(AN: Have a look on my Patreon for my Short story I made, Life can Change What a Marvel Part 1. it's around 21k words and I'm working on Part 2 now. So if you're interested in any what ifs. Give it a look. Or don't.
"EAAAHH!!"
Anissa screamed as her fist connected with Nolan's face. The sound was a sickening crunch. His body lifted clean off the deck and crashed into the far wall, the alloy plating caving in around him from the force of the impact. The crew flinched. Sparks hissed from the bent metal as Nolan growled, his teeth clenched as he pushed himself out of the wall. He was already moving again. He caught her next punch mid-air, fingers closing around her wrist like a vice before twisting and flinging her across the command deck.
She skidded backward, boots tearing grooves into the floor, but she held her stance. Her lip curled in contempt.
"Touch me again and I will end you," Nolan warned.
Anissa laughed. It was bitter. Tired. "Do as you will, Nolan. You've already failed. We have neither of our targets, and Lucan is clinging to life."
Nolan straightened his posture, dust and blood flecked across his suit. "Lucan is weak," he said without pause. "If he let a human put him down, he didn't deserve to live."
He turned from her, walking past without sparing a glance. He stepped toward the viewport and stared into the void beyond. They were aboard the same ship Lucan and Anissa had arrived in. It had been hidden in lunar shadow, running silent beneath a stealth field. The crew aboard now sat frozen in place, barely breathing as the tension twisted around them. The air was thick with it. None of them moved or even breathed as any sudden noise could end in death.
Anissa turned, pointing at one of the trembling bridge crew. "You. Ready the ship for departure. We're leaving."
"Y-Yes, ma'am," the alien stammered. He turned to the console and began typing.
Nolan was behind him in a second.
He grabbed the back of the crewman's neck and squeezed. There was a sharp, wet snap, then silence. The body dropped, head twisted at an impossible angle.
"We're not going anywhere," Nolan growled. His voice was deeper now. The crew flinched. None of them moved.
Anissa folded her arms unfazed by the display. "Face it, Nolan. You lost. They beat us. We got caught flat-footed and now you want to linger in the same system to avoid your punishment. The longer we stay here, the more time they have to track us."
"This isn't over," Nolan snapped, eyes locked on the stars. His fists were clenched. Blood trickled from his knuckles.
"It is," she said. "You just won't admit it. You're so desperate to salvage this mess that you can't see the reality in front of you. We were routed. Beaten. And if we don't leave, we'll be hunted."
Nolan didn't respond. His eyes were locked on Earth.
He didn't turn around.
He raised one hand and pointed to the body twitching near the console.
"Someone clean that up."
___________________________
Darkness.
It pressed in from all sides so much so that it felt endless. The sound came next. Screams. Kara's screams. Her voice echoed through the black, distorted and strained, followed by the shrill cry of a newborn. Mark turned toward the sound, but the shadows clung to his limbs like chains. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. He saw her then—Kara on her knees, arms outstretched, the child in her hands. Nolan stood over her. His father's face was unreadable, eyes colder than he remembered, blood staining his beard. Then Nolan reached down and took the baby from her arms. Kara screamed louder. Mark shouted, but no sound left his mouth. He tried to run. His legs didn't move. He watched Nolan turn, backlit in fire, cradling the child as Kara collapsed. Then everything went silent.
Mark jolted upright with a gasp, his chest heaving. A wave of nausea crashed into him as the room tilted. Lights overhead blurred. He blinked rapidly, disoriented, lungs dragging in shallow breaths. The medical equipment surrounding him began to shriek, beeping furiously in response to his rapid vitals. Cables tugged at his arms. IV tubes strained against his motion. Mark grabbed at them instinctively and yanked. One monitor detached violently from its stand. Another wire snapped. He stumbled forward off the bed and his hand caught the side railing—which bent in half beneath his grip with a crunch of twisted metal.
The door burst open. A nurse in teal stepped in her eyes widening as she saw Mark awake. "Sir you need to calm down! You're safe!"
"Where am I?" Mark asked, voice hoarse. His throat felt like sandpaper.
"The Watchtower medical bay. You were brought here after sustaining severe injuries. Please, lie back down."
Everything hurt. His head throbbed. His entire body ached. The sensation of his bones shifting beneath his skin was sickening. He looked down and barely recognized himself. His limbs were thin. Emaciated. His skin clung tightly to muscle and bone. He looked like he'd lost half his mass.
"Eve," he muttered. "Are you there?"
[I am here, Mark,] Eve replied softly.
The nurse was still staring, frozen in place. "I'm fine," Mark said, gesturing toward the ruined monitors and the twisted railing. "Sorry about the mess. You can go."
The nurse hesitated, clearly uncertain. "I'll... I'll be back soon to check your condition," she said quickly before turning and slipping out.
Mark swung his legs off the side of the bed and planted his feet. His knees buckled for a moment before he steadied himself. He moved slowly, his joints creaking and sparking pain inside him. "Eve," he whispered again, "what happened? Did I beat Battle Beast?"
There was a pause.
[I did everything I could, Mark. I pushed your body as far as I could push it, but it wasn't enough. You were losing.]
Mark looked down at himself. His hand shook as he lifted it in front of his face. "Why am I like this? Why do I look like I haven't eaten in months?"
[I broke down every non-vital system in your body. Your fat stores. Your liver. Anything I could repurpose for energy, I used. I had to. You wouldn't have survived otherwise.]
Mark's jaw clenched. "If I didn't win... then how am I still alive?"
[Raven,] Eve said. [She arrived in time. She fought him off. She sent him far enough away to teleport you out and bring you here. Without her, you would have died on that street.]
The name clicked like a key turning. Mentioning Ravens name had reminded him of someone else. Kara
She was giving birth.
Mark's heart rate spiked. He staggered forward, catching himself on a counter as he half-limped to the door. He opened it and stumbled into the hallway. A nurse was passing by.
"Where is she?" he asked with a ragged voice.
The nurse blinked. "Who—?"
"Kara!" Mark shouted. "Where is she?!"
Before the nurse could answer, a voice cut through the tension. "Mark. Calm down."
Raven stepped into view, her hands raised and a calm expression on her face. She glanced at the nurse and gave a small nod. The nurse took the hint and stepped away. Mark's shoulders dropped. "Raven... thank god. Is she okay? Kara? Did I miss it? Did I miss the birth?"
Raven approached slowly. She reached out and touched his arm. "Let's sit down first."
Mark followed her to a chair. He sat heavily on the seat, exhaustion and pain returning now that the panic had subsided.
"Raven, what's going on? Is she alright? The baby?"
She met his eyes. "Mark... Kara gave birth."
He blinked. "Wait. What?"
Raven exhaled. "Two months ago. You've been unconscious since then. Your recovery was... slow. You weren't expected to wake up for a long time."
The words didn't register at first. Then the weight of them hit him.
Two months.
He had missed it.
His heart pounded in his chest. Guilt clawed at his ribs. Shame settled into the pit of his stomach. His hands shook. He hadn't been there. He hadn't seen her. He hadn't held his child. He looked down at his hands and said nothing.
Raven leaned in close and took his hands in hers. Her skin was cold against his, and she didn't speak for a few seconds. Her lips trembled before the words came out. "It's okay, Mark. No one blames you. Especially not Kara. We've all been... we've all been so worried about you." Her voice cracked toward the end. She hesitated again. Her eyes searched his face as if unsure she should continue.
"When I brought you in... you were almost gone. Your chest had stopped moving. Your heart wasn't beating on its own. The nanites were keeping it going manually, second by second. We didn't know if you'd wake up. I didn't know if I'd see you again." Her hands tightened around his. "Even now it's hard to look at you. You look like someone who died and got dragged back too late." Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn't look away.
Mark leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her face into his neck as he whispered, "I'm sorry for putting you through that. But I'm here now. I'm fine."
Raven didn't answer right away. She hugged him tighter, her arms shaking as they held him. Then she kissed him without warning. Her lips lingered on his. Mark kissed her back. He pressed his forehead to hers when they parted and stayed like that for a long moment, breathing in her closeness. Then he stood up.
"I want to see Kara and the baby."
Raven stood with him. She reached for his wrist but didn't grab it. "Wait, Mark. Please. There's something you need to know before you go in there."
He frowned. "What?" His voice was sharper than he intended, and the look of worry on her face made his stomach turn. "Is something wrong with them? What happened? Did the Atom finish the treatment?"
Raven didn't answer at first. She looked down for a moment, then back at him. Her expression was tight, as though she were bracing herself. "Kara's fine. She recovered after a few hours in Superman's Solar Chamber. She's strong. But... the baby... it's not good, Mark." Her voice broke halfway through the sentence, and she had to stop and swallow the lump in her throat.
Mark's face fell. The light behind his eyes dimmed, and the blood seemed to drain from his face. "Are they—"
"He," Raven said. "The baby is a boy."
Mark couldn't speak. The words caught in his throat. He just nodded and turned without another word. He walked out of the room and into the corridor. The hallway stretched ahead of his, but his vision blurred at the edges. His legs felt heavy. Each step sent a pulse of heat up through his chest and into his skull. His fingers trembled. He clenched them into fists, but they wouldn't stop shaking. He moved faster, not even knowing where he was going until he turned a corner and saw it.
Through a tall pane of reinforced glass, he saw a room bathed in harsh sunlight. At the center of the chamber was a small incubation pod suspended in place by steel supports and glowing mechanisms. The light inside was focused and intense, bathing the tiny figure within. Martian Manhunter stood beside the chamber his eyes narrowed in focus, and beside him was the Atom, scanning readouts and recalibrating settings as he worked.
Outside the room, separated by glass, stood Kara.
She hadn't moved. Her arms hung at her sides. Her face was pale and still. Mark stepped forward, but his stomach twisted the closer he got. His chest felt tight. His breath came shallow. It was like trying to breathe through wet cloth. He pressed a hand to the glass. "Kara."
She didn't react.
He reached her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
She blinked and turned slowly, as though waking from a trance. Her eyes widened. "Mark?" she said quietly. Her hands moved to his chest like she didn't believe he was real. "Mark?" she said again, and the tears that had been sitting on her lashes finally spilled down her cheeks.
Then she broke.
"I didn't know what to do," she sobbed. "He's so small and he won't stop losing weight and they said he wasn't stabilizing and we tried the solar infusion but it's not enough and I keep standing here and I keep thinking maybe if I just go in and hold him it'll help but they won't let me in and I didn't know if you were alive and I didn't know what to tell him and I didn't even get to name him... I didn't get to name him, Mark—"
He wrapped his arms around her as she clung to him. Her whole body shook as she cried, and Mark held her as tightly as he could without hurting her. He didn't say anything. He couldn't. His eyes burned and his jaw clenched and his heart felt like it was about to crack down the middle.
Raven came in behind them and wrapped her arms around both of them. No one said anything else for a long time.
Eventually Mark let go, though Kara tried to pull him back. She gripped his wrist, begging him not to go.
"Stay with her," Mark said to Raven.
Then he stepped into the chamber.
The light was stronger inside very warm, and the air felt heavy from the constant heat cycling through the walls. Mark didn't get more than a few steps in before Atom turned, clearly prepared to tell whoever had just entered that they weren't authorized to be there. He stopped when he saw who it was. His eyes widened.
"Mark?!" Ray said as he quickly set down a scanning device and moved toward him. "You're awake? That's—look, I didn't expect you up for another week at least. You had full body—"
Mark didn't answer. He just kept walking. Atom slowed as he moved beside him. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Any dizziness? Did the nanites—"
"Enough," Mark said. He didn't shout, but the edge in his voice cut through the questions. "Tell me what happened. The baby. Did you get Lucy's blood?"
"Mark. You are distressed. Please calm yourself," J'onn said from the other side of the room. His tone was measured. His eyes gentle. He stepped forward as if to steady him, reaching out.
Mark pulled his arm back. "Don't. Just... tell me. Atom."
Ray hesitated. Then he nodded. He walked over to the terminal on the wall and brought up a series of charts, waveforms, and genome sequences. The screens flickered under the intensity of the chamber light. "Yes. I got Lucy's blood. I managed to isolate the stabilizing gene sequence. I ran every test. Got a clean strand. But when I tried to apply the therapy to the baby—each time I activated the sequencer, his genes shifted again. The moment I locked in a structure, everything changed. Nothing held."
He tapped the screen. "I tried everything, Mark. I've rewritten the treatment protocols three times. I adjusted for Viltrumite variability. I tried dampening fields. I even ran the full Kryptonian compatibility filters. Every time I run it, his system destabilizes."
Mark didn't speak. He stood there and stared at the pod, watched the glow of the chamber play across the glass. The baby didn't move. The outline of his son was barely visible beneath the shielding. Just a faint silhouette beneath the glow. "Why is he in that?" Mark asked.
Ray's voice lowered. "Because right now, he's in full organ and body failure. The genetic instability is breaking him down. The sunlight... it's the only thing that's keeping his cells from disintegrating entirely. I think... I think it's because of his Kryptonian physiology. It's buying us time. But it's not healing him. It's just holding the line."
Mark's throat tightened. He tried to speak but his voice cracked when he forced the words out. "Is there really nothing you can do?"
Ray looked at him, and the weight in his expression made the answer clear even before he spoke. "I don't know anything else to try. This is beyond me, Mark."
J'onn stepped forward. "We still have time. There are other minds. Other paths. You are not alone in this."
Mark didn't respond.
He turned without a word and walked out.
___________________________
The Watchtower meeting room was quiet except for the soft hum of monitors and the distant murmur of support staff moving through the halls beyond the walls. Most of the League was already seated. Hawkgirl sat at the far end, arms folded, one wing still wrapped in thick bandages and multiple bruises across her body. Aquaman rested his trident against the table, his side tightly bound beneath the sea-scale armor that failed to hide the healing shattered ribs and the dark bruises. His jaw, once grotesquely swollen, had reduced somewhat, though the deep bruising remained like faded ink on parchment.
Wonder Woman sat upright, arms resting on the table as her gaze lingered on the doorway. "Where is Batman?" she asked.
"Yeah," Flash said, leaning so far back in his chair he nearly tipped it. "You'd think the guy who called the meeting would actually show up for it. Unless this is one of those weird creepy dark-room moments. If it is, that is awesome and pretend I said nothing."
There were a few groans. Hawkgirl muttered under her breath without looking up. Cyborg tapped through his holographic interface and let out a low exhale. Diana looked ready to leave.
"He'll be here," Clark said. His voice wasn't loud, but there was something in it that ended the conversation entirely.
A moment later, the doors hissed open and Batman entered without a word.
Clark allowed a small smile. He appreciated his super hearing at times.
Bruce stepped forward, his cape swaying lightly behind him. He offered a nod to the group. "Everyone." Clark stood from his place and walked across the room. He extended his hand, and Bruce took it. It was brief and quiet, but the looks they exchanged said everything they needed to. They separated, and the others turned in their seats as Bruce came to stand near the head of the room.
"Take a seat, Bruce," Diana said, gesturing toward the open chair beside her.
Bruce shook his head. "This won't take long."
"That's what she said," Flash said under his breath before shrinking in his seat when everyone turned toward him. "Sorry. I'll shut up."
Bruce didn't react. He looked over the assembled faces, his expression unreadable. "You must all have questions for me."
"We do," Diana said.
Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. "For one, where the hell have you been for nearly six months? And what is this Global Justice operation we've been hearing whispers about?"
Clark remained silent. He hadn't moved since Bruce started talking, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on him. He was simply watching. Bruce reached up and pulled off the cowl. He placed it carefully on the table beside him. His hair was slick with sweat, his eyes sunken, and the lines around his mouth deeper than any of them remembered.
"I've made mistakes," Bruce said. "A lot of them. Not just recently. Not just during this last mission. My entire time wearing this suit has been a string of decisions built on paranoia and control. I thought I was a hero, but if I'm honest, I don't even know what that word means anymore."
He looked around the room. Not at the table, not at the walls, but at the people sitting with him. "I didn't trust you. Not truly. You were comrades, yes. Partners. But in my mind, you were also threats. Potential liabilities. Dangers to the world that only I could prevent. That's what I convinced myself."
Diana's expression didn't change. She simply listened. Though she did narrow her eyes slightly. Arthur tapped a finger once against the table. Flash sat still now, fidgeting slightly but saying nothing. J'onn and Diana then looked to say something but were cut off by Clark "Let him finish," he said. He didn't raise his voice, but no one interrupted.
Bruce looked down at his hands. Then back up. "I thought I had to be the one in control. I thought I could keep everyone safe if I just planned enough. If I was prepared enough. But all I did was isolate myself. When I met Mark Grayson, I saw something terrifying. Not because of who he was, but because of who his father was. I didn't try to help him. I didn't try to understand him. I hunted him."
His voice faltered slightly. He swallowed, then continued.
"I poisoned Clark with red kryptonite. I convinced myself it was necessary, that it was the only way. I treated one of my only friends like a tool. And then there's Dick. The closest thing I've ever had to a son since Damien. He died. And that is my fault too. My decisions. My refusal to trust anyone but myself."
He stood there in silence for a moment. Then added, "I don't expect any of you to forgive me. But I need you to know—I am sorry."
Clark stood from his seat. He walked over and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
"I forgave you a long time ago," he said. "I'm glad you're back."
Diana gave a gentle nod. "We all are."
Arthur gave a low grunt but it wasn't angry. "We've all made foolish choices my friend. You're owning up to yours. While you may have never trusted us we all put our trust into you and are glad to have you back." The room relaxed slightly. There was still tension, but the edge had dulled. Bruce gave the smallest of nods.
Then he raised a hand again. "Don't get the wrong idea."
Clark looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Bruce's jaw tightened. "I'm not coming back to the Justice League."
"You're not coming back?" Clark asked, his voice calm but his eyes flashed with something close to pain. It wasn't obvious to everyone, but those who knew him well could see it. The tension in his shoulders, the slight shift in his tone—he didn't like this. "Why? If this is about repenting, then surely you could do that here. With us."
Diana stood from her seat a slight frown on her face. "Bruce, that doesn't make sense. Why leave? What are you trying to prove?"
Flash leaned forward with an awkward smile. "Yeah man, look, we've all had our dramatic walks into the shadows—some of us more than others—but you're Batman. You can't just quit like that."
Arthur grunted. "You're a founding member, Bruce. If this is some guilt trip, it's wasted. We all make mistakes. Hell, I almost started a war with the surface world before I joined the league."
Bruce shook his head. "It's not about guilt."
He paused, letting the silence settle before speaking again. "During my time away, I saw a lot. Not just about the world. About myself. About everything we've been doing since the beginning."
He looked up at them. "I came to the conclusion that we failed as heroes."
Diana's brow furrowed. "Failed?"
Bruce didn't flinch. "Yes. We've been playing a game that's rigged from the start. Fighting fires without ever cutting off the fuel. Containing threats without ever stopping them."
"You're kidding, right?" Flash said, now sitting straighter. "The world is in a better place because of the League. We've saved it, like, I don't know, fifty times?"
Arthur nodded. "He's right. You can't just disregard everything we've done."
Bruce didn't argue. He simply said, "In the time the Joker was active—from his first sighting to the day of his death—he killed nearly a million people."
The room went still.
"Bruce, you can't—" Clark started.
"What?" Bruce cut in. "Blame myself? Why not? I caught him. I put him away. Over and over. And every time he escaped, more people died. Because I told myself killing him would make me like him. Because I wanted to believe the system worked."
"You would've been just like him," Barry said uncharacteristically seriously.
"Maybe I would have," Bruce said. "But maybe that's what being a hero really means. Carrying the weight that others wouldn't be able to shoulder. Doing what no one else can. Doing what needs to be done for the sake of everyone."
He looked at each of them. "Would you be able to stand in front of every one of those million people and tell them their lives weren't worth compromising your principles?"
No one answered.
"And that's just one villain," Bruce continued. "Darkseid. Reverse Flash. Cheetah. Lex Luthor. Bane. Deathstroke. All of them have one thing in common. They kill. They kill without hesitation, without remorse. And they've all have been stopped at one point only to be escape and kill again and again."
Clark's voice was quiet. "You don't mean..."
"I do," Bruce said. "Global Justice isn't just a name. It's a line in the sand. I'm done playing by rules that protect these people that have killed thousands. I won't keep putting the world at risk so these monsters can get another trial, another cell to break out of."
"You're talking about executions," Diana said.
Bruce nodded. "I am."
"Bruce, that's not who we are," Barry said. "There are laws. Systems in place for a reason."
"Those systems have failed," Bruce replied. "And they keep failing. Every time we let one of these people live, they come back and kill again."
Clark stepped forward. "It's a slippery slope. Today it's mass murderers. Tomorrow it's something else. What happens when you start deciding who deserves to live based on your own criteria?"
"It won't happen," Bruce said. "There's still a line. The system works—for normal threats. For the average criminal. But for metahumans, for gods in human skin who can tear through cities? No. That's not a system built to contain them. It's a holding pen with broken locks."
Clark didn't back down. "You're still talking about crossing a line. Who decides where it ends? Who holds you back when you go too far?"
Bruce looked him in the eye. "The Justice League."
The room fell into stunned silence.
"It's why Global Justice will operate independently. Separate leadership. Separate structure. But with full transparency. I've built in safeguards. Fail-safes. And access points."
He stepped forward and placed a small drive in front of Victor. "This is a backdoor into our systems. You'll have complete access. On it is a list of all threats designated for lethal enforcement. You'll know everything."
He straightened up. "I don't expect any of you to follow me. You're better than that. Better than me. But I can't keep pretending the world isn't burning. I've seen too much. I've let too much happen. This is how I make it right."
He looked at Clark. "Especially you. You're what people need to believe in." He pointed to the symbol on his chest. "You once told me that symbol means hope, that's what you need to be."
Then, quietly, without another word, Bruce stepped forward. He embraced Clark. It wasn't brief. It wasn't ceremonial. It was real. "I was never like you Clark, I never believed in hope, I believed in fear... but I do believe in you."
When he stepped back, he gave them one last look.
"I hope you understand. Even if you don't agree."
He left the room, and for a long moment, no one moved. The silence that followed wasn't just from shock—it was the kind of stillness that came when the foundation of something had shifted. Some of them sat back slowly, others exchanged glances, but all of them shared the same thought. Was that really Bruce who just walked through the door?
ALARM
The sirens cut through the stillness like a blade. The red emergency lights flashed across the walls in timed pulses. The automated voice came through overhead speakers, flat and cold.
Security Breach: Medical Wing.
Clark's eyes widened, and he didn't wait. He shot forward so fast the metal doors behind him were torn open in his wake, leaving jagged edges in the walls. Kara and the baby were in the medical wing. His mind flashed to worst-case scenarios before he even reached the hallway. If the Viltrumites were here, if they had come to finish what they started—
He pushed harder. His shoulders tore through bulkheads as he crashed through multiple reinforced doors until he reached the corridor outside the medical wing. The moment he stepped inside, he scanned the room. Atom was on the floor, unconscious but breathing. His heart was strong, and there were no signs of trauma that couldn't be recovered from. Someone had knocked him out—non-lethally.
Flash arrived behind him, skidding to a stop with a wince.
"Ah, ow, ow," Flash said, hopping on one foot.
"Your leg still giving you trouble?" Clark asked without turning.
"A little. I'll be patched up soon."
Clark moved toward the hallway, eyes narrowing. "Stay behind me. The walls are lined with lead. I can't see through them."
"Well, I wouldn't want to be seen taking a shower or a dump," Flash said casually.
"The walls in your apartment aren't lined with lead."
Flash froze. "You mean—"
"Let's keep going."
They moved quickly down the hall until Clark reached the main chamber where the baby had been kept in incubation. The reinforced case was torn open. Panels were scattered across the floor, wires trailing. Clark's eyes locked on the figure standing inside.
"Mark?" he said, his voice cautious but slightly relieved.
"Superman," Mark replied with a short nod before turning back to the console he had accessed. His fingers worked with fast though his expression was blank.
"What's going on here?" Clark asked, stepping further inside. "Where's Kara? Where's the baby?"
Mark didn't answer at first. The only sound was the steady beeping of the machines until one gave a long confirmation tone. Mark pulled a data stick from the console and stood up. "They're fine," he said. "Both of them."
He stepped out of the chamber, standing tall. Already, he looked healthier. His frame had started to rebuild, the muscles tightening along his arms and chest. Flash took notice.
"Putting back on a little mass, huh?" Flash said. "Not bad for someone who was practically a skeleton two days ago."
"Mark, why is Atom unconscious?" Clark asked again. "Why is the baby gone?"
Mark sighed and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Clark. But we're leaving."
"Leaving?" Clark echoed, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Kara and I have decided to take the baby and leave to find another form of treatment."
Flash stepped forward. "Is that really a good idea? We've got the best people here, the best tech."
"He's right," Clark said. "This is the safest place for him."
Mark looked at the both of them. "You're family, Clark. You're my wife's cousin. My son's uncle. So I'll tell you the truth."
"I'm leaving Earth."
Clark stared at him. "You know of a treatment offworld?"
"I do. There are people who have experience with Viltrumite hybrids. They've offered a solution. A process that could keep him alive."
Clark didn't answer right away. He could tell that Mark wasn't relieved. If anything, he looked more tense now than he did waking up from a coma.
"What aren't you telling us?" Clark asked.
Mark didn't hesitate. "I'm going with the Viltrumites. I made a deal with my father."
Clark's expression darkened. Flash's mouth dropped open.
"Mark," Clark said. "You can't be serious."
Mark nodded. "It was a hard decision. But we have to do everything we can to save our son. If that means leaving, if that means trusting them—then that's what we'll do."
"There has to be another way," Clark said. "We'll find something. We always do."
"He doesn't have that kind of time," Mark replied.
Clark stepped forward. "Then I can't let you go. Not like this. You're putting Kara in danger. You're putting that baby in the hands of the people who nearly destroyed you."
"I don't have a choice."
Mark moved. In a blur he tried to push past, but Clark was faster. He caught him mid-motion and held him in place.
"You're still recovering. You can't beat me."
"I know," Mark said. "But she can."
A blur from above. A figure dropped from the ceiling. Clark turned—just in time for Galatea's punch to catch him across the jaw and send him flying through the chamber wall.
Flash turned toward Mark. "Don't make me fight you."
"I don't want to fight you," Mark said. "Please. Just run."
He raised his arm and fired a gravity blast at the viewport. The reinforced window shattered and the room immediately began depressurizing. Flash cursed and blurred out of the chamber in a streak of red.
"Let's go," Mark said as he turned to Galatea.
They flew through the broken viewport, out into the vacuum of space. A stolen Javelin was waiting for them, drifting just past the Watchtower's rotation. They moved fast, staying tight on its wing as it banked hard and headed toward the shadow of the moon. From behind it, a massive ship crested into view. Smooth black metal stretched wide across its hull, the Viltrumite ship. The Javelin passed through the bay doors. Mark and Galatea followed behind it. Inside the hangar, the others were waiting. Kara stood with Raven, Waylon, and Harley. Lucy was asleep in Harley's arms.
Mark landed and didn't hesitate. He pulled Kara into his arms first, held her tight. Then Raven. Then Harley, who grumbled but hugged him back.
Then the sound of heavy boots echoed across the hangar.
"Mark," Nolan said as he stepped into view.
"Dad," Mark replied, his voice flat.
"I'm glad you finally saw sense."
"I wouldn't say that," Mark said. "This only happens if you keep your word."
Nolan nodded. "We've got the stabilizing equipment prepped. It'll keep him alive until we reach Viltrum."
He paused. "Have you decided on a name yet?"
Mark looked to Kara. She gave him a nod. He turned back to Nolan.
"Call him Dante," he said. "Or Dan-El."
(AN: So that's the end of the arc my brothers. Some of you may dislike the direction this is going but hey, invincible went to space to deal with the Viltrumites. So my Mark is too. Plus at least I didn't split his family up. You know I was thinking pretty long about the name I wanted to give Dante. I'm not good at naming people so I just went with one that sounded cool and would also have a Kryptonian alternative. Anyway Mark and his family are now on their way to Viltrum, stay tuned for the arrival of Thragg and Conquest. Hope you enjoyed the chapter)
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