Mark opened his eyes. Six days had passed since his fight with his father. Six days of recuperating and healing, coming back from the brink of death. A state he had placed himself in willingly and knowingly. A state he had looked forward to for some reason. Training before he had unlocked his powers was alright, but it became stale in a way, and while he never stopped, he hoped for a bigger challenge. He had been between normal humans and his father. Normal humans, no matter their training, weren't interesting, and his father was out of Mark's world back then.
So when his father revealed his true origin and purpose for coming to Earth, Mark hadn't been burdened by the fact that he had to fight him. Quite the contrary. His mind seemed to shut off certain aspects and focus on the primal, instinct-driven, reptile part of his brain, which only craved a good fight and to spill some blood. It was true that he had that urge. It was this part of him which was responsible for him thinking that he should have been bothered about the fact that he could look at his father kill people and not feel... anything.
Mark was not scared of himself or of his power. Quite the contrary, it was simply the way he was. But knowing what Nolan had done, he was slightly worried about what his mother would say. He may have gone a bit overboard in the fight, but it was his desire to truly push himself and his limits that made him go as far as he did. And he wouldn't change anything if he could. If he were being honest, even if his father had decided to end his life, which he had assumed before he fell unconscious, he wouldn't have cared much about it. He had achieved what he wanted; the best fight of his life, and he would have died with a smile on his face.
But here he was. Alive and almost back to 100%. His mind wasn't broken or heavy. The gore and deaths, which he was partially responsible for, didn't bother him.
Mark turned his head to the side and saw his mother sitting there.
"Don't try to talk. You're going to be okay. You're safe now. It's all over," Debbie said.
Mark looked at her and saw the pain and deep sadness inside her eyes, which she was trying to hide. He suddenly remembered what triggered him so much during the fight. The disrespect his father showed bothered him. The fact that he called her a dog was too much. So what if he thought he was a mother's boy? Debbie was there to take care of Mark and help him make sense of the world he found himself in, and she was a strong woman. What good was strength, power, if you had to bully those weaker than you? Mark thought differently from his father there. Mark didn't look down on or hate those who were weaker than him; he only pitied them.
It was part of his pride that he always had.
"Here, drink," Debbie helped Mark to some water.
Mark felt his throat as dry as the desert.
"I am so proud of you, Mark. Truly," she said, and gently touched Mark's cheek. "You made me very proud."
Mark could see the pain in her eyes and shook his head. He coughed and forced himself to say something, but she stopped him from doing so.
"Don't talk. I'll... I'll let you rest."
After she walked out of his room, Mark could hear her sobbing and stumbling. He took a deep breath and thought about what he should do now. He could see that it wasn't him who was mentally scarred, but his mother. Being called a dog and inconsequential by the man you thought you loved for 17 years would do that to someone. Going to college wasn't on Mark's mind right now. He would earn money through his real estate venture, which he would grow, and also pursue his idea on asteroid mining. Education would be a piece of cake, thanks to the knowledge he gained from the Mauler Twins.
But what else? The one person who could challenge him remotely was now... somewhere he didn't know, but most definitely not on Earth. Mark could either go look for him, which he wouldn't do any time soon, or maybe for another Viltrumite. However, Mark suddenly had an idea. If what his father told him was true, then his leaving would have repercussions. So maybe one of them would come to him in the future. Mark was happy, thinking about that. How fortunate for him.
...
The door opened, and Cecil Steadman walked in. He looked at Mark for a moment.
"That was one hell of a thing you did there, kid."
"Sure was. If only I could have lasted a bit longer," Mark croaked, his voice only starting to return.
"You did all you could. That's enough and I... no, the world is thankful for it."
Cecil didn't understand what Mark meant. But it didn't matter, and Mark wouldn't correct him.
"I am surprised you are awake already. That healing you have is... well, it's darn impressive to say the least. You've grown stronger."
"Urgh..."
Mark groaned as he flexed his muscles for the first time in days.
"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Cecil asked. "We've patched you up good, but don't go moving already. We'll let you out after you've recovered."
"Amusing. As if you had any say in the matter," Mark said and pushed himself to sit upright. He felt like a gold medal marathon participant after.
But his smile disappeared as soon as the door opened, and Debbie walked back in and saw him there.
"You... what are you doing?! Don't you dare move yet. Lie back down!" she said and pushed him back down very gently.
"Urgh... I'm fine. How about we get out of he--"
"We will do no such thing. You will stay here and rest until you have healed perfectly."
"Come on, Mom. I've been lying here for weeks. I want to get out of here," Mark groaned.
"You haven't even been here a full week. So stop complaining and be thankful that you're still alive."
"I would feel much more thankful if I could get something between my jaws. Like one of your sandwiches. Or a five-course menu. Or whatever they have at Burger Mart right now," Mark said.
"I'll get you something to eat, and you stay here, alright?"
"Sigh... alright."
Debbie smiled and then left the room to make her son some of her food. It helped her care for her son and give him something he was craving right now. That was also the reason he asked her for it.
"By the way, what happened to Dad? Did he leave?" Mark asked Cecil.
"Get some rest, kid. We'll talk later."
"Oi oi, do I look like I'm in the mood for one of your little mind games? I saved your ass, so have some decency. Tell me what happened."
"It depends."
"What depends?"
"On whether you want to remain a hero or not."
"I'm having a deja vu. I thought I told you that I didn't want to. You invaded my privacy back then."
"Your dad didn't leave me with many options, Mark. If I can't call on you... Well, there's not really a list past the Guardians of the Globe."
"Then that is your problem and not mine. I don't carry my father's burdens and am not responsible for his fuck-ups. I won't be guilt-tripped into helping you and becoming a lapdog because my father thought you guys were livestock to be conquered. I did my part, now you do yours."
"I suppose, you're not so different from your father after all," Cecil said.
"And you better remember that when you think of spying on us with a satellite or a team from the other side of the street."
Mark looked at Cecil as he left his room and didn't say anything. He wasn't in the mood for the fucker and his manipulations. In fact, he only wanted to know whether his father had left, to check whether he could find him quickly or if he would need to go and search for him. He would either do that or wait for one of the Viltrumites to come to him.
.
The next day, Mark stood up from the bed and started to stretch his muscles and joints. He was basically healed fully by that point and didn't see a reason to stay in the government-controlled hospital any longer. Debbie was alright with that as well, understanding that Mark wanted to get a chance at scenery. But it wasn't easy for her. It wasn't easy at all, since that would mean that they had to go back home. The place where the entire mess started.
Cecil drove them home and even followed them to the door.
"We fixed the house," he said. "Talked to your school and Debbie's work. There's even a headstone at the cemetery-- Not that you'd want to visit it. If either of you needs anything else, you know how to reach me."
"Thank you."
Debbie closed the door and looked at Mark. She smiled tiredly at him.
"I'm going to lie down for a bit," she said and walked towards the stairs.
Mark stopped her. She looked at him, and he took her into his arms. He made sure to be as gentle as possible.
"It's not your fault."
"I-I know, Mark. I know," she said.
"No. It's not your fault," Mark repeats.
"I know... Mark. I understand," Debbie said, a bit confused, but Mark again shook his head.
"It's not your fault."
Hearing this, Debbie's eyes grew humid for some reason. She tried to smile again and said that she knew that, but Mark didn't stop. He held her close and repeated that it wasn't her fault, understanding that it was something she was blaming herself for. Not because it was logical, but because she just did.
"No one could have known. You're not a dog, Mom. You are the strongest woman I know."
Debbie finally broke down. And for a long time, she cried. Her frustration at not realising who her husband truly was. The pain of being called a pet by him, being unimportant to him and only used for reproduction. The fear she felt at seeing Nolan and Mark kill one another, and the thousands of deaths that came of it.
Mark was there and didn't say anything. He only showed a very unusual amount of compassion and insight. Because his mother mattered to him.
...
Eventually, Debbie fell asleep. She had a lot of sleep to catch up on. So Mark was alone in the house and thought about what to eat when the doorbell rang. He walked forward and opened the door, seeing William and Eve. William smiled seeing him.
"Mark! Oh man, it's good to see you alright. I mean, after everything on the TV, about you and Omni-Man."
Mark wasn't very happy to see William, as he found him exhausting to be around. But he was rather pleased to see Eve there. She had become a bit special to him, and he enjoyed her presence. Plus, he wanted to ask about those weights; she apparently grew so angry about last time.
"Yes. I just got back from the hospital. Dreadful place. Good to see you, Eve."
"Uhh, yeah, it's good to see you up and about as well, Mark. You had me- us worried there," she said.
"Did both of you see the footage then?"
"Yes. It was all on the news, sending live."
"Sick. So how did the fight look? Was it as impressive as it felt?" Mark asked.
"Uhhh... sure," William said, confused.
"It looked terrible, Mark. I am surprised that you're alive. You sure suffered," Eve said.
"Eh, it was alright. Chicago suffered more, I'd say. So listen, I can't leave here right now. But how about we get something to eat at some point? I'll call you if you're interested."
"Yes, that would be lovely. I understand that you still need some time alone to get over everything."
"Sure, yes, that," Mark said.
"Well, I'll see you later, Mark. I'm truly glad to see you're ok."
Eve looked at Mark for a while longer after William had left.
"Listen, Mark, I--"
"Don't sweat it. I'm not certain what upset you. I never lied or acted differently with you or anything like that. I never wanted to take advantage of your powers or whatever, but apologising now, because I got hurt, is unnecessary. So don't."
"I.. understand. I am sorry that you got hurt, though."
"Don't be. That's what surpassing one's limits looks like."
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Sup. Hope you don't mind the 'slow' chapter.