Rain lashed Chicago, turning the streets into rivers and the skyline into a blur of gray. Mark Grayson, soaked to the bone in his Invincible suit, hovered above a deserted industrial district, his goggles fogged with mist. Saitama floated beside him, his yellow tracksuit somehow dry despite the downpour, a convenience store umbrella twirling lazily in his hand.
"You sure about this?" Mark asked, voice barely audible over the storm. "Robot's intel said Viltrumites are planning something big here."
Saitama shrugged, nibbling a soggy hot dog. "Intel's just fancy guessing. If they're here, we punch 'em. If not, I'm hitting that ramen shop on 5th."
Mark sighed, tension coiling in his chest. Since Anissa and Thragg's attack, the Teen Team had been on edge, sifting through salvaged Viltrumite data for clues. Robot's analysis suggested a staging ground in Chicago's old steel yards—a perfect spot for a covert operation. Mark wanted to believe it was a lead, but after weeks of Viltrumite ambushes, every shadow felt like a trap.
A pulse of blue light flickered through the rain, emanating from a derelict warehouse. Mark's heart skipped. "There. You see that?"
Saitama squinted. "Yup. Looks like a sci-fi disco. Let's crash it."
They descended, landing silently on the warehouse roof. The structure was a rusting husk, its walls pitted with holes, but the blue glow inside pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat. Mark peered through a cracked skylight, spotting shapes moving below—Viltrumites, at least five, surrounding a humming device that looked like a cross between a reactor and a bomb.
"Definitely not a disco," Mark whispered. "That thing's bad news."
Saitama tossed his hot dog wrapper into the rain. "Cool. I'll take the left, you take the right?"
Mark grabbed his arm. "Wait! We need a plan. That device could be a weapon, a beacon—anything. And those Viltrumites aren't grunts. Look at their armor."
The figures below wore sleek, black-plated suits, unlike the standard Viltrumite gear. One, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar across his face, barked orders in a language Mark didn't recognize. Another, a woman with a shaved head, adjusted the device, her movements precise.
Saitama yawned. "Fancy armor, same old punches. You overthink this stuff."
Mark gritted his teeth. "And you underthink it. If we mess this up, Chicago's toast."
Saitama twirled his umbrella. "Fine. You sneak in, scout the glowy thing. I'll keep the capes busy if they spot us."
Mark nodded, reluctant but out of options. "Just… don't break the city."
"No promises."
Mark slipped through the skylight, dropping silently onto a rusted catwalk. The air inside was thick with ozone, the device's hum vibrating in his bones. He crept closer, staying in the shadows, his training with Saitama sharpening his stealth. The Viltrumites were focused on the device, their leader—the scarred man—speaking in low tones.
"…activation in thirty minutes," he said, switching to English. "Earth's defenses will collapse. The anomaly won't matter."
Mark's blood ran cold. A weapon. He edged closer, trying to get a better look at the device's controls, when a metal clang echoed behind him. He froze. The shaved-head Viltrumite turned, her eyes locking onto the catwalk.
"Intruder!" she shouted.
Mark cursed under his breath, leaping back as she flew at him, her fist shattering the catwalk like glass. He dodged, weaving through the warehouse's girders, but she was fast—faster than Anissa. Her punches grazed his suit, each miss cracking steel beams.
"Saitama!" Mark yelled, diving behind a crate. "Now would be good!"
The warehouse doors exploded inward, and Saitama strolled in, umbrella still up. "Yo, cape people. You got any ramen in here?"
The Viltrumites turned, stunned. The scarred leader snarled. "The anomaly. Kill him!"
Three Viltrumites charged Saitama, their combined speed a blur. He sidestepped the first, flicked the second into a wall, and caught the third's fist, yawning. "You guys need new moves."
Mark used the distraction, sprinting toward the device. The shaved-head Viltrumite intercepted him, grabbing his throat and slamming him into the floor. Pain flared, but Mark twisted free, landing a punch that staggered her. Patience, Saitama's voice echoed. He waited for her next swing, ducked, and drove his shoulder into her chest, sending her crashing into a stack of crates.
The device was unguarded now, its controls a maze of alien symbols. Mark hesitated—smash it and risk an explosion, or try to disable it? Before he could decide, the scarred leader loomed behind him, his fist raised.
"You're no Viltrumite," the leader growled. "Just a mistake."
Mark braced for the hit—when Saitama appeared, umbrella gone, and tapped the leader's shoulder. The Viltrumite spun, only to be launched through the roof, leaving a hole that let rain pour in.
"Stop playing with the glowy thing," Saitama said, tossing Mark a screwdriver. "Poke it or something."
Mark blinked. "Where'd you get this?"
"Found it in a crate. Hurry up."
The remaining Viltrumites regrouped, their leader staggering back through the roof, soaked and furious. Saitama sighed, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, let's wrap this up."
What followed was chaos. Saitama tore through the Viltrumites like a bored kid swatting flies. One went through a wall, another into the lake, the third straight up into the stratosphere. The shaved-head Viltrumite tried a sonic scream, but Saitama stuffed a rag in her mouth—mid-scream—and flicked her into a dumpster outside.
Mark, meanwhile, fumbled with the device, jabbing the screwdriver into what looked like a power conduit. Sparks flew, and the hum faltered, then stopped. The blue glow faded, and the device powered down with a pathetic whine.
"Did I do it?" Mark asked, stepping back.
Saitama, dragging the scarred leader by his cape, nodded. "Yup. Looks dead. Good job."
The leader coughed, blood on his lips. "You… can't stop Viltrum. This was… a test."
Mark's stomach dropped. "A test?"
The Viltrumite smirked. "To measure your strength. Your resolve. The true invasion comes soon."
Saitama dropped him, bored. "Cool story. Tell it somewhere else."
He flicked the leader skyward, and the Viltrumite vanished into the storm.
Mark stared at the device, rain mixing with sweat on his face. "A test. They're playing with us."
Saitama picked up his umbrella, miraculously intact. "Let 'em play. We'll keep punching."
Back at Teen Team HQ, the mood was grim. The team gathered around Robot's holographic table, analyzing the device's wreckage, which Cecil's team had retrieved. Rain battered the warehouse windows, a fitting backdrop to their unease.
"The device was a disruptor," Robot said, his monitor displaying schematics. "Designed to neutralize Earth's satellite defenses, leaving us blind to an invasion."
Eve frowned, arms crossed. "So it was a decoy? They wanted us to find it?"
Mark nodded, still aching from the fight. "The leader said it was a test. They're sizing us up."
Rexplode kicked a chair. "Great. We're lab rats for alien jerks!"
Dupli-Kate, her clones sorting debris, sighed. "They're learning our moves. Saitama's strong, but they're adapting."
Monster Girl, in human form, leaned against a wall. "They're not just fighting us—they're studying us. That's worse."
Saitama, sprawled on a couch with a ramen cup, slurped noisily. "Studying's overrated. They keep coming, I keep punching. Easy."
Mark managed a weak smile. "Wish it was that simple. They're targeting me, aren't they?"
Robot's lenses zoomed. "Correct. As Nolan's son, you represent a potential ally—or a threat. Viltrum seeks to either recruit or eliminate you."
Eve put a hand on Mark's shoulder. "You're not alone. We've got your back."
Mark nodded, grateful but uneasy. "Thanks. But we need more than punches. We need to find their base, hit them before they hit us."
Saitama burped. "Sounds like a road trip. I'm in, but only if there's food."
Rexplode glared. "You're too chill, Baldy! This is war!"
"War's just a loud fight," Saitama said, slurping again. "Same rules."
The team exchanged looks, half-frustrated, half-reassured. Saitama's nonchalance was maddening, but his power was undeniable.
Under the Pentagon, Cecil stood before Nolan's cell, the Viltrumite's eyes gleaming in the red light.
"Your friends are getting bold," Cecil said. "Testing us with decoys. What's their endgame?"
Nolan chuckled, restraints creaking. "You already know. Viltrum doesn't conquer planets—it reshapes them. Mark's your weakness. He's too human."
Cecil's jaw tightened. "He's stronger than you ever were."
Nolan leaned forward. "Strength means nothing without will. The anomaly's your crutch, but he's no savior. He's a bored god, and bored gods destroy."
Cecil turned away, Nolan's words a splinter in his mind. Saitama was Earth's shield, but what if he was also its sword—uncontrolled, unpredictable?
At the Grayson house, Mark sat on the couch, Debbie beside him. The TV droned with news of "meteor showers" covering the warehouse fight. She hugged him, her voice soft. "You're scaring me, Mark. These fights… you're coming home bruised, bloody."
"I'm okay, Mom," Mark said, squeezing her hand. "Saitama's got my back."
Debbie frowned. "He's not family. He's… something else."
Mark sighed. "He's a friend. And right now, he's the only thing keeping Viltrum at bay."
Saitama, leaning in the doorway with a soda, nodded. "Yup. Also, your fridge is out of pudding."
Debbie managed a weak laugh. "You're impossible."
"That's the brand," Saitama said, grinning.
Mark stood, resolve hardening. "Tomorrow, we start hunting. No more reacting. We find Viltrum's base, their plans—everything."
Saitama raised his soda. "To punching aliens and eating pudding."
Mark smirked. "To saving Earth."
Outside, the rain slowed, but a cloaked Viltrumite ship watched from orbit. Inside, Anissa studied a hologram of Mark, her voice cold. "The boy's growing stronger. The anomaly's influence is… problematic."
Thragg, scars glinting, smirked. "Then we break the boy's heart. Target his allies, his home. Invincible falls, and the anomaly follows."
The ship's engines hummed, a silent vow of war as the storm cleared, revealing a sky full of stars—and threats.
End of Chapter 10