"And beyond the sky, where reason gives way to wonder, there waits a world of infinite possibility. Some find it a place of peace, while others see a new horizon to conquer." - Unknown.
The living room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. Night had settled in hours ago, but the house was still awake. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. The kind of peaceful setting that made you forget, for just a moment, that anything could go wrong.
But Mark knew better now.
He sat on the couch, legs dangling above the floor, sneakers not quite touching down. Too short. Still weird.
Across from him stood Nolan Grayson. Omni-Man. Nolan Grayson looked like a fit, middle-aged man who never lost his edge. He was a very tall, broad-shouldered man, that moved with quiet authority. His gray-streaked hair, which always seemed to be neat with his mustache perfectly trimmed, and his blue-gray eyes carry both warmth and an unsettling intensity — the look of someone who's seen far more than he lets on. Arms crossed, posture relaxed but somehow still imposing—like a mountain pretending to be casual. His eyes had this tired look to them. Not sleepy-tired. More like... carrying-something-heavy.
Nolan cleared his throat.
"Okay, son... bear with me here. This is gonna be a little awkward for all of us."
Mark tilted his head. "Awkward how?"
"You'll see." Nolan chuckled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He took a breath. Met Mark's gaze straight on.
"You've probably noticed that I'm... not like normal dads."
Mark barely kept from smirking. Yeah, no shit.
"Your mom and I—we think it's time you knew the truth. You're old enough now." Nolan paused. "Old enough for me to tell you where I really come from."
Mark furrowed his brow, leaning forward like any curious kid would. Inside, though, his heart was racing. Here it comes. He knew what was next—but he had to play along. Act surprised. You're seven years old. You don't know any of this yet.
Nolan stepped closer, his voice dropping into something softer. Almost reverent.
"Millions of miles from here... out in deep space... there's a planet called Viltrum."
There it is.
Mark kept his breathing steady, but his mind was spinning.
"It's this beautiful blue oasis," Nolan continued, eyes going distant like he was seeing it in his head. "Alone in a solar system a lot like ours. That's where I was born."
Mark let his mouth fall open a little. "You're... an alien?"
"A Viltrumite," Nolan corrected with a small nod. "We're a lot like humans. Except we can fly. Move faster than anything you've ever seen. We're strong—really strong."
Mark couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. Even knowing it was bullshit, Nolan made it sound amazing. Mythic. Like something out of a storybook. He could picture it—not the real Viltrum, the brutal war-forged empire—but this sanitized version. Paradise with a cape.
"When our people come of age," Nolan went on, "we leave Viltrum. We go out into the galaxy and use our gifts to help less advanced worlds. We protect them. Guide them. Help them grow."
Mark nearly flinched. That's not helping. That's conquest with better PR.
"I volunteered to come to Earth," Nolan said, and there was genuine pride in his voice now. "To be its protector. And that's when I met your mother."
His whole face softened at that. Real emotion breaking through.
"And eventually... we had you." He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Which was, uh... definitely not part of the plan. But life surprises you sometimes."
Mark watched the shift happen in real-time. The laugh faded. Nolan's shoulders squared. His eyes locked onto Mark's, and suddenly the room felt heavier.
"I know this is a lot to process all at once, but... you're half-Viltrumite, son. And you're getting older. Things are going to start changing for you."
Mark leaned forward, eyes wide. Playing the part.
"You'll hit puberty. Get some acne. Your voice will crack. You'll start growing hair in weird places..."
Mark scrunched his nose, barely holding back a grin. Even Viltrumite puberty sounds lame.
"...and," Nolan continued, voice getting stronger, prouder, "you're going to start developing superpowers of your own."
Mark's eyes went huge.
"Just like me," Nolan said. "Super strength. Speed. Flight. The whole package."
Time seemed to stop.
The action figure Mark had been holding clattered to the floor. Forgotten.
"You'll be able to do incredible things," Nolan said quietly. "Things no one else on this planet can do. But it'll take time. Training. Practice."
He knelt down in front of Mark, bringing them eye-level. His voice dropped low, serious.
"Do you understand?"
Mark didn't answer right away. He stared past Nolan, through the darkened window, like he was already seeing himself up there. Flying. Free.
Then, barely a whisper—
"...Am I gonna be able to fly?"
Nolan's whole face softened. A real smile. The kind that makes you want to believe everything's going to be okay.
"Yes, son. You're going to fly."
Mark laughed—this bright, breathless sound—and bounced on the couch, fists clenched with excitement. Pure kid joy.
Later, after Nolan had finally convinced him to go to bed, Mark sat alone in his room. The excitement had worn off. Reality settling back in.
Silent.
Processing.
It wasn't the fake story that got to him. Not the layers of lies Nolan had just fed him with a smile.
It was the one undeniable truth buried in all that bullshit:
He was going to fly.
His chest tightened.
He—Devin—some burned-out twenty-two-year-old who used to trudge through smoggy streets, who'd spent his whole life dreaming about escaping reality—was going to fly.
And God, that made the wonder on his face real.
Because no matter how much darkness was coming, no matter how many ugly truths he'd have to face...
Who wouldn't want that?
He stared out his window at the night sky, mind spinning with everything that had happened, everything that would happen—
And then exhaustion finally caught up with him.
He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.