CHICAGO SEWERS - NIGHT
Machine Head's mechanical head sparked and flickered, his LED lights flaring erratically. Isotope half-dragged, half-carried him through the filthy sewer tunnel, both of them breathing hard.
"I thought you were going to betray me," Machine Head said, his synthesized voice distorted and crackling from the malfunction. "When everything went to shit up there, I thought you'd leave me, at least that's what I calculated."
Isotope grimaced, his shoes splashing through sewage. "It felt like the right call. You pay better than prison does."
They trudged through the darkness, the only light coming from Machine Head's malfunctioning head as the chip got fried when they teleported and the occasional grate above letting in pale moonlight.
"We need to get to one of the safe houses," Machine Head said. "Get me to a workshop. I need repairs."
"Every safe house we have is probably crawling with GDA by now," Isotope replied. "Titan gave them everything. Every location, every operation, every contact. We're ghosts."
Machine Head's LED lights flared bright red. "When I gather my wits, when I get back on my feet, I'm going to kill Titan and Invincible. I promise you that."
"Is that so?" a voice said from ahead of them.
Both men stopped dead. The sewer tunnel stretched ahead into darkness—one of the lights had been broken, creating a pool of shadow they couldn't see through.
"Who the fuck is that?" Machine Head demanded, his head sparking more intensely.
A figure stepped into the dim light.
A young Chinese man with short black hair and gray eyes. He wore a gray and black suit that was far too clean and expensive for someone standing in a sewer. On his chest was an emblem—a number.
Multi-Paul.
"What does the Order want?" Isotope asked, his hands already beginning to glow with green energy.
Multi-Paul smiled. "We heard about your little scuffle with the new Guardians. And although you rejected our offer before, we'd still like to offer you a spot in the Order now that you're currently... dethroned."
Machine Head and Isotope looked at each other.
"The Order doesn't make charity offers," Machine Head said slowly. "What's the catch?"
Multi-Paul's smile widened. "Let's discuss that somewhere more... pleasant. Shall we?"
UPSTATE UNIVERSITY - FRATERNITY PARTY - SAME NIGHT
Three girls walked across campus, laughing together under the stars. The party behind them was still going strong, music thumping through the night.
"Did you see Brad trying to do that keg stand?" one of them giggled.
"He's going to feel that tomorrow," another laughed.
Branches rustled nearby.
They stopped, looking toward the bushes.
A figure stumbled out—a young man, clearly drunk, holding a half-empty bottle. He burped loudly.
"Oh, hey, excuse me. 'Sup, ladies?"
The first girl jumped back. "What the hell?"
"You scared us, you creep!" the second girl said. "Why were you hiding in the bushes?"
"Oh, my god!" the third exclaimed.
"I wasn't hiding in the bushes," the young man slurred. "I was drinking in the bushes. But that's not important. What's important..." He burped again. "...is that I'm motherfucking Doug Cheston!"
He took another gulp from his bottle and belched.
"Who?" the first girl asked.
"My dad owns..." Doug's body swayed. "My dad owns Cheston Pharmaceutical, and like, half this univer... and like, half this university."
"Didn't your dad hike up prices on that baby medicine everyone needs?" the second girl asked, her voice cold.
"Totally, yeah!" Doug grinned like it was something to be proud of. "Anyway, I'm gonna inherit all that shit soon, 'cause my dad's mad old. So... Do one, or, ideally, all of you, want to have sex tonight, and get in on the ground floor of my inheritance?"
"Gross!" the third girl said.
"Ew! No way!" the others chorused, backing away.
"You don't know what you're missing," Doug called after them.
They kept walking, voices floating back to him.
"Yeah, we so do!"
Doug scoffed. "It's me! I'm what you're missing! Me and my huge..." He raised the bottle. "...trust fund."
Something moved behind him.
Doug started to turn. "What the—"
THUNK.
He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, lean, wearing a lab apron over civilian clothes. Plastic gloves. A doctor's cap covering black hair slicked back with a noticeable widow's peak. Greyish-blue eyes regarded Doug's unconscious form with clinical interest.
The man smiled and began dragging the body.
SEWAGE LABORATORY - HOURS LATER
Doug's eyes fluttered open. His head pounded. Everything was blurry.
"What the...? Hey, where am I?"
A face appeared above him—pale skin, aquiline nose, sharp chin. Those grey-blue eyes studying him like a specimen.
"Oh, hello," the face said, a slight chuckle in his voice. "I know, you're confused, but I'm sure you're used to that. Just stay quiet and still, and soon you'll be feeling better than ever."
"What? What's going on?"
"You're going through a metamorphosis," D.A. Sinclair said, his voice carrying genuine excitement. "A miracle that will take you from useless boil on the behind of this crooked world, to a brave explorer charting a shining future for all humanity..."
Doug tried to focus. He was strapped to some kind of table. The room around him was dark except for surgical lights. And there were... things... in the shadows. Figures that didn't move quite right.
"Nerd!" Doug laughed, though it sounded forced. "Who talks like that? You do! You're a nerd, nerd!"
He tried to move. The straps held firm.
"Hey! Let me up, asshole! If this is some joke, or some weird sex shit, my dad's gonna sue you into the Stone Age!"
Then he looked down at his right arm.
And screamed.
His arm—his goddamn arm—was half metal. Mechanical components had been grafted onto flesh, wires and circuits visible beneath translucent synthetic skin. His fingers were still human, but the forearm was pure machine.
"Oh, Jesus! Oh! Oh, shit!" He pulled against the restraints, panic overwhelming him. "What the fuck is that?"
"No histrionics, please," Sinclair said calmly.
"What the fuck did you do?"
"Or I'll be forced to—"
"Oh, my god!" Doug screamed louder.
Sinclair sighed and picked up a scalpel.
SLICE.
The blade cut cleanly across Doug's throat—not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to reach the vocal cords.
Doug's scream became a gurgling, choking sound. Blood ran down his neck.
Sinclair worked quickly, efficiently, removing the damaged vocal cords with practiced precision. He set them aside in a metal tray with a clang.
"I think we can all agree you're better without vocal cords," Sinclair said conversationally. He gestured toward the shadows where the other figures stood—his previous "successes." "And don't worry about those prototypes. You're going to be different. You're going to be beautiful."
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"You are going to be 'Invincible.'"
GDA MEDICAL FACILITY - MARK'S ROOM - ONE WEEK LATER
Debbie sat in the chair beside Mark's bed, her eyes red from lack of sleep. She'd barely left this room in the past week, watching her son's chest rise and fall with each breath.
His wounds had healed. That was the miraculous part—wounds that should have killed him, that should have left permanent damage, were completely gone. His skin was smooth, unmarked. The doctors said his Viltrumite healing factor was working perfectly.
But he wouldn't wake up.
Six days. Six days of watching him lie there, unconscious, while the doctors ran test after test and found nothing wrong.
The Guardians had visited—Rex and Kate together, Monster Girl with Robot, Eve multiple times. Black Samson had come by twice, looking genuinely concerned. Even Blue Rush and Throwbolt had stopped in.
But Nolan... Nolan had only come once. Just once in six days.
And when he had, Debbie couldn't even look at him.
The door opened. Debbie tensed, knowing without looking who it was. She could recognize his footsteps.
Nolan entered quietly, still wearing his Omni-Man suit from whatever "heroics" he'd been doing.
Debbie looked at him, frowned, and turned her attention back to Mark.
"Debbie," Nolan said softly. "We should talk."
Debbie said nothing.
"I know you're angry. I know what I did seems—"
"Don't," Debbie said, her voice cold. "Just don't."
Nolan's face fell. He opened his mouth to say more.
The door opened again.
Eve walked in wearing jeans and a purple hoodie, her civilian clothes a stark contrast to the sterile white room. She stopped when she saw both Nolan and Debbie, the tension between them thick enough to cut.
"How's Mark?" Eve asked carefully.
Debbie's expression softened slightly. "The same. The doctors say all his injuries are healed, but they don't know why he won't wake up. They think it might be psychological—his mind protecting itself from the trauma."
"He'll wake up," Eve said with conviction. "He's too stubborn not to."
As if on cue, Mark's eyes opened.
He blinked slowly, his vision clearing, and looked around the room. Everything seemed fuzzy, distant. His mind felt like it was pushing through fog.
"Mark!" Debbie was out of her chair instantly, grabbing his hand, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Oh, thank God! Thank God you're awake! I was so worried—we were all so worried!"
She was sobbing now, pressing his hand to her face. "My baby, my baby boy, you're okay!"
"Mom," Mark rasped, his voice rough and cracked from disuse. "Water?"
"Yes! Of course!" Debbie rushed to get him water, her hands shaking.
Eve moved to his other side, smiling with relief. "You're awake! Finally! We were getting worried."
Mark took the water gratefully, drinking slowly. The cold liquid soothed his throat.
Nolan stepped closer. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," Mark said. His mind was still clearing, thoughts coming slowly. "What... what happened? How long was I out?"
"Six days," Nolan said.
"Six days?" Mark's eyes widened, and he tried to sit up. The movement made his head spin.
"Easy," Eve said, helping him. "The doctors said you're healed, but take it slow."
Mark leaned back against the pillows, his mind gradually sharpening. He looked at his parents, then at Eve. Something felt... off. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
The door opened again.
Cecil walked in. "Good to have you back, Invincible. You had us worried there for a minute."
"What about his ship?" Eve asked suddenly, just remembering about it. "The Milano. Is it okay?"
"Right above us, actually," Cecil said. "Cloaked. Followed Mark's body here and just... hovered. We tried to access it, but it wouldn't let us. Some kind of biometric lock, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah," Mark said, his voice getting stronger. "I programmed it to always come to me after a certain period of time if we're separated. Safety feature. It'll only respond to my biometrics."
"Smart." Cecil looked at Mark. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Confused. Tired." Mark shifted in the bed. "When can I leave?"
"I can actually clear you right now," Cecil said. "Doctors gave you the all-clear two days ago. You heal fast, kid. Really fast."
"Viltrumites naturally have a healing factor," Nolan interjected. "It's to be expected."
"Actually," Cecil said, looking at Nolan, "I'm not so sure about that. Mark's healing factor is significantly faster than yours. We have your medical data on file for comparison, and Mark healed from injuries that would have taken you weeks in less than a week. In some cases, injuries healed overnight."
Mark felt surprise flash through him. Faster than Dad's? Why?
His mind raced through possibilities. The pain serum. Could it be the pain serum? Maybe when my smart atoms adapted to it, they enhanced my healing factor as a side effect. I'll need to run tests.
"There really isn't any other Viltrumite to compare to," Cecil continued, "so we can't say for certain what's normal and what's not."
After 30 mins of catching up, Mark was fully alert now, his mind clearing completely. And that's when he noticed it—the way his mother stood slightly apart from his father. The way she wouldn't quite look at Nolan. The tension in the air between them.
What happened while I was out?
"I'll get the discharge paperwork started," Cecil said. "You should be out of here within the hour."
"Thanks, Cecil." Mark looked at his team. "How's the team? Black Samson—is he okay? eve said he got injured?"
"He got his powers back," Cecil said. "Fully restored. I'll let him tell you the details."
"He what?" Mark's eyes widened. "That's incredible!"
"There's someone else you should know about," Cecil said. "That Guy named Scott Duvall. You mentioned him before—said he had potential?"
Mark's mind clicked. Power plex. From the show. In the original timeline, he became obsessed with killing me because his family died in collateral damage from one of my fights. But if I can change that...
"Yeah," Mark said. "I remember. Strong kinetic absorption powers. How is he?"
"He's good. We've been training him. I think he's ready to join the Guardians if you approve."
"Absolutely. I'd like to meet with him."
"I'll arrange it." Cecil headed toward the door. "Get some rest, Mark."
Cecil paused at the doorway and caught Mark's eye, gesturing slightly with his head. Mark understood—Cecil wanted to talk to him privately.
"I'll be right back," Mark said to his parents and Eve. "Just need to talk to Cecil for a second."
He got out of bed carefully, his legs a bit shaky but holding. He followed Cecil into the hallway, and Cecil led him to a private corner.
"What is it?" Mark asked.
Cecil's expression was serious. "When you were fighting Battle Beast, I came looking for Omni-Man. Asked him to help you."
Mark felt his stomach drop. "And?"
"He refused. Said it was your lesson to learn. That you needed to understand what happens when you don't listen to him."
The words hung in the air.
Mark took a slow breath. He wasn't surprised—not really. This was exactly the kind of thing his father would do. Test him. See if he was "worthy" by Viltrumite standards.
He's getting close, Mark thought. Close to breaking. Close to showing his true colors.
"Thank you for telling me," Mark said quietly.
"Watch yourself around him," Cecil said. "Something's not right. I can feel it."
"I will."
Mark went back to the room. His mother was crying softly, tears of happiness, while Nolan stood awkwardly nearby.
"Let's go home," Mark said.
GDA HEADQUARTERS - CORRIDOR
After Mark left with Debbie and Eve, Nolan remained behind. Cecil found him in the corridor.
"Darkblood crack yet?" Nolan asked.
"You know him," Cecil replied. "He barely talks when he wants to."
"Let me take a swing. I'll make him talk."
Cecil stopped walking and looked at Nolan. "As fascinating as it would be to watch an unstoppable force meet an immovable object, I prefer to keep these kinds of things in-house."
"Did he do it?" Nolan pressed. "Did he murder the Guardians?"
"We don't know. What's more interesting to me is why he would do it."
"He's a demon. There's your why."
Cecil studied Nolan for a long moment. "I thought I knew him, that's all."
"Mark never told you he was taking on Machine Head with Titan?"
"Yeah, he told me. Told me he was gonna take the bait."
Cecil chuckled.
"What's so funny about that?" Nolan asked, his voice hardening.
"You're the most powerful man on the planet, but even your kid won't listen to you." Cecil's expression didn't change. "What, this doesn't happen on Viltrum?"
"No," Nolan said coldly. "It doesn't."
"Hmm." Cecil started walking again. "Mark's technically in his thirties now, which means he's old enough to make his own decisions. Is that normal for kids on Viltrum?"
Nolan's fists clenched. "No. It's not."
"It's reassuring, really," Cecil said. "Shows he's thinking for himself. Making his own choices. That's what we want in a hero."
Cecil walked away, leaving Nolan standing in the corridor alone.
LATER THAT DAY - THE MILANO
Mark flew the Milano with his parents as passengers—the first time they'd been inside his ship. Debbie sat in the co-pilot seat, looking around at the advanced technology with wonder. Nolan stood behind them, his expression unreadable.
"This is incredible, Mark," Debbie said. "You built all this?"
"With help from Flaxan technology," Mark replied, guiding the ship smoothly through the sky. "It's based on their designs but heavily modified."
"It's impressive," Nolan admitted grudgingly.
They spent the next few hours together—Mark showing them the ship's capabilities, stopping for lunch at a restaurant Debbie loved, just being a family.
But the tension never fully left. Debbie and Nolan barely spoke to each other, and when they did, it was polite and distant.
Finally, Mark dropped them off at home.
"I'm going to check in with the Guardians," Mark said. "I'll be back later."
"Be safe," Debbie said, hugging him tight.
Nolan just nodded.
GUARDIANS OF THE GLOBE HEADQUARTERS - EVENING
Mark walked into the common room at headquarters to find the entire team there. The moment they saw him, they erupted.
"Mark!"
"Invincible!"
"About time you woke up!"
They swarmed him with questions, hugs, backslaps. Rex made a comment about mark taking another vacation. Kate split into three copies just to hug him from multiple angles. Monster Girl—in her human form—smiled wide and grabbed his hand.
Mark answered their questions, laughed at their jokes, and felt something warm settle in his chest.
He turned to Black Samson, who stood slightly apart from the group. He wasn't wearing his mechanical suit anymore—instead, he wore a grey and cream patterned skintight suit that showed off his restored physique.
"You okay?" Mark asked.
"Better than okay," Black Samson said with a huge grin. "Better than I've been in years."
"Show me."
Black Samson held out his hand. Electricity arced between his fingers, crackling with power.
"No way," Mark breathed.
"Yes way!" Throwbolt called out. "And there goes my usefulness as the only electric powerhouse!"
Everyone laughed.
"So who gets the earthquake gauntlets now?" Robot asked, his mechanical voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Everyone looked at Mark expectantly.
"Save them for Powerplex," Mark said. "Speaking of which—there is he?"
Mark turned to see Cecil had appeared with the young man Mark recognized from his memories of the show.
Caucasian, blond hair, green eyes. Slim but muscular build. He wore a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit with red accents—red high-collared shoulder section, red cuffs, red stripes down the sides. Discs were placed around his body that glowed faintly with stored energy. Metallic grey boots with knee guards. A red headpiece covering his ears.
He looked nervous but determined.
"Everyone," Cecil said, "this is Powerplex."
"Hi," Powerplex said. "Names Powerplex. I used to work for the GDA until Invincible saw my potential and now I'm here."
Blue Rush zoomed over to him in a blur. "Ohhh, what are your powers?" he asked in his thick Russian accent.
"I can absorb kinetic energy and use it for various things," Powerplex explained. "But mainly convert it to electric energy."
Everyone looked at Throwbolt.
She pretended to sulk. "Great. Just great. Replace me, why don't you."
"We now have a Thor squad!" Rex announced, and everyone laughed.
"Powerplex will be working with you from now on," Cecil said. "Make him feel welcome."
He teleported away.
Mark walked over to Powerplex and extended his hand. "Welcome to the team. I'm glad you made it."
Powerplex shook it, looking relieved. "Thanks. I've heard a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope," Mark said with a smile.
He introduced Powerplex to everyone—their names, their powers, their personalities. The team gathered around, and soon they were all talking like Powerplex had been there for months.
"We should celebrate!" Rex announced. "New team member! Mark's back! Black Samson's got his powers! This calls for a party!"
"Hell yeah!" Kate's duplicates said in unison.
Mark found himself standing with Eve away from the main group as preparations began.
"So," Eve said, "I'm visiting Upstate University tomorrow. Thinking about enrolling."
"Really? I can show you around when you come."
"I'm bringing two friends from high school. William and Amber. We're meeting at Amber's house and then heading over."
Mark paused. "Those names sound familiar."
"They should," Eve said with a slight smile. "William and you used to be friends before you skipped grades. You grew distant. And Amber tried to ask you out after you helped her with Todd the bully, but you turned her down."
Mark remembered now—vaguely. William had been a good friend before Mark's academic acceleration created distance between them. And Amber... yeah, he'd helped her deal with Todd and she'd clearly been interested, but Mark had politely declined.
"I remember them," Mark said. "It'll be good to see them again. What time should I pick you guys up?"
"Around ten? I'll text you Amber's address."
Before Eve could say more, an explosion rocked the training room.
They both rushed over to find a hole in the wall and Bulletproof groaning inside the crater.
"I'm alright!" Bulletproof called out. "That was awesome!"
"Hell yeah!" Rex yelled.
They looked at the source of the explosion—Powerplex stood with his fist extended, wisps of energy dissipating around it. Black Samson and Throwbolt were beside him, having clearly been channeling electricity into him, Monster girl, Shrinking ray, Robot and one of Duplikate taking videos of it.
Blue Rush tried to slide over to check on Bulletproof but hit a beer spill from Rex who already started celebration early. His feet went out from under him, and he crashed into the wall beside Bulletproof.
Everyone burst out laughing.
"Got it on camera," Rex said with a laugh, sipping his drink.
"Don't forget to send it to me" Yelled Eve whose relationship with rex had significantly improved as she flew over to help remove them from the wall.
Mark smiled, watching his team enjoy themselves.
This is what I fight for, he thought. Moments like this.
GRAYSON HOUSEHOLD - SAME NIGHT
"We need to talk about what you did," Debbie said, her voice shaking with barely controlled fury.
They were in the living room. Nolan stood by the window, his back to her.
"Debbie—"
"No!" She cut him off. "You don't get to explain this away. You were going to let our son die!"
"He wasn't going to die—"
"You didn't know that!" Debbie's voice rose. "And you just... you just stood there and said no when Cecil asked for your help!"
"He needed to learn—"
"He needed his father!" Debbie screamed. "Our son was fighting for his life, and you stood in this house and refused to help him! What kind of father does that?"
Nolan turned to face her, his expression hard. "A Viltrumite father. Mark needs to understand that weakness—"
"Weakness?" Debbie's voice went cold. "Needing help isn't weakness, Nolan. It's being human. But you wouldn't understand that, would you?"
"I was trying to teach him—"
"You were trying to get him killed!" Debbie was crying now, tears of rage streaming down her face. "And for what? To prove some point? To show him he can't rely on anyone? What lesson is worth your son's life?"
Nolan flinched. "That's not fair."
"Fair?" Debbie laughed bitterly. "You want to talk about fair? I sat in that hospital for six days, Nolan. Six days watching our son lie there unconscious. Do you know how many times you visited? Once. You came once."
"I was working—"
"You were avoiding him!" Debbie shouted. "Avoiding me! Avoiding the consequences of what you did!"
Silence fell between them.
Nolan's jaw clenched. "What can I do to make up for this?"
Debbie stared at him for a long moment. Part of her wanted to scream more, to rage at him until he understood. But another part of her—the part that remembered Darkblood's notebook—saw an opportunity.
She needed time. Time to get evidence. Time to figure out what to do.
"I want food from Rome," she said finally, her voice cold. "That little trattoria we went to on our anniversary. And wine from Provence. The 1982 vintage."
Nolan looked almost relieved to have a concrete task. "Of course. I'll go right now."
"Take your time," Debbie said, not looking at him.
Nolan left through the back door, shooting into the sky.
The moment he was gone, Debbie moved.
She had maybe an hour. Maybe less if he hurried.
She rushed upstairs to their bedroom and started searching. The closet first—nothing. Under the bed—nothing. The dresser—nothing.
Where would he hide it?
She looked up at the air vent. It looked... off. Like it had been moved recently.
Debbie grabbed a chair and stood on it, pulling the vent cover off. Inside was a black bag.
Her hands trembled as she pulled it out and opened it.
Nolan's suit. The one he'd been wearing the night the Guardians died.
It was torn. Shredded in places. Covered in dried blood.
Debbie's breath caught in her throat.
Proof.
But she needed to be smart about this. If Nolan came back and found it missing...
She grabbed another of his spare suits from the closet—he kept several around the house for emergencies. Then she went to sewing supplies and retrieved the knife she'd gotten as a birthday gift from Art. The sharpest knife she owned meant for cutting superhero suits and heavy materials.
She took the spare suit and carefully cut it in strategic places, mimicking the tears in the real suit. Then she went back to her art supplies and used red paint, splattering it across the fabric to simulate blood.
Not perfect, but good enough to pass a casual inspection.
She put the fake suit in the bag and returned it to the vent, arranging everything exactly as she'd found it.
Then she took the real suit and hid it in her car, under the spare tire where Nolan would never think to look.
She'd just finished washing the red paint and her hands when she heard the back door open.
Nolan walked in carrying bags from Rome and a bottle of wine from Provence.
"Got everything," he said, trying to smile.
Debbie forced herself to smile back, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you."
They had dinner. Made small talk. Pretended everything was fine.
But Debbie's mind was elsewhere, thinking about the suit hidden in her car and what she was going to do with it.
Later that night, after they'd gone to bed, Nolan spoke into the darkness.
"Are you going out tomorrow?"
"I need to pick up some dry cleaning," Debbie said. "And something for dinner."
"I could come with you."
"You need to work on your book. You've been neglecting it."
Nolan was quiet for a moment. "Alright."
When Debbie left the next morning, Nolan waited until her car was out of sight. Then he went upstairs and checked the air vent.
The bag was still there. He pulled it out and looked at the suit inside—torn, bloodied.
He didn't examine it closely. Why would he? It was exactly where he'd left it.
He returned it to the vent and went back to his study, never noticing the slight differences in the tears, the way the "blood" was still slightly tacky in places.
Debbie drove to a secure storage facility she'd rented under her maiden name. She placed Nolan's real suit in a safe deposit box.
Evidence.
For when she needed it.
AMBER'S HOUSE - NEXT DAY
Eve stood on the front porch with two other people—a young white man with a lanky build and friendly smile, and a young black woman with dark hair and sharp, intelligent eyes.
William checked his phone for the third time. "He said he'd be here by now."
"Mark runs on Mark-time," Eve said. "Always has."
"I haven't seen him in years," Amber said. "I wonder if he's changed."
A sleek red Corvette pulled up—but it looked different somehow. The body seemed slightly longer, the proportions subtly altered while maintaining its sporty aesthetics.
Mark got out, grinning. "Hey guys! Ready for the grand tour?"
William's eyes widened. Then he very obviously checked Mark out, his gaze lingering on Mark's improved physique.
Oh boy, Mark thought. He's not even trying to hide it.
"Hey Mark," William said, his voice slightly breathless. "You look... good. Really good."
"Thanks," Mark said. "You too. Everyone, hop in."
They piled into the car—William and Amber in the back, Eve in the passenger seat.
"Did you modify your car?" Amber asked, looking at the expanded interior. "It looks different."
"Yeah," Mark said, catching Eve's eye and giving her a small smile. "Had some help with it."
Eve smiled back, understanding the secret between them.
As they drove toward campus, William leaned forward from the back seat. "So, Mark... are you seeing anyone?"
"No," Mark replied. "Just focusing on college right now."
"Are you into guys?" William asked bluntly.
Mark glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "I love my ladies, William. Sorry."
William sat back, disappointed but not deterred. "Worth a shot."
Amber laughed. "Subtle, Will. Real subtle."
She looked at Mark. "You've filled out nice since the last time I saw you."
"Late-stage puberty," Mark said with a shrug.
"Tell me about Rick," Eve prompted, changing the subject.
William's entire demeanor changed, his face lighting up. "Oh my god, Rick is incredible. He's smart, he's funny, he's on the soccer team. And he's actually interested in me, you know? Like, genuinely interested."
He didn't stop talking about Rick for the entire drive to campus.
Mark listened with half an ear, navigating through traffic, just enjoying the normalcy of it all.
After an hr. and half of driving, they pulled into the campus parking lot and got out.
A young man with golden blond hair and a muscular build was waiting for them—clearly Rick.
"You must be William's friends!" Rick said, extending his hand. "I'm Rick. Will's told me so much about you."
They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
"I've seen you in my biology class," Rick said to Mark. "You're the one who always asks Dr. Morrison those complicated questions about genetic engineering."
"Guilty," Mark said.
"I arranged for you guys to sit in on a class if you want," Rick offered. "Give you a feel for what university is like."
"That would be great," Amber said.
As they walked across campus, Mark noticed something on a kiosk—a missing person poster.
MISSING: DOUG CHESTON
The photo showed a young man with a cocky smile. The text below described him as the son of a pharmaceutical CEO, last seen leaving a fraternity party.
Mark stared at the poster, feeling that familiar weight settle on his shoulders.