Mark stood on the bridge of the ship alongside his father and the other Viltrumites, even Battle Beast was lounging around on the side eating what seemed to be the sixteenth plate of food that had been brought to him; not interested in the current issues that were plaguing them. Those being the ships that had currently surrounded them and forced their ship to drop out of Warp. Battle Beast took one look at them and considered them to be a waste of his time and not an interesting fight.
Mark on the other hand was concerned, his family was onboard, meaning he couldn't be too reckless. If the enemies could manoeuvre in space then there might be a little trouble, but if they couldn't he would simply fly through their ships and destroy them. "Who are they?" He finally decided to ask.
"Doesn't matter, an inferior lifeform, but they're with the coalition of planets," Nolan replied as he scowled.
"Coalition?" Mark said raising an eyebrow.
"They're puppets of the guardians, before the scourge virus the guardians were on their last leg, they needed to come up with a way to supplement their forces. In the end they formed a coalition with the goal of creating a large force that could contend with us," Anissa explained.
"I'm assuming it worked," Mark Commented.
Anissa scoffed. "It only worked after the scourge virus decimated our people. Had we been at full power we still would've crushed them."
"I'll handle them," Anissa said as she went to turn.
Lucan stepped forward just as Anissa turned to leave the bridge. "No," he said flatly. "Let him handle it." His hand raised and pointed to Mark.
Anissa stopped mid-step and turned her head. "Excuse me?"
"He should prove himself," Lucan continued. "If he wants to stand among us, let him show his loyalty. Let him deal with the coalition."
Anissa's jaw flexed, but she didn't challenge the suggestion. She simply nodded once and stepped back, eyes narrowing as she looked toward Mark.
Nolan turned to his son. "Well, Mark?"
Mark unfolded his arms. He looked at the display showing the coalition fleet outside, then back at the others. "I'll deal with it."
He left the bridge without another word.
As he moved down the corridor toward the airlock. He reached the outer hatch and began prepping the release sequence, but the sound of footsteps made him pause. He turned as Raven and Galatea approached, both dressed and alert.
"What's going on?" Galatea asked, her arms crossed.
Mark pressed a few commands into the panel beside the airlock before answering. "Ships outside. Apparently they're Coalition forces. I'm going to take care of them."
Galatea tilted her head. "You want some help? I could use the exercise."
Mark shook his head. "Save your strength. We're too far from any star. The solar radiation out here's almost nothing."
Galatea's expression twisted. She growled under her breath but didn't argue.
Raven stepped in closer. "Are you going to kill them?"
Mark looked at her. Despite everything she had been through, despite the darkness she'd faced and the violence she had caused, she still didn't like death. She was a hero at heart and would always want to save lives rather than the opposite. Mark's features softened. He raised his hand and gently cupped her face. "I'll just disable their ships," he said. "I'll avoid it if I can."
Galatea snorted. "Just kill them and be done with it."
Mark turned, reached up, and flicked her on the forehead. It made her squeak and take a step back, a faint blush rising on her face.
"I'll be back soon," Mark said, and stepped into the airlock.
The hatch closed behind him and the chamber cycled. Moments later, he launched out into space. Mark stopped in front of the coalition fleet. His body floated motionless as hundreds of weapons locked on. The nearest ship opened fire. Dozens of energy blasts hurtled toward him. Mark raised one hand. Gravity warped around him. The shots bent in their trajectory and curved away, spiraling into open space. Manipulating gravity was far easier out here. There were no planetary masses fighting him. No atmospheric drag. Only the vacuum, and his will.
The enemy ships kept firing.
Mark clenched his hands. The gravity around the forward cannons shifted. The blasts twisted mid-shot, redirected by gravitational forces. Some of the ships accidentally struck their neighbour's. Others recoiled and ceased fire.
Several hatches opened on the lead ships. Troops emerged in pressurized suits with attached jet units. They spread out and surrounded him. Each soldier carried some form of weapon—some conventional rifles, others with blades that glowed faintly. They opened fire. Mark moved between the shots, shifting his position and easily avoiding them. He dodged a blade and slammed his palm into the soldier's chest, sending him spinning away. He turned and kicked another into a distant hull. He flew straight through a third soldier's formation, scattering them. Mark raised his palm again and summoned a large blue sphere. As it formed, the gravity in its center surged. Every soldier in the area was pulled in violently. Their bodies slammed together and spun, unconscious from the impact.
All except one.
A figure remained hovering near the edge of the sphere's reach. He had green skin with pink patches on his bicep. He wore only partial armor—his chest exposed, a breathing mask on his face. His limbs stretched suddenly, one hand whipping toward Mark. Mark twisted and avoided the strike. The green warrior fired a blast of energy from his palm. Mark ducked under it and rushed forward. The warrior's arm extended again. Mark blocked it and punched the joint. The arm retracted.
'Stop,' Mark sent the message telepathically.
The green man snarled in his mind. 'Viltrumite scum. I won't let you hurt anyone else.'
The warrior launched forward, his hands glowing. He fired multiple blasts. Mark moved between them and grabbed him by the throat. The green man tried to strike with his elongated arm, but Mark caught it, twisted it, and pulled it off. He pulled the warrior close.
'I warned you.'
Mark pulled his body apart at the waist. The torso and legs separated, both halves flung away into the void.
He didn't wait.
Mark turned and rocketed toward the ships. He flew beneath the nearest hull and drove his fist into the exposed engine housing. The core destabilized. The ship listed. He moved to the next, flying directly through the side panel and crushing the stabilizers. He looped behind the third and pressed his hand out. A wave of gravity pushed the ship sideways. Its trajectory shifted. He repeated the motion again and again, disabling the remaining vessels and sending them drifting outward, far from the Viltrumite ship.
Then he flew back.
Mark re-entered the ship through the same airlock. He walked calmly back through the corridor. When he stepped onto the bridge, everyone turned to look at him.
"It's done," he said flatly.
Lucan stepped forward. "You didn't kill them," he said. "Looks like I'll have to finish the job."
Mark didn't answer. He stepped forward until he stood in front of Lucan. Then, without warning, he grabbed the man by the throat and squeezed.
Lucan gasped and reached for Mark's wrist. Mark didn't loosen his grip.
"Since when," Mark said, "was trash allowed to question the decisions of his betters?"
He slammed his fist into Lucan's face. Once. Twice. A third time. The fourth broke skin. The fifth cracked bone. The sixth sent Lucan's body limp.
Mark let go. Lucan hit the floor, while holding his face in pain. He looked at Mark venomously but didn't do anything as he knew the boy was stronger than him.
"Get us back into warp," Mark ordered the crew.
No one hesitated. The ship jolted slightly as the engines powered up again and the stars outside began to blur. Nolan watched from the side, his arms crossed. He nodded slightly, a look of pride in his eyes. Anissa stood nearby, her gaze fixed on Mark. Her lips parted, and her eyes lingered on him for just a second too long.
Mark stood near the front of the bridge, the light from the forward viewport casting over him as the stars streaked past. The hum of the ship filled the silence between them. He looked over his shoulder at his father, then turned slightly to face the others. His expression remained unreadable as he crossed his arms and leaned against one of the nearby support beams. "I want to know more about the Coalition. They seem weak. It surprises me that the Viltrum empire would be having so many problems with them."
Nolan turned his head, his eyes on his son. He didn't respond immediately. He stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest before he gave his reply. "Don't be arrogant," Nolan said. "They're more dangerous than they appear. If even one of those energy weapons outside had struck you clean, you would've found that they're capable of breaking through Viltrumite skin."
Mark didn't answer right away. He narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking about the battle in orbit. None of the shots felt threatening. He had assumed it was standard energy, easily shrugged off. He now wondered what would happen if he had let himself be hit by one.
"How is that possible?" Mark asked.
"We don't know exactly," Nolan said. "Somehow, they got a good enough specimen of our DNA. With that, they were able to develop weapons specifically designed to hurt us. The scourge virus was one of those creations."
Mark remembered the mention of the scourge virus from earlier. He had only a vague understanding of it. It was one of the few things that had managed to bring Viltrumite expansion to a halt. "Still," Mark said, "they seem weak."
"They are," Anissa replied, stepping closer. "But those weren't their main forces. The ones you just faced are meant to support others. They usually fight alongside Green Lanterns and time their attacks to catch us off guard while we're busy. They rely on numbers. They know they're inferior. So they try to make up for it by surrounding us... but that won't be a problem for long."
Mark turned to look at her. "That won't be a problem for long?"
"No," she answered. "Not for long. Whe have formed an alliance with the Saiyan Empire. They have a large population of trained warriors. Their numbers can more than compensate for our smaller forces."
Nolan nodded in agreement. "We have launched a combined attack in the Raxull system; but once the alliance is finalized, we'll have enough strength to start pushing the Coalition back across their controlled sectors."
Mark considered this silently. The name was unfamiliar to him, only ever hearing about them from Anissa back in that coffee shop. He hadn't encountered any Saiyans during his time on Earth which wasn't surprising, but with how many aliens make their home there you never know. "The Saiyans," he said, "what are they like?"
Nolan kept his arms folded. "Savages. Brutal. They pride themselves on conquest. Self-proclaimed warrior race."
Anissa stepped in again. "They are aggressive and unintelligent. Most of them are weak, but the upper-class fighters are formidable. Their elite can hold their own against some of us."
"They have a strange biological trait," Nolan added. "Their tails. If intact and exposed to a certain level of light from a full moon, it triggers a transformation. They grow into large ape-like beasts and their power increases tenfold, it's why they've been able to expand while being relatively weak."
Mark raised his brow. "You're serious?"
"They're a strange species," Nolan said. "Their society is rigid. They have a caste system based on blood. It's strict, but effective."
Mark didn't bother hiding his skepticism. "Judging strength by birth instead of ability is stupid."
"You'd think that," Nolan replied, "but their biology supports it. They're born with a quantifiable level of energy inside them—something like a power reserve. Their maximum potential is determined at birth. Those with low reserves are assigned to low-class stations. Those born with high reserves are elevated to elite status. Most of the time, it matches their actual combat capability."
Mark nodded slowly. "That makes some sense, I guess."
He paused for a moment, thinking back to the fight outside the ship. "That man I fought out there—he was able to shoot blasts of energy from his hands. Was he a Saiyan?"
Anissa shook her head. "No. He was a Namekian. Another race with natural energy manipulation. They're rarer than Saiyans, but on average, stronger. Most of them are capable fighters. They have a long history of isolation, but the Coalition has managed to recruitthem."
Mark's expression shifted slightly. "He didn't seem that impressive. I tore him in half."
Nolan stepped in again. "He's probably still alive. They can regenerate limbs and even more severe damage. If they retrieve him soon enough, he'll likely recover."
Mark's eyes narrowed. That level of regeneration was dangerous. It meant any future engagement with such individuals would require confirmation of kill. He'd need to remember that. But beyond that trait, the fighter hadn't been particularly fast or strong. Mark had disabled him without effort. Still, the ability to return from injuries like that was worth noting.
"How long until we reach Viltrum?" Mark asked, turning toward Anissa again.
"Not long now," she said. "A day. At most."
Mark nodded once and pushed off the railing. He gave one last look toward the others on the bridge. "I'll be in my quarters," he said. Then he turned and left without another word.
Mark walked through the corridor with a slow, his thoughts still circling everything from the bridge. He didn't feel tense anymore—just worn out. It wasn't exhaustion in his muscles, it was something else. The kind of tired that sat in your chest and stayed there no matter how much rest you got. He wasn't sure if it was from the fight, or the talk with his father, or the endless political shit piling up around them. All he knew was that right now, all he wanted was to be home. Or the closest thing to it.
The door slid open when he reached his quarters. It smelled faintly of soap and food, and the sound of soft baby babble filled the space. His eyes landed on Raven, curled up on the sofa in a way that didn't look comfortable but somehow always was for her. She had her knees drawn up, one hand propped under her chin. On the floor, Waylon and Lucy crawled around in chaotic loops, doing what babies did best—finding new and impressive ways to make a mess out of anything within reach.
Raven looked up and smiled the moment she saw him. A real smile. The kind he didn't see from her often, but when he did, it hit like a wave. She floated over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in like she hadn't seen him in weeks. He wrapped his arms around her without thinking and held her close. He leaned down, kissed her deeply, and then pressed his forehead to hers.
"You alright?" she asked softly.
"I'm fine," he murmured. "Just tired."
She kissed him again—slower this time—then took his hand and led him over to the sofa. He followed without a word, dropping onto the cushions beside her while she curled up next to him, one arm resting across his chest. He let out a long breath as he leaned back. The tension that had coiled inside him since the coalition encounter finally started to loosen. It felt good.
"Where's Harley?" he asked after a moment.
Raven tilted her head against him. "Shower."
He nodded, eyes still focused on the floor where their kids played. Lucy was babbling at a pillow like it owed her money, grabbing it with both hands and shaking it furiously. Waylon sat nearby with a stuffed bear in his lap, just staring at it like he was trying to understand how it worked. His children couldn't be anymore different; he just wished that Dante could be here too. He wanted to know what he'd be like. The thought was enough to make Marks chest tighten, so he cast those thoughts away.
"How've the little gremlins been?" Mark asked, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees and trying to distract himself.
Raven laughed quietly. "Lucy tried to shove Waylon in the toilet earlier. Waylon got the door open by himself and escaped somehow. They somehow activated the food synthesizer and sprayed food across the room."
Mark blinked. "So... normal day."
He slid off the couch and dropped onto the floor beside them. Lucy lit up the moment she saw him and crawled over as fast as her limbs would allow. He scooped her up and let her flop into his lap, her little hands grabbing at his face and shirt. She squealed as she tried to climb up his chest. Mark just smiled and pulled her in tighter. Waylon made his way over more slowly, dragging his bear with him. He sat down beside his sister, staring up at Mark with that same unreadable little expression that reminded Mark way too much of Raven.
Mark wrapped an arm around both of them. "I love you two. More than anything. You know that?"
Lucy giggled and slapped her tiny palm against his cheek. He grabbed her wrist gently and kissed it. Waylon leaned back against his side, holding his bear like a shield.
Then the door hissed open.
Mark looked up just in time to see Harley step into the room, Harley body was fully on display and he couldn't help but look her up and down. Her breasts are full, with hard nipples, and water trails between them down to her flat stomach. Her waist is narrow, leading to rounded hips and strong thighs. Her pubic area is bare, smooth, and glistening with water. Her ass is firm, with cheeks that bounce slightly as she walks. Her skin is pale, marked by faint scars on her lower back and thighs. Her blonde hair is wet, clinging to her shoulders and upper back.
"Well, look who finally crawled back from whatever brooding corner of the ship he was sulkin' in," she said with a grin.
Mark blinked. "Harley... what have I said about going everywhere naked."
Harley shrugged. "So? Babies don't care. And it's easier to feed Lucy when I don't have to fumble with clothes every five seconds." She cupped her breasts casually and winked.
"I'm used to it," Raven said from the couch, not even looking up.
"See?" Harley said, gesturing at her.
Mark sighed and ran a hand down his face. "You're all insane."
Lucy's eyes lit up when she spotted Harley. She let out a loud babble and squirmed out of Mark's grip, crawling toward her mom at full speed. Harley crouched down, holding her arms open with a smile.
"C'mere, my little pumpkin! Did you miss mommy?"
Then Lucy floated. Just... lifted off the floor and drifted across the room into Harley's arms.
Harley caught her like it was nothing but stared down at her daughter with wide eyes. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Mark stood slowly. "How long has she been able to do that?"
Harley shook her head. "I—I dunno. I ain't never seen her do that before."
Before anyone could say anything else, Waylon let out a soft whine and reached his arms out toward Raven.
Then he vanished.
One second he was on the floor, the next he was wrapped in Raven's arms in a puff of black smoke and swirling shadow. Raven looked down at him, visibly confused.
Mark blinked again. He stared at both kids. Then at Harley. Then at Raven.
His brain tried to process what just happened.
'What the fuck?' was all he could manage.
_____________________________________
The outer hull of the Coalition cruiser groaned as the cargo bay doors opened, exposing the wide retrieval arms that stretched out into space. The mechanical limbs carefully closed around the limp form of the green-skinned warrior floating just beyond the reach of the ship. Moori's body was in two distinct halves—his torso and arms separated cleanly from the waist down, legs dangling uselessly in the vacuum. Despite the condition, faint life signs still flickered on the monitors linked to his retrieval beacon.
The arms pulled him in slowly, rotating his body to align it with the bay's pressurised entrance. Once inside, the airlock hissed shut and gravity re-engaged, lowering his body to a stretcher where a team of medical personnel and containment specialists were already waiting. They didn't waste time. The two halves of Moori's body were placed on a stabilisation platform, snd then connected. His cells responded immediately, tendons reconnecting, blood vessels sealing, tissue pulling together. Within seconds, his body stitched itself whole, the process driven by the namekians unnatural regeneration speed.
Moori's eyes snapped open.
He gasped and sat up fast, his arm knocking away a monitor and sending one of the assistants sprawling. His breath came in hard, fast bursts, muscles tensed like he was still in the middle of the fight. He didn't seem to recognise where he was, or that the battle was over. He thrashed once, then again, breaking the first layer of restraints holding him down.
"Easy, easy!" someone shouted.
Before anyone else could intervene, a tall figure stepped forward. She reached the edge of the stretcher and planted her hand on his chest. Her skin was deep blue, and her eyes glowed faintly under the lighting of the medbay. She was massive, over seven feet tall, and built with solid muscle. With one hand, she held Moori down with no visible effort.
"Calm down commander," she said. "You're back on the ship. You're safe."
Moori blinked rapidly, his eyes finally focusing. His breathing slowed. His body stopped straining. He looked around the room, recognising the medical bay, the personnel. He slumped back on the stretcher, the panic draining from him. "I lost," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
"You did," the blue-skinned woman replied.
"I thought I would last longer against one of them," Moori said. "He tore me apart. I couldn't even get a proper hit in on him... I didn't realise I was so weak."
"You weren't weak," she said. "We were in a bad position. I apologise for now helping; I didn't join the engagement because I had to protect the object."
Moori looked at her, then nodded. "I understand. The weapon is a priority."
There was a pause. Moori shifted, testing his limbs. "How many dead?"
The woman's expression didn't change. "None."
Moori frowned. He sat up slightly. "None?"
She shook her head. "Everyone survived. All accounted for."
"That's not normal." Moori's voice was sharper now. "That's not how Viltrumites fight. They don't leave survivors unless they want to send a message."
"I know," she said a hint of worry in her voice.
Moori noticed. He studied her for a moment. "What is it, Divineq?"
Divineq exhaled through her nose. She glanced toward the medbay door, then leaned down slightly to speak more quietly. "Lanterns Jordan and Stewart brought back some important information when they returned from Earth to join the war effort. It hasn't been made public. The commanders have kept it classified to avoid spreading fear."
Moori's brow furrowed. "What did they say?"
"They confirmed the existence of a second perfect hybrid Viltrumite. One unlike the first. This one can control one of the fundamental forces of the universe, Gravity."
Moori stared at her. His eyes widened. "You believe it was him? The one I fought?"
Divineq nodded once. "Our sensors lost coherence during the encounter. Every time we fired on him, gravitational distortion spiked. The shots didn't just miss—they were bent off-course, some of them even sped up. We ran diagnostics, but the readings all say the same thing."
Moori leaned back, breathing slower now, but his mind was racing. "Then why did he spare us? If he's that strong, why let us live?"
Divineq didn't have an answer ready. She stood straight and looked toward the corridor outside the medbay. "Maybe it's because he's part Earthling. Maybe something in him held back. Or maybe it was a warning."
Moori remained quiet for a moment, then looked down at his hands. "Whatever the reason... it doesn't change what we saw," he said. "If Viltrum gains the Saiyan alliance, and if they have two perfect hybrids under their command, then we're finished."
Divineq didn't argue. She simply turned and walked toward the door.
"I'll inform command," Divineq said. "They need to know exactly what we're dealing with."
(AN: Divenq is a DC character and damn... I think I might have a thing for blue women lads. I remember watched avatar for the first time.... Despite being like 9ft I'd still bang, like honestly if we ever find Pandora you can bet your ass I'm on the first ship out there to get some Navussy. Anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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