"Life isn't black and white; it's a million gray areas" Ridley Scott.
GUARDIANS HEADQUARTERS - DEBRIEFING ROOM
The television screen mounted on the wall showed news coverage of the Mars mission's triumphant return. The shuttle had landed safely in the Utah desert, all six astronauts emerging healthy and carrying containers full of Martian soil samples and rock specimens.
"—historic achievement for humanity," the news anchor was saying. "The first successful crewed mission to Mars has returned with valuable scientific data that will help pave the way for future exploration and potential colonization—"
Mark stood in the debriefing room with Cecil and Robot, his Invincible suit still on but his helmet retracted. He'd landed the Milano in the headquarters' hangar bay twenty minutes ago and had been giving Cecil a detailed rundown of the mission ever since.
"So let me make sure I understand," Cecil said, arms crossed. "The Martians grabbed the astronauts to prevent potential Sequid contamination. You collared their Emperor—literally put an explosive device around his neck—forced them to cooperate, then spent two weeks systematically exterminating every Sequid nest on Mars. Over fifty thousand individual organisms."
"Try millions," Mark corrected. "The nests were way bigger than initial scans suggested. Some of them had hundreds of thousands of Sequids. By my final count, I killed somewhere between two and three million of them."
Cecil's eyebrows rose. "Million. You killed millions of alien parasites."
"Had to be thorough," Mark said with a shrug. "Even one Sequid making it to Earth would be a disaster."
"And the Martians wiped the astronauts' memories?"
"Completely. They think they were unconscious due to equipment malfunction. All their samples and data are intact. As far as they know, Mars is a dead planet with no intelligent life."
Cecil was quiet for a moment, processing everything. Then he did something Mark hadn't expected.
He smiled. Actually smiled.
"Good work, Invincible. Damn good work." Cecil extended his hand. "You eliminated a major threat to Earth before it could become a problem, established diplomatic contact with an alien species, and brought our people home safe. That's exactly the kind of proactive heroism we need."
Mark shook his hand, feeling a strange sense of pride. Coming from Cecil—a man who trusted almost no one and praised even fewer—that meant something.
"I'm glad you're on our side," Cecil continued, his expression growing more serious.
"No matter what happens," Mark said firmly, "I'm on Earth's side. Always."
Cecil's smile faded slightly, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded like: "Let's hope so after you find out."
Mark's enhanced hearing caught every word, but he pretended not to. "Did you say something?"
"Nothing," Cecil replied quickly. "Just thinking out loud."
He knows something, Mark thought. Something about Dad. Something he's not ready to tell me yet.
Mark turned to Robot, who had been silently observing the conversation. The tall, orange-colored mechanical body stood motionless, its segmented limbs and robust chest cavity giving it an imposing presence. The human skull-shaped head with green eyes regarded Mark with what might have been curiosity, the cylinder on the upper-back of its head humming softly.
"How's the team? How did they do while I was gone?"
Robot's mechanical voice was as neutral as always. "Performance has been satisfactory. I will provide individual assessments."
He began walking slowly around the room as he spoke, his segmented limbs moving with mechanical precision.
"Rex Splode: Combat effectiveness has improved by approximately fifteen percent. He has been more focused in training, though interpersonal issues with Eve and Dupli-Kate remain unresolved. His new expandable staff has proven effective in channeling his explosive abilities with greater precision."
"Eve: Consistently high performance. Her molecular manipulation has become more refined, with faster construct creation and greater structural integrity. She has taken on additional leadership responsibilities in your absence without complaint."
"Dupli-Kate: Coordination between duplicates has improved. She can now maintain up to twenty copies simultaneously for extended periods. The Flaxan plasma rifles have been integrated into her standard loadout."
"Monster Girl: Physical combat capabilities remain exceptional in transformed state. However, the age regression continues to be a concern. She is becoming increasingly anxious about the long-term implications of her power."
"Black Samson: His experience has proven invaluable. He has been mentoring the younger team members, and his tactical knowledge has improved mission efficiency. The earthquake bracelets you and I designed have performed beyond expectations."
"Bulletproof: Invulnerability remains his primary asset. He has been working on offensive techniques to complement his defensive capabilities. Hand-to-hand combat skills have improved significantly."
"Throwbolt: Energy absorption and projection capabilities are impressive. She can now draw power from multiple sources simultaneously and has developed better control over discharge magnitude. However, the energy drain still leaves her exhausted after major battles."
"Blue Rush: Speed and rescue capabilities are excellent. He has become the team's primary evacuation specialist during combat scenarios. His Russian accent makes communication occasionally challenging, but his effectiveness is undeniable."
"Shrinking Rae: Reconnaissance and infiltration capabilities are exceptional. Her small size allows access to areas others cannot reach. She has been invaluable for intelligence gathering during missions."
Robot stopped walking and faced Mark directly. "Overall assessment: The team is functional and improving. Morale is good. Combat effectiveness is increasing with each engagement. They are not yet at the level of the original Guardians, but they are progressing toward that goal."
Mark nodded, processing all the information. "Good. That's really good. Any major incidents while I was gone?"
"The dragon kaiju in Rome was the most significant," Robot replied. "The team performed admirably. Zero civilian casualties. The creature was neutralized efficiently."
"I saw the footage Cecil sent me," Mark said. "They looked good. Really good."
Cecil checked his watch. "I need to get to the Pentagon. Keep up the good work, Invincible. You're running a solid team. Don't let it slip."
Blue static crackled around him, and he vanished.
Mark and Robot stood in silence for a moment.
"You have concerns," Robot observed. "I can detect elevated stress markers in your voice pattern."
"Just thinking about everything that's coming," Mark said. "The threats we'll face. Whether we'll be ready."
"We will adapt as necessary," Robot said. "That is what we do."
Mark smiled slightly. "Yeah. I guess it is."
THE PENTAGON - SECURE CORRIDOR
Cecil walked through the reinforced hallway, flanked by armed guards in tactical gear. Behind them, restrained by glowing energy cuffs, walked Damien Darkblood.
The demon detective looked furious, his yellow eyes burning with rage, his tail lashing behind him.
"This is a mistake, Stedman," Darkblood growled. "I was close. I had evidence—"
"You had trespassing charges," Cecil interrupted coldly. "Breaking and entering. Harassment. And when we searched your office, we found something interesting."
"The dried blood," Darkblood said. "It was planted. I did not try to kill Nolan Grayson or harm the Guardians—"
"I know," Cecil said, surprising him. "The blood was planted. Probably by Nolan himself, trying to discredit you. Which means you were getting close to something. Too close."
Darkblood stopped walking, forcing the guards to stop as well. "Then why are you doing this? Why protect him?"
"Because I need time," Cecil said, turning to face the demon. "Time to figure out what he's planning. Time to build contingencies. Time to understand why he killed his team and how to stop him if he tries something else."
"You admit it then," Darkblood said. "You know he murdered them."
"I suspect. I don't know. Not for certain. Not yet." Cecil started walking again. "But your investigation was getting too public. Too visible. If Nolan realizes we're onto him before we're ready, before we have countermeasures in place..."
"Then Earth falls," Darkblood finished quietly. "But sending me back to Hell will not stop the truth from coming out."
"No," Cecil agreed. "But it buys me time. And right now, time is the most valuable resource I have."
They entered a large chamber—circular, with strange symbols carved into the floor. Donald Ferguson stood in the center, wearing ceremonial robes and holding an ancient book that looked like it had been reconstructed from fragments.
Darkblood's eyes widened. "The Book of Damnation. I destroyed that centuries ago. Burned it to ash."
"And I had it reconstructed," Cecil said. "Piece by piece, page by page, using technology you can't even comprehend. Turns out when you have access to alien tech and the world's best scientists, 'impossible' becomes a suggestion."
Donald began chanting in a language that predated human civilization. The symbols on the floor began to glow with hellish red light.
"I never thought you would do this," Darkblood said, his voice showing genuine hurt. "I thought you were a good man, Cecil Stedman. I thought you sought justice like I do."
"That's your problem," Cecil said quietly. "You think in absolutes. Good and evil. Black and white. Heaven and Hell. But I live in the gray areas, Darkblood. That's where the real work gets done. That's where Earth gets protected."
The chanting grew louder. The temperature in the room dropped, then spiked to furnace levels.
"I cannot stop him from Hell," Darkblood said desperately. "I cannot help you. I cannot—"
"I know," Cecil said. "But I'll find another way. I always do."
Darkblood's expression shifted from desperation to cold fury. "There is a place worse than Hell waiting for you, Cecil Stedman. A place for those who enable evil in the name of the greater good. And when you die, you will find it."
Cecil's expression didn't change. "Probably. But that's a problem for another day."
The ritual reached its climax. Chains—burning chains that seemed to be made of solidified screams—erupted from the glowing symbols and wrapped around Darkblood. He struggled, his supernatural strength useless against the metaphysical bindings.
"Remember this, Stedman!" Darkblood shouted as he was dragged toward a portal that had opened in the floor—a gateway showing endless fire and suffering. "When Nolan Grayson shows his true face, when he destroys everything you love, remember—"
The chains pulled him through the portal.
The gateway slammed shut.
The symbols faded.
Donald stopped chanting and collapsed to his knees, exhausted from the ritual.
Cecil stood in silence for a long moment, staring at where the portal had been.
"Sir?" Donald asked quietly. "Are you all right?"
"No," Cecil said honestly. "But I will be. Get up. We have work to do."
He walked out of the chamber, leaving Donald to clean up the ritual components.
Forgive me, Darkblood, Cecil thought. But I need to play this smart. One wrong move and Omni-Man could kill millions. Maybe billions.
I can't afford to tip my hand. Not yet.
OLGA'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
Debbie stood in the middle of Olga's living room, surveying the mess with a mixture of sadness and determination.
The house was a disaster. Empty wine bottles covered the coffee table and kitchen counter. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Clothes and papers were scattered everywhere. The curtains were drawn, leaving the rooms dark and stuffy.
Olga had left everything behind when she'd fled back to Moscow. Left the mess, the memories, the life she'd built with Josef.
Debbie understood. Sometimes running away was the only option.
She'd brought cleaning supplies—garbage bags, disinfectant, paper towels, rubber gloves. She was wearing old jeans and a T-shirt, her hair tied back in a ponytail.
Let's get to work, she thought.
She started in the living room, picking up wine bottles and throwing them in a garbage bag. The clinking sound was almost musical—a sad, lonely song.
As she cleaned, she found a photograph on the mantle. Olga and Josef, taken at some hero event, both of them smiling. Josef in his Red Rush costume, Olga in a beautiful red dress. They looked happy. In love. Alive.
Debbie stared at the photo for a long moment, feeling tears prick her eyes.
This could have been me, she thought. This could have been me and Nolan. Me standing here alone, cleaning out our house, running away from memories.
If whatever killed the Guardians had killed Nolan instead of...
She pushed the thought away and kept cleaning.
By noon, she'd made significant progress. The living room was clean, the kitchen was spotless, the bathroom was scrubbed. She'd opened all the windows to air out the house, letting sunlight stream in for the first time in weeks.
At two PM, the first potential buyers arrived—a young couple, probably in their late twenties, looking for their first home.
"It's a great property," Debbie said, slipping into her professional realtor persona. "Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, recently renovated kitchen. The neighborhood is quiet, safe, great schools nearby."
She led them through the house, pointing out features, answering questions. But her eyes kept drifting to that photograph on the mantle. Olga and Josef. Smiling. Alive.
The couple noticed.
"Is that the previous owner?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Debbie said carefully. "She's moving back to her home country. Family reasons."
She didn't mention Josef. Didn't mention that he'd died. That his girlfriend had fallen apart and fled rather than face life without him.
Some things potential buyers didn't need to know.
By five PM, she'd shown the house to three different couples. All of them seemed interested. One had even talked about making an offer.
Debbie locked up the house and sat in her car for a moment, exhausted but satisfied.
Her phone rang. Nolan.
"Hey," she answered. "What's up?"
"Just checking in. How did the showings go?"
"Good. Really good. I think we'll get an offer soon." Debbie smiled despite her exhaustion. "If I sell two more houses this month, I'll break the monthly record."
"You can do it," Nolan said, his voice warm and supportive. "I have complete faith in you."
Debbie felt a rush of affection for her husband. Whatever doubts she'd been having, whatever strange feelings she'd been experiencing—in moments like this, she remembered why she loved him.
"Oh, and Debbie?" Nolan continued. "New evidence came up in the Guardians investigation. Cecil called me today to apologize. Actually apologize. Can you believe it?"
Debbie's smile faded slightly. "Cecil apologized? That doesn't sound like him."
"I know, right? But apparently they found something that cleared me completely. The case is closed."
"That's... that's great, honey. Really great."
They talked for a few more minutes before hanging up.
Debbie sat in her car, staring at her phone.
Cecil apologized. Cecil, who never apologizes. Who never admits he's wrong.
Why does that make me more nervous instead of less?
She started the car and drove home, trying to ignore the cold feeling in her stomach.
SECRET LABORATORY - UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
The room was dark, lit only by the glow of computer screens and the eerie bioluminescent light coming from a large cylindrical tank in the center.
Robot's humanoid body stood motionless near the tank, its orange-colored frame and segmented limbs perfectly still. The human skull-shaped head with green eyes stared at the tank's contents, the cylinder on the upper-back of its head humming softly with processing power.
Inside the tank, floating in viscous liquid, was a human—or what was left of one.
The figure was severely deformed, barely bigger than a child. His body was twisted and crumpled, covered in sores and blisters. Mechanical components were integrated into his flesh—tubes delivering nutrients, sensors monitoring vital signs, a mechanical clamp where his nose should have been.
His skin was pale, almost translucent. His only working eye—the right one, yellow-green and unnervingly intelligent—tracked the Robot body's movement.
This was Robot. The real Robot. Not the mechanical shell that everyone knew, but the biological intelligence that controlled it.
Rudy Connors.
The mechanical body moved closer to the tank, and Rudy's eye focused on it. Through the robot's cameras, he could see his own reflection—a monster in a prison of his own body.
"Phase one has begun," Rudy said through the robot's speakers, his mechanical voice echoing in the empty laboratory.
He had everything he needed. Rex Splode's blood sample, carefully extracted during a routine medical check. The genetic material that would be key to creating a new body—one that wasn't twisted and broken, one that could walk and breathe and live.
One that could be with Amanda.
Rudy turned the robot's skull-shaped head toward a dark corner of the laboratory.
"You can come out now," he said calmly. "I know you're there."
The robot shifted into a defensive stance, its segmented limbs repositioning for potential combat.
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Invincible. Standing there in his black and red suit, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind his mask.
"So that's how you actually look like?" Mark said, his voice neither judgmental nor pitying. Just observant.
Rudy felt a surge of anger—not at Mark, but at the situation. At being seen. At being vulnerable.
"How did you get here?" Rudy demanded through the robot.
"I followed you," Mark said simply. "Well, I followed your robot body. Been tracking your movements for a few days. Wanted to know what you were up to."
"Do you know about my plan?"
Mark tilted his head slightly. "You mean the plan where you release the Mauler Twins from prison, have them build you a new body, all in hopes of getting with Monster Girl? That plan?"
Rudy's eye widened in the tank. "How—"
"I don't," Mark said quickly. "Know about your plan, I mean. You should keep it that way if you want it to succeed."
"Did you come here to stop me?"
"No." Mark walked closer to the tank, looking at Rudy's deformed body without flinching. "I'm actually here to help. And to make sure you're not putting the team or Earth in danger."
"Help?" Rudy's voice was suspicious. "Why would you help me?"
Mark reached into his belt and pulled out a small data drive. He walked over to the robot body and held it out.
The robot's segmented arm extended, taking the drive carefully in its mechanical grip.
"What is this?"
"Schematics," Mark said. "For Monster Girl. Using Flaxan time dilation technology as a reference point. It's theoretical, but it should stop her temporal displacement every time she transforms."
Rudy stared at the drive through his robot's sensors, his mind racing. "This would... this would solve her problem. She wouldn't age backward anymore."
"I started the process," Mark continued, "but I need you to finish it. You're smarter than me when it comes to this kind of science. Figure it out. Build it. Save her."
Rudy's eye focused on Mark through the tank's glass. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to take care of my team," Mark said simply. "And because I need allies. More people who will side with me even when others won't. People I can trust when things get bad."
"What if I just take this and do my own thing?" Rudy challenged. "Use the technology for myself and ignore you?"
Mark's expression hardened. Even behind the mask, Rudy could feel the weight of his gaze.
"Then I don't care," Mark said. "Do what you want with your life. But if you try to harm Earth in any way—if you become a threat to this planet or its people—I will crush you and every dream you've ever had. We clear?"
The threat hung in the air like a blade.
"Crystal clear," Rudy said quietly.
"Good." Mark turned to leave, walking back toward the shadows.
"You've given me a lot to think about, Invincible," Robot said, his mechanical voice carrying genuine respect. "You've changed."
"I haven't changed," Mark said without looking back, his form already dissolving into the darkness. "I've always been on Earth's side. Nothing will change that."
He disappeared completely.
Rudy stared at the spot where Mark had been standing for a long moment, his mind processing everything that had just happened.
Then he looked at the data drive in the robot's mechanical grip.
Soon, he thought. Soon I'll have a real body. Soon I'll be able to tell Amanda how I feel. Soon...
Thank you, Mark Grayson.
The robot moved toward Rudy's tank to begin the process of changing the nutrient solution—a necessary task performed twice daily to keep his failing body alive.
As it worked, Rudy began downloading the data from the drive, his brilliant mind already analyzing the Flaxan technology, finding patterns, seeing solutions.
He would build Amanda's cure.
And then he would build himself a new life.
NASA FACILITY - SHIPYARD - NIGHT
The Mars shuttle sat in its secure hangar, surrounded by equipment and scientists still analyzing every inch of it for contamination or damage. The area was supposed to be locked down—no unauthorized personnel, 24/7 security, cameras everywhere.
But something moved in the shadows.
A figure—humanoid but wrong somehow—crept along the shuttle's hull. In the brief flicker of emergency lighting, its green skin was visible, along with red eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness.
A Martian.
It had hidden inside the shuttle's engine compartment for the entire journey back to Earth, waiting patiently, biding its time. The plan had been to replace one of the astronauts, to infiltrate human society, to gather intelligence for the Martian Empire.
But that damn Invincible had checked everything with that scanner of his. Made sure nothing living had attached itself to the astronauts or the shuttle's main compartments.
He hadn't thought to check the engines. Hadn't imagined anything could survive there.
Lucky for me, the Martian thought, dropping silently to the hangar floor. Though that mundane waiting was torture.
It moved toward the exit, its body shifting and adapting to avoid security cameras. This Martians shape-shifting wasn't perfect—not like on Mars where they'd had centuries to master it—but it was good enough to fool human technology.
It reached the perimeter fence and crouched, preparing to jump.
Lights.
Dozens of them.
Floodlights blazed to life all around the shipyard, turning night into day.
GDA agents appeared from nowhere—they'd been camouflaged, invisible, waiting. They emerged from behind crates, dropped from catwalks, rose from prone positions on the ground. All of them had weapons trained on the Martian.
The Martian froze, its heart racing, its mind scrambling for options.
Blue static crackled.
Cecil Stedman materialized fifteen feet away, looking utterly unsurprised.
And then a shadow passed over the moon.
The Martian looked up.
Invincible descended slowly from the sky, backlit by the moon, looking like some avenging angel. His black and red suit seemed to absorb light, making him appear almost demonic in the harsh floodlights. He landed silently between the Martian and Cecil.
"Looks like you weren't kidding, Invincible," Cecil said, impressed despite himself. "One actually did escape."
Mark turned to Cecil with a smirk. "Told you. Always trust a Viltrumites paranoia."
He turned back to the Martian, then looked at Cecil. "Have your agents stand down. Let's not make this more dramatic than it needs to be."
Cecil signaled the agents, who lowered their weapons but maintained their positions.
Mark approached the Martian slowly, deliberately. The alien tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go—agents behind it, fence behind them, and Invincible in front.
The Martian was, to put it bluntly, shitting bricks.
Mark smiled—not a friendly smile, but one that showed teeth. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture that somehow felt more threatening than comforting.
"Welcome to Earth, Martian," Mark said pleasantly.
Then he bent down until he was face-level with the terrified alien, his smile never wavering.
"Now tell us—" his voice dropped lower, more dangerous "—what brings you here?"
The Martian's red eyes were wide with fear. It had heard stories about Invincible from the other Martians—the human who had killed millions of Sequids, who had collared the Emperor, who had threatened an entire civilization and made them cooperate.
And now it was alone with him on a planet full of humans who didn't know Martians existed.
It opened its mouth to speak.