequid nests. The Emperor followed behind him, the collar still glowing around his neck, flanked by his personal guard.
"The largest concentration is three levels below us," the Emperor said, pointing toward a descending tunnel. "We estimate over two hundred thousand individual Sequids in that sector alone. We've sealed it off for the past decade, but they continue to multiply."
"Not for much longer," Mark said grimly.
They descended through the Martian tunnel network, passing through chambers carved from the red rock of Mars. Mark noticed Martian civilians—families, workers, scholars—all stopping to stare at him as he passed. Word had clearly spread about the human who had collared their Emperor.
Some looked afraid. Others looked angry. A few looked curious.
Mark ignored them all, focused on the mission.
The tunnels grew darker as they descended, the bioluminescent lighting that the Martians used becoming sparse. The air—what little there was—grew colder and more stale.
"We are approaching the sealed sector," one of the guards announced.
Ahead, Mark could see a massive door made of the same red rock as the rest of the tunnels, but reinforced with metal support and covered in Martian writing that glowed with a faint green light.
"Containment seals," the Emperor explained. "Designed to prevent the Sequids from spreading. They are powered by our technology and have held for years."
"Open it," Mark ordered.
The guards exchanged nervous glances.
"Imperius?" one of them asked, looking to the Emperor for confirmation.
The Emperor touched the collar around his neck, feeling its weight, then nodded. "Open the seal. Evacuate all personnel from this level and the two above it. Invincible requires room to work."
The guards moved to the door, placing their hands on specific points. The green glowing writing brightened, then faded. The metal supports retracted with a grinding sound, and the massive door began to swing open.
A wave of Sequids poured out immediately.
Pink, squid-like creatures, dozens of them, launching themselves at the nearest targets—which happened to be the Martian guards.
The guards tried to shift, their bodies rippling and changing, but there were too many Sequids. Several guards went down, Sequids latching onto their faces and heads.
Mark moved.
He became a blur, faster than the Martians could track. He grabbed Sequids out of the air mid-flight, crushed them, threw them against walls with enough force to turn them into paste. In three seconds, he'd killed 200.
The guards who'd been infected began to shift more aggressively, their shape-shifting abilities working to purge the parasites. Green skin rippled and changed texture, becoming hostile to the Sequids. Within moments, the parasites were forced off, squealing as they died from the cellular rejection.
"Fall back!" the Emperor commanded. "Seal the upper tunnels! Invincible will handle this alone!"
The guards retreated, pulling their infected comrades with them. Mark heard the sound of doors slamming shut behind him, sealing him in the sector with the Sequids.
He smiled behind his helmet.
"Alright," he said to the darkness. "Let's see what you've got."
SEQUID NEST - SECTOR SEVEN
Mark flew through the tunnels, following his scanner's readings. Sequids attacked him constantly—launching from the walls, the ceiling, the floor. He killed them mechanically, efficiently, his mind focused on the larger task.
The tunnel opened into a massive chamber—easily the size of a football stadium—and Mark stopped, hovering in the entrance.
The entire chamber was filled with Sequids.
They covered every surface like a living carpet—pink, pulsating, their exposed brains glowing with bioluminescent light. There were thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands, all moving in perfect synchronization.
A hive.
As Mark entered, they all turned toward him simultaneously, as if controlled by a single mind. Which, Mark realized, they probably were. Sequid hives shared consciousness, each individual part of a greater whole.
"Well," Mark said. "This is disgusting."
The Sequids attacked as one.
They launched themselves at him in waves, hundreds at a time, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. They covered his body, his arms, his legs, trying to find any weakness, any opening in his suit or his skin.
Mark ignited his flight power and spun, creating a tornado effect that threw Sequids off him and slammed them into the walls. He grabbed handfuls of them and crushed them, his Viltrumite strength turning them into pulp.
But there were so many.
For every ten he killed, twenty more took their place.
This isn't working, Mark thought. I need a better solution.
He flew to the center of the chamber, Sequids still clinging to him, still trying to penetrate his skin. He pulled out a device from his belt—something he'd built on the Milano during the trip.
A sonic emitter.
He'd studied the Sequid biology from the show, remembered that they were vulnerable to certain frequencies. He'd built this device specifically for this mission, just in case.
Mark activated it.
The device emitted a high-pitched sound—inaudible to human ears, but devastating to Sequid nervous systems. The frequency disrupted their neural connections, prevented them from coordinating with each other, caused them physical pain.
The effect was immediate.
The Sequids on Mark's body released him and fell to the ground, writhing. The ones on the walls and ceiling began to drop, their movements becoming spastic and uncontrolled. The synchronized movement of the hive broke down into chaos.
Mark increased the frequency.
The Sequids began to die. Their exposed brains hemorrhaged, their tentacles went limp, their bioluminescent glow faded. Within thirty seconds, every Sequid in the chamber was dead or dying.
Mark floated in the center of the room, surrounded by thousands of corpses, and checked his scanner.
One nest down. Forty-seven to go.
This was going to be a long mission.
GRAYSON HOUSEHOLD - EARTH - EVENING
Darkblood materialized in the Grayson living room, the temperature dropping immediately. An orchid on the windowsill froze solid, ice crystals forming on its petals.
He moved silently through the house, his yellow eyes taking in every detail. He examined photos on the walls—Mark growing up, family vacations, Debbie and Nolan on their wedding day. All the trappings of a normal, happy family.
But Darkblood knew better.
He made his way to Nolan's study, careful not to disturb anything. He examined the books on the shelves—classics, history, science. Nothing unusual. He checked the desk drawers—bills, papers, pens. All mundane.
But there was something here. Something wrong. He could feel it.
"You can come out now," Darkblood said to the darkness. "I know you're here."
A lamp clicked on.
Cecil Stedman sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, completely relaxed, as if he'd been waiting there for hours.
"Wasn't hiding," Cecil said calmly.
The walls seemed to shimmer, and suddenly GDA agents in tactical gear appeared—they'd been camouflaged, completely invisible until they revealed themselves. There were six of them, all pointing weapons at Darkblood.
"Nolan warned us about you," Cecil continued. "Said you might try to break in. Violate his privacy. Harass his family."
"Looking for truth is not harassment," Darkblood said, his gravelly voice echoing slightly. "And I do not need to break in. Demons can go anywhere."
"That's trespassing at best, breaking and entering at worst." Cecil stood up. "You're going to leave. Now. And you're going to stop investigating Omni-Man. He's been cleared of any wrongdoing."
"He murdered his team," Darkblood said flatly. "I know this. I can feel it. Evil knows evil, Mr. Stedman."
"What you feel isn't evidence." Cecil walked closer. "And without evidence, all you have are the paranoid delusions of a demon who's trying to avoid going back to Hell. Is that what this is about, Darkblood? Staying top side for as long as possible?"
Darkblood's yellow eyes narrowed. "I seek justice. That is all."
"Then seek it somewhere else." Cecil's voice grew harder. "Because if I catch you harassing the Grayson family again, I'll have you arrested. Or exorcised. Whichever is easier."
"You cannot exorcise what has already escaped," Darkblood said. "But I will go. For now."
He vanished, the temperature returning to normal immediately.
Cecil looked at his agents. "Keep the surveillance active. If Darkblood comes back, Capture him."
"Yes sir."
Cecil walked to the window, looking out at the quiet suburban street.
MARS - THREE DAYS LATER
Mark stood in the center of another cleared Sequid nest, covered in alien gore, exhausted but satisfied. His sonic emitter had run out of power two nests ago, so he'd been doing this the hard way—crushing them by hand or simply ripping them apart.
It was disgusting work. But necessary.
He checked his scanner. Twenty-seven nests cleared. Twenty-one to go.
His body ached despite his Viltrumite healing and the pain serum. Three days of constant fighting, constant killing, with minimal rest. He'd been eating ration bars from the Milano and drinking recycled water, catching maybe three hours of sleep per day in his ship.
But the Sequid population on Mars was dropping dramatically. According to his calculations, he'd killed over five hundred thousand of them so far.
five hundred thousand parasitic alien organisms that will never threaten Earth, Mark thought. Worth it.
His comm crackled. "Invincible, this is Milano. Incoming transmission from Emperor Imperius."
"Put him through."
The Emperor's voice came through, sounding impressed despite himself. "You have cleared over half the Sequid nests in three days. My people are... astounded. We have been fighting the Sequids for centuries and never made such progress."
"I'm motivated," Mark said dryly. "How are the astronauts?"
"Safe. Unharmed. Asking many questions about their captivity."
"Tell them you're running tests. Medical quarantine protocols or something. Just keep them calm."
"Understood." The Emperor paused. "Invincible... when you are finished, will you truly release me from this collar?"
Mark looked down at his gore-covered hands. "Yes. I keep my word. Are you keeping yours?"
"The astronauts will be returned safely. You have my word as Emperor."
"Good." Mark pulled up his scanner, locating the next nest. "I should be done in another four days. Then we both get what we want."
He signed off and flew toward the next target, leaving another chamber full of dead Sequids behind him.
THE MILANO - TRAINING ROOM - DAY SEVEN
Mark floated in the center of his gravity chamber, now set to one hundred times Earth gravity. His muscles screamed in protest, his bones creaked under the pressure, but he maintained his position and continued his combat forms.
He'd just finished clearing another three Sequid nests and had given himself a few hours to train before continuing the extermination.
Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut.
Every movement was agony. Every breath was a struggle.
But he pushed through.
Forty-five minutes. He'd been at this for forty-five minutes straight. Fifteen minutes longer than three days ago.
Progress, he thought through the pain.
At fifty minutes, his vision started to blur. His body was approaching its limit.
At fifty-five minutes, he could barely move his arms.
At sixty minutes exactly, he gasped: "Milano. Deactivate."
The gravity shut off. Mark dropped to the floor, gasping, his entire body trembling.
But he was smiling.
An hour. A full hour at one hundred times Earth gravity.
MARS - DAY FOURTEEN
Mark stood before the Emperor of Mars in the throne room, now cleaned of Sequid gore and wearing a fresh version of his suit. His space helmet was retracted, showing his face.
Behind him, visible through the throne room's massive crystal viewport, was the Mars shuttle—fully loaded with samples, fully fueled, ready for departure. The six astronauts were inside, confused but alive and healthy.
"It is done," the Emperor said. "Every Sequid nest on Mars has been eliminated. My scouts have confirmed it. For the first time in three centuries, Mars is free of the parasites."
"Good," Mark said. He pulled out the detonator for the collar. "Then I believe we had an agreement."
He pressed the button.
The collar around the Emperor's neck clicked open and fell away. Mark caught it and stored it back in his belt.
The Emperor touched his neck, feeling the absence of the collar, then looked at Mark. "You kept your word."
"Always do." Mark extended his hand. "Thank you for your cooperation, Emperor Imperius. And for trusting me."
The Emperor stared at the offered hand for a moment, then reached out and clasped it. His grip was firm, his green skin cool to the touch.
"You have done Mars a great service, Invincible. You have our gratitude. And should you ever need allies among the stars..." The Emperor gestured to his people. "The Martian Empire remembers its debts."
"I'll keep that in mind," Mark said. "Now, about the astronauts—"
"They will remember nothing of us," the Emperor assured him. "We have altered their memories. They believe they were unconscious due to equipment malfunction. When they awaken fully, they will find all their samples and data intact, and will have no reason to suspect our existence."
"Perfect." Mark put his helmet back on. "Then I guess this is goodbye. Try to stay hidden. Humanity's not ready for first contact. Not yet."
"We understand. We have remained hidden for millennia. We can remain hidden longer." The Emperor bowed slightly. "Farewell, Invincible. May your flight be swift and your battles victorious."
Mark nodded and flew out of the throne room, through the tunnels, and back to the surface of Mars.
The red planet stretched out around him, vast and empty—or at least, appearing empty. Below the surface, an entire civilization lived and thrived, secret and safe.
And free of Sequids.
Mark flew to the Milano, boarded his ship, and set course for Earth.
Mission accomplished.
GUARDIANS HEADQUARTERS - EARTH
The team was in the middle of a training session when Cecil appeared in blue static.
"Guardians, we've got a situation," he announced. "Invincible is returning from Mars early. ETA: six hours. He's requesting a full team debrief when he arrives."
Robot stopped the simulation. "Early? The mission was supposed to last two weeks."
"He completed it early," Cecil said. "That's all I know. Be ready to receive him at 1800 hours."
He disappeared.
Eve felt something flutter in her chest—relief? Excitement? She'd missed Mark, missed having him around, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. She remembered the night they spent together after she and rex broke up. She woke up so embarrassed and thanked him and left.
"Boss man's coming back," Rex said, groaning. "There goes our vacation."
"We've been training every day," Monster Girl pointed out. "What vacation?"
"Mental vacation," Rex clarified. "From his intensity."
"I, for one, am glad he is returning," Blue Rush said. "Ve have been managing vell, but his leadership is... how you say... reassuring."
Black Samson nodded. "Agreed. And I'm curious what happened on Mars. Must have been significant if he finished the mission a week early."
Robot's mechanical eyes flickered. "Indeed. Very curious. We will debrief at 1800 hours as requested."
Eve floated away from the group slightly, looking up at the sky through the headquarters' reinforced windows.
Welcome home, Mark, she thought. Can't wait to hear what you found up there.
THE MILANO - APPROACHING EARTH
Mark sat in his pilot seat, Earth growing larger in his viewport. He'd spent the last six hours reviewing his mission data, analyzing the Sequid threat, and preparing his report for Cecil and the Guardians.
The Sequid threat to Earth was neutralized. The Martians were safe. The astronauts were returning home with valuable data and no memory of alien contact.
Mission accomplished on all fronts.
But Mark knew this was just one threat dealt with. There were so many more coming.
"Milano, open a channel to GDA headquarters."
"Channel open."
"Cecil, this is Invincible. I'm approaching Earth orbit. Mission successful. All objectives completed. Requesting permission to land at Guardians headquarters."
"Permission granted," Cecil's voice came back. "Welcome home, Mark. We're eager to hear your report."
"You'll get it in full. Invincible out."
Mark guided the Milano through Earth's atmosphere, the ship's hull heating up from reentry but holding strong. He'd built it well.
Below him, he could see the continents, the oceans, the clouds. Home.
I protected you, he thought. Kept the Sequids away. Kept you safe.
And I'll keep doing it. For as long as it takes.
The Guardians headquarters appeared on his sensors. Mark angled toward it, preparing for landing.
His two-week mission was complete.