Another Month Later…
Thraxan DNA is a logistical nightmare.
In the month since the National Archives incident, Oliver had gone through another massive growth spurt. He went from looking like a two-year-old to an eight-year-old now. He was talking in full, complex sentences, reading at a high school level, and—as of last Tuesday—hovering three feet off the living room floor while trying to reach a box of cereal.
I walked into the kitchen to find him floating near the ceiling fan, giggling while Debbie tried to usher him down with a broom handle.
"I can get it myself, Mom! Look, I'm doing it! I'm flying just like Mark!" Oliver cheered, doing a wobbly mid-air backflip that nearly sent him crashing into the cabinets.
I simply floated up, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and let him dangle there for a second.
"Hey! Put me down! I was totally in control!" Oliver pouted, crossing his arms even though his feet were bicycling in the empty air.
"You were about to put your head through the drywall, kid," I said, setting him back down on the floor. I ruffled his hair before looking over at my mother's stressed expression. "Looks like it's time to start his training."
Debbie froze briefly. All the color somewhat drained from her face. She knew this was coming from the moment I forbade Cecil from taking him away. But her expression told me that she was recalling Nolan. And how he began 'training' me by pushing my body to its limit.
"Mark, he's still just a little boy," she said, her voice slightly strained. "His body isn't—he doesn't even know how to take a hit yet."
I put a heavy, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to teach him how to take a punch. I'm going to teach him how not to get hit. He needs to know how to control his speed and his strength before he accidentally puts his hand through a brick wall or flies into a commercial jet."
Then I'm gonna punch him, I smirked mentally. Oooo, I'm gonna punch him hard.
She searched my eyes for a long moment, looking for assurance. Finding just enough for her to finally nod.
"Can I wear a cape?" Oliver asked, tugging on my sleeve, completely oblivious to the tension.
"No Capes!" I said quickly, then I cleared my throat just as fast. "I mean, capes can be an exploitable weakness, and you ain't strong enough to get over that weakness yet."
I set up a private, reinforced training facility in one of the new Invincible Inc. warehouses. I didn't put Oliver through the same grueling training I had accomplished in the Flaxan dimension, but it was something to push his developing body.
We started with the absolute basics: flight control, momentum cancellation, and basic dodging. He was a very fast learner.
But while Oliver was progressing, It seemed like I was hitting a wall.
Lifting cruise ships and doing light morning cardio wasn't cutting it anymore. I felt like my strength had stagnated. My routine kept my baseline terrifyingly high, but the actual limits of my physical power weren't climbing the way they used to.
I needed a tune-up.
I told Titan I was going off-grid to inspect a "foreign asset" and slipped back into the Flaxan Dimension for three days.
My first stop was the Radioactive Wasteland dimension. I stripped off the containment suit, stood in the center of the glassed desert, and spent six straight hours unleashing massive, continent-shattering shockwaves of pure thermal-kinetic energy into the dead atmosphere. I emptied the tank, performing the Thermal Bleeding until my veins stopped glowing and my reactor stabilized.
Once I was cooled down, I stepped back through the portal to the Citadel's medical bay.
The Maulers ran my bloodwork and scanned my cellular density while Angstrom reviewed the data.
"I'm plateauing," I began, crossing my massive arms. "The regular routine feels like light stretching. I'm not gaining anything."
"You haven't plateaued because you're weak," one of the Maulers grunted, pulling up a massive holographic projection of my DNA helix. "You've plateaued because your routine is too clinical. You are treating yourself like a pure-blooded Viltrumite. You aren't one. You're a hybrid."
I raised an eyebrow.
"A pure-blooded Viltrumite grows stronger strictly through age and static physical resistance," the second Mauler said, pointing a thick blue finger at the human half of the helix. "But your human DNA completely alters the mechanism. You have extreme, volatile emotional spectrums. Your smart atoms have adapted to utilize that."
Wait, what? I thought. "Are you saying I'm like Allen the Alien? I have to get beaten to a pulp to come back stronger?"
Like a Zenkai Boost?
"Similar, but much more linear," Angstrom chimed in, walking around the console. "Allen relies on surviving near-death trauma to trigger a reactive adaptation. You, however, adapt through effort. Specifically, pushing past your physical limits through a mix of stress, adrenaline, and pure, instinctual rage."
I stared at him. "You've got to be kidding me. We literally spent the first five years in this dimension beating the rage out of me. You told me it was a hindrance."
"It was a hindrance," Angstrom corrected smoothly. "When you first arrived, you were a mountain of anger. Rage without discipline is just a temper tantrum. It makes you sloppy. We had to re-build your foundation. We had to forge the Warlord discipline you have now, so you could think clearly in combat."
The Mauler tapped the hologram. "But now that you possess absolute discipline, your body needs a new catalyst to break its limits. You need to use your rage as a reactor core. You need to learn how to actively trigger your fight-or-flight instincts to push your body forward, while maintaining your tactical mind."
I processed that information.
If I could tap into that while keeping my focus... the power scaling would be infinite. I would be able to physically match Thragg and Conquest much sooner than I thought.
"Which is why," Angstrom said, a grim smile crossing his scarred face, "I am changing the parameters of your hunts."
"Changing them how?"
"Until now, I have kept the training wheels on," Angstrom confessed. "I've only sent you to dimensions where other versions of yourself reigned supreme on Earth, while the rest of the galaxies were able to bound together and handle the Viltrumite empire. I wanted you fighting predictable anomalies. But to push you further, we are going to start tackling dimensions where the Viltrumite Empire is actively conquering and reigning supreme. Dimensions with an expansive Viltrumite empire. Dimensions with variants of Nolan, Conquest, just as powerful versions of yourself, and of course, Thragg."
Interesting, a smile stretched across my face. So everything until now was essentially a warm up. A very brutal warmup.
"Bring it on," I said confidently. "Doesn't matter how powerful they are, I'll tear them down."
Angstrom nodded.
But before we jumped into the deep end, he sent me to another "Mark-only" dimension to test the theory of adaptive evolution of my smart atoms.
An hour later, I stepped through a portal onto a burning, war-torn planet.
A variant of myself was actively destroying a city, completely unchecked. He saw me in my black armor and immediately charged, throwing a haymaker that could have leveled a mountain.
Normally, I would have caught his fist, absorbed the kinetic energy, and shattered his skull in two seconds flat.
Instead, I let him push me.
I blocked, but I let the sheer force of his strikes rattle my bones. I let him drive me into the bedrock. I forced myself to remember all the ass whoopings I've gotten: from Battle Beast, to Omni-Man, to Kregg, and finally to Anissa. Hell, I even remembered the time Doc Siesmic gave me the slip when I first encountered him, and proceeded to get angrier and angrier.
The rage flared, hot and blinding. The adrenaline of it flooded my system quickly. My heart rate spiked, and my smart atoms instantly reacted, supercharging my muscle fibers far beyond their resting limits. I felt the physical surge—a massive, exponential leap in raw power.
The variant threw a desperate punch at my face.
This time, I didn't just block it. I roared with a controlled, weaponized fury.
"Come on!" I said, swinging my own fist forward, meeting his strike head-on.
The impact shattered his arm completely, the force traveling up his shoulder and sending him spinning violently into the earth. I followed up, driving my fist through his chest and ending the fight instantly.
I stood there, my chest heaving, the rage simmering perfectly just below the surface of my Warlord discipline.
The Maulers were right. That power spike is intoxicating.
I cleaned up the dimension, stepped back through the portal, and returned to my Earth, ready to get back to my actual life.
Present Time.
"I'm just saying, turning the air friction to absolute zero right in front of the Elephant was inspired," I said, grabbing my fourth slice of tavern-style pizza. "Watching a guy that size slip and slide into a brick wall like a cartoon character? Peak comedy."
Eve laughed, swirling her straw in her iced tea. "It was either that or remove the oxygen from his lungs like I did with that giant rock monster last week, but I figured I'd spare him the brain damage. I'm telling you, Mark, looking at things at the micro-level? It's changing everything."
We were sitting in a private booth at a pizza place downtown.
Yea, I got motion like that.
Eve had officially joined the Invincible Inc. payroll a month ago. She had found my molecular structure "interesting" and wanted access to my labs, and I wasn't about to say no to having a future reality-warper on the team.
In the past four weeks, we had run half a dozen missions together. She was more lethal now. She wasn't just throwing giant pink energy blasts anymore; she was using the tactics I'd mapped out. We were a terrifyingly efficient duo.
"So, Invincible Inc. is treating you well?" I asked.
"It's amazing," she smiled, leaning back. "The pay is ridiculous, the logistics team actually knows what they're doing, and I actually have time for my college classes and my own training. It beats getting yelled at by Cecil, that's for sure. How are Debbie and Oliver?"
"Ma's doing alright. Oliver is... that boy ain't right. He's a menace, that's what he is," I chuckled. "I started his training. He's got the flight control down, but keeping him from trying to lift the family car is a full-time job."
Eve nodded, her smile softening. Then, her eyes narrowed slightly, zeroing in on me with that hyper-observant gaze. "What about you? You still haven't really explained the new suit. Or the fact that you're somehow processing solar radiation at an incredible rate. I didn't even know you could take in solar energy."
I took a casual bite of my pizza, keeping my heart rate perfectly steady.
"Adaptation through constant training," I shrugged. "My human DNA also makes my smart atoms a little more volatile. The suit just keeps the engine from overheating."
"Adaptation," she repeated skeptically, though she didn't press it. She took a sip of her tea, setting the glass down and folding her hands on the table.
The playful energy shifted, and the atmosphere suddenly felt very focused.
"So," Eve said, looking me dead in the eyes. "Why aren't we dating yet?"
I choked on my pizza.
My eyes widened as my heart rate, which hadn't spiked when a Viltrumite tried to take my head off yesterday, suddenly jumped to a hundred and twenty beats per minute.
"Huh?" I coughed, pounding my chest.
Where'd that come from?!
"You heard me," Eve said, a teasing but undeniably serious smirk playing on her lips. "We spend almost all of our free time together, we work really well together, and we clearly like each other. So... what's the holdup, Grayson?"
Clearly like each other? I reverberated mentally. Baby, that's lust coming from me.
"Well—I—uh," I stammered, frantically searching my thirty years of tactical genius for a way out of this conversation. "Things are... complicated right now. The company is expanding, and Oliver needs training, and the world! Don't forget about the world—"
"Mark, you literally benched a cruise ship last month while on a conference call," Eve interrupted, leaning forward. "You're the most efficient person I know. You aren't 'too busy'."
Damn, she's really pushing for this, huh?
"We work together!" I tried, grabbing the first excuse I could find. "It's a conflict of interest! HR would have a field day."
Eve raised an eyebrow. "You own the company. You are HR."
Damn, she got you there.
Yea, you're right she—hol' up, what the fuck? Who said that? I asked myself mentally as everything seemed to pause.
My boi, you forget? It's been a minute, huh? You hadn't had much free time. Until now.
I contemplated quickly, then my eyes narrowed. It's you.
So you remember, huh? Last time I was here we were swapping tongue with that cute Amber chick, and now you've got a redhead that's willing?! You sly dog.
It's not like that, get outta here!
No! Come on man! I'm shriveling up here! We haven't gotten real action since High School. And it's not like we haven't had opportunities either.
I've been busy, sue me.
Oh I would if I had the ability to. Do you really want to be known across these different dimensions as the bitchless wonder?!
Bitchless wonder?! Now look here you little freak, this is my body and—
I'm a part of you, you jackass! Now quit playin' and fuck this chick already! I know you want to, so stop acting like you don't!
I ain't acting like I'm nothing. The fate of the universe is at stake. We can get ass later!
No! I want her now! Quit playin'!
Alright, alright, simmer down. We don't need to fight. You're a very big part of a very handsome individual. So, let's compromise.
I'm listening, but it better be good.
How bout you get me out of this situation, and in exchange I'll set up a date or something and get the deed done to satiate whatever hunger… What is it? A hunger, a thirst? Whatever lust covered perversion you're going through.
Deal. But if you don't get it done, I'll give you blue balls for a week.
Whoa, take it easy man! Let's be civil. And wouldn't that hurt you too.
It would just give me slight discomfort, like an itch that won't go away even when you scratch it. You on the other hand will experience pain magnified by 50. Suffer bitch.
Alright, alright, just get me out this jam.
I suddenly felt the confidence of a hundred manwhores take over me.
"Eve, I just... I value our friendship too much," I reached across the table and placed a hand on hers, squeezing gently. "I don't want to mess up the dynamic we have going. My heart just wouldn't be able to take it."
"Coward," she teased, though her eyes were gentle. "You can fight interdimensional aliens, but taking a girl to dinner is tougher?"
I didn't pull my hand away. Instead, I let my thumb lightly trace the back of her knuckles. I leaned forward, my voice dropping a notch as a slow, confident smirk spread across my face.
"Girl, nobody scared of dinner here," I said smoothly, staring right into her eyes. "I've just been busy building a business empire. But since you're so eager..."
I paused, letting the tension hang in the air for just a second. Eve blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden pivot from a stammering mess to whatever the hell I was doing right now. A faint blush dusted her cheeks.
"Friday night," I told her, my tone leaving absolutely zero room for argument. "Eight o'clock. I'll take you somewhere."
Eve's lips parted slightly in surprise before that confident smirk returned. "Friday works," she said softly. "Don't try to pull out."
"Pull out? Now that's something I won't be doing with you," I whispered, her face turning redder.
Damn, I feel like Tom Cruise in this bitch, I thought as I was about to seal the deal with another line, but my earpiece suddenly chirped with a blaring, high-pitch emergency override.
"Boss," a frantic voice from the logistics hub blasted into my ear. "We got a Code Red. Doc Seismic just broke out of maximum security. He's been building some kind of underground army of magma-monsters beneath the Washington Monument. It's a massive structural threat."
I sighed, releasing Eve's hand and standing up. Tch, ain't this a bitch, I thought, slightly annoyed that my newfound rizz had been interrupted.
"Not to dampen the mood, but Seismic is throwing a tantrum in D.C. with an army of lava monsters," I announced, tapping my earpiece. "Wanna go deal with it?"
Eve slowly blinked at me, looking down at the half-eaten pizza. She let out a dramatic sigh, reaching down to grab one last slice. "There goes our lunch break," she grumbled.
She took a bite as a glowing pink aura flared to life around her, lifting her off the ground. "Lead the way. Let's go vaporize some magma."
"That's the spirit," I grinned, pulling my domino mask from my pocket and tossing a fifty-dollar bill onto the table. "Besides, we gotta go earn that dinner money."
We bolted out the door of the pizzeria, launching into the sky side-by-side.
As we shot through the clouds, the cool air hitting my face, I let out a massive, silent breath. I hadn't realized how tense my shoulders had gotten.
Alright, I told the obnoxious voice in the back of my head. Date secured. A deal's a deal. Now let me go punch a mad scientist through a monument in peace.
Pleasure doing business with ya, the voice purred back.