Mark stood there in the meeting room, his chest tight, waiting to hear a response from anyone in the Doom Patrol. Waiting for their verdict. Waiting for whatever punishment they deemed appropriate.
But it was quiet.
The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, until finally Mento stood up. His chair scraped against the floor with a harsh sound that made Mark flinch slightly. The older man walked over to Mark with measured steps, his cybernetic helmet pulsing with faint light as he processed whatever thoughts were running through his enhanced mind.
He stopped directly in front of Mark and looked at him deep in the eyes. Mark didn't know if he was going to hit him or talk to him. Part of him hoped for the former, at least physical pain was something he understood, something he could process. Even if he wouldn't be hurt by it.
"Can you revive the dead?" Mento said, his voice flat and clinical.
Mark had a confused look on his face. "Excuse me?"
"Can you revive the dead, young man? It's a simple question. Yes or no?"
Mark figured where this was going, but he answered honestly anyway. "No. I can't."
Mento's jaw clenched beneath his helmet. "Neither can I. So we both murdered him."
Mark looked at Mento with confusion spreading across his face. What did he mean by that?
Mento continued, his voice growing more strained with each word. "I was the one who kicked Garfield off the team. He was a kid, and I expected him to follow orders like a soldier, like everyone else did. We were in a mission, a bad one, and he had to make a choice between saving us or beating our enemy." Mento paused, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "He saved us. He chose to save our lifes instead of completing the mission. And for that, I kicked him off the team."
Mark's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't known this. He'd never bothered to learn the histories of the people he'd killed.
"Then I kicked him out of the only home he knew after we found him," Mento continued, his voice cracking slightly despite his attempts to maintain composure. "A scared, traumatized kid who'd been experimented on, who'd lost everything, and I threw him out because he didn't fit my idea of what a hero should be. Then he joins the Titans and finds a new family. A real family. People who actually cared about him as a person, not just as a weapon or a tool."
Mento took a step closer to Mark, and Mark could see the pain in the older man's eyes through the transparent sections of his helmet.
"And you killed him," Mento said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "If I had never kicked him off the team, if I had never been so thick-headed and selfish, he would still be alive. He'd be here right now, probably cracking jokes and trying to lighten the mood like he always did."
Mark opened his mouth to say something, but Mento cut him off.
"Just so you know, we haven't been a team since he died. Everyone here blames me. Hell, I blame myself every single day." Mento's voice was raw now, all pretense of clinical detachment gone. "So until you can bring back that sweet boy who just wanted to see the people around him smile and laugh, your words are empty. Stick to what you're good at, son, and kill the enemy."
Mento then walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence he left behind.
Mark just stood there, taking that in. The weight of Mento's words settled on him another layer of guilt. He'd never considered that there might be others who blamed themselves for Garfield's death. That his actions had created ripples of guilt and pain that extended far beyond just the immediate loss.
Cliff stood up next, his mechanical joints creaking slightly as he rose to his full imposing height. He walked over to Mark with heavy, deliberate steps that made the floor vibrate slightly.
"I'm not gonna mince words," Cliff said, his mechanical voice distorted but filled with raw emotion. "You're a piece of shit, Guardian. Or Invincible. Or whatever the hell you call yourself now."
Mark didn't respond. He just stood there and took it.
"You should be the one dead," Cliff continued, his red eye slits burning with intensity. "Not our boy. You know what happens every day in our house? Every single day, Rita wakes up and cries. She tries to hide it, tries to be strong for the rest of us, but I hear her. My audio sensors pick up everything. She cries herself to sleep every night, and there's nothing any of us can do to help her."
Cliff's mechanical hands clenched into fists, and Mark could hear the servos whining with the pressure.
"We have to stop Jane from hunting you down and trying to kill you," Cliff said. "Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how many times we've had to physically restrain her because one of her personalities took control and decided today was the day she was going to make you pay? We've had to sedate her. Lock her in her room. Watch her 24/7 to make sure she doesn't hurt herself or worse trying to run off to find you."
Cliff moved toward the door, then paused and looked back at Mark one more time.
"Sorry, Rita," he said, his voice softer now, addressing the woman who had already left. "I know how much you wanted us to do this. To reunite as a team and try to move forward. But I can't. Especially not with this monster. Garfield was our heart, and were dead without him."
He then looked directly at Mark, and his voice became cold and mechanical again, devoid of any warmth.
"I lost every part of my body except my brain in an accident," Cliff said. "My wife, my daughter, I lost them too because of what I became. But even then, even after losing everything that made me human, I'm nowhere near as heartless as you."
Then Cliff left the room, his heavy footsteps fading down the corridor.
Mark felt something break inside him at those words. The comparison cut deeper than any physical blow could have. To be told by someone who had literally lost their humanity that you were more heartless than them, it was devastating.
Next, Jane spoke up. She was still sitting in her chair, but her posture had changed. She leaned forward slightly, her green eyes fixed on Mark with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.
"I hear Cecil has you as his new pet attack dog," she said, her voice flat and emotionless. "Well, remember this, dog boy: I know where you sleep. And if it wasn't for Rita over there, you would be having nightmares for the rest of your life."
Then her eyes changed. They shifted from green to a bright, burning red, and when she spoke again, her voice was different, deeper, more aggressive.
"We loved Garfield like a brother, and you took him away from us," the new personality said through Jane's mouth.
Then her eyes changed again, this time to a soft blue, and her voice became higher, almost childlike.
"I loved it when he turned into a tiger," the child's voice said, and Mark could hear the innocence and pain in those words. "He would let me ride on his back and we would play together. He was my bestfriend."
Then Jane's body began to shimmer, and suddenly she warped away with a sound like tearing fabric. The echo of tears could be heard fading into the distance, a haunting reminder of the pain that still lingered.
Mark just stood there, his throat tight, unable to form words.
Larry stood up next. The bandaged man walked slowly toward Mark, his movements careful and measured. He stopped a few feet away, and for a moment, Mark thought he might say something profound or offer some kind of perspective.
Instead, Larry simply said, "Fuck you," and walked away.
The simplicity of it, the raw honesty, hit Mark harder than any elaborate speech could have. Sometimes the most painful truths were the shortest ones.
Mark just stood there and said nothing as he looked at Rita, the last remaining member of the Doom Patrol in the room. He prepared himself for another round of words, another layer of guilt and pain to add to the mountain he was already carrying.
But Rita stood up slowly, her movements graceful despite the weight she was clearly carrying. She looked at Mark with those hazel eyes that burned with controlled intensity, and when she spoke, her voice was measured and calm.
"I went to a superhero grief support group when I lost Garfield," she said. "It was recommended by my therapist. A place where people who had lost loved ones who were superhero's could come together and share their pain, try to find some way to move forward."
Mark's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't expected this.
"And I met your mother there," Rita continued.
Mark's breath caught in his throat. As his eyes widened. He hadn't spoken to her in five years. The guilt of that realization added another layer to everything he was already feeling.
Rita took a step closer to him, her expression softening slightly.
"We became close acquaintances," she said. "We hung out a few times outside of the group. Got coffee. Talked about our lives, our pain, our struggles to find meaning after losing someone we loved." Rita paused, and Mark could see tears beginning to form in her eyes. "And when it came to light about who we had lost, about the connection between us, I didn't get mad at your mother. I felt sorry for her."
Mark felt his own eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears.
"I lost a boy who was like a son to me....no Garfield was my son," Rita said, her voice cracking slightly. "But she knows your alive and vant even see you. The child she raised, the person she loved more than anything in the world. And here you are, standing in front of me, looking for forgiveness to ease your soul. And you wont even talk to here. She misses you everyday. " Pain builds in her voice with every word.
Rita took another step closer, and now she was directly in front of Mark, close enough that he could see every detail of her face, every line of pain and exhaustion.
"Mark Grayson," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "I hope you find peace. I truly do, for your mother's sake. But honestly, you can never make this right. You can never bring Garfield back. You can never undo the pain you've caused to us and everyone else."
Mark nodded, accepting the truth of her words.
"But you can make sure things like this stop happening," Rita continued. "You can use your power, your strength, your abilities to protect people instead of hurt them. You can make peace with your mother and the Titans. You can save the world and do it in Garfield's name. Bring joy and love to the faces of everyone you meet, the way he did. And maybe, just maybe, if you do all of that, I can learn to hate you a little less."
Tears were falling freely from Rita's eyes now, but her voice remained steady.
"Do that," she said. "Do that, and maybe someday, when I think of you, I won't just see the monster who killed my boy. Maybe I'll see someone who's trying to honor his memory."
She turned to leave, walking toward the door with her head held high despite the tears streaming down her face. She paused at the threshold and looked back one more time.
"Your mother loves you, Mark," Rita said softly. "Don't make her wait any longer. We all dont have the same amount of timecas you."
Then she closed the door behind her, and Mark was alone.
He stood there speechless, his mind racing through everything that had just happened. The confrontations, the pain, the guilt, the small glimmer of hope that Rita had offered him. It was overwhelming.
But through it all, one thought crystallized in his mind with perfect clarity: 'It will be hard work, but I will make this right. I have to.'
That's when Cecil's voice came through his comms, breaking the silence.
"Mark, are you there?"
Mark took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I know you were listening, Cecil. What's up?"
There was a pause on the other end, and Mark could almost picture Cecil in his office, watching the recording, analyzing every word and gesture.
"How do you feel?" Cecil asked.
Mark paused and thought about the question. Really thought about it. How did he feel?
"I feel like I want to do what she asked," Mark said slowly, working through his emotions as he spoke. "I want to be better. I want to carry the dreams of those who can't carry them anymore. But I don't know how. I don't know where to start."
Cecil was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, why not ask the big guy for guidance?"
Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. "Are you saying I should pray to God?"
"No, kid," Cecil said, and Mark could hear the slight amusement in his voice. "I meant Superman."
Mark felt his stomach drop. "I doubt that will be a good conversation. Superman probably hates me as much as everyone else does."
"That actually has to do with your next mission," Cecil said, his tone becoming more serious. "I need you to head to the League's satellite Watchtower. And warning, it will be intense."
Mark felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you mean, intense?"
Suddenly, Cecil teleported right in front of him in a flash of light and distortion. Mark's suit activated immediately, morphing around his body in a fluid motion as his instincts kicked in.
"What's wrong?" Mark asked, his body tensing for a fight.
Cecil placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression grave. "Kid, It's better that you see this person yourself."
Before Mark could ask any more questions, Cecil activated the teleportation device, and the world dissolved around them.
Justice League Watchtower- Earths Orbit
The teleportation area materialized around them, and Mark found himself standing in the sleek, high-tech interior of the Justice League's orbital headquarters. The Watchtower was impressive, all clean lines, advanced technology, and massive windows that showed the curve of Earth below them.
The teleport area was clear of any heroes, which Mark found slightly odd. Usually, there was someone monitoring arrivals and departures.
By the controls stood Batman, his cape draped around him like a shadow, his white eyes fixed on them as they materialized.
Cecil walked up to him, and the two men shook hands with the familiarity of people who had worked together for years, even if they didn't always agree on methods.
"Cecil," Batman said with a slight nod.
"Batman," Cecil replied.
Mark looked between them, confused. "What's going on?"
Batman didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward an adjacent door. "He's in the other room."
"Who's in the other room?" Mark asked, his confusion growing.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and the Justice League walked through. Superman led the way, his red cape flowing behind him, followed by Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, Green Lantern John Stewart, Hawkwoman, and several others.
But it wasn't the League that made Mark's breath catch in his throat.
It was the man walking between them, wearing handcuffs that glowed with some kind of energy dampening technology.
His father. Nolan Grayson.
And next to him walked a young boy who looked like a teenager, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. He had pinkish-red skin, blue eyes, and features that were distinctly Viltrumite but also somehow softer, more human.
Mark's eyes widened, and he felt like the floor had dropped out from under him.
Nolan looked at Mark with warm eyes, eyes that Mark remembered from his childhood, from before everything had gone wrong. There was genuine emotion there, something Mark hadn't seen in years.
"Hello, son," Nolan said, his voice carrying across the room. "It's been a while."
Mark looked to Cecil, his eyes wide with a mix of emotions he couldn't even begin to process. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Hope. Fear. All of it swirling together in a chaotic storm.
But all he could manage to say was, "Dad?"
"Yes, son, it is I," Nolan said, nodding slowly. "And I know it's short notice, but I would like to introduce you to Oliver. Your younger brother."
Nolan nodded toward the young-looking teen, who raised his hand in a small, awkward wave.
"Hello," Oliver said, his voice uncertain but friendly.
Mark just stood there, his eyes wide, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. A brother. He had a brother. A younger brother he'd never known about. But he looks like a teenager. Did he cheat on Mom while he was a hero?
He looked to Cecil, who just nodded in confirmation. This was real. This was actually happening.
Superman stepped forward, his expression serious but not unkind. "Mark, I think you should hear what your father has to say. It's important."
Wonder Woman spoke up, her voice carrying the authority. "Hold on, Superman. We're missing a few people."
She turned to Batman. "Any word from Nightwing on Caius?"
Mark's eyes widened at hearing Caius's name.
"I just talked to Nightwing a moment ago," Batman said, his voice even and controlled. "He said Caius is now going by Superior."
Hawkwoman and Green Lantern John Stewart both said "Really?" at the same time, their surprise evident.
Batman continued, ignoring their reactions. "Apparently, four hours ago, Caius went to the island of Themyscira. The Amazon Embassy contacted us as per protocol. But so far, to our knowledge, he is still there."
Diana's eyes narrowed. "I'm sensing there's a 'but.'"
"But," Batman said, "the suit Art designed for him has an emergency ping that lets him and his team know his last known location on Earth. And it disappeared five minutes ago."
Superman looked to Wonder Woman with concern. "Do you know why he would be there?"
Diana shook her head. "I told him if he ever needed my help and couldn't reach me, to contact the embassy and get my mother or Nubia to help him."
"You think his homomagi abilities appeared again?" Batman asked.
Diana shook her head. "No. After what happened at the Tower, he hasn't shown any signs of being aware of his power."
Superman turned to Batman. "Should we begin without Caius?"
Batman was quiet for a moment, then said, "No. We're waiting for a few more individuals."
"Why not give the Grayson family some time?" Superman suggested, his voice gentle.
Diana nodded. "Agreed."
Cecil put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "I'll be in the other room if you need me."
Mark watched as Cecil walked past Nolan. The two men locked eyes, and Cecil gave Nolan a look that could have melted steel, pure, undiluted contempt. But Nolan just stared back, keeping eye contact, not backing down.
Then Cecil was gone, and Mark was left standing there with his father and his newly discovered brother.
Nolan looked at Mark and saw him ball his fists. Nolan prepared himself to get hit, his body tensing slightly.
"Now, Mark, I know...." Nolan started to say.
But Mark didn't hit him.
Instead, Mark moved forward and wrapped his arms around his father, pulling him into a tight embrace despite the handcuffs.
"Dad," Mark said, his voice breaking. "I missed you so much."
Nolan, not used to these emotions, not used to this kind of vulnerability from his son, stood there for a moment, frozen. Then slowly, carefully, he accepted the embrace, his cuffed hands coming up to rest on Mark's back.
Oliver watched the scene with wide eyes, not quite sure what to make of this emotional reunion.
And the Justice League members present exchanged glances, each processing this moment in their own way. These were the same Mark & Nolan Grayson who had killed their friends and colleagues five years ago. The same two who had terrorized the planet. But right now they was also a fathered and son who had missed his each other.
It was complicated. Everything about this situation was complicated. But it was only the beginning.
Titans Tower
I flew back to Titans Tower, my body moving on autopilot while my mind was somewhere else entirely. My eyes felt hollow, like I'd lost all the energy in me. The encounter with Psyche, the revelations about my existence the weight of everything I'd learned, it was all pressing down on me like a physical force. I still had to deal with Ares as well.
Eve saw me touch down on the island and immediately walked over, her expression concerned.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Where have you been for the past few hours?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Dealing with some things. Did I miss anything?"
Superboy walked over, his arms crossed. "The League is back in Earth orbit. They're at the Watchtower satellite and want us to go there for a meeting. They're saying it's big. You're wanted there too."
I nodded, trying to push through the exhaustion. "Let's go then."
Eve grabbed my hand, her touch warm and grounding. "Is everything okay?"
I smiled softly, though I knew it didn't reach my eyes. "I just need a hot shower and a nap."
"Okay," Eve said, squeezing my hand gently. "Talk to me when you get back?"
I nodded. "Of course."
Dick, Wally, Kara, Conner, Donna, and I all gathered at the Zeta-tube. The familiar hum of the teleportation technology filled the air as we stepped onto the platform.
"Recognized: Nightwing, B-0-1," the computer voice announced.
"Recognized: Flash, B-0-3."
"Recognized: Supergirl, B-1-6."
"Recognized: Superboy, B-0-4."
"Recognized: Wonder Girl, B-1-3."
"Recognized: Superior, B-0-6."
The world dissolved into light and energy, and then we were materializing in the Watchtower.
Part of me was amazed. I'd only been to the satellite tower once when I was a kid, and that was the old station. This was the new one, with a lot of improvements. The technology was more advanced, the layout more efficient, and the view of Earth from the massive windows was breathtaking.
Dick led us through the corridors toward the meeting room. As we walked, I could feel the tension building. Something big was happening. Something that required the entire League and the Titans to be present.
We reached the meeting room, and Dick opened the door.
And there, to our surprise, was not only Mark Grayson, Guardian, but also Omni-Man. What the Fuck!
The air felt heavy, like it was about to explode.
Dick, being the most reasonable person in our group, immediately raised his hands. "Guys, let's take a moment."
But Wally started to crackle with lightning, blue energy sparking around his body as his anger manifested physically. Superboy's eyes glowed red, as he stared at Omni-Man and Mark with barely contained rage. Donna began to get into a fighting position, her hands moving to where her lasso would normally be. Kara and I just stared, our bodies tense, ready for whatever was about to happen.
The Justice League members in the room tensed as well, preparing to intervene if necessary.
That's when I spoke, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
"ENOUGH!"
Everyone in the room looked at me, surprised by the authority in my voice.
"We're here to talk," I continued, my eyes moving from person to person. "And these two were brought here by the League, from the looks of it. So let's leave our grudges for later and figure out what's going on."
Dick nodded, grateful for the support. "That's a good idea, Caius."
It may be the right one, but if bit for my mental state, I would probably be like everyone else.
Slowly, reluctantly, everyone began to stand down. Wally's lightning faded. Superboy's eyes returned to normal. Donna relaxed her stance. The tension didn't disappear, but it became manageable.
We all moved to the large round table in the center of the room and sat down. The seating arrangement was telling, the Titans on one side, the League on another, and Mark and Nolan somewhat isolated, with Oliver sitting nervously next to his father.
Nolan stood up, his handcuffs clinking slightly as he moved. He looked around the room, making eye contact with each person present.
"I'm sure many of you know about the Viltrumites and their plan to invade Earth at some point to repopulate their numbers and gain hybrids," Nolan began, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had lived through horrors. "But what you don't know is what those hybrids are capable of and why they are truly doing this."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"So I will tell you about our greatest warriors the hybrids and the purebloods, and their weaknesses," Nolan continued. "I will even divulge information about our allies we have, to my knowledge."
Nolan's expression became grave, his eyes hard.
"But let me warn you: telling you about them and you being strong enough to fight them are two very different things."
I looked at him, then at Mark. My blood was boiling. Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to attack, to make Omni-Man pay for what he'd done to this planet, to Mark, to everyone.
But I couldn't get what Psyche had said to me out of my mind. About control. About choosing when to fight and when to listen. About being more than just my anger and my power.
I knew I needed to let that rage die down and deal with one thing at a time.
So I sat there, my fists clenched under the table, and I listened.