"Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." Xavier University
What followed was a running battle across half a continent.
They fought as they flew, neither able to gain a decisive advantage. Nolan's experience versus Mark's raw power. Age versus youth. Technique versus determination.
Nolan caught Mark in a joint lock, hyperextending his elbow. Mark roared in pain but drove his forehead into Nolan's face, breaking his nose again. The grip loosened enough for Mark to wrench free.
They separated and came together again. Mark threw a haymaker. Nolan ducked under it and drove his fist into Mark's kidney—a perfect shot. Mark gasped but responded with a back elbow that caught Nolan's eye, swelling it shut.
They grappled while falling, tumbling through the air at terminal velocity. The friction heated their bodies, their suits smoking from the speed.
Nolan got on top and drove his knee into Mark's chest. Ribs cracked. Mark grabbed Nolan's leg and twisted hard. Both injuries began healing within minutes.
They hit the ground like a meteor strike, creating a crater in the middle of a forest. Trees were vaporized from the impact. A small lake nearby evaporated instantly from the heat.
Mark pushed Nolan off and kicked him away. Nolan flew backward, crashed through a rock formation, and immediately flew back at Mark.
They met in mid-air; trading blows too fast for any camera to capture. Each punch carried enough force to level a building. Each impact created thunder.
Nolan landed three punches in rapid succession—jaw, floating rib, temple—each strike surgical in its precision. Mark's vision blurred, but muscle memory kept him fighting. He blocked the fourth punch and countered with a spinning back fist that caught Nolan's throat.
Nolan choked, gasping for air. Mark followed up with a flying knee that caught Nolan in the chest, sending him crashing into a mountain.
Mark flew after him, not giving him time to recover. He grabbed Nolan by the throat and flew straight up, building speed, then dove down and drove Nolan into the ground.
BOOM.
The impact created a crater two hundred feet across. Mark landed beside it, breathing hard. Nolan lay at the bottom, but immediately exploded out with a roar.
Get up. I knew you'd get up.
Nolan tackled Mark with desperate strength.
They flew across the landscape, Nolan driving Mark through everything in their path.
Through a hillside. Through an abandoned warehouse. Through a water tower that exploded around them.
Finally, Nolan slammed Mark into the ground and started raining down punches. Left. Right. Left. Right. Each punch was placed with surgical precision—throat, solar plexus, temple, kidney.
Mark caught one of the punches—his hand closing around Nolan's fist. He twisted Nolan's wrist until it snapped. Nolan screamed but used his other hand to drive his thumb into Mark's damaged eye.
Mark's scream matched his father's. They rolled apart, both clutching their injuries.
They stood, facing each other across fifty feet of destroyed earth, both swaying from exhaustion.
"Give up," Nolan said, blood running from his mouth.
"No," Mark replied simply.
"A Viltrumite doesn't surrender."
They charged again.
They flew as they fought, taking their battle eastward. Over forests. Over farmland. Over small towns whose residents looked up in terror at the two figures trading blows in the sky above them.
Nolan drove his knee into Mark's spine. Mark screamed but managed to grab Nolan and throw him straight down. Nolan hit a field, creating a massive crater, then flew back up.
They met at five thousand feet, grappling, spinning. Nolan tried to get his arm around Mark's throat again, but Mark broke the hold and drove his elbow backward into Nolan's ribs.
They separated and came together again. Punch after punch after punch. Block. Counter. Dodge. Strike.
They flew over a highway, their sonic booms shattering every window in every car below. People crashed, running off the road in terror.
Mark saw it and tried to steer the fight away from civilians. Nolan followed—neither had the energy to argue about direction anymore.
They crashed into a quarry, the impact destroying heavy equipment and creating a new lake from ruptured water mains.
Mark grabbed a dump truck and threw it at Nolan. Nolan flew through it, metal tearing around him, and grabbed Mark in mid-air.
They tumbled across the quarry floor, each trying to get on top, both landing punches whenever they had an opening.
Finally, they separated, both standing at opposite ends of the quarry. Both breathing hard, covered in wounds, struggling to stay upright.
The sun was setting now. They'd been fighting for hours. The landscape bore testament to their battle—a trail of destruction stretching for miles.
And then Mark looked up and realized where they were heading if they kept going east.
The city. A major metropolitan area with millions of people.
"No," Mark gasped. "Not there. Anywhere but there."
But Nolan had seen it too. And in his eyes, Mark saw calculation. Strategy.
He's going to use them as hostages. He's going to force me to surrender by threatening civilians.
"Don't," Mark warned.
"I'll do whatever it takes," Nolan replied.
He flew toward the city.
Mark flew after him, terror giving him a burst of speed despite his exhaustion.
They raced toward the skyline, two figures leaving contrails in the darkening sky, heading straight for millions of innocent lives.
GDA HEADQUARTERS - COMMAND ROOM
"They're heading for the city!" an analyst shouted. "Chicago! They're heading straight for Chicago!"
"Evacuate it," Cecil ordered immediately. "I don't care how. Emergency alerts, sirens, everything. Get people into shelters. Now!"
"Sir, there's not enough time—"
"Then do what you can!" Cecil turned to another screen. "Guardians, are you receiving this?"
At Guardians HQ, the team looked at each other.
"We receive," Black Samson said.
"Get to Chicago. Rescue operations. Save as many people as you can. Omni-Man and Invincible are going to tear that city apart."
"On our way," Black Samson confirmed.
The team scrambled to the jet, but Rudy hesitated.
"What about Invincible's order to stay put?" he asked.
Monster Girl grabbed his hand. "You're not just a robot anymore. You can make your own choices. Choose to help people."
Rudy looked at her, then at the screen showing the destruction heading toward the city.
"You're right," he said. "Let's go."
They rushed out, leaving the command center behind.
On screen, Mark and Nolan were seconds away from the city limits.
Cecil turned to one of his agents. "And get a recovery team ready. I want the Immortal's body retrieved—both halves. Store them in our most secure facility."
"Sir?"
"Just do it," Cecil ordered. "We might need him again."
"This is going to be bad," Cecil said quietly.
Debbie, who'd been watching everything in numb horror, finally spoke: "Please. Please don't let him hurt Mark. Don't let him hurt anyone."
Cecil didn't answer. There was nothing he could say.
CHICAGO
Mark caught up to Nolan at the city limits. He tackled his father, driving both of them through a building still under construction.
They crashed through floor after floor, their bodies leaving human-shaped holes in concrete and steel. They emerged from the other side, still grappling, and flew across the downtown area.
Mark managed to steer them away from occupied buildings, but Nolan fought back, trying to aim them at populated areas.
"Stop!" Mark shouted. "You'll kill thousands!"
"Then surrender!" Nolan shouted back. "Submit! Join me! And I'll leave them alone!"
"Never!"
Mark drove his forehead into Nolan's face yet again. They separated mid-air, hovering above the city, both covered in blood and wounds.
Below them, people ran screaming. Emergency sirens wailed. News helicopters arrived, their cameras broadcasting everything.
"Last chance, Mark," Nolan said. "Give up. Before more people die."
"You give up," Mark replied.
Nolan's eyes hardened. "Then their blood is on your hands."
He dove toward a crowded street. Mark intercepted him, grabbing him and flying upward.
But the shockwave from their collision shattered windows in every building for three blocks. Glass rained down on the streets below. People screamed.
No, no, no...
Mark and Nolan grappled in mid-air, still fighting, but now above a city full of innocent people. Every impact, every shockwave, every sonic boom threatened lives below.
Nolan landed a punch that sent Mark flying. Mark crashed into a skyscraper, going straight through it.
The building groaned, starting to tip.
"NO!" Mark flew back inside, using his body as a brace, holding up the structure with pure strength while people evacuated.
Nolan appeared in the hole Mark had made.
"Look at you," Nolan said. "Playing hero while your city burns. How many need to die, Mark? How many before you see reason?"
Mark gritted his teeth, holding the building steady. "Just shut up, old man."
Nolan moved as if to attack the civilians below. Mark tensed, preparing to abandon the building—
But it was a feint.
Mark flew out, and the building collapsed behind him in a cloud of dust and debris.
But some people hadn't made it out in time. Mark heard the screams. Saw bodies in the rubble.
I failed them. I couldn't save them all.
Nolan floated nearby, his expression cold. "This is war, Mark. And in war, there are always casualties."
Mark's vision went red with rage.
He charged at Nolan with a roar of pure fury. The force of his acceleration shattered every window in a five-block radius.
Mark hit Nolan with everything he had—every ounce of strength, every bit of speed, every shred of power his body possessed.
The impact sent Nolan flying out of the city entirely. They tumbled through the air, Mark on top, punching Nolan repeatedly as they flew.
They hit the ground miles outside the city limits, creating a crater in an empty field.
Mark didn't stop punching. He kept hitting Nolan, over and over, tears and blood mixing on his face.
"You... killed... them!" Mark screamed between punches. "Innocent... people!"
Finally, Nolan caught one of Mark's fists—barely.
They stared at each other, both breathing hard, both covered in blood.
"Do you understand now?" Nolan asked quietly. "Do you see what your defiance costs?"
"I understand that you're sick," Mark replied. "And that after I'm done with you, you're going to regret every word you've said."
They fought for hours more. Across continents. Through storms. Over oceans.
Neither could gain a decisive advantage for the longest time. They were too evenly matched—Nolan's experience balanced against Mark's power and determination.
They traded blows over the Pacific Ocean, each impact creating waterspouts that reached hundreds of feet in the air.
They fought through a thunderstorm, lightning striking around them but ignored in favor of their personal war.
They battled across South America, leaving a trail of destruction through uninhabited jungle and mountain ranges.
But slowly—almost imperceptibly—the tide began to shift. Mark's wounds were closing faster. His movements were sharper. His recovery between exchanges was quicker.
And finally, their fight took them to Mount Everest.
Nolan punched Mark toward the mountain. Mark caught himself and drove back, tackling Nolan. They went straight through the mountain together, emerging on the other side in an explosion of rock and ice.
Mark grabbed a boulder the size of a house and threw it at his father. Nolan dodged, and the boulder achieved escape velocity, flying into orbit.
They met at the summit, both landing on the peak.
They were covered in blood—their own and each other's. Both had broken bones that had healed and broken again. Both had wounds that kept reopening.
But Mark was standing firmer. Breathing more steadily. Healing faster.
They stared at each other across thirty feet of snowy ground, both exhausted beyond measure.
"I can do this all day," Mark said, his voice steady despite his fatigue.
And Nolan remembered. A training session, a year ago. Young Mark exhausted but refusing to quit.
"I can do this all day, Dad."
"I know you can, son. That's why I'm proud of you."
The memory hit him like a physical blow.
Mark charged one last time. Nolan met him halfway.
They collided, and this time, they just held each other—not fighting, but locked together, both too exhausted to continue the violence.
"Mark," Nolan said, his voice breaking. "Why? Why did you make me do this?"
He pushed Mark back, holding him at arm's length.
"You're fighting so you can watch everyone around you die! Think, Mark!" Nolan's voice rose to a shout. "You'll outlast every fragile, insignificant being on this planet. You'll live to see this world crumble to dust and blow away!"
Mark just breathed, gasping for air, unable to respond.
"Everyone and everything you know will be gone!" Nolan continued, shaking Mark. "What will you have after five hundred years?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Mark looked at his father—really looked at him. At the blood. At the pain. At the desperation in Nolan's eyes.
And despite everything—despite the pain, despite the horror, despite all of it—Mark smiled.
"You, Dad," Mark said simply. "I'd still have you."
He smirked despite the blood covering his face. "What, you going senile in your old age? Dementia kicking in?"
The words were casual. Almost joking.
But they hit Nolan like a sledgehammer.
I'll still have you.
Not the empire. Not Viltrum. Not conquest or glory or purpose.
You.
Nolan stared at his son. At Mark's bloody face, his broken body, his unwavering determination. At the boy he'd raised. The man he'd become.
Then he looked at his own hands.
Covered in Mark's blood. His son's blood.
What have I done?
The weight of it all—centuries of lies, of murder, of betrayal, the Guardians' deaths, Debbie's heartbreak, and now this—crashed down on him all at once.
He'd been fighting his son. His son. The boy he'd taught to ride a bike. The kid he'd trained to fly. The young man who still looked at him with love despite everything.
And for what? For an empire that had sent him here alone. For a mission that required him to destroy everything he'd built. For a conquest that would leave him with nothing but ashes.
Nolan's hands trembled as he stared at them. At the blood. At the evidence of what he'd become.
"Mark..." Nolan's voice broke completely. "I..."
He couldn't finish. There were no words. Nothing that could explain. Nothing that could justify.
He looked at Mark's face—bruised, bloody, but still defiant. Still standing. Still his son.
"I'm sorry," Nolan whispered. "I'm so sorry."
He released Mark and stepped back, his whole body shaking.
"I can't... I can't do this anymore."
Without another word, Nolan flew away.
Not toward Mark. Not toward Earth. Not toward anything.
Up.
Through the thin air at Everest's peak. Through the clouds. Through the atmosphere. Into the cold darkness of space.
Away from everything he'd destroyed.
MOUNT EVEREST
Mark stood there, swaying with exhaustion, watching his father disappear into the sky. He took a step forward, intending to track him, and his legs trembled but held.
He dropped to one knee in the snow, his body screaming in protest, but remained conscious.
Track him. Can't let him get away. Need to know where he goes.
During the fight, Mark had managed to attach a small tracking device to Nolan's suit—one of the gadgets he'd built using Flaxan technology. A tiny thing, barely noticeable, but powerful enough to track across the galaxy.
"Milano," Mark gasped, his voice barely carrying in the thin air. "Track the signal. Don't lose him."
His cloaked ship responded immediately, hovering nearby. "Tracking confirmed. Target is leaving Earth's orbit. Current trajectory: deep space, bearing 347 mark 22."
"Good," Mark whispered. "Keep tracking. Record everything."
He tried to stand. Made it halfway, swayed, but stayed on his feet through sheer willpower.
He looked up at the stars, at the vast emptiness where his father had disappeared.
A single tear crystallized in the frigid air, falling from Nolan's eye as he cleared Earth's atmosphere. It floated in the vacuum, a tiny monument to everything he'd lost.
Mark didn't see it. His vision was blurring from exhaustion, darkness creeping at the edges, but he fought to stay conscious.
I won. I stopped him. Earth is safe.
So why does it feel like I lost everything?
His legs finally gave out. He collapsed to his knees in the snow, then sat back heavily, too exhausted to stand but still conscious. Still aware.
Broken, bleeding, victorious.
Invincible.
GDA HEADQUARTERS - COMMAND ROOM
"He's down!" an analyst shouted. "Invincible is down! Mount Everest, coordinates—wait. He's sitting up. He's still conscious!"
"I see it," Cecil said, studying the biometric data. "Exhausted but conscious. Get a medical team up there. Now."
"What about Omni-Man, sir?"
Cecil watched the screen showing Nolan's trajectory. "He's gone. Heading into deep space. No indication he's coming back."
"Should we pursue?"
"With what?" Cecil asked. "Let him go. We'll deal with him if he returns. Right now, get Mark off that mountain."
Debbie pushed herself up, her face stained with tears. "Mark. Is Mark—"
"He's alive and conscious," Cecil said. "Vitals are weak but stable. His healing factor is working."
On screen, a specialized medical helicopter fought against the high altitude and thin air, approaching Mark's location.
"He won," someone said quietly. "Invincible actually won."
"He survived," Cecil corrected. "And he's still conscious after all that. That's... remarkable."
NEWS BROADCAST - MULTIPLE CHANNELS
"—unprecedented destruction across multiple continents—"
"—casualty count in Chicago alone is estimated between two hundred and three hundred dead, with thousands more injured—"
"—the Guardians of the Globe worked tirelessly to minimize civilian casualties—"
"—eyewitness accounts describe seeing Invincible literally holding up a building while people evacuated—"
"—no official word yet on what caused Omni-Man to attack his own son—"
"—the question on everyone's mind: will Omni-Man return?"
CHICAGO - GUARDIANS RESCUE OPERATIONS
The team worked through the night, pulling people from rubble, stopping fires, clearing debris.
Eve used her powers to create temporary shelters. Monster Girl lifted massive chunks of concrete. Black Samson helped stabilize damaged buildings.
Blue Rush evacuated entire apartment complexes in seconds. Bulletproof entered burning buildings. Shrinking Rae searched spots too small for normal people. Powerplex absorbed energy from fires.
Rudy coordinated everything, his drones providing aerial reconnaissance.
"How many saved?" Black Samson asked as dawn approached.
"Over ten thousand evacuations," Rudy replied. "But two hundred and seventy-three confirmed dead. Another thousand injured."
The team stood in silence, looking at the destruction.
"We did what we could," Monster Girl said quietly.
"It wasn't enough," Eve replied, tears in her eyes.
"We saved everyone we could reach," Black Samson said firmly. "And Mark stopped Omni-Man. That's what matters."
On a nearby screen, news footage showed Invincible sitting conscious on Mount Everest as a helicopter approached.
"He's alive and awake," Shrinking Rae said. "That's what matters."
MAULER TWINS' WAREHOUSE
The twins doused their equipment with gasoline and lit it.
"We need to destroy everything—"
"Freeze!"
GDA agents poured in, weapons drawn.
The twins looked at each other, then at the dozens of armed agents.
"We could fight," one suggested.
"We could die," the other replied.
More agents appeared.
"Or we could surrender."
They raised their hands simultaneously.
"Smart choice," Cecil's voice came through a speaker. "Take them into custody. Maximum security. Separate cells."
The twins were cuffed and led away, still arguing about which was the original.
DEEP SPACE
Nolan flew through the void, leaving Earth behind.
Past the Moon. Past Mars. Past Jupiter and Saturn.
Beyond the solar system, into the darkness between stars.
And as he flew, he cried.
He hadn't cried in centuries. Viltrumites didn't cry.
But he cried now.
For Debbie. For Mark. For the Guardians. For everything he'd destroyed.
He looked at his hands and felt something break inside him.
What have I become?
He couldn't go back to Viltrum. They'd kill him for his failure.
But he couldn't stay near Earth either. Not after what he'd done. Not with Mark's words echoing in his mind.
I'll still have you.
"No you won't," Nolan whispered. "Not after this. You deserve better than me."
The tracker Mark had planted continued transmitting, recording everything.
But Nolan didn't know. Didn't care.
He just flew, and cried, and tried to figure out how to live with what he'd become.
GDA MEDICAL BAY - ONE WEEK LATER
Mark had been semi-conscious for most of the week, drifting in and out as his body healed.
Debbie had stayed beside his bed the entire time. She'd barely eaten. Barely slept. Just sat there, holding her son's hand.
Cecil entered quietly with coffee.
"Thought you could use this," he said.
Debbie took it, this time drinking. "He's been more alert today."
"The doctors say he's healing ahead of schedule."
"He beat Nolan," Debbie said quietly.
"He did," Cecil confirmed.
Mark's eyes opened. "Mom?"
"I'm here, honey," Debbie said immediately.
Mark's eyes focused on her, then shifted to Cecil. "How long?"
"You've been in and out for a week," Cecil said. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a planet," Mark said, managing a weak smile. "But better."
"You've been healing well."
Mark processed this. "Dad?"
"Still gone," Cecil replied. "We're tracking him. Deep space, moving away from Earth."
Mark closed his eyes briefly. "Good."
He tried to sit up, managed it with effort. "Two hundred and seventy-three dead?"
"Yes," Cecil said. "Could have been millions."
"Still too many," Mark whispered.
They sat in silence.
Then Mark looked at Cecil. "When can I get out of here?"
"Whenever you want. Doctors cleared you today."
"Then I want out tomorrow. I need to feel normal again."
Mark paused, then added: "Also, Cecil... I need you to look for someone."
"Who?"
"A man named Angstrom Levy. A scientist. I don't know where he is or what he's doing, but... find him. It's important."
Cecil studied Mark's face, seeing something there he couldn't quite place. "Any particular reason?"
"Just a feeling," Mark said. "But trust me. We need to find him before..." He trailed off. "Just find him. Please."
"I'll put my people on it," Cecil said slowly. "Angstrom Levy. Got it."
ONE DAY LATER - MARK'S RECOVERY ROOM
Mark sat up in bed, eating solid food and feeling almost human again.
Debbie sat beside him, smiling for the first time in days.
The door opened. The Guardians entered—all of them.
"He lives!" Rex announced.
"You cried when you thought he was going to die," Kate said.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
Mark smiled. "It's good to see you guys."
"Good to see you too, comrade," Blue Rush said. "You are hero. Real hero."
"You saved the world," Monster Girl said.
"We all did our part," Mark replied. "How many did we save in Chicago?"
"Over ten thousand evacuations," Black Samson reported. "Plus thousands more from rubble."
"Not enough," Mark said quietly.
"Never is," Black Samson replied. "But we do what we can."
Rudy stepped forward. "What you did was beyond anything we could have done."
"Hello Robot," Mark said, making everyone look surprised except Rudy.
"How did you figure it out?" Rex asked.
"Your reaction when you saw me wasn't shock," Mark explained. "Plus the timing. Plus I'm not an idiot."
"I'm glad you're okay. We all are," Eve said, hugging him carefully.
"Thanks, Eve."
They stayed for an hour, talking, joking. It almost worked.
When they left, Debbie closed the door and returned to her chair.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Not really," Mark admitted. "But I will be. Eventually."
"We both will," Debbie said.
Mark nodded, then looked out the window at the sky.
Somewhere out there, his father was flying alone through the void.
Mark wondered if they'd ever see each other again.
I'll still have you, he'd said.
But would he? Could he? After everything?
Those were questions for another day.
For now, Mark was alive. His mother was alive. Earth was safe.
And he was Invincible.