A few days after my return from the dimension, I found myself going on a trip to Upstate University with Amber and William.
William was leaning against his car, looking impatient while Amber was in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone. Eve came by my house earlier to tell me she was taking my advice and was going on a journey to find herself. And I thought that was a good idea, she ended up helping a lot of people in the main timeline with her busted abilities.
"Finally, man, I didn't think you'd make it," William said as I walked up, tossing my bag in the trunk.
"You know I don't like to rush?" I said, sliding into the back seat. "Hey, Amber."
She turned around, giving me a searching look. "You're alive. Your text was vague."
"My bad, family stuff. Dad had me moving extremely heavy furniture."
"Uh-huh," she said, not buying it entirely, but letting it slide. "Well, try to stay present this weekend. It's Upstate, it has pretty good programs."
The drive was uneventful, mostly William singing along to terrible pop songs and Amber grilling me about college plans. I played the role of the undecided senior perfectly, all while calculating how many Flaxan years were passing every time we stopped for gas.
If my math is right—which it probably isn't, Angstrom and the Maulers should have that machine up and running by the time we hit the state line.
We arrived at Upstate University around noon. The campus was nice—brick buildings, ivy, students playing frisbee. It was aggressively normal.
Rick was waiting for us by the statue in the quad. He looked good. Happy.
"William!" Rick shouted, and the two of them did a bro-hug that lasted a little too long to be strictly platonic.
"Hey what's up man," I said, shaking his hand. "The place looks great."
"It's awesome," Rick grinned. "Come on, let's grab some food first. The dining hall is... actually edible. Shocking, I know."
We spent the next hour just being teenagers. We grabbed burgers at the campus grill, sat on the lawn, and listened to Rick gush about his classes. He talked about his engineering projects, the parties, and how freedom tasted better than high school cafeteria pizza. It was nice. For a moment, I forgot about the Viltrumites. I forgot about the scars on my chest. I was just Mark Grayson, eating fries and laughing at William trying to flirt with a passing jogger.
"So," Rick said as we finally stood up to walk toward the engineering building. "There's this guy, Sinclair. A genius, but kinda creepy. He's been recruiting students for some optimization projects."
"Optimization," I repeated. "Sounds culty."
"Yeah, a little," Rick laughed, oblivious to the danger. "He pays well though. I was actually thinking of checking it out."
"I wouldn't," I said, a little too sharply. Rick looked at me, surprised. "I wouldn't associate with guys who use words like optimization for people."
Suddenly, a scream pierced the air.
We turned to see a student being dragged into an alleyway by a figure in a trench coat. The figure moved stiffly, mechanically.
"Help!" the student yelled.
Just like that?! Out in broad daylight?!
"Oh shit!" I shouted. "You three run and call the police!"
"What are you gonna do?" Amber asked, eyes wide.
"I'm gonna go find some help," I said, rushing away. "Go!"
I rounded a corner and swapped into my costume as the trench-coated figure—a Reaniman—lifted the student by the neck with one hand.
"Hey, Tin Man!" I yelled. "Put the kid down."
The cyborg turned. Its face was pale, dead skin stretched over metal. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow.
Uggggggggh!
After getting a glimpse at me the Reaniman charged. It was fast, faster than a human, but to me, it was moving in slow motion.
I didn't want to reveal my full strength, so I pulled my punches, and aimed for the mechanical joint in its body.
CRUNCH.
The Reaniman's leg buckled backwards causing him to fall, but it didn't scream. It just started crawling toward me, dragging its ruined leg.
"Persistent bastard ain't ya."
I grabbed it by its neck and lifted it over my head, throwing it into a brick wall hard enough to shatter its internal power core. Sparks flew, and the thing went limp. The student it had grabbed scrambled away, terrified.
"Mark!"
I turned. William and Amber were running toward the mouth of the alley, panting. But Rick wasn't with them.
"Mark?! Who's Mark, citizen? I'm Invinc—"
"I know you're Invincible, jackass," Amber interrupted, crossing her arms.
"Oh you do?" I asked, dropping the deep voice and landing on the ground. "How'd you know?"
"It was obvious, your excuses were lame," she deadpanned. "And it felt like you weren't even trying to hide it most of the time. Plus, you literally disappear every time a monster shows up on the news."
"Well damn, I thought I was doing a good job."
"You really weren't," William added, though his voice was shaking.
"Ight whatever, where's Rick?" I asked, scanning the area.
William's face went pale. "There was another one. It came out of the sewer grate. It just... snatched him. It happened so fast."
Damn! I didn't see that coming.
"Call the police," I ordered, pointing to the main street. "Stay in the open. Do not go near any manholes. I'll get him back."
"Be careful!" Amber called out, but I was already gone.
I didn't need to look for clues. I could hear them. The rhythmic clank-clank-step of heavy metallic feet echoing through the drainage pipes below. I focused my hearing, filtering out the campus noise until I locked onto the distinct hum of unauthorized cybernetics.
Found ya.
I found a maintenance cover a block away, ripped it off like it was a soda tab, and dropped into the darkness.
The sewers smelled like a sewer—straight ass. But underneath the muck, there was the sharp, antiseptic smell of a laboratory. I followed it deeper, moving at super-speed, until I found a reinforced steel door marked 'Department of Water and Power - Authorized Personnel Only'.
I didn't bother knocking. I punched the door off its hinges.
Inside, the room was a nightmare of sterile white tiles and bloody surgical tables. Monitors lined the walls, displaying vitals and schematics. In the center of the room, Rick was strapped to a gurney. A massive, terrifying machine was hovering over him, drills spinning.
"Holy moley."
Standing next to him was a scrawny guy in a lab coat with a jawline that could cut glass and an ego to match. D.A. Sinclair.
Ugh, Ugly mutherfucker, ain't he? He really had no choice but to go into the scientific field.
"Fascinating," Sinclair muttered, not even looking up at the door I'd just destroyed. "The structural integrity of the intruder is... impressive."
"Step away from him, Sinclair," I growled, floating into the room.
Sinclair turned, adjusting his glasses. He looked bored. "Invincible. I suppose it was inevitable the primitive heroes would interfere. You're interrupting progress."
"I'm interrupting a kidnapping," I corrected.
"I am curing the human condition!" Sinclair snapped, his calm façade cracking. "Flesh is weak. It decays. It fails. I offer perfection. I offer immortality!"
He pressed a button on a console.
"Kill him."
From the shadows, three Reanimen stepped forward. These looked newer, stronger than the one in the alley.
The first Reaniman lunged. I caught its fist, twisted the arm until the metal screeched and snapped, and then drove my knee into its chest. The impact caved in its torso, shattering the power core instantly.
"That's one down."
The second one tried to flank me. I spun and delivered a backhand that sent its head spinning—literally—across the room.
"Two disappointments flatlined."
The third one hesitated. It looked at its fallen comrades, its programming struggling to process the threat level.
"Smart robot," I said.
I blurred forward, grabbed it by the shoulders, and ripped it in half like a phone book.
"Three. It seems that your little experiments aren't of top quality."
I dropped the pieces and turned to Sinclair. The mad scientist was backing away, fumbling for a scalpel. He looked terrified.
"Stay back!" he shrieked. "My work is revolutionary! You can't—"
I was on him in an instant. I grabbed him by the lapels of his lab coat and slammed him into the wall, cracking the tiles.
"Your work is garbage," I spat, lifting him off his feet. "You're not a genius, Sinclair. You're just a butcher with a soldering iron."
"You... you brute! You don't understand the science!"
"I understand enough."
I punched him. Not with super-strength—that would turn him into mist—but with enough human force to break his nose.
"GAH!" Sinclair screamed, clutching his face.
I hit him again in the stomach, folding him like a lawn chair. He dropped to the floor, wheezing.
"That's for Rick, you little bitch," I said, looking down at him.
I walked over to the gurney and ripped the restraints off Rick. He was unconscious, likely sedated. I quickly scanned him for damage.
"Ahh, damn it."
He wasn't whole. A fresh, angry incision ran vertically down his throat, stitched shut with surgical staples. At the base of his neck, a small, metallic port had already been fused into his spine.
"Damn, I got here just in time to stop the full conversion, but he's gonna have some scars. Sorry, Rick."
I looked back at Sinclair's computer. The hard drive light was blinking.
"Invincible Inc. is always looking for assets," I thought.
I walked over, ripped the hard drive out of the tower, and pocketed it. "Angstrom and the Maulers might find this useful. Or at least funny."
Sirens wailed from the tunnel entrance. But beneath the sirens, I heard the distinctive whoosh of a stealth jet engine cycling down.
"That's not the police," I noted.
I grabbed Sinclair by the back of his coat—ignoring his groans—and hoisted Rick gently over my other shoulder.
"Let's get you guys top-side."
The aftermath was controlled chaos. Police cars and ambulances were kept at a perimeter by men in black suits.
I landed in the center of the cordon. A sleek, black GDA dropship was already waiting. The ramp lowered, and Cecil Stedman walked out, looking as unimpressed as ever.
"Invincible," Cecil nodded, looking at the unconscious scientist in my grip. "You've had a busy weekend."
"He was turning students into cyborgs," I said, dropping Sinclair at Cecil's feet a little harder than necessary. "His tech is dangerous."
"Dangerous usually means useful," Cecil muttered, signaling two agents to collect Sinclair.
Medics rushed forward to take Rick. I watched them load him onto a stretcher. He was breathing, but that scar on his throat was going to be a permanent reminder.
William ran past the barricade, Amber right behind him.
"Rick!" William yelled, tears streaming down his face as he saw his state.
After the chaos settled and statements were given, the mood was somber. Rick was airlifted to a specialized hospital—courtesy of the GDA, though William just thought it was top-tier insurance.
I rode back with William and Amber to the dorms to pack up our stuff. We were cutting the trip short.
"I can't believe it," William whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest dorm. "He looks so... messed up. His throat..."
"He's alive, William," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's what matters. He's tough. He'll bounce back."
"We should head back," I said. "I'll drive William's car. You guys try to sleep."
I drove them all the way back to town, dropping them off at their respective houses. Once I was sure they were safe and settled, I left for the woods.
"Alright. The weekend from hell is over. Now for the real work to begin."
I checked my watch.
I can stay there for 24 hours. One Earth Day. That translates to about two years in the Flaxan dimension.
I activated the communication device I'd kept and awaited the signal to reach me. The air shimmered, and a portal swirled open. I stepped through into the Flaxan dimension.
I was now back in the Citadel. Monitors lined the walls, displaying global surveillance. The Mauler Twins were arguing over a schematic in the corner.
Angstrom Levy walked over to greet me. He didn't look old—six months wasn't enough to age him significantly—but he looked tired. He had a bit of stubble and the frantic energy of a man who hadn't slept enough.
"How have things here been?" I asked.
"Stable," Angstrom said. "The resistance is nonexistent. The Maulers have optimized the planetary power grid. And the machine..." He gestured to a massive, circular device in the center of the room. "...is fully operational."
"Great. Have you guys tested it already?"
"We did," one of the Maulers grunted, walking over. "We scanned the local multiverse frequencies. We found a few realities where the Viltrumite expansion was... delayed. We can pull tech from them."
"Nice, very nice," I said, staring at the swirling data streams on the monitor. "Because my dad is getting restless back home. I can feel it. The big game is about to start soon."
I turned to Angstrom and cracked my knuckles.
"I'm staying for the long haul this time. Two years. I need to run simulations on how to kill a Viltrumite without blowing up the planet. And I need to train until my bones are harder than diamonds."
Angstrom smirked, tapping the console. "Then let's get to work. Simulation One: Atmospheric Brawl. Initiating."